The HiT Series

by Margaret McHeyzer

  And assassins kill people.

  I will be an assassin.

  No, I am an assassin.

  It doesn’t take too long for my mind to assimilate my destiny and conform to it.

  I will give myself over entirely to the training Lukas has in store for me.

  A new person starts to emerge from within.

  A new mindset is setting in.

  Now only one person will know my full name–me. Anna Brookes died in the explosion that destroyed my father’s lifeless body, along with my home.

  I close my eyes and breathe in through my nose and exhale out through my mouth.

  Fifteen is the age at which my life changed; fifteen is the age at which I took two people’s lives. My first two kills.

  Anna Brookes no longer lives.

  I will be known as 15.

  Calm embodies me, and I know life will never be the same as it was.

  Now I have a purpose, getting ready for the day becomes easier. Shelving my desire for the revenge I’ll one day take on Roman Murphy becomes effortless. I know Lukas’s training will give me the skills I need to destroy him. His time will come.

  Bouncing out of bed, I can already smell the start of the day with a pot of coffee brewing in the kitchen. Lukas stands in just a pair of sweat pants making breakfast. I can smell what I think are eggs; I can hear bacon sizzling, and the click of the toaster being pushed down. My stomach rumbles and I instantly realize I’m very hungry.

  “Vitamins.” Lukas turns to give me a glass of water and two chewable tablets.

  I lay the tablets on the table and drink my water all in one gulp.

  “Why haven’t you taken your vitamins?” Lukas eyes them on the table.

  “I…” My head begins to spin, my eyes can’t focus, and the room starts to swirls around in circles. “What’s happening, Lukas?” I lose my balance and topple over. Lukas catches me before my head hits the ground, and eases me to the floor. I can just make out his features.

  “Training.” He smiles.

  My eyes close and a curtain of black takes over.

  “Ooohhh,” I groan, and try to open my eyes, but it’s too bright. It’s like I’m under powerful lights shining directly onto my face. I have to blink a few times before my eyes focus, but eventually they do. I look around and find I’m lying in a field. The grass is tall and green, but there are patches where it’s dying. The field is surrounded by trees, a lot of trees. The tree line is dense, but the grass I’m lying in looks like a meadow of sorts.

  Slowly standing up, I feel my legs are as shaky as jelly. There’s a backpack a few feet away from me. I see Lukas has changed me from my pajamas into a pair of sweatpants, a t-shirt and sneakers. All are clothes he bought for me yesterday.

  I walk over to the backpack and pick it up. I bring it to my ear to listen for anything that might not be right with it, but I don’t hear anything ticking, so I assume there isn’t a bomb in there. Not that I would really know what to do with a bomb, but I don’t want to be blown into smithereens before my date with Roman Murphy.

  I open it and the contents of the backpack are: 1 large bottle of water; 2 granola bars; 1 sweater; a small first aid kit; and a flashlight. Lukas has also addressed a letter to me.

  Dear Anna,

  Your training starts first thing in the morning of every morning, and if you haven’t figured it out, part of your lesson today was to never accept a drink from an unopened container unless you absolutely have to. As you can see, I have dropped you off somewhere. I know where you are, but clearly, you don’t. You need to make your way back to where it all started within 48 hours. If you’re not there within 48 hours, I am leaving you behind. Don’t think this exercise is going to be quite that easy, there are certain obstacles that will present themselves to you as you try to find your way out. All I can say is, I hope to see you within the 48 hours because I truly believe I can help you become one of the best assassins in the world.

  Good luck.

  Lukas.

  I reread the letter and basically it tells me nothing. I don’t know which city or state I’m in. I have no idea how I’m going to get back to the gazebo. I have no money or phone with which to call Lukas, and even if I did, I don’t have his number.

  How the hell am I going to get myself out of this situation?

  What I have learned so far is to calm myself, not to panic, and to recall previous scenes. Since I was drugged, I can’t recall how I got here. But I must have got here somehow, so I search for broken grass or tire prints that might indicate a car, a motorcycle or any other form of transportation.

