Major Wilcox wasn’t pleased with the outcome.
Her brow furrowed and her cheeks flushed.
I saw why soon enough.
It was Finn. And herself.
She obviously thought Finn would let me win.
And he had better not.
If I lost, I wanted it to be an honest fight.
I watched the weapons they chose.
The major picked a short sword.
Finn decided on a smaller blade.
Her choice wasn’t smart. His was.
I now knew where the real battle would be. It looked like I was getting that honest fight from him. I sat the pocketknife down and walked to the side of the room, removing Godric’s baggy sweater and my slippers. Both would hinder my movements.
I yanked my hair up into a ponytail as I walked back to the center of the room. They were just arriving there. I jumped in place a few times before bending to pick up the pocketknife.
I closed it, the blade hidden from view.
Major Wilcox yanked her eyes from the savage bite on my shoulder to stare at the weapon I held. “What are you doing?”
“I’m going to take you down first. I don’t need the blade for that.” An evil grin lifted the corners of my lips as I let her see just how pissed I was for her actions today. “That sandwich was really good that you threw away and wasted.”
The major shook her head in exasperation, not affected by my anger. “Just get ready, Ms. Carvene. It’s time to begin.”
I stood in place with my hands down at my sides.
The major stood on my right, and Finn took a position on my left. I didn’t move, relaxed in my normal stance. They both judged my posture with a cynical eye.
The major growled, “I said get ready, recruit.”
“I am. Start the damn fight already.”
From the sideline, a male instructor barked, “Begin.”
They charged at the same time.
I waited in place until they were closer.
Then I raced right at the major.
She pivoted and brought her sword down.
But I was already in her face, too close. I slammed the end of the closed pocketknife right against her nose. Blood instantly splattered with a sickening crack of bone. Still in motion, I flipped the blade out as I slid behind her right when Finn arrived, his blade flashing.
It was actually very simple. And I don’t think he did it on purpose either. He hadn’t expected me to use the major as a shield. Nor did he expect me to shove my foot against her back to send her colliding against him.
I stood still as he grunted and caught her.
And his arms were right there in front of me, stretching around the waist of the major. I merely flicked my wrist toward his left forearm, my blade connecting while I stood at ease. Blood slashed his skin in a red line.
Finn froze instantly with her still in his arms, his eyes wide in complete shock. The shock that was utterly real as he stared at me over her shoulder, not moving an inch.
The room was silent, no one speaking.
That was the fastest fight of the night.
I cleared my throat and walked back to the side of the room where the weapons rested. I sat the pocketknife on the table where it would be cleaned before put back to use again.
Godric was resting his shoulders back against the wall with his arms crossed over his massive, bare chest. The man was completely peaceful where he stood. He stared at me, his eyes quiet with no form of emotion showing on his face. Like I was no one to him.
He was the perfect visiting instructor.
My shoulders relaxed. I mentally cheered.
He wasn’t here to influence in any way.
I spun to the instructor who had ignored me earlier, and I asked into the hushed room, “So what’s for dinner?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
My heart hammered in my chest as I jolted awake in the middle of the night. I instantly raced to the door and turned on my light, screams of dismay echoing in the hallways. I threw open my door to see multiple CA soldiers hauling candidates down the hall with their hands in cuffs behind their backs.
I stopped in my tracks, and my eyes widened.
What in the hell?
“I swear he signed the form,” one male recruit yelled, struggling against the soldier pushing him down the hallway. His restrained arms thrashed back and forth. “This must be a mistake. I swear he did!”
“No!” Another male sobbed, pleading with the soldier behind him. Tears tracked down his flushed face; his shirt strained against his chest with his hands cuffed behind his back. “Please don’t take me. He signed. He did. I promise.”
My gaping mouth shut ever so slowly.
The instructors had indeed verified the signatures on the forms. And this was the fallout of those who had forged their male legal guardian’s name. They were being hauled off to jail, their pleas ringing in my ears.
I stiffened as a CA soldier passed in front of me.
He kicked in the door right next to mine.
I held perfectly still as more soldiers filled the long hallway. Time was irrelevant when you were on the cusp of being caught. More rooms were entered, more candidates hauled away.
One of them was Megan.
When it eventually turned deathly quiet, and all of the soldiers were gone, I exhaled, and my body began to shake.
I repeatedly blinked at the candidate across the hall standing in his doorway just as I was. Whereas I was scared for my youth spent in a cell, he was starting to grin in glee for more competition gone.
There were now only four females left, myself included. Three females had been sent home from the fight test. And one had just been sent to jail. I was getting closer to my goal. But I was still vibrating in terror from that scene.
My father had saved my ass.
The five instructors, along with Godric and Finn, walked down the silent hallway. They wore black cargo pants, white t-shirts, and black boots—standard issue recruit attire. Except for that white splint on the major’s nose. That one was all my doing, her nose broken in the fight. A few of the instructors had bandages on their faces or arms, just as Finn had a single bandage on his forearm. That one had been my fault too.
