Fragmentary

  FRAGMENTARY

  MINEFIELD ENFORCERS BOOK TWO

  LEANN MASON

  Fragmentary by LeAnn Mason

  Published by LeAnn Mason, LLC 14083 OK-51 #301, Coweta, OK 74429

  www.leannmason.com

  Copyright © 2018 by LeAnn Mason. All rights reserved.

  No parts of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission of the author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the production of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, live or dead, are purely coincidental.

  For more information on reproducing sections of this book or sales of this book, go to www.leannmason.com or email at: leann@leannmason.com

  Fragmentary/LeAnn Mason– First Printing/2018

  ISBN:

  Cover by: Rebeca Covers

  Edited by: Dawn Yacovetta & L.B. Carter

  To my family.

  Thank you for not kicking me to the curb after all the times

  things went in one ear and out the other.

  Contents

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  CHAPTER 18

  CHAPTER 19

  CHAPTER 20

  CHAPTER 21

  CHAPTER 22

  CHAPTER 23

  CHAPTER 24

  CHAPTER 25

  CHAPTER 26

  CHAPTER 27

  CHAPTER 28

  FOLLOW LINKS

  OTHER BOOKS BY LEANN MASON

  CHAPTER 1

  IT'S FUNNY HOW THE most basic functions of the human body, the instinctual things that we need to do to survive, are forgotten in stressful situations. Breathing, for instance, something I needed to remind myself to do at this moment as I crept along an exposed wall. My shoulder rubbed against the worn surface with every step I moved toward the doorway’s open black maw, weapon up. Ready and steady.

  I tried to keep my focus centered but also attuned to anything that might come at me from another angle. That was a trick I'd yet to master. It was really hard not to get so focused on what was ahead of me that everything else faded out of notice and I got dead. But therein lay the motivation: don't get dead.

  I stopped as I reached the opening. Preparing to continue through, I reminded myself, again, to breathe. The air was filled with the tang of metal, sweat, blood and plastic- a potent concoction that made me reconsider the breathing thing. My flashlight up and on, mounted on the weapon it accompanied, was ready to beam its spotlight into the unknown.

  After a deep breath and a mental recon of my surroundings, I stepped out, weapon at eye level, arms extended in front of me to steady my aim and combat the imaginary recoil. The space I now found myself standing in was shrouded in darkness, the only light being whatever spilled through the doorway from the room behind me and my megawatt torch. So, not much.

  With all of the large boxes and equipment my flashlight lit upon to use for cover, anyone could be hiding in here. The realization made the tension in my shoulders ratchet up a few degrees. I tuned in to my telepathy and again came up blank. Highly unusual. Guess that meant most, if not all, of the large room was unoccupied.

  My brow was beaded with sweat, and my palms apparently wanted in on the action, becoming slippery with their own clamminess. I prepared to move to the left, to feel along the wall for a light switch, hoping to take away the advantage of darkness from my target- assuming this was where he was hiding. I wasn’t getting a mental signature, so I wasn’t sure. Although, hoping to be overlooked in the gloom would have been my choice, were I him.

  Nothing happened; my muscles refused to answer my brain’s demand for movement. I was stuck. Glued to the spot in my current position without the ability to even concede defeat, let alone retaliate.

  Damn him. I hated this feeling of complete helplessness, of being a victim, and now completely understood everyone’s issue with this ability. I daresay it felt worse than having your mind invaded. Well, I could only speculate about that as I was usually the one doing all the invading.

  His range was definitely improving; I couldn’t hear him, which meant that he was further than twenty feet from my current position. Seeing as I hadn’t heard his mental voice since I entered the space, he was either pacing me, or I was only now in his range, and it was better than mine.

  I was going with the assumption that my initial assessment of the dark space was the correct one. He was in there somewhere, and the inky blackness made for the perfect cover. The perfect ambush site. What a nightmare!

  I wondered if I could wait him out. How long could he hold me here? Would I be able to break free once he showed himself? Would I be able to shoot him? I really hoped all the above would be possible.

  I heard a voice then— not the one I expected but familiar nonetheless. More so actually, considering I spent a lot of time with her. The voice was apprehensive, worried… borderline shrill.

  “Do I really need to do this?” she called out, her voice wavering. Who she was talking to, I had no idea.

  I tried again to move and stumbled forward a painful step. Well, that’s a step in the right direction. I chuckled darkly, the sound never leaving my throat. Even now, the puns just kept coming. Was his hold weakening? I'd moved. Kind of. It took all of my effort and strained my muscles to the point of pain, but I'd taken that step.

  “Just hurry up! I can’t hold her forever, and I won’t lose because you don’t want to hurt your friend,” Steve shouted back angrily.

  Jade’s apprehension grew as she approached, finally stepping into the light peeking around my statue-like silhouette. “I’m so sorry, Nat.” She grimaced as she lifted the prod, extending it toward my stomach.

