by AJ Eversley
“Do as I’m told, no questions asked,” he wheezed.
“Exactly.” I stood back up and grabbed my baton. “So hit me.”
He stood, grabbed his baton, and halfheartedly swung.
I took a step back and growled, “Seriously?”
He put a little more effort into the next swing, but I still deflected it with ease. He advanced, putting a little power behind his swings. I countered them easily, anticipating his next moves. Tired of his lack of focus, I swept my baton behind his legs, and he was on his back again, wincing to catch his breath.
“If that’s all you’ve got, then you’re useless to me—a liability even.” I turned my back to him, ready to pack it in, and tell Smith he was wrong.
He was up in an instant and aimed for my back, but I felt it coming. I spun around to deflect the blow. There was more power behind it than before, and he kept them coming. He advanced, and I was forced to take a few steps back. His swings were strong, but there was no real purpose behind them. He needed to learn control.
I taught him this lesson as he swung hard and wildly at me. Using his momentum, I brought him closer, and then in one step I was behind him, baton to the neck he’d left exposed.
He sighed and showed a sign of surrender.
“Just because you have strength doesn’t mean you don’t need discipline. Do you think I’m the strongest one here?” I said.
He smirked.
I fixed him with a glare that sobered him. “I’m not the strongest, but I’m the most disciplined. I will beat anyone here regardless of their size.”
“I believe that.” He smiled, causing my heart to do a little leap, and I wanted to punch him.
I shook my head. “Again!” I ordered.
We continued this dance until we were both exhausted and starving. I told him to go shower and eat. We would meet for more training after lunch. I chose not to eat in the mess hall, instead taking my food and a second plate to Kyle’s room.
He was propped up against the wall in bed. Every room in the base was the same, a ten-foot-by-ten-foot space of concrete with no windows, and a single bed only fit for one person. There was a small bathroom attached with barely enough room to wash your hair. I noticed the small table beside his bed. It was full of books. I scanned the covers. Robotics Throughout History one said, and another, Biomechanics and its Relation to Robotic Technology.
Kyle saw me scanning the titles. “The more you know your enemy, right?” he coughed.
I looked up at him. His face was pale. “Doc says you’re getting better?” I asked, trying to hide the concern in my eyes.
“Oh yeah. Doc says I’m doing just fine. Should be back to training in a few days.”
I doubted Doc would allow that.
“Just need a little sun is all. A little fresh air.” He changed the subject. “So I hear you’re training the new guy.” He took a big bite of his sandwich.
“Yeah, lucky me,” I mumbled, staring down at my food.
“He any good so far?” he asked.
“No,” I said bluntly, “Well, he’s strong, but he has zero technique and no discipline at all. And he’s stubborn as hell.”
Kyle laughed. “Reminds me of this bratty kid we took in about eight years ago. She thought she was God’s gift to mankind. We had to teach her otherwise.”
I shoved him gently, but smiled. “The difference is she was God’s gift to mankind; still is as a matter of fact.”
Kyle laughed, which turned into a coughing fit, but he still smiled. “I beg to differ.”
I shot him another glare but was laughing too.
We fell into silence as we finished our lunch. Finally, Kyle spoke. “Did you know that after World War III Bots were built to clean up the mess and provide artificial limbs to those still living?”
I didn’t know that.
“And it wasn’t until forty years after that we started using them in homes as butlers and servants.” He sat up excitedly.
“I’ve been reading up on it,” he explained, “looking for clues. It seems like a different life, ten years ago. I remember sitting in my room, probably playing video games while linking with a friend playing at his house, and just pushing a button for food. Did you know that back in the ancient times humans were the ones who did all the hard work, not Bots? They called them slaves. Hard to believe we’d do that to our own kind.” He sighed.
I didn’t know what to say.
“It isn’t hard to understand why the Bots revolted. I mean the human slaves eventually said enough is enough, why not them? That is if you believe they revolted of their own free will, of course, and have the capacity to feel emotions.” Kyle trailed off, lost in his own thought.
Everyone had a different theory on what happened. Nobody from our government was still alive to give us any insight. Some believed they turned them against us although they failed in that plan if they had hoped to live to see it happen. They were all dead, just like the majority of people.
Some believed there was one man still controlling them. Dr. Ian Coleman, the lead scientist for Sub 9, who was never found after the initial attack and was believed still to be in Sub 9.
I didn’t care which theory was correct. It didn’t change where we were. It couldn’t bring anyone back. The base and these people were all we had left.
“Did you know this base was built in 2024? Three years before World War III,” Kyle chimed in, seemingly reading my mind.
“That doesn’t surprise me, given the lack of technology down here,” I said. We were working with such ancient resources. It was one of the reasons we could use Command without being found. The equipment was so old we couldn’t even be detected by today’s technology. It also meant we no longer had access to their technology. Link systems, viral feeders, micro comms, even Cablenet was all gone. Sub 9 had no reason to restore these human comforts. I was young when the war happened, but I still missed those things, even if it was foolish.
