I glanced at the kitchen stove. I’d choose wild boar over that any day. To me, that strange item of domestic equipment looked scarier.
“Is there anything else you’d like me to do in the meantime, Mom?” I asked.
“No, I wouldn’t want to stand between you and your homework.”
I carried the empty mugs and plates to the sink. Mother left, which was just as well because it was better she didn’t witness my ineptitude in the kitchen.
Afterwards, I made a detour on the way to my room. An important one. My superior officers had told me that Philip Gray, my supposed father, had a Glock 17 in his nightstand.
In my parents’ bedroom, I opened the drawer of the nightstand. The 9mm automatic was exactly where my superiors said it would be. The first thing I did was eject the magazine and rack the slide. I caught a bullet as it was ejected from the chamber. Yep. Loaded. I racked the slide to load the gun again and put it back where I’d found it. For now.
Strangely, guns had barely changed in the last 100 years. In New Nation, we had other weapons but still used guns because they were highly efficient.
Back in my bedroom, I sat at my desk, pulled out my notes and laptop, and stared at the computer – yet another example of how well the government took care of the people. They made sure every student was issued with a laptop for study purposes. Mother was wrong about the government. She had to be.
I heard a musical tone, looked around, then dug around inside my bag to find my phone flashing with a text from Lauren. Text messages were so primitive it made me smile. I’d better get used to it.
The message read:
I heard you punched Rex out. Way to go, girl!
Lauren hadn’t been there so how did she know? I found her name in the address book of my phone, which wasn’t hard since she was the only person listed, and called her. When she picked up, I explained what had happened earlier that afternoon.
“So Rex doesn’t have a black eye?” she asked.
“No,” I replied.
“That’s kind of disappointing.”
“Not if you’re Rex, it’s not.”
“True, but the version I heard was funnier.”
“So where did you hear about my incident with Rex anyway?” I asked.
“On PeoplePlace.”
Of course. They used a primitive form of social networking here, one that would be a potential source of information on Ben Tanner. I should’ve thought of that sooner.
“Thanks, Lauren,” I said. “I’m going to sign up right now.”
“You mean you’re not on PeoplePlace?” The surprise in her voice bordered on disgust. “Wow, I’ve heard about people like you.”
“I was barred from it.” I had to think quickly. “Strict parents. That’s all behind me now. Please don’t tell anyone.”
“Okay,” she said.
We hung up and I got to work on the laptop. The system was so slow I wondered if it had timed out. It hadn’t. Nothing was instant in this place.
That would all change with the introduction of bono technology, however in the meantime people were stuck in a technological plateau that went on for decades. And I was stuck with them.
Finally the system loaded and I sent requests to become PeoplePlace friends with everyone I’d met at school that day. Most important of all, I became Ben Tanner’s friend.
I scrolled down his personal landing page covered in photographs, mostly of him and his friends goofing around and grinning for the camera. Digging deeper, I found some pictures of Ben with his family. Of course, like everyone else in Altabena, he had a family – a cute little sister, handsome older brother and a father, though there was no sign of a mother.
In one photo, Ben’s father was staring at his son as if he was the brightest star in the heavens, pride and love emanating from his features. For a moment, just a moment, a small pang shot through me as I realized no one had ever looked at me that way.
But the picture was all wrong. Did this man have any idea what Ben was going to do one day? Probably not. Would that override his good opinion of his son? The answer was no doubt the same.
That was one of the problems with families. The emotions they entailed overrode common sense, good judgment and the greater good of mankind. By their very definition, families were selfish entities.
I had to be better than that. My job was more important.
Leaning back, I rolled down my skirt, pulled a thin layer of matter from the top of my hip, and laid my PR device on the desk. This was the future.
My Personal Recorder was roughly the size of a cell phone, only paper thin and made of plithium. It was a mobile device with immense capacity that made my school laptop look like a toy. Security wasn’t an issue as it would respond only to my fingerprints and voice commands.
“Collate all information on Ben Tanner,” I said.
The device lit up as it located my laptop and infiltrated the data. Technically, it didn’t download information because the PR didn’t rely on other devices to release information.
What about academic records? I located the relevant information on the school mainframe. Ben Tanner seemed to be an excellent student, good both at sports and academically, and also a valued member of the school community.
This was a lot more information than we had on him in New Nation. At some point, he’d done an excellent job of removing nearly all the identifying data about himself so he was practically untraceable.
I gave the voice command to my PR, then sent a quick message to Lucien saying I’d located the target and had begun collecting information. I stared, waiting for a reply but none came.
It was a worry, something I’d have to check on later. I slapped the PR device back onto my hip where it melded with my skin so it was invisible unless you knew where to look for it.
A knock at the door made me jump, reminding me I should never allow myself to get complacent, not even for a moment.
So polite, Mother waited until I told her to come in, then popped her head around the door.
“By the way, I forgot to tell you,” she said. “The Everills emailed me. They’re coming to town.”
“The who?”
