Slayers (Jake Hawkins Book 1)

by Matt Rogers

  Wolfe nodded and smiled. “You got me good. I saw stars for a few seconds.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be sorry. You hit me fair and square; nothing dirty. We’re all men here, Jake. Just because I’m bleeding doesn’t mean you need to apologise for it. I can take a hit.”

  Jake paused.

  “So, technically,” he said, “you got your arse handed to you.”

  Wolfe grinned. “That’s more like it.”

  *

  With the second month of training came a boost in motivation. Jake found himself adapting to the regime. He no longer fell into bed each night barely able to move. Sometimes, he had enough left in the tank for a few games of cards with Link.

  As members of the gang went off to scout, Jake found anxiety creeping into his system. Wolfe informed him that slayer activity was much quieter than usual. Over the course of his training, there had only been one encounter. Thorn had returned late into the night, bloody and bruised but still alive. Three slayers had ambushed him. He had killed them all. Jake didn’t get a wink of sleep that night.

  He was growing stronger by the day.

  The first month had been a non-stop barrage of pain, with no time for relief. Now, though, he could feel the little improvements, day by day, session by session. Suddenly, he could lift the logs a little easier, fight a little harder, run a little quicker. As soon as the results became noticeable, it was hard to forget about them. He felt like a new person. It gave him the determination he needed to push on.

  In short, the training was working.

  During those first few weeks of agony, he’d doubted that Wolfe or the others had any idea what they were talking about. Surely, they were overtraining him. But now, his entire body was responding, and he liked it. Felix had told him that after a career in the Delta Force, they all knew how the human body responded to pain and suffering. Initially, he had dismissed it as crap, but he saw now the man was right.

  It irked Jake that he was the subject of a state-wide manhunt. The first time seeing his face on national news had been surreal. But there was no real danger. The breakout from the police station had been so well-executed that the police had nothing on the perpetrators, besides the fact that they were two muscular men of average height. Chunks of flying concrete from the impact had disabled the sole CCTV camera in the room. Jake wondered what Liam thought about all this.

  Liam. His dad. Jake often thought about his old life, but he found himself trying to force it back down every time his mind wandered. This was his life now. What had happened in the past was irrelevant.

  The second month was easier. Because he could feel the results, it gave him a steely determination. He wanted to see how far he could go.

  So he slaved away in the basement, never missing a workout, or a weapons session, or a sparring contest. Even if he had wanted to, the other men would never have allowed it. In the beginning, he had cursed Wolfe for forcing him through the exercises. Now he was grateful.

  It was always Wolfe who pushed him. All of them had grown closer, as was a usual side effect of being unable to leave the house, but there was something different about Wolfe. The man had saved him from certain death and given him the opportunity to leave his past life behind. Jake looked up to him.

  The weeks flew by as Jake settled into a routine. Muscle soreness slowly decreased until he was left with nothing more than a dull throbbing at the end of each day. His body had become accustomed to the fourteen-hour schedule. He had seen more muscle development over the past two months than he had in the four years before that. The hard work was paying off.

  One night, on a whim, he shaved his head after growing sick of sweat matting thick strands of hair to his forehead. It changed his whole appearance. He was no longer the boy who had entered the mansion two months ago. He had changed.

  It took two months of relentless training, but finally, he was deemed ready for what Wolfe called ‘initiation’. If he passed, he would be ready to hunt.

  DAY 62 OF TRAINING

  INITIATION

  9:00p.m.

  Jake danced up and down on the spot, swinging his arms from side to side, loosening his muscles. He felt strength coursing through his legs, his torso, his arms.

  All of them were down in the basement again. Crank and Sam were standing in front of him, geared up to fight. Behind them lay an unloaded pistol. Jake was dressed in a singlet and loose combat shorts. He worked his bare feet into the wrestling mat, feeling its smoothness, zoning in.

  Wolfe was positioned at the far end of the basement, standing next to the staircase, with two fingers pressed against the wall. He had adopted a sprinter’s stance. It looked like he was ready to explode off the wall.