“All right, I’d better get back.” I stood and took Kyle’s dish from him.
“Have fun,” he said with a smile. “And Sawyer, go easy on him.” I rolled my eyes as I left.
~
Once again Kenzie was waiting for me in the training room, already warming up on the treadmill. I wondered if he’d even left.
“Come with me,” I said as we walked to the back of the room. “Hands,” I instructed, and he held them out.
I wrapped them, making sure not to look at his face, even though I felt his eyes on me and hated the heat they brought to my face.
“Okay, now show me a punch.” I pointed to the punching bag beside me. He lined up and swung; the bag barely moved.
“A punch doesn’t just come from your arms. You have to use your core, legs, everything.” I lined up in front of the bag and threw a punch, putting all my power behind it. The bag swayed side to side.
Kenzie lined up as I had and swung again. The bag moved slightly more than before, but his hips didn’t move at all.
“Like this.” I placed my hands on his hips and demonstrated the proper rotation. He almost froze at my touch but allowed me to move him. I realized a little too late I’d been holding his hips for far too long. My hand grazed his stomach as I moved back. I swear I felt every hard indent on his stomach, and I was certain my face was bright red. This feeling of unease was foreign to me, and I couldn’t figure out why Kenzie affected me this way.
Luckily, he said nothing and tried again, this time using his hips.
“Better,” I said, and he continued. The bag moved, and he was getting the hang of it.
I taught him the different styles of punches one by one, and though his technique was complete crap, he was learning how to use his strength.
We took a short break, and I tried to avoid eye contact, busying myself with my water bottle.
Kenzie looked at me. “I know I’m not supposed to ask questions, but isn’t hand-to-hand combat a little pointless? We shouldn’t ever get that close in the first pl
ace, right?” he asked.
“And what if they steal your gun? Or if you run out of ammo?” I countered. “What if you’re trapped with no way to execute Plan B, and your only hope is to fight your way out?”
“Plan B?” Kenzie asked.
I assumed Smith had told him what he was volunteering for—a suicide mission at best. Be killed by them, or kill yourself.
“We can’t risk being caught, not any of us,” I began. “So if we’re ever captured or have no way out, then our only choice is Plan B. We sacrifice ourselves for the survival of the rest.”
Kenzie was silent, but I saw the understanding dawning. He climbed back up and began to punch again, and this time there was more purpose behind each hit than before.
~
By the time we finished, it was well past suppertime. I took Kenzie up to Theresa to beg for food as I always did.
“Undisciplined brats, thinking you can just come in here and eat any time you please?” Theresa roared as she filled our plates. “We have a system you know. Everyone else seems to get it but you.”
“I’m sorry. It won’t happen again, I promise.” I smiled.
“Yeah, I won’t hold my breath on that one,” Theresa shoved the plates in our hands. “Now go.”
“Thank you,” I chirped and planted a kiss on her cheek.
“Bah.” She waved me off, but she tried to hide a smile as Kenzie and I sat in the empty mess hall to eat.
“So are we on an official training break right now?” he asked.
“Yeah, I guess so. Why?”
“I have some questions.”
I rolled my eyes and ate.
“How long have you been here?”
“Eight years.”
“Your family?”
“Gone.”
“Why did you become a Watcher?”
“To kill the bad guys.”
“No, for real.” He rolled his eyes at my lie.
I sighed and put down my fork. “Like everyone else, my family was slaughtered in front of me. My mom sacrificed her own life to save a stranger, and my dad gave his life for me.” I looked down at my food as I shrugged. “I guess I felt I needed to honor that sacrifice in whatever way I could, and this seemed the best fit.”
He stared back, his blue eye piercing right through me with understanding.
I changed the subject, no longer wanting to stroll down memory lane. “You done?” I asked.
He nodded, patting his full belly.
“Good. You’re gonna want to come with me if you plan to move tomorrow.”
He scrunched his eyebrows in confusion but followed me out of the mess hall.
We made our way past the training room and into Doc’s office. He barely looked up as I walked in. “It’s all ready for you two.” He gestured vaguely, not bothering to look up from his computer.
“Thanks,” I replied as I removed my jacket and shoes. I was in the midst of taking off my shirt when Kenzie stopped dead in his tracks and stared at me.
“Hurry up, take it off,” I instructed as I strip down to my skivvies.
He obeyed, and once he was down to his boxers, I stopped him. “Those can stay.” I tried to ignore the butterflies in my stomach, but I couldn’t help noticing his perfect structure and smooth skin. He looked like a character off a Cablenet soap my mom used to watch.
I felt him inspecting my body too as his eyes wandered, and I looked away quickly. The scars from former wounds filled the canvas of my pale, white skin, but I said nothing of where they came from. I was aware my lean frame was much like a ten-year-old boy’s, maybe with more muscle on it. But if there was one thing I was comfortable with, it was my body. And I wore my scars like a badge of honor. Who did I have to impress anyway, until now that is?
“Get in,” I said, pointing to the metal basin in front of us. He looked over the edge and saw that it was full of freezing cold water and ice. He looked back as if to say, “Are you serious?” I smiled and nodded.