  My eyes widened as the collapsible high voltage weapon loomed closer. This was going to hurt, and I could do nothing to avoid it. Steve still had a good enough mental hold on me that I couldn’t twist away, couldn’t use my own weapon which was still raised uselessly in front of me. My arms would be trembling with the effort if they could, but the mental hold was tight, and I was a living statue. Solid as marble. Ugh. I didn’t want to commend him on his control.

  An audible zap and dancing blue light of electricity preceded the pain of the prod but not by much. My entire body seized as I was lit with fire. My nerve endings all jumped, igniting, misfiring as I dropped like a stone to the dirty floor. The gun was still in my hands as I fell, only because my fingers’ reaction was to clench as the electric surges flowed through my entire body. I guess Steve let go, I thought glibly. Sarcasm, my go-to for crappy situations.

  I gasped and drew my knees to my chest, resorting to the fetal position, hoping I would feel safety in the pose. The sweat that had only just begun as I entered the blackness now slicked my hair and ran between my shoulder blades as I flopped my head to rest against the floor. It was just easier after having that much electricity coursing through my body. I’d just take a few moments here, gather myself. They’d understand. They better anyway. I wouldn’t take crap from Devlin right now.

  Jade dropped to her knees beside me, frantic in her assessment. Her gift would be giving her a pretty clear shot of how I felt right about now though I was not sure how it would affect her.

  “Did you f
eel it too?” I turned my head so I could see her face. Her green eyes were wide, her cheeks flushed as she fluttered her hands over my body like she wasn’t sure if she should touch me. My body was finally starting to uncurl though there was still a dull throbbing coursing through every muscle. I rolled onto my back and lay spread eagle, wiggling fingers and toes for a moment before I gingerly sat up. “Holy crap. That is potent. I think Sages might have a harder time with that not being ‘lethal.’” I used air quotes on lethal because this was a “less-lethal” option for a weapon. “I’m not sure Sage bodies can handle that without shutting down.”

  Steve finally emerged from the back right-hand corner of the surprisingly large room, his training attire pristine. Of course it was. I looked down, half expecting to see his trademark boat shoes as opposed to sensible trainers. “Our brains could handle it, so we wouldn’t die,” he said haughtily. “It is quite possible that the bodies couldn’t though, so paralysis could be a side effect.”

  I shook my head at his callousness as I climbed to my feet and dusted myself off. “Let’s test that theory on you first, shall we?” I grumbled darkly. Steve was such a douche. I was starting to regain full mobility, but I still felt the need to test my limbs to make sure.

  “The amount of time the prongs are in contact with the body will affect the outcome as well,” Commander James said as he strode from the depths of the lit area behind me. A large man, his physique was still perfectly honed though he was probably in his mid-forties. Close cropped dark hair screamed military as did his clothes, each item boasting a number of pockets variously placed and of differing sizes because one could always use another pocket to lose things in. The thought made me smile briefly, but I was brought back to the present situation when he gave Jade a meaningful look, his intense cinnamon eyes boring into hers. “The longer the contact, the stronger the effect.”

  Jade’s cheeks flamed crimson again, and she looked at the floor to avoid his stare.

  “Well, how long were they on me?”

  “All the way to the floor.”

  I snapped my attention to the commander, “What?” I focused back on Jade. “You held it on me?”

  “I’m so sorry, Nat. I panicked! It was like my reaction was to grab you as you fell, and that hand had the prod…” She trailed off lamely, avoiding everyone’s eyes, and began scuffing her foot across the floor, making an obnoxious screeching sound with each pass. It was her attempt to distract everyone. She felt horrible, especially after realizing that the extent of her ministrations had caused me more pain, which she’d also had to endure to some extent. Well, we’d proven the effectiveness of the electric prods at a closer range, and seeing as I wasn’t dead or dying, it proved to have less chance of permanently injuring or killing someone. In theory anyway.

  “Well done, Steve. Your control is coming along nicely. You held a struggling hybrid immobile for about one minute and from an impressive distance.” Commander James clapped Steve on the back and nearly sent him sprawling face first to the floor, much as I had been. I’d like to see that.

  Steve beamed. If there was one man who did not need inflation to his ego, it was Steve, whose was second only to his father, Councilman Allen Davidson. Steve was a member of our team, and Allen was on the Minefield council. A very prominent position, at least to those who wished to have influence with the ninnies outside our walls— which the Davidson family seemed to crave.

  We were still only just beginning weapons and tactics training. It had been two months since our team’s first real test of effectiveness. The self-righteous Sage who’d terrorized our town, unbeknownst to the inhabitants, for who knows how long, was our first test.

  The team’s goal: freedom. Freedom from the confines and meddling that the ninnies in the outside world forced us into once our kind, the Enhanced, became known as more than just a fluke of genetics. Our potential scared the ninnies, the Non-Enhanced, so much that they deemed every one of us too dangerous to live freely and mingle within the ranks of the world.