  I walk around and see the odd stems of grass that have been broken, forming a small path leading east. I was probably carried into the meadow, because the small, narrow path isn’t wide enough for a motorcycle or a car.

  With the pack securely on my back, I start the journey to my first home in Florida, the gazebo. The long grass sways in the gentle wind and trees all stand tall, giving no obvious clues to the way out.

  The grass is dwindling and the trees are getting thicker as I approach the end of the small path. When I get to the first row of trees I squat down and look at the ground. It’s dry and there’s a single tire mark that leads in through the thick scrub. Lukas must have brought me here on a motorcycle. I follow where the trail leads.

  Travelling by foot in the harsh sun takes its toll on me. The drug is still in my blood, making me slower than I usually would be. I take a sip of water and keep going. I don’t know how long I’ll be out here, so conserving my water and food supply is imperative.

  With nothing but my thoughts to keep me company, I notice the sun has moved, so I must have walked for a couple of hours. I feel something fly past my ear. I sprawl on the ground, looking around to see what it was that came so dangerously close to my head.

  My heart pounds and my body shakes, which doesn’t help the scenario. I can’t see anything, but I do feel another swish of air go past my head. I start crawling on my belly as fast as I can to the biggest tree, seeking cover from whatever the hell is coming for me.

  With my back up against a tree trunk thick enough to hide my body, I put part of my training to use. I calm myself down. Without calm there’s chaos, and chaos can get me killed. Breathing deep through my nose, I lower my angst and am once again able to concentrate.

  Standing up, flattening my body against the tree, I look in the direction of whatever came flying toward me. In a tree trunk less than thirty feet away I see an arrow sticking out. Just below it, I see a second arrow. Both fletchings point in the same direction, which to me, means they have been shot from the same spot. That’s a good thing, it means only one shooter. Well, I hope so, anyway.

  Trying to look around the tree to see if I can catch a glimpse of who or where my attacker is hiding is actually quite difficult.

  Sitting back down I close my eyes, I start locking out all sounds one by one. The sound of the wind passing the trees, muted. The crunch of the dirt beneath my body as I move behind the tree, subdued. My own breath as I inhale and exhale, silenced.

  One sound remains that I can’t identify as part of my surroundings.

  A scraping sound. Something I’m not familiar with. I can’t identify it, but as I watch this scenario, I look at who is making the sound. Up ahead, 80 yards to the right I see him. Lukas. He wasn’t even hiding, he was watching me as I walked through the trees. He knelt down, took aim, and fired the first arrow at me. As I sprawled, he laughed at me. Was he aiming to hit me or aiming to scare me?

  It doesn’t matter, I tell myself. It’s all part of my training.

  So now I know where he is, I need to see if he’s still there. I must be going in the correct direction if he’s trying to deter me from going that way.

  I open my eyes and look around to where I saw him in the movie that just played in my head. I can’t see him, but it doesn’t mean he isn’t there.

  Gathering my bag I continue on my path, but not before pulling the arrows ou
t of the tree trunk. I may need them, and I would rather have them and not use them, than not have them and regret leaving them behind.

  The forest is becoming denser, and the dirt is now covered in leaves that crackle beneath my shoes. I must have been travelling for a while longer. The sun is no longer casting a shadow. Soon, I’ll have to use the flashlight in the pack he left with me.

  That serpent-bite feeling I get whenever I touch the hand of evil is niggling ever so softly in the pit of my stomach. Danger is close by, but I can’t see it. Taking cover, I look around and try to figure out this cluster fuck. I can’t see anyone, but my senses are telling me there’s definite danger, and that the danger is extremely close.

  I know Lukas won’t let me off this easy with a training session. I think it will get much worse before it gets better. My ears fine-tune the sounds around me, automatically blocking out certain noises. Noises that occur naturally in these surroundings are not significant. I need to pay attention to the noises that don’t. There’s something that doesn’t belong.

  There it is – a crackling sound, like hot embers from a fire that is starting to die down.

  Sounds of spitting.

  Sounds of slithering.

  Sounds of snakes.

  Plural.

  A snake pit, close by.