He placed one foot in and quickly pulled it back, eyes wide in horror.
“Listen,” I said, “if you expect to make it through this training, you’d better start to love these ice baths. They’ll be your best friend for the next little while until your body adjusts to the training.”
He took a few deep breaths and then plunged in. The water was up to his neck. “Ah!” he screamed, gasping for air as goose bumps covered his skin.
I couldn’t stop laughing. “Steady your breathing. It’s not that bad, only ten minutes.” I joined him on the other side. The cold still took my breath away, but I didn’t let it show. I’d learned, like Kenzie soon would, that ice baths were the only thing that would keep you moving the next day.
Both of our teeth were chattering when Doc yelled from his desk, “Time!”. We jumped out and grabbed towels.
Kenzie was still shivering when he said, “That was worse than the whole day of training.”
I chuckled. “Well, you’ll thank me tomorrow.” I said, doing my best not to watch him while he dried his body off. “Go get some sleep.”
“Day one and he already needs an ice bath? Trying to kill him, are we?” Doc asked once Kenzie had left. I winked.
Chapter 17
Our training continued as the weeks went by. Every day, Kenzie improved, but each day I made the training harder. I had him starting his day at 0500, and we didn’t finish until close to midnight. He still threw up after his morning runs, but his stride looked better and less labored. And as expected, he’d grown to love the ice baths.
On the third week, I took him to the gun range. Smith told me Kenzie had experience with firearms, but Kenzie was much more experienced than I had presumed. He gave Tenason a run for his money with his long-range accuracy.
By the fourth week, a small crowd had gathered to watch the new kid shoot. It was impressive, not just his range but his calmness that followed each shot. He moved with grace and speed. He quickly changed clips, barely missing a beat. I even found myself mesmerized before shooing everyone away. Didn’t they have anything better to do? “No,” one spectator replied. There’s little to do with the base on lockdown. I kicked them out nonetheless. They could use the room when we were finished.
“All right, let’s mix things up,” I suggested. I punched in a code into the computer system, and the lights dimmed, mimicking nighttime. The targets disappeared out of sight. “Ready?” I asked without giving further instruction.
He nodded, already in position. I hit the enter button, and a target lit up to the right, fifty meters away. Kenzie hit it before I even blinked. Another target lit up, this time it was to the far left almost out of view, but he hit it square on. Two popped up simultaneously, and he hit both with ease.
I was impressed so far, but I knew what was coming. Another target lit up just as a log dropped from the ceiling and swung toward Kenzie’s left side. He dove out of the way just in time and hit the target moments before the light went out.
He was back up quickly, more on guard. Another log dropped straight on, and he jumped out of the way while hitting the two targets that popped up on opposite sides. He took one more shot and severed the cable holding the log. It dropped to his left, no longer in his line of sight—smart move.
The final three targets popped up as the ground opened under his feet. He leaped out of the way and let off two shots. The lights went back on as I walked over to him. “Nearly all of them, but not quite,” I said.
“Check.” He smirked.
So I called the targets forward, and sure enough every target was hit—all kill shots.
“How?” I mumbled.
“The last two on the right are angled too close. I was able to hit both with one shot,” he answered, proud of himself.
“Nice thinking, but no dice.” I turned to walk away. “Bullets don’t travel through Bots or Carbons like paper, so you would’ve been one short.”
“A minor technicality.” He rolled his eyes.
“A technicality that
decides life or death. Go again!” I ordered. I punched in the code to reset a new sequence, taking into consideration the log was rendered useless. Kenzie went back into position.
~
I gave Kenzie the evening off after supper, mostly to allow myself a little time off. I made my way to Kyle’s quarters and knocked on the door. I hadn’t seen him in a few days. No answer. I opened the door to discover he wasn’t in there. Doc must’ve allowed him to get out of bed, and that was good news. Kyle hadn’t been looking good when I last saw him.
Byron rounded the corner as I was about to leave. “Looking for Kyle?” he asked.
“Yeah, just checking on him.” I leaned against the wall, trying to show indifference.
“He’s with Doc,” he said, and the way his eyes averted from mine I could tell that wasn’t a good thing.
Racing down the hallway, I busted into Doc’s office. He was at his desk, looking disheveled.
“Where is he?” I asked.
“Quarantine room,” Doc replied.
“Why?”
“His wound has become infected. The stale recycled air in here hasn’t allowed it to heal properly. I’ve put him in quarantine to try to aid his body to fight the infection and heal itself.” Doc shook his head as he spoke.
“How bad is it?” I asked.
“He’s got a bad fever, but I don’t think the infection has spread to his heart yet. I’m hoping his body will fight back and we caught it quickly enough.”
“And if not?”
“If the infection hits his heart, we don’t have the medication to help him. His body will be too weak to fight back.”
I nodded. Not wanting to show any emotion in front of Doc, I walked over to the glass window where Kyle lay on the other side. He was sleeping, but he was pale and sweat glistened on his forehead.