Training Days

by Joan De La Haye

  While I tried to swallow back the bile that was burning its way up my throat I tried to focus on the face. What was left of the face only made me feel worse.

  “Why are you fucking around with Zelda’s corpse?” I asked once I’d finally found my voice. “I thought what was left of her was left on the island for the wildlife to feed on. You know the cycle of life and all that.”

  “The Graff was kind enough to pay to have her remains brought home so she can have a proper burial. If she had been a novice, like you were, or an inexperienced Runner as you are now, her remains would have been left on the island for the vultures, but she was neither. She was one of us.”

  “But I still managed to kill her, so she wasn’t that experienced,” I said moving closer to the table. My curiosity got the better of my sensitive stomach.

  “It was her hubris that killed her,” the Doctor said, looking down at Zelda’s face with what resembled paternal disappointed etched on his face. “Unfortunately you, and the infernal creatures inhabiting that wasteland they insist on using for The Race, destroyed any chance I had of re-animating her. Did you have to destroy her brain?” He tsked-tsked at me while he stuck his arms even deeper into her body cavity. “Ah!” he exclaimed as he pulled out an organ with a sucking sound. Blood and other bodily fluids splattered. I scarcely managed to dodge getting sprayed. “I may be able to salvage something from this debacle. There is possibly some genetic material in her spleen, which has not degraded, that I can make use of.” He held the organ up as though it were a trophy.

  “What do you mean I destroyed any chance of re-animating her?” I asked, unable to believe I’d heard right. “How is that even possible?”

  I felt as though I was in my own version of Frankenstein. Did that make me Frankenstein’s monster?

  Fuck!

  “Of course it is possible,” Mannheim said walking away from Zelda’s corpse and taking her spleen with him.

  “Wait! What?” I said, my voice raising a few octaves.

  “Fräulein, I do not have the patience or the time to discuss this with you and you have a very busy day ahead of you tomorrow. I would suggest you get some rest.” He turned his back on me in an attempt to dismiss me.

  “I would be happy to get that rest, but I don’t know how to get back to my room. So...” I shrugged.

  “Ah, yes. That is a problem,” Mannheim said and looked around the room, the spleen still in his hands. Blood and other liquid I didn’t even want to identify dribbled between his fingers and down his hand. “Bernhardt,” he called to the guy who’d pushed the rifle into my ribcage earlier. “Nimm sie zu ihr Zimmer, bitte.”

  Soldier boy nodded.

  “Bernhardt will take you to your room. I will see you tomorrow morning.”

  Before I could say anything else Mannheim’s attention was firmly on Zelda’s spleen and the scalpel he was using to slice into it.

  6

  After the glacial cold of the tunnels beneath the castle, my room was positively balmy, and thankfully Bernhardt refrained from jamming his rifle between my ribs during the long walk back to my chamber. In my absence, new things had magically appeared. I now had new Moroccan carpets strewn across the floor. At least my feet would no longer freeze when they touched the ground. New clothes were laid out on the bed, including a variety of tights for training in. There were even what looked like designer outfits and shoes to match. They were definitely a variety of things I would never have been able to afford previously.

  A knock at the door distracted me from my new wardrobe and my girlie-girl moment. It doesn’t matter how cool we pretend to be, every woman loves getting new clothes, especially if they look and feel expensive.

  Another pleasant surprise awaited me when I opened the door. A man, I assumed was a butler, stood in the passage with a trolley filled with culinary delights and an ice bucket with a bottle of Krug Grande Cuvée. I’d never been the champagne drinking sort of girl, but... Fuck it. If they were going to give it to me, I was going to drink that shit.

  I stepped aside and allowed the butler to enter. He pushed the trolley into the middle of the room, bowed, and left without uttering a word.

  I was ravenous after not having had anything to eat all day, so I removed one of the silver domes covering an ornate plate of sushi. It looked almost too beautiful to eat, but I was hungry and only marvelled at its beauty for a few seconds before I dragged a chair from the corner of the room over to the trolley, and began devouring the perfectly made sashimi and fashion sandwiches and other delights.