  Watching my surroundings, I step away from my hiding spot, and walk toward where my ears tell me the sound is coming from. I can’t see anything, but I know it’s very close. I watch my footing, because it could be covered over as a trap. Putting one foot in front of the other, slowly, I put the slightest pressure on the ground, testing for uneven or false surfaces. The hissing sound gets louder, which means I’m getting closer.

  It feels like I have snakes sliding all over me. Bile rises in my throat and threatens to eject the very little I have had to drink and eat. My stomach is spasming and small goose bumps cover me from head to toe.

  My left foot gently falls on the ground and it automatically punches through cardboard covering a hole. The hole is deep enough that if I fall in, I won’t get back out. I retract my foot to solid ground, but as I look down I see snakes slithering over each other. Dark snakes, there must be close to a hundred in here. They’re all entwined around one another, writhing heedlessly.

  I must be headed in the correct direction. Lukas is trying as hard as possible to force me off this path. “Sorry, Sir, I’ll be back soon.” I know he’s listening and I know he’s close but I can’t see him. He’s really very good, remaining stealthy throughout this training ‘exercise’.

  I move forward and dusk is falling, the temperature cooling down rapidly. I take my sweater and flashlight out of my bag. It’ll be dark very soon. Sliding my sweater on and putting my backpack on again, I press the soft button on the flashlight and…nothing. It doesn’t work. I notice the weight; it feels light, as if it’s missing the batteries. Fuck me. This means I can’t keep going when it gets dark, because I could be exerting all my energy going around in circles or walking into another of Lukas’s traps.

  I find a spot where I can safely close my eyes to rest until morning takes over. I lean against a tree and let my eyelids droop closed. Of course, my sleep is filled with thoughts of arrows, snakes, and pure loneliness.

  Can this shit get any worse?

  “Anna, honey, it’s Christmas day. Wake up.” Dreaming of my dad makes me happy.

  “Daddy?”

  “Anna, honey, its Christmas day. Wake up.” My eyes want to stay closed as I hear Dad’s voice. I want this beautiful dream of my father to continue.

  “Anna, honey, its Christmas day. Wake up.” That same line keeps repeating.

  Forcing my eyes to open, I’m not sure what to expect. Is it Christmas morning and I’ve just woken from a nightmare where two men were sent to take me and kill my father? Lukas? Is he real?

  Trying to focus, I see I’m not among trees any more. I’m in a steel container tied to a chair…no, not tied. I’m handcuffed to a chair. Stretching my neck from side to side I hear the crack when I move it to the left. The lights in this box are dim, and there’s a huge TV directly in front of me with a blank screen. As I look around, the container appears to be bare other than a closed–and I assume locked–door. The TV, my chair and a camera in the ceiling watching what I do.

  “Anna, honey, its Christmas day. Wake up.” The sound continues to come from somewhere. I’m not sure where though; I can’t see a speaker anywhere. Images begin to flash up on the TV.

  Images of my dad–Henry. How did Lukas get these pictures? A slide show of images plays and repeats.

  Pictures of Dad and me at Christmas, with me up on his shoulders, putting the star on top of the tree. Dad and me trick-or-treating, while I’m dressed as a fairy and Dad is a knight. Dad and me at my first father-daughter dance at school. Me blowing the candles out on my 9th birthday cake and Dad kissing my cheek. Dad and I at target practice over at Mike’s. So many photos, so many of the times Dad and I were together.

  “Honey, its Christmas day. Wake up.” is on a loop and the same sequence of words play, with only a few seconds between the end of one and the beginning of the next.

  Tears fill my eyes. I’m choking on my own breath, my heart breaking as I watch not only my life but Dad’s life play out in the slideshow images. I feel my body softening with emotions I have been keeping bottled inside. Crying turns into sobbing, sobbing turns into hysterics as I realize just how alone I am in the world. I don’t try to fight against the handcuffs, I simply submit.

  Watching my life condensed into six minutes causes indescribable sorrow. That’s what my life has become: six minutes of memories; six minutes of happiness; six minutes of love; just six minutes.

  I loose every emotion I’ve been keeping in since this ordeal began–anger, fear, panic, frustration, sorrow, worry, shame, guilt, elation, pride, hurt, trust, hope and most of all, hate. I let my body react to these emotions, relinquishing control.