  “Let’s go over the rules once again,” Felix said. “Jake, you have to do everything in your power to get to that pistol behind Crank and Sam. From the moment I say ‘begin’, Wolfe is going to count to five. When he gets to five, he’s allowed to run. If he reaches the gun before you do, it’s back to training. Understood?”

  “I’ve got to say, this seems a little unfair,” Jake said.

  “This is a test of your ability,” Link said. “Just imagine that Wolfe is a slayer. When it’s a matter of life and death you need to be able to overcome the odds.”

  Suddenly, without any warning, Felix called out.

  “Begin!” he roared.

  An inner reserve inside of Jake switched on.

  This was his initiation.

  He couldn’t fail.

  He let out a grunt and charged forward, straight at Crank and Sam. They dropped low, preparing for the attack. Wolfe had instructed them not to throw any punches, but they were to keep him away from the pistol by whatever other means necessary.

  Jake tensed his quads like a coiled spring. Then he dove through the air. His shoulder rammed against Sam’s chest, who hadn’t been expecting it the flying tackle. The two went sprawling over the mats in a tangle of limbs.

  Three seconds had passed.

  Jake rolled over his shoulder and scrambled to his feet, but Crank was already on him. He shot forwards and wrapped his arms around Jake in a powerful bear-hug. Jake dropped to his knees and bucked violently. Crank spun over the top of him and crashed into the ground.

  The five second mark was reached. Out of the corner of his eye, Jake saw Wolfe push off from the wall.

  Sam tackled him into the mat from behind. They both rose awkwardly, and Jake sensed an opportunity. He whipped around and slammed a fist into the man’s gut. Sam doubled over.

  Wolfe was halfway to the wrestling mats, picking up speed.

  Crank was already up. He positioned himself in between Jake and the pistol. Wolfe was going to get to it first, unless Jake acted now. Desperation seized him. Anger flooded his insides.

  No-one was going to stop him from passing this test.

  He took a step and head-faked, pretending like he was about to dive. Crank took the bait. He braced for impact and thrust his head down instinctively. Instead of leaping, Jake ducked low and powered forwards. He wrapped his arms tight around Crank’s lower legs and heaved. He lifted Crank up into the air and then slammed him down on his head, putting him out of action.

  Jake was now only a metre from the pistol, but he was off-balance, out of position.

  Wolfe had already reached the mats. He was running at full speed. The pistol was within his grasp.

  And just like that, Wolfe was on top of the pistol, reaching down with an outstretched arm. Jake threw himself towards the gun, contorting in mid-air. He brought a well-placed fist down into Wolfe’s forearm. The man recoiled.

  Jake scrabbled to his feet. He saw his opening, and took it.

  He hit Wolfe with a front kick that landed dead-centre in the middle of his chest. Wolfe was knocked over with such speed that the back of his head whiplashed against the mat.

  Jake reached down and plucked the pistol off the ground. For good measure, he aimed it at Wolfe’s startled face.
/>   “The kid’s a freak!” Thorn exclaimed.

  “Impressive, brother,” Sam said. He was still holding his gut. “Really impressive.”

  Wolfe lay on his back, panting a little from momentary loss of breath. He paused for a second or two, then smiled and said two words that would change Jake’s life forever.

  “You’re ready.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  The night was cool and silent as Jake pounded along the footpath. Sweat ran in rivulets down his forehead. The hood he had drawn up over his head cast his face into shadow. It was the first time he had left the house in seven weeks.

  After two months, the attention of the manhunt had dissipated somewhat, but Wolfe was still hesitant to let him go out running at night. It was only after constant begging that Jake was finally allowed out, but only well after dark. He had been going stir-crazy inside the house. It was nice to have a change of surroundings.

  He turned back into his street and picked up the speed, sprinting the last two hundred metres. He had already covered almost twenty kilometres. As he ran up the gravel driveway and came to a stop in front of the house, he bent over with his hands on his knees and exhaled sharply out into the night air.