  Next I popped the cork on the bubbly and took a swig straight out of the bottle. Champagne bubbles tickled all the way down my throat. Then I removed the lid from the second plate to find a medium-rare steak with creamed spinach and roast potatoes. I don’t think I’ve ever tasted anything so good in my whole life.

  For the first time since I woke up in that cell and the trip to the island, it felt good to be alive. For the first time I had hope. For the first time I wasn’t merely surviving or bouncing from one painful encounter to the next. I took another swig of Krug while tears ran down my face. I cried in silence and ate my steak.

  After I’d finished the main course and discovered the chocolate mousse on the final plate and swallowed more champagne, there was another tap-tap on my door. This time it was a woman with a trolley piled with clean towels, bath products, massage oils, and all sorts of goodies that I’d imagined you’d find at a spa.

  I started to think I might have died and gone to heaven.

  She pushed the trolley past me, towards the bed.

  “Bitte leggen sie sich auf das Bett,” she said.

  My confused expression must have told her I didn’t understand a word she’d said.

  After a heavy sigh she gestured, with a lot of over acting, that I had to lie on the bed. Or at least that’s what I thought she wanted me to do. After moving all the new clothes over to one side of the bed, I made myself comfortable on my stomach in preparation of my first proper massage ever. I had high expectations. Instead of the gentle treatment I’d been expecting, though, I got my tracksuit yanked off my body, and my muscles pommeled and kneaded. I felt even more battered and bruised than I had after my session with Sunil.

  The bitch seemed to enjoy hurting me. My every yelp of pain resulted in even rougher handling. She thoroughly violated every inch of me. And then she just stopped.

  A few moments later I heard water running in my bathroom. I hadn’t even heard her walk across the bedroom.

  I really didn’t want to move. I only wanted to curl up on the crumpled sheets, amongst my new clothes, and feel sorry for myself. I was at least grateful for finally having a full stomach. That was something, I suppose.

  “Fräulein,” the evil witch screeched from the bathroom.

  With a dramatic sigh filled with all the self-pity I felt, I slipped off the bed and padded, on bare feet, to the next round of torture.

  But instead of the hell I’d been expecting, I found a taste of heaven.

  The room was warm and the mirror steamed up. The air was scented with roses and lavender from the glorious bubble bath she’d run for me. Scented candles decorated the room, their flames danced and reflected in the gilt-framed mirror above the basins.

  Tears streamed down my face and sobs caused my body to judder like a marionette. It’s weird, but kindness has always made me cry—not cruelty. Cruelty only ever resulted in my hitting back, and to be honest, I’m not sure what my reaction would have been if there had been an unpleasant surprise waiting for me. I’m not sure she would have walked out of that bathroom in one piece.

  I was on the verge of breaking. I’m not sure how much more I could take. Perhaps she realised it, because her expression softened as she watched me sob.

  “Komm Liebchen,” she tutted. “Ist doch nicht so schlimm.”

  I had no idea what she said, but from the way she looked at me and the way she guided me to the bath, it was probably along the lines of: “It’s o
kay, Sweetie.” Or something along those lines. It helped and so did the hot water. I stretched out in the tub and allowed myself to wallow.

  I mean, fuck. Wouldn’t you?

  How would you feel if you’d had this shit happen to you?

  So don’t you fucking judge me.

  After the bath and some more wallowing I found my clothes had been folded and packed away in the wardrobe, my pillows were fluffed, satin pyjamas had been laid out for me, and a chocolate was on one of the pillows.

  It was the sweetest thing anyone had ever done for me, and of course I promptly burst into another round of tears.

  The whole crying thing was starting to get old though. I really needed to get a grip on my emotions. So I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. Reminded myself I was a survivor and survivors aren’t whiny bitches. I wiped my tear, put on the soft, shiny, satin pjs, slipped between the crisp cotton sheets, snuggled into the duvet, and cried myself to sleep despite my best intentions to be tough.