“Angelo and Lydia, our old neighbors. I know you think they’re boring but I’m sure you can find some time for them. They did watch you grow up, after all.”
No, they hadn’t. What was I going to do when these people turned up and my parents suddenly had a seventeen-year-old daughter? How on earth was I going to explain that?
What’s more I couldn’t even ask my mother for more information about them because I was supposed to already know who they were and what they did.
If only the Everills would stay on the other side of the country where they belonged.
I had enough on my plate without having to deal with this too.
Chapter Five
It was one week down in Altabena. So far, so good. I wasn’t creating too many waves at school and I’d met lots of people, all of whom were contributing to my knowledge about society. Also, Mother hadn’t mentioned our ‘old neighbors’ again so I hoped they might’ve changed their plans.
After school, I went to the girls’ locker room to get into my gym gear. Mr. Matthews had tracked me down and insisted I participate in the martial arts program. I was about to leave when I felt a pinprick on my hip. My PR device. I looked around, then moved into a toilet cubicle, peeled the device from my hip and checked the message. It was brief.
Send an update on the status of your mission immediately.
Hadn’t they received my previous messages? And this might be the least of my problems if they had some sort of technical failure in bringing me back. I shuddered at the thought, then sent a message and hoped for the best.
Down the hall, I pushed open a door marked ‘Arena’ and stepped inside. I needed a distraction and this was definitely the best place for that. The aroma of vinyl and leather equipment mixed with the stale odor of bacteria and fresh sweat. My kind of smell.
Though it was fair to call this an ‘Arena’, that was really a fancy word for a large room with padded blue mats on the floor for wrestling, a ring in one corner, and punching bags hanging along two walls.
Mr. Matthews stood at the far end of the room with a small group of wrestlers while some other guys were punching the pads on the mat. Ben Tanner spotted me and waved.
Several girls who were were training called me over and introduced themselves. They’d heard how I knocked Mr. Matthews over and wanted to find out more.
People were so friendly here. There was a certain camaraderie in New Nation but it wasn’t like this. It wasn’t warm and it certainly didn’t feel personal.
After warming up, I grabbed a pair of boxing gloves from a large equipment crate and started punching the bag, working in short rounds. Now I was in my element. Just me and the bag. Truth was, I loved smashing the bag. Punching and kicking made me feel powerful and strong and healthy. Made me feel alive.
Between rounds, I spoke to some of the girls while catching my breath. They seemed impressed with my work rate, while I figured that was the reason I was here. To work.
“Oh no,” said one of the girls.
The principal, Ms. Di Giorgio, stood at the edge of the mat looking extremely out of place in full make-up, a tight gray skirt and short blazer, her bleached hair piled on top of her head. She stepped out of her patent heels, thereby losing several inches in height, and strutted across the mat to meet Mr. Matthews.
They had a short discussion, then she said in a loud voice, “These children need more discipline. I’m glad we’ve got you here for that.” Looking around the room, she added, “You have a fine teacher here in Mr. Matthews and you should always obey his instructions and follow his example.”
Lecture over, she left, while I wondered what that was supposed to be about.
Mr. Matthews approached me. “You look like you’re in good shape, Nicola.”
“Thanks,” I said, though it didn’t sound like a compliment.
“Would you like to do some sparring?”
“I’d rather not, since it’s my first time here and all.”
He planted his hands on his hips, looking down on me. “It’s understandable if you’re scared. If you’re afraid of getting hurt, perhaps you can do something easier.”
I was a lot of things and scared wasn’t one of them. I certainly wasn’t worried about getting hurt. Getting used to pain was part of training, part of military college, part of life.
And I was not afraid.
“Sure,” I said. “No problem.”
The teacher stepped to one side so I could see behind him to the ring. “Because Roger over there would like to spar with you.”
I presumed the fellow leaning against the ropes with his mouth open, drooling, was Roger. Though not much taller than me, he was powerfully built with muscles on top of his muscles. Sweat dripped from his short, glossy black hair, his face red with exertion.
“Could you have picked someone bigger?” I asked.
“I hope that wasn’t sarcasm, young lady.”
“Just an observation.”
“We don’t have all day.” He pointed to the ring. “Get over there.”
I walked across, held the ropes apart and stepped in to greet Roger.
“They call me Moose,” he said.
I shrugged. “They call me Nicola.”
He made a strange sound half-way between a laugh and a groan, which was a bit of a worry. Perhaps he was purposely trying to sound dumb to put me off my game.
“These rounds will be boxing,” Mr. Matthews said, his hand on the corner post outside the ring. “No kicks, knees or elbows. Time starts now.”
I was about to complain because they were some of my favorite weapons but stopped myself. I wasn’t here to display my skills and that probably wouldn’t happen against such a large opponent anyway. I just had to get by.
As soon as Moose and I touched gloves, he launched into a barrage of punches. I slipped and shuffled away. The smell of stale bacteria from his gloves hung in front of my face.
