Chapter 9
The next morning, Arie came early to pick Wendy up. After all the nightmares about swords and Skinnies, Wendy would have loved to sleep in. But she didn't have time for frivolity.
Wendy opened the door to find Arie in her usual cargo pants and long-sleeved shirt. She'd spent enough time to make her hair perfectly messy.
“Hi,” Arie said with one of her smiles. “Did you sleep well last night?”
“Yeah,” Wendy said, and stepped into the hall.
Arie peeked around Wendy and into her room. It wasn't much to look at, with the small stack of dirty clothes, the only decoration being the three cards from the kids in the marketplace.
“We need to get you out of these probationary rooms,” Arie said.
Wendy pulled the door shut behind her. “It has a clean bed, an attached toilet, it's warm and it's safe. I'm good.”
A look of pity went across Arie's face. “I guess I forget how bad it can be out there.” They started to walk toward the mess hall.
“I was in a compound before, but it was never really clean. Sometimes not warm either, so this is nice,” Wendy said.
“Just dull,” Arie said. “We'll have to get you some pictures or something when you move.”
Did these people even know what it was like on the outside? Wendy wanted to chastise her for being ungrateful, but she was trying to make friends. So instead, she thought about what Kenzie would say. “You have an art gallery in here somewhere?” Wendy asked.
Arie let out a little laugh. “As a matter of fact, we do have an art gallery. I happen to run it. There are quite a few people who like to draw or paint. They trade their work for other things. It's kind of fun.”
The pure luxury of this place astounded Wendy. These people were safe enough for leisure.
All because their leader raided other compounds.
Wendy ordered herself to let it go. “What do you do, paint or draw?”
“Both. Materials are scarce, but Kev is always looking out for art supplies for me.”
“Kev?” Wendy asked. So far the Asian boy had struck her as the prankster of the group.
“He's tight with the people who go out to find stuff. Sometimes he'll ask for specific items and they'll bring them back for him. He loves it.”
Pelton had felt much the same way.
The conversation flowed easily as the two girls traversed hallways Wendy had never been through before. She added it all to her mental map of the building.
Arie kept looking at Wendy out of the corner of her eye and rubbing her fingers together as they walked. She finally spoke. “Jeff told me you're having flashes.”
There was no use in denying it. Wendy wondered who else Jeff had told. “Yeah.”
“Is that what happened with Dennis yesterday?”
Wendy nodded.
“I know Doc and Elle are annoying, but if you're having a problem, let me know. I can at least put you in a corner for a minute.”
Wendy didn't answer.
Arie didn't' press.
In truth, the flash had put Wendy more off balance than almost anything else so far. Control over herself was one of the most important aspects of her sanity, and her control was crumbling.
They reached a set of metal doors, and Arie buzzed them open. The two girls went into the main hallway, but didn't go toward the normal training rooms.
“Where are we going?” Wendy asked.
“Upstairs.”
They went up three flights. Wendy hadn’t realized there was this much building above them. Just how deep did it go?
As they ascended, the tiles on the stairs started to show more wear. Cracks appeared. Stains of water and other things slid down more than a few. A large hole had been blasted in one wall, leaving the charred edges of tile and plaster—a mouth waiting to be fed.
The smell in the complex below didn't bother Wendy, but as they went up, the scent of mustiness and decay got stronger.
“What is this place? I mean, what was it?” Wendy asked.
“I don't know,” Arie said. “This section up here is full of offices. Almost there,” Arie said. She was breathing a little hard.
Wendy's legs begged her to stop, but she refused. Her body was slowly but surely getting stronger.
The stairs ended in a room that was long enough to fit two of the cabins from the Den. Racks full of clothing lined the left hand wall, while empty shelves stood opposite. Sunlight streamed in from an open door on the far end.
Arie led Wendy toward the door. A shiver went up Wendy's spine as the sunlight lit and warmed her legs. Another step and it rose to her waist, then her chest, and then as they emerged from the building it settled on her face. Four concrete stairs with a rusted out railing on each side led down to a patch of gravel measuring twenty feet square. Beyond that, Wendy saw fields of crops—different colors laid out in a patchwork of green and gold.
“Come on,” Arie said as she left the stairs behind. “We're over here.”
