The Guard

by Harri Aburrow-Newman

  “overstretched yourself? You should have started out a bit slower” I told her, leaning back against the treadmill next to hers. She didn’t even spare me a glance, just counted down quietly,

  “3… 2… 1…”

  Then hit the stop button, letting herself be carried backwards off of the track. I frowned after her as she headed over to the water fountain, then leaned over to check the exercise summary on her treadmill. 1.5 miles in eight minutes and 2 seconds. Unbelievable.

  Unsurprisingly, she sailed through the rest of the fitness tests with an arrogant ease, so I decided to take her over to the mess hall for some lunch before tackling the hand-to-hand fighting and gun range, mostly just so I could rethink my approach to them… I guessed that if she was accurate in her assessment of her own fitness, she probably would be in her assessment of her fighting skills as well, which meant that I would need to be firing on all cylinders.

  Chapter 8

  Beth

  I trailed after Michael as he headed off towards the mess hall, dragging on another cigarette and trying to ignore the ache in my chest. The exercise tests had been tedious and frustratingly, predictably simple. Having to rein myself in had taken an unexpected level of concentration though, and I was now seriously worried about how easy it was going to be to retain the appearance of humanity when put into a combat situation. I suppose it was ridiculous to assume that it would be easy at all… I heaved a sigh audibly and Michael paused and looked back at me, waiting until I caught up with him then continuing at my slower pace. He gave my cigarette a disapproving look as I brought it to my lips but, perhaps wisely, chose not to mention it.

  “You OK?” He noted, giving me a sideways glance as we walked.

  “I’m fine.”

  I felt a twinge of annoyance from him at my short answer and cleared my throat slightly, trying to shake myself into being a little more pleasant,

  “Sorry, just a little stressed I think… what’s the food like in this place anyway?” I changed the subject and sensed him relax a bit.

  “Standard army fare I suppose… but it’s pretty good really. There’d be a mutiny if the troops didn’t get fed properly.”

  I laughed mirthlessly, “I can imagine… you have to get something good out of being a soldier. I’ve never understood why people would go into the army to be honest. Killing people and risking getting killed yourself, just because someone tells you to…” I trailed off, frowning to myself as the hypocrisy of what I’d just said sunk in, “but then, here I am.”

  Michael smiled slightly at me, a sad cast to it,

  “Yup. Here you are.”

  He faltered slightly, and I felt him contemplating whether or not to continue. He did.

  “How did you end up here anyway? You’re 18! You should be, I don’t know, drinking and meeting boys and gossiping with your friends.”

  I stared at him incredulously for a moment before bursting out laughing, the feeling bubbling through me and lightening my mood.

  “Is that what 18 year old girls usually do?” I chuckled, “I didn’t know… my parents and siblings died years ago, as did most of what few people I’ve ever considered friends. I grew up with vampires breathing down my neck, so I’ve never really had the opportunities to drink or gossip. And actually I don’t think meeting boys would ever occur to me as a fun thing to do.”

  I smiled to myself as a flicker of white blonde hair seemed to catch in my mind, my lighter mood offering me a pain-free glimpse of my Ysabel.

  “Jeez,” Michael continued, “that doesn’t sound like much fun. I suppose I should be grateful for being old huh? I had a chance to have a life before vampires appeared and fucked it all up.”

  “Do you have anyone?” I asked curiously, “a girlfriend I mean…”

  “Ohh no,” he laughed, “I was with someone for a few years, but since we went our separate ways there’s been no one, uh, significant.” He grinned awkwardly,

  “Ha, just lots of non-significants then.”

  “well, I suppose so… how about you? Boyfriend?”

  I sobered again, the flicker of white blonde long gone and far away,

  “No. No I don’t have a boyfriend.”

  We had reached the mess hall now, but I waved Michael away, pulling out another cigarette.

  “You go, I’m actually not hungry at the moment. I can wait for you here.”

  I plonked myself down on a bench a little way away, studiously ignoring his disapproving frown.