  I’m shaking and feel my body becoming cold and clammy. My fingers start to lose feeling and my head feels as though a jackhammer is trying to get out from the inside. I can’t keep my eyes open any longer. The pressure building behind them threatens to erupt and explode.

  I give up.

  I give in.

  “Please stop,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper.

  “I can’t do this anymore.” I’m crying uncontrollably.

  “I just…” I just what? What can’t I do? What am I asking Lukas to do here? End me? Is that what I want?

  My weeping starts to slow, either I’m dehydrated or I’m all cried out, I’m not sure which. My brain is completely filled with grey smoke. I can’t see clearly and I certainly can’t think clearly.

  The photos are still on a cycle, Dad’s voice urging me to wake up is still playing, and I’m still handcuffed to the fucking chair.

  Closing my eyes I do what I need to do to stop those six minutes from breaking me down any further. I put my training into action. I block it all out. I shut out my former life.

  It’s at this very moment I realize what the significance of the training in this room is.

  I must leave my life behind.

  I must become emotionally detached.

  I must forget.

  I must never love again.

  I’m a broken 15-year-old girl.

  I’ll never be the same again.

  With that massive epiphany, I close my eyes and let exhaustion consume me, mind, body and soul.

  “Anna, wake up.” I hear his voice but I don’t know if this is still part of the training.

  “Congratulations, you did extremely well.” I struggle, opening my eyes to see Lukas. I know it’s his voice; I can smell his aftershave. Lukas doesn’t speak again. He simply scoops me up and carries me to what I suspect is his car. My eyes still won’t open. My brain, not wanting to deal with anything else life has in store for me right now, is still in shutdown mode.

  I can feel myself being driven, but my body
stays in its cold, zombie-like state.

  The car stops. My door opens, and I’m being carried in his arms. He sets me down on a soft surface. My shoes, socks and pants are removed. Blankets are pulled up over me and I feel a soft touch of his lips to my hair.

  I don’t know how long I’m out for. I wake occasionally, but only for a moment or two before my brain protects itself from any further hurt and shuts down again. Maybe the hours turn into days, maybe the days turn into weeks. Maybe anything is possible.

  “Wake up, Anna.”

  I can hear him; I can sense him; I can even smell him. Lukas. A hand smooths over my hair and his words repeat.

  “Come on, wake up. It’s time to open your eyes.”

  Becoming more conscious of my own body and emotions, I stir but don’t dare let the world see me yet.

  “I don’t think I can, Lukas.”

  “Here, I brought you something to drink.”

  Opening my eyes, I see Lukas holding a tall glass of iced water. I lean on one elbow and take the glass from him. Bringing the glass to my lips, I stop before I swallow any of the liquid. Handing the glass back to Lukas, I simply say, “Once bitten.”

  Lukas smiles, he answers my unasked question by taking the liquid in his mouth and swallowing. I watch as his Adam’s apple bobs with the one big gulp he took.

  “Very good. How do you feel?”

  “Truthfully, I feel…broken”

  “What did you learn?”

  “Not to trust you.” The corners of his mouth twitch, but his eyes hold the mirth from my answer.

  “What else?”

  “To let go of my past, of the things I love.” I cast my eyes down and consider my statement. “To let go of the things I once loved.” I’m trying to find the strength to look into Lukas’s eyes so he can see I’m no longer the 15-year-old girl he found days earlier.

  He leans in and brings his hand up, running it through my hair, softly stroking it downwards. His hand subtly continues down my shoulder, down my arm. He rests his hand a mere hair’s breadth away from my own fingertips. He looks to where our hands are almost touching. I watch as he looks down. His features soften immediately, his eyes turn into a liquid, sea green. His shoulders relax, and his face totally softens. Lukas drags his gaze up slowly to meet my eyes. He leans in closer and closes his lust-filled eyes. He brings both hands up to cup my cheeks. My eyes remain open as his mouth finds my jaw line. Slowly nipping his way toward my ear, he takes my earlobe in his mouth. A sigh escapes me and a groan escapes him.