Wendy followed. Her feet crunched against the gravel, and the sun warmed her from the outside in. It felt like a greeting from an old friend. She never wanted to go inside again.
They paralleled the first square of crops, staying close to the building which was a simple, squat cinder block box with no clues as to what lay below. Wendy wondered again what this place had been before the Starvation.
Arie took a left into the crops. A chill from inside overpowered the sun and Wendy shivered at the memory of the greenhouse. She silently breathed a sigh of relief that it wasn't corn. They must keep that hidden down below.
The top half of a man approached through the crops. He floated two feet above the ground, and he moved twice as fast as he should have been able to run.
“What in the world?” Wendy asked.
Arie looked, and then laughed. “Oh, that. We've got a few pairs of rocket boots—at least that's what they call them—hanging around. They're solar charged, and don't even last a whole day, but they use them up here when they're short hands.
Wendy watched as the man zoomed by. He gave Arie a wave as he passed and disappeared into the vegetation.
“How high can they go?” Wendy asked.
“Ten feet, I think,” Arie said.
Kev's voice rode along the sunshine. “Oy! Arie! Where are you?”
Arie grabbed Wendy's elbow and started to jog through the crops. “Come on.”
A few seconds later they broke out of the vegetation and into a clearing where most of the trainees stood.
Kev approached them with a mischievous grin on his face.
Arie gave him a skeptical look. “What?”
“You owe me,” Kev said.
“For what?” Arie asked.
Kev pulled a small box from his pocket. It was flat and about the size of the palm of his hand.
“What is it?” Arie asked.
Kev took it back and held it up. “Price.”
“The usual,” Arie said. The other girl was almost bouncing on her toes.
“Not good enough,” Kev said.
“What?” Arie glared.
“It's worth it, trust me.” He handed the box to Wendy. “Take a look.”
Wendy glanced back and forth between the two.
“Open it,” Kev said.
Arie nodded.
The box felt heavier than it looked. Wendy found the edge and pulled one side out, it slid free with a hiss. Inside she saw two, small plastic bottles—one pink and one yellow.
“Totally worth it,” Kev said.
Wendy shook her head. “I, uh...Not sure about that.”
Arie went for the box, and Wendy let her have it.
“Hey!” Kev said in protest.
Arie looked in the box and her eyes went glassy. A grin split her face and she looked at Kev. “They found it.”
“Both of them,” Kev said. He folded his arms across his chest.
“Double price,” Arie said.
“Always a pleasure,” Kev said. They bump
ed knuckles, then he started toward the others.
“What is it?” Wendy asked.
“Paint,” Arie said. “Colors I need.”
“And what is the price?”
“Extra rations.” Arie slipped the box into her jacket.
“He's open to that sort of bribery?”
“Both he and Cal. They're eating machines.”
“Good to know.”
“Come on,” Kev said over his shoulder. “I know you both have short legs, but leave earlier next time.”
“Shut up,” Arie said.
A quick scan of the area showed Wendy woods on her right, a ravine on her left and six, round, paint splattered bales of hay at the base of a small hill twenty yards away. They joined the others, who stood in a clump facing three guys.
Yan, who had been talking to Jeff and Dennis, jumped up on a rock. “Okay everyone, today is target practice.”
This sent an excited ripple through the crowd.
“We'll start with an hour of shooting, and then go to an exercise. Stay with your teams, pick a target and myself or Riggs will bring you some weapons.”
“Do you know how to shoot?” Arie asked.
“Sure, a little,” Wendy said.
“What is your weapon of choice?” Kev asked. “Your left fist or your right fist?”
Wendy was reminded of how Kenzie and Hector bantered all the time. That thought hurt, so she said, “I prefer knives.”
“Long or short?” Kev asked.
“As long as my forearm.”
“We're over here,” Cal said, leading the group to a spot opposite the third target. A small crate sat on the ground, filled with clips of ammunition.
Wendy wanted to ask how they could possibly waste this much ammo, but Yan arrived with a cloth sack full of guns that he put on the ground. “Everyone should use each of the different styles. Riggs and I will come around and check on you.”
Wendy swiveled her eyes, trying to spot Riggs. He made her extra nervous. If anyone saw through her ruse, it would be him.
“Here, try this one,” Cal said.
Wendy reached out to grab the weapon, but a voice interrupted her.
