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Chapter 13
Sarah, 14 years old
Sedona, Arizona
One Year Later
Analyze, detect, hurt.
There will always be someone tougher than you. Know your opponents’ strength and weaknesses and use it against them.
I was listening to my surroundings for sounds that could alert me to the presence of my enemy, when a body rushed at me out of nowhere and I blocked the knife thrust.
We violently struggled for the weapon while he propelled me back against a tree.
The boy was stronger than me, so fighting back was pointless. Instead, I let him do his thing, grabbed his wrist with all my strength, and guided the knife straight into the tree.
The force of his thrust put the weapon out of commission. This surprised my opponent long enough for me to kick him in the stomach and chop his throat.
You’re fighting for your life. Never show your enemy compassion during a battle. Put them out as quickly as you can.
While the boy gagged, I flipped out my baton and struck him in the face, hard enough to render him unconscious.
My victory was short-lived, however, because another initiate took advantage of the fact that I was busy, to ram into me and making me drop my weapon.
You must look past the pain. It is an illusion, a mirage. Detach from it. Concentrate on what is in front of you.
I ignored the pain and focused on breaking free as he rained punches on every inch of my body. The boy screamed when I elbowed him in the face and broke his nose. One shot with my silencer later, he was at my feet.
I aimed my gun toward the bushes and shot two rounds. When the bullets hit their mark, it made the people hiding there cry out.
“Marvelous,” a voice I’d recognize anywhere spoke, followed by the sound of his clapping.
I reined in my rage and stoically lowered my weapon. A year had passed since the newcomer and I were first introduced, yet I still remembered every detail like it was yesterday.
This was the man responsible for my being here. The one who threatened to kill a baby to get me to heel. Commander Karl Moore.
The drill came to an abrupt end when the people in charge realized a commanding officer was standing among them. All the initiates marched into a neat line and stood still, while Hayes went up to him.
“Commander Moore, welcome. We were not expecting your visit today,” he said spontaneously.
The man checked out the insignia on Hayes’ uniform with disdain. He then proceeded to ignore him until a vehicle approached us.
“Commander Moore, this is an incredible honor,” the head of the Academy, Lucinda Marlow, uttered as she headed toward him.
“Thank you, Rector. I hope you don’t mind my dropping here unannounced; I wanted to see how things were going.”
“But, of course, Sire. Would you like a tour of the facilities?”
“No, thank you. Although you may want to look after the initiates lying unconscious on the field,” the man voiced his concern as we heard moans coming from the forest. The benevolence in his tone made my skin crawl.
“Thank you, Sire. You, take care of them!” The medical staff ran to do Marlow’s bidding.
And to answer the WTF going on in your head, no, I didn’t kill them.
They filled our guns with fake bullets similar to what you would find in a paintball gun. The major difference being, when the bullet hit its mark, it sent a painful jolt of electricity through our vest, paralyzing us for a couple of seconds to mimic the effect of a real bullet (lots of fun there). What you must watch out for are the knives. Those are very much real.
In the year since the old man took over my training, my fighting skills have improved significantly.