  When he saw Link sitting on the front step of the deck, he started. “What are you doing out here?”

  “Waiting for you,” Link said. “Are you up for a little scouting?”

  “For slayers?”

  Link nodded.

  “Now?”

  “Yeah, now.”

  Jake gulped.

  It had been three days since Wolfe had qualified him as field-ready, but so far there had been no slayer sightings. It left Jake in a constant state of anxiety, something he had been hoping to sweat out with the run. While he was training, that was his life. Now, it felt like waiting on death row. All he could think about was when one of the gang would walk through the door and announce they had found something.

  “Um … are you sure this is a good idea?” he said. “I mean, I’m a wanted fugitive. It took me hours of pleading with Wolfe for him to let me out for a run.”

  “It’s dark, and the place we’re looking at is a rundown street in the outer suburbs. You’ll be fine. Wolfe gave me the go ahead.”

  Jake raised an eyebrow. “He did?”

  Link nodded again. “Don’t get too worked up. It’s unlikely that we’ll find anything. Slayers are notoriously adept at hiding. We have picked up suspicious activity in that area, though. There’s a few signs that point to a stray slayer.”

  “How can you tell?”

  “There was a disappearance a few weeks ago. We follow up every missing persons case in Melbourne. In this instance, Crank found claw marks on a house near where the man went missing. You and I are going to have a look around and see if we can find anything else unusual.”

  Link rose from the step and tossed Jake a workout towel. Jake wiped the newly developing sweat off his face and followed the man to the front door.

  “I’ll meet you back out here in ten minutes,” Link instructed. “I left gear on your bed. Get changed.”

  “Okay.”

  Jake passed Crank, Felix, Sam and Thorn gathered round the enormous oak table in the dining room, playing cards.

  “He returns!” Thorn said exuberantly, spreading his hands wide. “Link tells me you boys are out to do some scouting.”

  “Yeah…” Jake said. “Guys, I’m – uh – I’m pretty scared about this.”

  “It wouldn’t be right if you weren’t scared,” Felix said. “My first day out in the field, I could barely breathe. Just relax, stay focused. Chances are you won’t find anything, and even if you do you report it back to us and we all show up.”

  “Right,” Jake said.

  He moved into his room and noticed a plethora of combat gear spread across the sheets. Link had hand selected the equipment from the weapons range downstairs. Jake eyed a pair of suppressed pistols, combat knives and flash grenades, all resting above a compact utility belt.

  As he geared up, his insides tightened. He felt suffocated. By the time he was ready to go, he could feel his heart steadily thumping against the wall of his chest. Tonight could be the night he faced a slayer for the first time since the encounter in the alleyway. He took a deep breath, expanding his chest, then pushed the fear away and left the room.

  As he passed through the kitchen, all four men called out words of encouragement.

  “Good luck, brother!”

  “Jake, remember what I told you.”

  “Deep breaths, kid.”

  Jake nodded once in recognition, too scared to talk, and walked into the hallway. At the double doors he hesitated.

  Wolfe.

  He jogged upstairs. Wolfe’s room was at the very end of the upstairs hallway. The door was open. He rounded the corner and knocked once, looking in.

  Wolfe was sitting on the other side of the double bed with his back to Jake. He was hunched over, elbows resting on his knees, clutching a framed photograph between his hands. As Jake knocked, he sat upright and placed the photo on the ground, out of sight. It looked like he had been crying. Jake ignored it.

  “You’re letting me out on a scouting mission?” he asked.

  “Hey, buddy,” Wolfe said. “Nice to see you too.”

  “Answer me, Wolfe. I don’t have much time.”

  “Yes, I am. Link thought it would be a good idea to take you out on this. Honestly, there’s a slim chance you’ll find anything, but it’s good training for when you head out on a proper hunt.”

  Jake said nothing.

  “You nervous?” Wolfe said.

  “Of course.”