Godric didn’t sport any bandages.
The same male instructor who had explained the rules of the fight test glanced up and down the hallway. His voice was loud as he ordered, “The criminals have been cleared out. I want all of you dressed and downstairs in five minutes. It’s time for another test.”
* * *
No one was tired even though it was two o’clock in the morning. All the recruits were wide-awake after that raid. No one spoke to anyone. Candidates were dropping off left and right, leaving no room for friendly behavior.
The male instructor’s gaze ran over us from the stairs where the seven of them stood above us. He stated, “This trial will take place below Military House. We have a special training room set up just for this test. This one is our favorite. It will test your strength and your intelligence. You will sit down right where you are until we call your name to begin.”
He didn’t ask if there were any questions.
We didn’t know enough yet to have any.
The instructor barked, “Sit, recruits!”
The shuffle of boots on tiling vibrated through the air as the remaining candidates sat.
I quickly followed suit, sitting and crossing my legs.
He nodded in satisfaction and walked down the stairs, the other instructors following behind him silently. He gazed down at his bracelet and tapped on it. The room was quiet as we waited for the first names picked from his random generator.
The instructor tapped his bracelet once more, and then he peered up. He announced, “Victor Hammond and Poppy Carvene.”
At least my ass wouldn’t be numb this time.
I stood to my feet and peered at the male who came to attention. I shuttered my gaze in a second. I had watched him today when he f
ought. Victor was excellent with his footwork, and his skills with a knife were intimidating.
“Follow us,” the instructor ordered.
Victor and I followed the seven of them down a set of stairs off the main room. We didn’t speak as we moved at a quick pace to keep up with the instructors. His legs were longer than mine were so I had to take two steps to his one, and I grunted in pain when I slammed my hand on a corner of a wall when we turned at the bottom.
Godric glanced over his shoulder as we continued trailing behind them. “Are you two behaving?”
“She’s fine,” Victor answered. “She just walked into a wall.”
“I did not walk into a wall,” I hissed in his direction. “It was my hand that hit it.”
He shrugged. “Same thing.”
I sighed and rubbed the top of my right hand.
They stopped and stepped into a room on our left.
Godric held the door open for everyone.
I was the last to enter.
When I passed him, the backs of his fingers grazed my side in an intimate touch. The only sign that he even knew me personally. He shut and locked the door behind us.
I stopped in my tracks and stared.
The room was huge, the ceiling tall.
And it had to be for what stood in the middle of it.
A raised glass enclosure in the shape of a rectangle. There were two enormous silver ventilation units attached to the top of it and two glass doors on either end. A round bullseye bag was inside sitting on an easel on the far side, and a lone knife was on the ground on the other.
The instructor stated, “Follow me, recruits.”
The six other instructors took their seats on folding chairs next to the glass ‘arena.’
I was intrigued despite myself.
He’d said it would test our intelligence.
It was a puzzle to me, my attention sharpening.
I hurried after him and climbed the six stairs quickly to where he was waiting for us on a small platform. I watched as he typed 1919 on the lock. Then we stalked with him inside the glass room, the floor made of only small metal grates.
He turned to face us. “I will only say this once. Don’t touch anything in here before you begin. You will have one minute to choose your weapon.” He pointed to a table outside the glass room where multiple weapons lay, and a bored soldier sat next to the table combing his hair. “Then you need to be back in here. You will fight each other to disable—your opponent must be unconscious. Try not to kill each other. Then you are required to use that knife on the floor to hit the bullseye dead center. Last, you will leave through the far door. Whoever is unconscious at the end is sent home.”
He turned on his heel and walked to the door we had come in through. “Your time starts now.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Victor raced from the glass room to the table of weapons.
I nibbled on my bottom lip as I studied the chamber I was in. The ventilation units on the glass roof were interesting as were the scratched up grates on the floor—since it was a raised room. I glanced at my opponent. His back was to me as he studied each weapon, and I hurried to the wall and sniffed at it. My eyes narrowed at the sour smell. The room had been used before, obviously, and I knew one more reason for the vents now.
I ran to the knife and peered at it, bending, and staring. There was a tiny piece of black metal beneath it. It was a trap for the unaware if you picked up the knife.
I hurried to the other side of the room and examined the bullseye, and, yet again, there were small black metal pieces beneath each leg of the easel.
My last stop was the door. I smirked. Easy.
Then I sprinted just outside the other door, squeezing past Victor as he walked in with a bat. That simple piece of wood was frightening in his hands. I stumbled down the steps in my haste and landed on my hands and my knees right in front of all the instructors sitting in their chairs.
“Dammit,” I grumbled, not looking at them. I had been distracted by the freaking bat. The floor was freezing underneath my palms, and I shoved myself up to my feet.