  “ok, give me fifteen minutes.”

  True to his word, Michael reemerged almost exactly fifteen minutes later, smelling, at least to my sensitive nose, of stewed meat and potatoes. I wrestled with the urge to pull a face, standing up instead with a slight smile at him.

  “Good lunch?”

  “Just fine, thanks. Shall we take a slow walk back to the gym? We’ll go the shooting range first, let my food go down, then we’ll see how you fare in close combat.” He paused for a breath, and looked at me critically out of the corner of his eyes, “have you used a gun before?”

  I shrugged, and this time didn’t bother resisting when my face twisted with displeasure.

  “I can shoot just fine, but I don’t like guns.”

  Michael’s eyebrows rose at this,

  “Don’t like them? Why? You must have known when you came to us and asked to fight that we’d expect you to use them?”

  “Ptsh.” I scoffed, “we live in England, it’s not easy for regular people to get hold of guns or ammo. I was raised on blades - they don’t need reloading, they won’t jam, and they won’t alert every vampire in a two mile radius to your location. They’re also the right shape to slip between a vampire’s scales instead of just crushing them.”

  “OK, OK... fair points. But as I have mentioned previously, you’re in the military now. You won’t have trouble getting hold of ammo and we look after our weapons well enough that they rarely jam.”

  I frowned, keeping any more comments to myself for now. My distrust and distaste for guns ran deep; they were never used in the colonies because the elders dismissed them as unnecessary, modern gimmicks. And in any case, no vampire likes something that loud going off right next to them.

  We continued on our way in silence, me smoking yet another cigarette and Michael shooting occasional glares towards it. We walked past the entrance to the gym and entered a long, low building tucked in just behind it. Michael flashed his ID and signed our names on a piece of paper as we went in, then led me through to the armoury. After a brief conversation with the officer on duty, he took two guns - a handgun and a larger, automatic weapon - and we headed towards the range. He grabbed a couple of pairs of ear protectors from a rack, throwing one to me, then put the guns down on the ledge next to the range. He picked up the handgun first,

  “Right, this here is a Baretta 9mm semi-automatic pistol. Here’s the safety catch,” he flicked it on and off, “and you load it like this.”

  Briskly, he showed me how to load the magazine and take it out again, then how to load a round into the chamber by pulling the slide back. He placed the gun in my hand and pointed me towards the range, demonstrating the correct way to hold the pistol and stand.

  “Keep both hands on the pistol and both eyes open, stand slightly side on,” he pulled my shoulders round, “and keep your feet apart to give you a stable base.”

  I swallowed a sigh, trying not to feel patronised,

  “Be prepared for the pistol to kick a bit. Don’t try to fight it, but don’t let it fly back too much either; get it into shooting position again quickly. Sight along the top, and when you’re ready, squeeze the trigger as you exhale.”

  I cocked an eyebrow at him slightly, but did as I was told. Bracing myself for the noise, I squeezed the trigger three times in succession, landing each bullet exactly where I meant to – randomly, on the outer edges of the target, none in the centre. Cringing, I shook my head slightly to try and ease the ringing pain in my ears, even despite the ear protect
ors we were wearing. Bloody guns. Michael yanked on the string to pull the target towards us, whistling slightly when he saw my shots.

  “Not bad, not bad at all. You say you’ve never used a gun before?”

  I shrugged slightly,

  “I’ve used air guns.”

  “OK, well that’s clearly done you some good at least. Let’s try this one, the fully automatic SA80.”

  He handed me the larger gun and once again ran through how to use it and what to expect when I fired, telling me to fire in short, concentrated bursts, then once again directed me towards the target. I repeated my performance with ease; again landing my shots on the target, but with no particular consistency beyond that. Michael looked at me critically,

  “I think all you need to improve is practice. You’d be perfectly competent with a gun pretty quickly.”

  I grunted non commitally,

  “We’ll see. I really don’t feel comfortable using them.”