More punches. I ducked and stepped off to the side so I wasn’t standing straight in front of him. He looked around as if wondering where I’d gone. I was faster than him, my main advantage.
He came at me again. His punches were hard, too hard for sparring, but this wasn’t the time to speak up. I’d wear it and hope for the best. I pawed at him with jabs to keep him at bay, but they weren’t knockout punches, and I didn’t think the plan was to knock each other out.
My guard was up, but Moose’s big right hand slipped between my gloves and landed smack on the middle of my face. My nose stung, though the pain quickly dissipated. Nothing to worry about. Still, I didn’t like the way this was headed.
“That’s too hard,” I yelled.
He grinned and made that weird laughing sound. Through the corner of my eye, I saw Mr. Matthews’ lips curl to a smile. He wasn’t exactly jumping up and down in agreement with me.
Moose came at me again. I covered. He stepped in closer. Wound up for something big. Shit, there was a head butt coming my way. An illegal move.
I ducked. Every nerve in my body was on edge. I came back with a hook. Landed it on his jaw. His mouth dropped open.
Enough was enough. I wrapped my hands around the back of his neck and yanked him down. I had him in the clinch. Had control of his head. Moose was in the perfect position for me to send in the knees and smash him.
But I didn’t.
“Noooo!” Mr. Matthews yelled.
I shunted Moose away, held my hands out. “No more.”
Moose straightened, his face contorted into a scowl, and he lunged at me again. No way was I going to cop another pummeling. I sent in a big right hand just as he was coming toward me.
He walked straight into my fist, reeled momentarily, and dropped to the ground on his knees. Crumpled into a giant concertina, which wasn’t what I wanted either.
“Oh no, are you okay?” I asked.
Mr. Matthews was inside the ring in a flash, crouching down with his arm around Moose. I was glad someone was helping him, yet this whole situation was way out of line.
And I was on my own.
I glanced around the room. People everywhere. So why did I feel so alone? I shouldn’t be feeling anything, yet my senses were overloaded and I was aware of everything around me.
Most of all, I was aware how different I was from these people. I wasn’t practicing or training or play-acting. I’d been sent here to kill someone.
I took a deep breath. There was still time for me to gather more information on society and on Ben, and to find out more about how he operated and decide the best way to take him out. I had a job to do.
When the time came I’d be on my own and that was how it had to be. No sergeant above me, no regiment alongside me, no fellow soldier or team members.
This was how it’d be in the end.
Just me.
Finishing the job.
Chapter Six
No point hanging around in the ring when I wasn’t needed, so I stepped out and took off my gloves.
Mr. Matthews helped Moose to a bench, then came over to where I was waiting by the side of the ring.
“No clinching,” he said.
“I’m sorry,” I said though I didn’t mean it. I’d been under fire and my training had cut in. In truth, it was lucky something much worse hadn’t happened.
“Clinching was not allowed,” he repeated.
My chest heaving with deep breaths, I was ready to explode. As if I was the bad guy? As if I was the one who’d tried to heat butt someone half my size.
Anger swelled in my stomach. I’d never argued with a teacher before. There was always a first time.
“Head butting is not allowed either but that didn’t stop Moose,” I said. “And you didn’t pick him up for it.”
He shook his finger at me. “You knocked out my best fighter.”
“He w
alked into my fist,” I said. “What was I supposed to do?”
“Enough!” Mr. Matthews’ face reddened. “I’ll deal with you later.”
He got no argument from me. I stepped back, only to see Ben Tanner heading in our direction, his stride purposeful. I’d only ever seen him looking friendly and relaxed whereas now he seemed intense, his expression serious.
“Excuse me, Mr. Matthews,” he said, as the teacher was turning away.
The man stopped, hands on his hips. “What?”
“Do you have any idea what you just did? That was way out of line, downright dangerous. You shouldn’t have put Nicola and Moose in the ring together.” Ben’s upper lip curled to a sneer as he added, “Sir.”
I’d never heard the word sound so insulting.
The teacher’s face contorted to a scowl. “Excuse me?”
“You can’t put a featherweight in with a heavyweight like Moose.”
“I just did.”
“And it wasn’t fair,” Ben said, insistent. “That’s my point.”
“You’re right. Turns out it wasn’t very fair at all. Moose has never been knocked out before.”
“That’s not what I meant and you know it.”
The teacher pointed at Ben, then me. “You’re forgetting something. I’m the teacher and you’re the students. You should know your place by now. I can make life very difficult for you, both of you.”
He walked off, leaving me in a state of mild shock. No one had ever stuck up for me the way Ben had before, not that I could remember. It took my breath away.
Mind you, I’d never seen a teacher behave like Mr. Matthews either. He seemed to have had something akin to a tantrum. What was going on around here? This country had serious problems.
Ben’s shoulders dropped, his stance more relaxed, a cool grin on his face now the teacher had left.
Only a few minutes ago, I’d felt alone, and that was as it should be. This was all wrong. Ben was the last person who should be on my side. If only he knew.
Infiltration (Infiltration Book 1) Page 4