  7

  There was someone in my room.

  I could hear things being moved around while my brain tried to click out of sleep mode and into there’s someone in my fucking room mode. I tried to be calm. I tried to be cool. I’m a deadly, enhanced, super fighting chick, right? That’s what I told myself while my heart thumped like a scared little bitch.

  I listened as the closet door was opened and my new clothes were rifled through.

  What the actual fuck did they want with my clothes?

  “What the fuck are you doing?” I yelled and jumped out of bed, ready to kill whoever the perpetrator was. The moment my new clothes were touched was the moment all thoughts of being calm went out the window. I was too pissed off by the violation to be scared.

  Strangely, my heart rate was once again completely steady. Anger clearly cancelled out all of my fear responses.

  Good to know.

  “Es ist alles gute Liebchen.” The lady who’d pummelled my body and made me cry the night before stood in front of an open suitcase—packing.

  “I don’t fucking understand you,” I yelled in frustration and confusion.

  “It is good, ja,” she said and carried on packing.

  “Why are you packing my stuff?” I said, bringing my voice down a few octaves but couldn’t quite keep the frustration out of it.

  It was only once I’d gotten my anger under control that I realised it was daylight outside and the sun was streaming in through the window. I guess it had stopped snowing at some point during the night and the clouds had finally cleared. I then vaguely remembered Von Zimmer had said something about having to go on a trip in the morning, but I hadn’t realised he’d meant for me to go along. I wasn’t entirely sure how I felt about leaving the safety of the castle. I really didn’t want to be gutted the way Elena had been. Why couldn’t the high and mighties fight their own fucking battles? Now wouldn’t that be a sight to behold.

  She ignored me and kept sifting through my clothes, folding some, putting others back, her choices were folded perfectly and placed neatly in the case. Von Zimmer had probably given her clear instructions on what would be needed. Pity he hadn’t shared that information with me.

  Staring down at her, I felt completely lost. I didn’t know what to do with myself. Was I supposed to shower and get dressed and meet Von Zimmer and the rest of his entourage in some or other great hall? I was so confused by everything in this new life. Nothing made sense. Tears once again threatened to overwhelm me.

  I took a deep breath and tried to pull myself towards myself. A shadow lurked in the doorway.

  “Good,” the lurker said. “You’re finally awake.” He sounded remarkably like Sunil.

  “Good morning to you too,” I said and crossed my arms. I felt strangely vulnerable in the satin pjs, which was weird since he’d already seen me completely naked.

  “You have about thirty minutes to get ready. Olga will show you to the dining room when you’re ready,” he said as he stepped out of the shadows and nodded at the woman packing my clothes.

  “Is that her name?” I said, feeling guilty for not having asked her for it last night.

  He frowned in response.

  “Where are we going?” I asked.

  “Wear something comfortable and warm. It’s going to be a long flight and it’s colder where we’re going,” he said and then walked away, leaving me more confused than ever.

  “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” I asked empty air. “How much colder could it get?”

  Olga simply shrugged and closed the suitcase. Her job was done.

  My job, on the other hand, was only just beginning.

  8

  It took a little longer for me to get ready enough to face whatever Von Zimmer had in store. I think I stood in the shower with the hot water pounding down on me for more than twenty minutes. It felt safe and warm in the shower cubicle. I didn’t want to deal with the reality of my life. I didn’t want to travel to some frozen wasteland and watch other Runners stab each other, or worse, be stabbed myself. I wanted to curl up in a little ball and stay in the shower and have that lovely warm water wash over me.

  Olga had other ideas for me, though. She physically yanked me out of the shower and smacked my wet bottom. She left her mark on pink flesh in the shape of a red hand print. She’d also put clothes on the bed for me again. The outfit was perfectly co-ordinated. There were also enough layers for me to strip off should the need arise. Olga was a woman of many talents and few words.