  Michael frowned but didn’t argue any further,

  “We’ll discuss that another time, shall we? Let’s go back to the gym and see if there’s a room free to put you through your paces hand to hand.”

  I couldn’t help but grin at that, a quick, vicious flash of teeth that made a twinge of nervousness run through Michael.

  “Now that sounds much more fun.”

  After re-checking the weapons and signing out, Michael and I rounded the corner back to the gym and easily found an empty room. It was furnished with a few punch bags, and after a little searching, Michael also found a couple of short staffs and wooden practice swords.

  “Right then,” he started, “You’ve already mentioned that you like blades, so what’s your poison?”

  “Twin short swords are my go-to. But I’m also competent with single swords of pretty much any description, and can use throwing knives and stars. Staffs,” I gestured towards the ones Michael held, “are childs play. As are bats, knives, knuckle dusters, nun chucks, sai, fists and feet...” I tailed off with a slight shrug. “I never met a melee weapon I didn’t like”

  “Apparently not,” Michael said dryly, “why do I get the feeling I’m going to wake up with bruises tomorrow?”

  He threw a pair of light boxing gloves at me,

  “Put these on, and don’t aim for the face, I think both of us prefer our teeth in our mouths.”

  Chapter 9

  Michael

  Beth pulled on the gloves I’d thrown her, yanking them tight around her wrists and then squaring up to me, keeping her hands loose by her sides. I put my own fists up in a low guard, hovering just below my chin.

  “Remember we’re just sparring,” I growled at her, a little unnerved by the dangerous gleam in her eyes. I eased in towards her, throwing a neat, but slow jab towards her mid section, having to duck slightly as I did so. She twisted easily out of the way and slid around the side of me, landing a sharp hook in my ribs as she went past. I followed her round, still moving cautiously, but had to retreat rapidly as she swung a low, vicious kick towards my leading leg, immediately following it by launching herself towards me, aiming her knee at my stomach. I caught a glimpse of a wicked grin on her face as I jerked my hands downwards, blocking her knee. She was ready for it and landed easily, whipping around and past me quicker than I could follow to slam what I could only assume was her elbow into my back, hitting me squarely between my shoulder blades, making me flail forwards. Another shove from her trainered foot in the small of my back sent me sprawling to the floor. I rolled quickly to one side and flipped myself to my feet, assuming that Beth would be preparing to dive on me, but she had backed off again, not grinning anymore, but smirking slightly. I flushed, a bit embarrassed at how quickly she had floored me. Gods, she was quick! I moved in again, faster this time, and feinted with a front kick that I rapidly twisted into a roundhouse as she turned away to let the front kick slide past her. She caught the roundhouse on her forearms with a slight grunt, and I let my foot fall back to the floor, bouncing it back up again immediately in a hard side kick. I vaguely registered her ducking down and to the side, then the world tilted around me and I found myself flat on my back for a second time. She’d taken the leg out from under me. I huffed a sigh, propping myself up on my elbows and looking at her through narrowed eyes. She had leant against the wall, propping one foot against it.

  “How much martial arts training have you actually had?” I queried,

  She smiled at me,

  “Mostly karate. But I’ve also studied muay Thai, krav maga and Brazilian jiu jitsu.”

  “huh... you know what? I think your hand to hand is fine.”

  I pushed myself to my feet and stripped off my gloves, wandering over to where I’d left the wooden practice weapons.

  “Do I really want to test you with these?”

  She smiled again and moved to pick up the two swords. Hefting them to feel their weight and balance, she spun a few steps across the room, whipping the sticks around her in a complicated pattern. She ducked and wove around a few imaginary enemies, thrusting and slicing the swords through the air before coming to a halt just in front of me, not even breathing hard. Calmly, she placed the weapons back on the table and looked up at me.

  “No,” she said quietly, “not unless you want a few more lumps to add to your bruised arse and dented pride.”

  Again, she flashed me that damnable smirk.