“Wendy,” Yan said, “the others have already had some experience with these weapons. You don’t. Come with me.”
Both Kev and Cal said, “Ooooh.”
Yan shook his head at the two boys as he gestured for Wendy to follow him. As they walked to the far target, she passed Dennis. He stood with his team, talking in low voices. When they saw Wendy, Dennis fell silent and watched her as she went by. The cut on his cheek had a bandage over it. Wendy stared back, unwilling to allow herself to be intimidated.
“Hey.” Jeff's voice swiveled her attention forward.
Wendy's heart sped up, and she wasn't sure why. “Hi.”
Yan stopped. “Jeff is one of our best marksmen. He'll be taking this first hour to familiarize you with the weapons. They're not standard, so even if you have experience with guns, this will be different.” He nodded to both teenagers, patted Jeff on the shoulder and walked back toward Dennis' group.
Alone with Jeff. Wendy couldn't help but notice just how much taller he was than her. Or the brown of his eyes as he studied her.
“How are you feeling?”
“Okay.” Wendy's eyes drifted toward Dennis.
Jeff followed her gaze and snorted. “Don't worry about him. He's fine.” Jeff paused, cleared his throat, and then reached down into the canvas bag at his feet. He drew out a short rifle and held it out for Wendy to see. The black surface gleamed in the sunlight.
“It's a live weapon, but we don't use real ammo in training.” Jeff grabbed a clip out of the crate. “We have an unlimited supply of these paint bullets, which fly almost as straight as the real thing for twenty yards or so. After that we have to use actual bullets to get the targeting right.”
Jeff paused, then continued. “How much experience do you have with guns?”
“Enough to know where that clip goes and that you've got the safety on.” She pointed.
“Good. But I'll give you the tour anyway.” His hands demonstrated and moved over the weapon as he spoke. “Shoulder strap is nice if you're on the run, most people wear them like this. The scope goes here. The clip goes in here. You switch the safety off with this latch.” After the whirlwind tour, he handed her a headband with ear mufflers on it and then the rifle. “Try it out.”
While the weapon didn't feel completely foreign, it didn't feel as natural as a knife did. The Den's guns had always gone to those on watch or on the walls. Wendy took the stock in one hand and the handle in the other. It felt heavier than she had expected.
All around her, the others had started firing at the targets. Splashes of fresh paint began to cover the old stains.
Wendy raised the rifle and pointed it at her target. The long barrel made it hard to aim.
“Go ahead and shoot a couple of times,” Jeff said.
Wendy flicked off the safety and took three quick shots.
None of them hit the target. Instead, they buried themselves in the loose dirt beyond, causing small geysers to erupt in soil and paint.
“You're being too shy,” Jeff said. “Here.”
The space between them disappeared, and Wendy felt the heat of Jeff's body right next to her. He leaned down and put his cheek on hers, his stubble scratching Wendy's face. Her stomach did a little flip flop.
Was Mike sending Jeff to seduce her?
Jeff went on, oblivious to Wendy's conflicted feelings. “First you have to pull it in tighter. Especially rifles and shot guns, they'll kick back on you.” His arms went around her. His hands found hers and he pulled the butt of the gun into her armpit. “Feel the difference?”
Wendy swallowed. She didn't like her emotions running amok without her permission. Besides, she was going to take these guys down. She didn't have time for feelings. “Not really.”
“You will. Close your left eye and look straight down the barrel. Line up the aiming stripes. Notice how the barrel isn't floating around anymore?”
“Yes.” Wendy kept her voice steady, even as her heartbeat sped up.
“Good. Hold it there, and shoot.”
Jeff didn't move. His advice worked, because Wendy hit the target two out of three times. “Good. Make the weapon an extension of you. Like a knife, just with a longer reach.”
“She ever use a gun before?”
Wendy jumped. She'd been so focused on Jeff and shooting that she hadn't noticed Riggs coming up behind them.
Jeff squeezed Wendy's shoulder before he moved away from her to face Riggs. “I'd have to say yes.”
Wendy turned and looked up at Riggs. The cut on his cheek had resolved into a long welt. His eyes bore into hers—almost challenging her to do something crazy—but his voice came out steady. “How does the weapon feel to you?”
Wendy thought about it. “Heavy.”