  I tugged on my thermal underwear, jeans, black top that looked like it should be worn on the ski slopes, and thick black jersey. The outfit was completed by a really thick coat that looked like it would keep me warm in Antarctica, as well as gloves and a beanie to keep my head and hands warm. At least I wasn’t going to freeze to death. I hoped.

  Olga led me down a warren of corridors. The castle really was a fucking maze. If I wasn’t going to get lost again and end up in some or other weird lab in the basement I was going to need a map.

  The suitcase that Olga had packed for me was waiting at the bottom of the broad marble stairs leading down into the double storey hallway, along with everyone else’s luggage.

  Fucking hell.

  That hallway was spectacular. A little on the kitsch and overly opulent side for my taste, but nonetheless spectacular.

  Von Zimmer stood in the middle of the entrance hallway, checking his watch, while Sunil and Doctor Mannheim chatted in low voices a few paces away from him. Apprehension seemed to drip off them like sweat. I wondered if I could run back to my shower and hide before Von Zimmer noticed me standing on the stairs looking down at him.

  “Ah! Finally,” he said, looking up at me. Impatience was stamped on his scowling face.

  “You missed breakfast Fräulein, but I packed some food for you,” the Doctor said with a smile and held up a brown paper bag.

  “I told you it was unnecessary. There will be food on the plane,” Sunil said, shaking his head.

  “Of course it is necessary. She will be hungry and it will be some time before we eat on the journey. She needs to keep up her strength and there will not be these pastries on the plane,” the Doctor said.

  “Thank you,” I said as I reached the bottom of the stairs and took the paper bag from him. I was starving. I opened the bag and smelt sweet heaven.

  “Good German pastries. You will not find anything as good anywhere else in the world,” Mannheim said, nodding his head.

  “What are these?” I asked inhaling their scent again. “They smell divine.”

  “The one is a Bienenstich, it is my favourite. There is also a Berliner and a Buchtel and as it is almost Christmas I also included a Dominostein and some Lebkuchen. They should be sufficient to fill your empty belly,” Mannheim said with a chuckle and patted his flat stomach. He was clearly very pleased with his selection of goodies. As was I. My stomach grumbled as I stuck my hand in and claimed the first of the delectable goodies. I salivated and then an ex
plosion of happiness took place in my mouth.

  “If you do not mind, we have a plane to catch and a very tight schedule to keep. You have delayed us enough.” Von Zimmer turned and marched towards the equally ornate double doors of the castle.

  It took two men in German army fatigues to open them, one on each side of the doors. They groaned as they put their backs into pushing the thick wood so that they would have it open in time for Von Zimmer to stride through without having to stop and wait for them.

  Mannheim shrugged and followed his boss.

  Sunil sighed and looked at me with an expression I couldn’t read. I think I saw concern, but I wasn’t sure.

  “Come on,” he said as he turned and walked away. “The boss is already in a bad mood and it’s a long trip in a confined space. I’d rather not piss him off even more.”

  “What about the bags?” I asked as I trudged behind him.

  “The luggage is not what you need to worry about,” he said.

  “What do I need to worry about?” I asked as I hurried to catch up to him.

  “Surviving the next forty eight hours,” he said, wearing a frown. His voice was laced with apprehension.

  My stomach sank and my knees quivered.

  I was about to ask him what the fuck was about to happen but the rotors from a black helicopter, with T2 painted close to the rotors, started up and made too much noise for me to ask anything. I looked back at the castle and thought about the safety behind those impenetrable walls.

  “Don’t even think about it,” Sunil said as he shoved me forward towards the waiting military chopper and the impatient Graff Von Zimmer.

  9

  I’d never been in a helicopter before. The whole experience was exhilarating and nerve wrecking at the same time. And really noisy. Von Zimmer and the others, including Olga, all had these helmet headsets on that made them look like humans crossed with ants. But, to be honest, I’m not sure why they were wearing them since no one spoke, and I’m assuming that’s why they wore them in the first place, unless they wore them in case we crashed, which was a tad worrying. Didn’t Von Zimmer trust his pilot? Did he trust anybody?