  I scowled at her, and started towards the door, beckoning for her to follow.

  “Do I pass then cap?”

  “Yes, I’ll sign you off this evening and then we’ll discuss how you’ll integrate with the rest of the squad over the next couple of days.”

  She gave a short nod, not looking at me. Instead fumbling in her pocket for yet another cigarette, which she lit as soon as we exited the building.

  “Christ Beth, you have got to stop smoking so much.”

  I shook my head and she glared at me,

  “Well I’ll stop if it bothers you that fucking much.” She flicked the cigarette away with a flourish,

  “But just wait... if you think I’m little miss sunshine now, you’re gona love me after a couple of hours with no nicotine.”

  “You know what? I’m sure I’ll survive... and you probably will too. Clogging your lungs with tar is not conducive to a long life.”

  She stared at me incredulously then let out a bark of laughter,

  “Neither is vampire hunting, but sure, I need to be much more worried about the tar in my death sticks.”

  She pulled a face, and took out her pack of cigarettes again.

  “Well do you know what? Screw it. Leave me what small pleasures I have left. Thanks anyway for the concern.”

  I rolled my eyes and left her to it.

  “I have a proposal for you,” I couched carefully. She sniggered,

  “Well I’m flattered, but I’m not sure we’ve known each long enough for that yet”.

  “I... what?” she threw me off my train of thought, “Oh... oh for goodness sake! I’d like you to train the squad to use their melee weapons more effectively. Most of them have bayonet or machete style blades, and they’re ok, but not great with them. Obviously there hasn’t been much call for sword use in recent years.”

  She sighed and pulled a bit of a face,

  “Sure.”

  “Really? You don’t sound it...”

  “No, no. I’m sure... I’ve taught people sword play before, I just hope your troops are used to working hard. I don’t molly coddle.”

  I quirked an eyebrow at her,

  “This is a tri-service elite squad. If you tried to molly coddle them they’d laugh in your face.”

  She shrugged.

  “That’s fine then.”

  We continued onwards in silence again until we reached the residential buildings.

  “I suggest you head home and get some rest now. I need to go and report to the major.”

  She glanced towards the squat block of flats and nodded her acquiescence, ve
ering off down the path with a vague wave back at me.

  “I’ll contact you tomorrow,”

  I called after her, then stepped up my pace. I found the major in his office, tapping away on his computer with his mobile phone wedged between his ear and shoulder. He flapped his hand in the direction of the chair to indicate that I should sit down and wait. He frowned as he listened to the person on the other end of the line, but as he snapped a couple of orders and hung up, his expression cleared and he turned to me.

  “So?” he queried, “will she do?”

  “Yes, sir. She’ll do. She’s extremely fit and her hand-to-hand combat and melee weapon skills are some of the best I’ve ever come across. She does however, insist that she won’t use guns.”

  The major frowned,

  “That’s a slightly odd thing to have a problem with don’t you think?”

  “I do, actually. She can shoot fine, just needs a bit of practice, but she seems to have a pretty deep-seated mistrust of them. There may well be something in her past that she hasn’t disclosed. I’m working on it though.”

  “Are you happy to work with her sans guns until you do?”

  “Yes, sir. I think she’ll be fine if she stays in the rear guard for now. She’s got a smart mouth and a rebellious attitude, so I wouldn’t want her on the front line even if she did have a gun. She has also agreed to lead some training in the use of melee weapons.”

  The major’s eyebrows shot up,

  “she’s that good?”

  “oh yes, sir. Without a doubt.”

  “Excellent. Well in that case captain, you have one month to get your new squad working cohesively. I’d like weekly reports until then, unless of course you encounter any particular problems. Just… keep me up to date.”

  “Of course, sir. Will there be anything else?”

  “No, captain. You’re dismissed.”

  I stood up and snapped a salute, before spinning on my heel and striding out, my brain whirring again about all the things I needed to do in my one short month of grace.

  Chapter 10