Riggs turned his attention back to Jeff. The older man's voice softened, almost like he and Jeff were friends. “Let her use them all until she finds something she's comfortable with. She's going to need one for the obstacle course.”
“On it,” Jeff said. He gave Riggs a wave and the man moved to Dennis' target.
Something about Riggs' face or his eyes caused Wendy to tense up. It wasn't like the flashes of the tunnels—she didn't see anything this time, but her body reacted to a fear she didn't remember. When Jeff put his hand on her shoulder, she pulled back.
“Whoa, what's wrong?” He looked down into her eyes.
Wendy watched Riggs. “That guy. He creeps me out.”
Jeff laughed. “He has that effect on a lot of people. Don't worry, he'll warm up to you.”
“I kind of doubt it.
“Try the rifle again. Even if we give you something else, you'll want to be able to use this.”
Wendy raised the weapon to her shoulder and fired. She hit two out of three times.
“Good, now try this one.”
r /> Jeff went through an array of guns—most big but a few small. Wendy noticed that Jeff took every opportunity to set off her personal space alarm.
Once she found a pistol that felt natural, Jeff had her work with it for fifteen minutes or so. He started to chat.
“Have you been having nightmares?”
Wendy decided to be honest. “Yes.”
“Was that a flash yesterday in the combat rooms?”
Wendy's hands shook, and she had to take a breath to steady them. “You know it was.”
“It'll get worse before it gets better.”
Wendy lowered the gun and looked at him. “What do you mean?”
“I told you, I have the same problem. Mine have faded over the last six months, but for a while they got worse and worse. Little things set me off, and until I figured out what was messing with my head I had flashes all the time.”
“You're not making me feel better,” Wendy said.
“Sorry.” Jeff reached out as if he wanted brushed her shoulder with his hand, but he stopped himself. “I just want you to know what to expect. I've been reading up on it in Doc's library, and they say that once you know your triggers you can either avoid them or bury yourself in them in an attempt to relive it until your mind accepts it.”
Wendy raised the gun and started shooting again. “I'm not really liking that idea.”
“I didn't either, until the flashes drove me to feel crazy all the time. Matt helped me delve into it until my mind stopped freaking out whenever I heard water dripping. Among other things.”
Wendy clenched her jaw together as she shot again.
“Look, I'm not saying you should have people beat you up until you crack. Just think about it as another option.”
“Maybe.” More shooting. She seemed to be getting better. Maybe anger helped her aim.
“I'm not trying to upset you.” Jeff sighed.
Wendy stopped and looked at him.
He ran his fingers through his hair. “I'm just saying that if you ever need help, you can come to me. I've been through it. I kind of know how you feel.” His hand reached out and settled on her shoulder. He squeezed. “You don't have to go through this alone.”
Wendy studied Jeff's expression. Either he was telling the truth, or he was a good liar. So she said the words she knew he wanted to hear. “Okay, thanks.”
Jeff smiled. “You're lying through your teeth.”
Wendy raised the gun.
Riggs' voice sounded through the meadow. “Everyone grab a weapon. Huddle in.”
Jeff handed Wendy three clips for her hand gun. “Take these.”
Wendy did so and noticed Jeff had selected the first rifle she’d used. She waited for him to grab his clips, and then followed him toward Riggs.
Riggs started talking before everyone got there. “Hunting is one thing, but if you ever have to use a gun against a person attacking you, you'll find it may not be as easy as firing at a target. Most likely you'll be running away or toward them. So we're going to go through a little obstacle course.” Riggs pointed. “Jeff, you're up.”
Gravel crunched under Jeff's feet as he slung the rifle over his shoulder and jogged to the center of the group. The others watched him with curiosity. This must be a new exercise.
When he reached Riggs, Jeff turned to address the teenagers. “Today is simple. We're going to go down the hill, shoot, crawl through a pipe, shoot and then run for the trees over there while Yan, Matt and I try to shoot you. Your goal is to aim well enough to make us back off. The team who gets through with the least amount of paint on them gets light garbage duty.”
“I knew this was going to be a good day,” Kev said.
Riggs raised his eyebrows at the comment. “Okay, happy guy, you go first.”
Kev's face split into an evil grin. “I'd love to.”
The group moved to the edge of the hill. Wendy saw the two targets and the pipe, which Kev could easily fit through. She might not even have to get on her hands and knees.