I shook my hands out while I ran to the table and bounced from one foot to the other in front of it to loosen my muscles. My opponent stretched his inside the glass room. I chanted, “Little one, little one, little one.”
There it was.
I grabbed the soldier’s comb sitting on the table.
He didn’t argue, so I knew I was right.
The instructor stared at his bracelet. “Five, Four…”
I sprinted across the floor.
“Three, Two…”
I clambered up the stairs.
“One…”
I jumped into the room just as the door automatically shut on its own behind me. I grinned in pure delight. “Whew. Made it!”
This was awesome fun.
Victor snorted. “Where’s your weapon?”
I lifted the comb from my pocket. “Right here.”
Then I stuffed it back down into my pocket.
He moved in a circle around me, his movements smooth and calm, and he chuckled. “That’s not a weapon.”
“You’re right. It’s a tool.” Then I struck forward and grabbed him by his balls, even as he raised the bat to defend himself, squeezing and twisting as hard as I could. “My hands are my weapon.”
He roared in pain and struck down with his bat.
I tilted my shoulders and stepped to the side.
The bat missed, and the tip banged on the metal grating as he doubled over in agony with his head hanging down.
I grabbed hold of his hair and yanked his face up, arched my back, and brought my elbow down in a cutting blow to the side of his head directly against his temple.
He fell like dead weight to the floor.
I tilted my head and picked up the bat, and nudged him with it. My opponent didn’t move. He was definitely unconscious, hopefully without brain damage from my attack.
I dropped the bat next to his prone body.
Then I simply strolled to the knife.
It was time to hold my breath.
I sucked in a large lungful of air, keeping it trapped inside my lungs.
I bent down and picked up the knife.
An instant hiss escaped from the floor.
I turned quickly and positioned myself square with the bullseye. The exit was closest to this side of the room, so staying over here was ideal with the next booby trap coming.
I took aim and hurled the knife hard.
It hit dead center, embedding deep into the material.
Another hiss ejected from the floor.
I only saw a moment of yellow gas slithering up through the grates before I shut my eyes. My arms instantly shot out wide while I walked backward until my back hit the glass. I rolled on the wall to my left, not breathing and not seeing. Then I used my hands to crawl along the glass wall to guide me until I hit the exit.
My lungs started to burn, so I quickly pulled out the comb from my pocket. I felt along the comb until I found the smallest tooth. It snapped as I broke it off with a quick and efficient jerk of my wrists.
I dropped the rest of the useless comb on the ground and quickly ran my fingers along the lock. The numbers you didn’t exactly type in, even though they were visually in the right place. You had to use the tip of a pen—or the teeth from a comb—for it to register your code. I kept my left hand on the device, using it as my eyes, and my right hand to punch in the numbers 1919.
Nothing happened.
I shook my head and tried again.
The vents above didn’t turn on to suck the gasses out.
The door didn’t open.
Exit… Exit… Exit…
An exit was the opposite of an entrance.
I started making the oddest noises, high and whining, as I fought not to breathe. It would happen, but I wouldn’t go down without fighting my lungs for control.
I punched in the numbers the opposite way.
9191
The latch clicked. The vents whirled in power.
I jerked the door open and stumbled out. I didn’t breathe or open my eyes until I pulled the door shut. My deprived lungs exploded as I heaved in gulp after gulp of fresh air. I placed my hands on my knees and panted.
The room was fuzzy, but I peered at the instructors from my hunched position. I panted, “I passed, right?”
“You’re the first person to pass who hasn’t come out of there with tears running down their face.” The instructor’s head tilted in curiosity. “How did you know to close your eyes?”
I stood up and stretched, the dizziness gone. “The vents. They have the smallest amount of yellow residue around the rims inside.”
Godric leaned forward and placed his elbows on his knees. “I do have a question, Ms. Carvene.”
“Okay.” I eyed him with wariness.
“Do you have any suggestions on how to make it harder?”
My eyes widened in surprise. “Um…yes. If you switched the gas order, then it would be near impossible for someone to leave the room without tears.”
He sat back in his chair and stared at the glass room. “I’ll speak with Mr. Cooper about it. Thank you for the suggestion.”
I tipped my head. “You’re welcome.” Then I pointed inside the room. “Someone may want to call a medic. I hit him pretty hard.”
Godric grunted. “Yes, we saw.”
One male instructor groaned, disappointment in his eyes, staring at the prone body on the floor of the glass room. “What a shame. Victor had so much potential too.”
I walked down the stairs with an extra pep in my step. “Not as much as me. Obviously.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Black hands with razor sharp nails swiped at my face.
I screeched and ducked.
Creatures with black leather skin and no eyes, their shape like humans surrounded the grassy field I stood on. Their numbers were as far as the eye could see, fanning the hill in their darkness. My bare toes dug into the dirt beneath, and my hands clenched into shaking fists.
I shouted, “What are you?”
The black creatures pulled closer.
Trigger (Origin Book 1) Page 10