  Towns like Minefield were constructed as a means of containment and observation by those in influential places among the ninny world. We still lived in them half a century later, the reins forever tightening, keeping those within its confines to predetermined roles. Roles which had grown even smaller as time went on.

  The two types of Enhanced began to separate themselves and see the other as lesser. The segregation reminded me, exactly, of the conditions leading to our imprisonment in Minefield in the first place. Honestly, I was amazed how few of us made the connection and sought to remedy it.

  It wasn’t until after the effects of the prod dissipated that a flash of color caught my attention from the periphery. It wasn’t the fact that my hand was still curled around the grip, my index finger extended along the slide and away from the trigger, or the weight in my hand. No, the only thing making me remember the object of destruction I held was its color.

  Blue. The gun was blue. Okay, so the gun was also a replica which was the main reason for the blue coloring. It was a quick and easy visual for training purposes. A blue gun meant a fake gun. No working parts: no chamber, no magazine and no bullets. Safe.

  Commander James had given the okay for the trainees to start doing exercises with the props so that we could get used to the feel of the weapon: the weight and shape of it, the pull it had on the hip, how to draw the weapon as well as trying to keep your weapon away from an aggressor attempting to relieve you of it. And apparently, how it was useless when you were imitating art or had… like a million volts of electricity coursing through your body. The last one I'd so helpfully demonstrated just a few moments ago.

  All were quite useful scenarios for when someone would want to disarm us or use our own weapon against us. But here? In Minefield, a large number of residents wouldn’t need the weapon. They had their own, and it wasn’t the kind of weapon that could be taken away. In fact, many telekinetics could probably disarm us with a mental flick of their wrist. Primals gifted with strength or speed could outmaneuver me any day.

  Steve was one such individual. Our resident telekinetic, he specialized in halting movement and momentum, which could come in quite handy in a number of instances and operations. I’d never admit it though. Steve was a grade-A asshat and rubbed everyone on the team the wrong way almost all of the time. Today was no exception. After getting his accolades from our leader, he’d basically decided he was done and walked away from the group without acknowledgement, his strides and posture a sorry attempt at swagger.

  “Nathalee.”

  I swung my gaze back to Commander James, wondering if I’d missed some vital piece of a speech while I glared at Steve’s retreating form. “Hmm?”

  “You all right?” The commander ducked to catch my gaze, his fiery cinnamon eyes probing, brimming with concern. As were his thoughts. He was worried that he’d underestimated my ability to take a hit with the prod. His worry was cloying and very uncharacteristic of him.

  I shook my head then, realizing that might be taken the wrong way, assured him verbally that I was fine.

  “Good. Now that you have felt the effects of the prod firsthand, you will understand what its usage will do to an assailant.” He nodded sharply, an affirmation of his statement. “Just… shake it off.” He was still worried he’d damaged me.

  I jumped around lightly, doing a parody of a jig to show that I had recovered and hopefully to relieve the tension of his thoughts toward me. The man was almost like a second father. He was stern and commanding but also very attentive and concerned for those under his command.

  It reminded me of Holden, how Commander Travis James had taken his mute nephew under his wing at a young age. I still hadn’t learned much of Holden’s story, his past. I could tell that he avoided thinking about his family, and we hadn’t talked about them much more than in passing these last couple of months, which did nothing other than inflame my curiosity.

  Why wasn’t Holden with his family? Why did the commander
have to interfere? I had a suspicion that the reasons were not good, that Holden had been through much at an early age.

  I’d come to realize that most people here had some sort of secret, something that they didn’t want anyone to know… or wished they didn’t. The brutality and anger I’d witnessed since my recruitment was something I hadn’t much realized before. I’d always hated that we were forced to stay in town. And I knew that Primals had raging emotions while Sages were cold and calculating.

  A booming clap startled me from my introspection. Geez, I needed to work on my focus. I was just so used to trying to tune others out, one way or another, that trying to stay present when in a group was new to me. I still didn’t want the cacophony rumbling through my head, so I pulled out my earbuds— a new pair that were wireless. That was nice. I hated that the cord could pull or get caught on things. Those instances usually ended with a bud being pried from my ear or the cord pulling from the music device itself.

  Either way was super annoying, so I loved that those issues were now non-existent. With only a wire connecting the two speaker pieces together, my range of movement was much improved, and I could perform a much wider range of activities without impediment from a dangling cord that was sure to catch on some invisible fairy who reveled in pulling me from my haven. Stupid invisible fairies.

  Commander James leaned over and looped a finger around the pretty blue cord I’d been moving toward my ear while making sure not to move his intense stare from mine. The invigorating pulse of the drum beat and guitars fell away from my ear, the words telling me how soon the singer and his love would be together, ringing me only partially into oblivion.

  “You thought we were done?”

  I blushed at the reprimand. “Sorry Commander,” I said sheepishly, my overzealousness to escape making me curse myself mentally. The fact that I was now blushing only furthered my mortification. I looked around pointedly. No one else remained in our little powwow circle. “I thought we were done.”