Matt and Yan were already in place. Jeff jogged to join them. Riggs waited until he was past the pipe before he signaled Kev to go.
The rocks on the slope tried to trip Kev up, but his feet floated over them. He followed a zig-zag path to the bottom, and barely paused to shoot the target. Right in the center. The pipe swallowed him for a moment before he crawled out the other side and shot again. Very close to the middle. Then he rose from his knees and ran. He wove back and forth as Jeff and his crew fired at him. Kev returned the favor, and paint balls flew everywhere.
The cool demeanor Kev carried impressed Wendy. He’d managed to get Matt and Yan to duck with shots close to them. By the time he reached the other side, he didn't have a single paint splatter on him.
Most of the boys in the group hollered in appreciation. Kev raised his hands in triumph and let out a yell.
Riggs motioned to the teenagers. “Arie.”
The girl didn't attack the course as aggressively as Kev had. The targets didn't pose a problem. Neither did the obstacles, but she got shot twice by Jeff and his crew before she got to Kev.
Four others went. Their success ranged from one to five shots from Jeff and company. Everyone hit the targets, but not everyone hit in the middle.
“Wendy,” Riggs said.
Her grip tightened on her pistol. She took a single breath and bolted down the hill. With her body getting stronger, Wendy found that the zig-zag pattern was actually fun. She leaped over a few rocks and reached the first target. The urge to fire without aiming tried to overwhelm the advice Jeff had just given her. She pushed it aside, aimed and fired. Paint spattered the target. A smile threatened to break free, but she held it back.
The distance to the pipe fell behind her as she ran ahead. She had been right; she didn't even have to get on her hands and knees to go through, just crouched down and started forward.
The first few steps went well. The next two brought a sensation that made her want to throw up. The inner surface of the pipe constricted. She could swear it actually got smaller. Blood began to rush through her ears, and sweat coated her palms. The pipe was only about ten feet long, but when she looked toward the end she could have sworn the exit had stretched to a hundred feet away.
Her mind wailed at her to curl up into a ball and stay there. The only solution she could come up with was to bolt, and Wendy ordered her legs to get her through as fast as they could. For a second the end didn't look as if it was getting any closer, but then she burst out into the sunlight.
Wendy gulped down the air as if she'd been underwater. She stood shaking as the world slowed around her, getting darker. She still wanted to curl up into a ball.
The whiz of a paintball by her ear brought her out of it. Wendy shook her head to clear it and saw Matt aiming right at her.
She ducked and found her next target. She ran there and hunkered down. Matt whizzed two more bullets by her as she got her shaking hands under control and fired. Paint from her gun hit the very edge of the target.
At least she’d hit it.
Kev's run came to her mind. She raised her gun and fired in the general direction of Matt as she took off, weaving back and forth.
This distance had looked a lot farther from above. She was halfway there in a few seconds; before the first paint ball hit her in the side.
It smacked her hard, like a tiny punch backed by the power of a large man. Yellow paint blossomed on her clothes. The impact hit her mid-stride, and teetered her off her feet and onto the ground. She rolled—she would never get up before they hit her again. But then she remembered that she could return the favor, so she pointed her feet toward them, took half a second to aim, and fired off a few rounds.
Jeff and Yan were forced to dive for cover. Matt hesitated. Wendy jumped to her feet and bolted for the group on the other side of the clearing.
“Run!” Kev yelled.
Wendy did so. She was almost there when one paint ball hit her in the back. Then another.
/> Kev waved her in. By the time she crossed the line she had three strikes on her. Not the best, but not the worst. She could live with that. She'd finished.
What she couldn't live with was the way her hands were shaking. What the hell had that been about?
“Not bad, shrimp,” Kev said. He slapped her painted back. “Then again, you do present a smaller target to hit.”
Wendy gave him a flat stare.
“Sheesh,” he said, “it was a joke. You should maybe try laughing sometime. You might like it.”
Wendy didn't answer. She didn't feel much like joking.
In the end, Dennis' team won the exercise. He gave Kev a wicked smile of triumph as he passed them. “Looks like you kids will be busy tonight.”
Kev turned his eyes to Arie, and when Dennis was out of earshot he said, “You know what, I'd really like to beat that guy.”
“Literally?” Arie asked.
“In every way possible.”