  “You’ll be fine, kid. We’ve been dry on slayer hotspots for the past week. It’s almost like they’re thinning out.”

  “Is that a good sign?”

  “I’m not sure. It could be. To be honest, we have no idea what Archfiend is up to. But we’re closing in. He’s running out of places to hide, that’s for sure.”

  Wolfe lapsed into silence, seemingly lost in thought. Eventually, he spoke again.

  “Anyway, get out there and help Link out,” he said. “If you come across a slayer, he’ll protect you.”

  Jake nodded a farewell and left the room. There was something nagging away in the back of his mind about the photograph he had seen. It was a woman. Wolfe had never mentioned a former life. The fact that he was hiding things unnerved Jake. Slayers were unsettling enough; Jake didn’t need anyone in the house adding to that by keeping secrets.

  He shrugged it off.

  Link was waiting in the driveway, leaning on the hood of the Audi R8. It had been polished to perfection, and gleamed under the porch lights.

  “What took you so long?” Link said. “We should be there by now.”

  “I needed to talk to Wolfe, man,” Jake said. “Give me a break.”

  Jake slipped into the passenger seat of the Audi, and ten minutes later they were speeding down the freeway, heading away from the glowing skyline of the City of Melbourne.

  *

  Link decelerated and pulled around the corner. The Audi entered a dilapidated neighbourhood, made up of rundown houses with boarded windows and lawns with knee-high grass.

  “Are we close?” Jake asked. He was scared out of his mind, and reluctant to leave the car.

  “Yes,” Link said. “Crank found the claw marks all over an abandoned two-storey house up ahead. He searched inside, but he found nothing.”

  “Then what are we doing here?”

  “Double-checking.”

  Jake lurched forward as Link pressed down on the brake. They pulled up on the side of the road. He looked out the passenger seat window at a house that was literally falling apart. Rotted wood hung jaggedly from the framework. All of the windows facing the street had mouldy planks nailed across them. The concrete footpath leading to the front porch was cracked and broken. The house was shrouded in darkness. Widely interspersed street lights provided a soft amber glow that did n
othing but exacerbate the shadows.

  Jake followed Link’s lead, getting out of the car and meeting him on the footpath. His chest was rising and falling heavily as he tried to combat the nerves. The street was dead silent.

  “So there’s a slayer in there?” Jake said.

  “You’re overthinking things, my friend,” Link said. “Remember what I told you. It’s probably nothing. But we’re desperate for any sign of a slayer right now. There hasn’t been much activity over the past few months.”

  “Wolfe thinks Archfiend is up to something.”

  “Indeed he does.”

  Link began to walk along the path that wound up to the house. He strode purposefully, confident. It gave Jake a sense of calm.

  Link tried the door. It was firmly locked. Without a word, he drew a pistol and a hefty flashlight from his belt and retreated back a step.

  “If there’s anything in here, this is going to get it’s attention,” he said. “Jake, keep your head up and your reflexes sharp. Just in case anything gets past me. Stay behind me at all times. Got it?”

  “Uh-huh,” Jake said, his pistol now drawn too. He couldn’t manage much else.

  “Okay, here we go, in three … two … one …”

  After a beat, Link kicked the centre of the door. It snapped off its rusty hinges, fell inwards and crashed down onto the floorboards, sending up a billowing cloud of dust. Jake watched him storm in through the opening. He followed suit, dashing over the porch and entering the house.

  Deafening silence.

  As the dust settled, Jake found himself suddenly alone. He bit his tongue to keep from panicking.

  There was no sign of Link. He heard footsteps from inside the house. The narrow beam of Link’s flashlight glanced over one of the doorways. He was somewhere inside, searching the rooms. Jake fumbled with his torch until it finally came on, illuminating the black hallway.

  “Okay,” he muttered to himself, seized by panic. “Okay, okay.”

  Despite his fear, he didn’t want to simply stand in the hallway while Link cleared the rooms. He wanted to be useful. Despite every nerve in his body telling him to run, he stood his ground.