Chapter 7
Jeff rose and gestured for Wendy to join her team.
“About time,” Kev said, grinning.
“Yeah,” Cal said, “you don't plan to have special talks every day, do you?”
“Shut up,” Arie said. “Come on, guys, we need to get to the combat rooms.”
“Do we get to fight today?” Cal asked.
“No,” Arie said. “Not today.”
Cal snorted. “Bummer. Dennis needs something to get excited about.” He turned to Wendy. “That guy never gets excited.”
“I saw him laugh once,” Kev said.
“Was he asleep?”
Arie broke the rhythm. “Hey, can we focus here?” They continued to move through new hallways.
“I'm just saying, the guy's good,” Kev said. “I've been on his team a couple of times.”
“We all know he's good,” Arie said, looking around. “But he's not unbeatable.”
“Close enough,” Cal said.
Wendy took the first step in her friend-making plan. These three seemed to be as good a place to start as any. “He'll slip up.”
“He never slips up,” Kev said.
Wendy turned her gaze on the tall, Asian boy. “Everyone slips up. It will happen.”
Arie met her eyes and nodded. “I agree.”
“Big words from the shrimp,” Kev said, grinning.
“Better than little words from the tall guy,” Arie said. “Now hurry up or we’ll be late.”
“But I missed breakfast,” he said, placing a hand on his stomach.
“Go by the kitchen,” Arie said. “Maybe someone will take pity on you.” She patted Wendy on the shoulder. “Meanwhile, we'll go get you some workout clothes.”
“What's a combat room?” Wendy asked, following Arie.
“It's where we train for hand-to-hand stuff. We do at least two hours of it a day.”
An uncomfortable wiggling started in her stomach. Or was it excitement? This was something she was good at.
The two girls took a different route to the marketplace. Wendy mapped it in her mind as they navigated the hallways and emerged close to the clothes area.
“Over here,” Arie said. They approached one of the clothing booths, but before they got there, Wendy felt a pair of small arms tackle her knees. She almost fell, but Arie reached out a hand to steady her.
Wendy looked down. The little boy she'd saved from the Skinnies stood there, arms encircling her legs, looking up with a smile.
“Endy!” he said.
“Hey,” Wendy said, ruffling his hair. His sister, Grace, arrived a moment later.
“Ben, don't run away like that!” she said, waggling her finger at him.
He only grinned and said, “Endy.”
Grace looked shyly at Wendy, twirling a lock of red hair in her fingers. “Did you get our cards?”
Wendy ignored the faces of all of the children from her home as they flashed through her mind. Disentangling Ben's arms, she squatted down and looked at them both. “I loved your cards.”
Both children grinned. Ben said, “Oo aved us.”
Words from a familiar voice caused Wendy to turn and look. “Well, I see they finally let you out.” Elle's dark, smiling face greeted Wendy.
It felt strange to see someone she knew. To have someone greet her. Wendy rose and pushed a strand of hair out of her eyes. “Hi, Elle.” Then the question popped out. “Don't you work in the medical wing?”
Elle laughed as she negotiated the maze of tables and boxes of clothes. When she reached Wendy, she pulled two small pieces of candy from her pocket and handed one to Ben and one to Grace. “Why don't you two go over with your mom?” Elle pointed.
Grace's eyes lit up as she took the candy. “Thanks, Elle.”
Elle gave the kids one of her motherly smiles as Grace grabbed Ben's hand and hauled him off. He waved to Wendy the whole way.
Elle's attention returned to Wendy. “I help out down here when there's no one in medical.”
“Doing what?” Wendy asked. For some reason she could only picture Elle bullying patients in medical.
“I'll have you know that I can fix clothes just as well as Doc can fix bodies.” Elle folded her arms across her stomach. “Now, what can I get for you?”
“Workout clothes,” Arie said, pointing at Wendy. “We're going into the combat rooms.”
A frown crossed Elle's face, and creases appeared between her eyebrows.
“It's only practice,” Arie said. “We're not going to break her.”
Elle waved her hand. “Follow me.”
The girls trailed along behind Elle. Wendy could feel Arie's eyes on her.
Arie sped up to walk closer to Wendy. She lowered her voice and said, “You're the one who saved the kids?”
Wendy nodded, stealing a quick glance at Arie's face. The other girl looked intrigued.
“I only heard about it. Nice work.”
“Thanks,” Wendy said.
Elle stopped walking and started rifling through piles of clothes. “It might help if you weren't so little,” Elle said under her breath. After a few seconds, and some more muttering, Elle emerged with a small bundle of clothing. She handed it to Wendy. To Arie she said, “They have the suits down in the rooms, don’t they?”
“Yes,” Arie said.
“Then you're good to go.”
Wendy remembered her manners. “Thank you, Elle.”
“You're welcome, child.” Elle gave Wendy a pat on the shoulder as she walked away.
Arie leaned close to Wendy. “You'll have to tell me about beating the Skinnies.”
“I saw kids in trouble and had to save them.” Wendy said. “I've seen a Skinny try to eat someone, it's not something I'd want anyone else to experience.”
Arie snorted. “There's the truth.”
Wendy decided to push it a little. Hopefully Arie and Jeff didn't talk much. “How did Skinnies even get in here?”
A soft growl came from Arie's throat. “It's a stupid policy.”
“Policy?” Wendy raised her eyebrows.
Arie shook her head. The other girl's smile faded into a thin line. “It's something they do here. If someone gets the Starvation, they put them in a little ward until they die.”
Wendy frowned, once again amazed that this was happening. “But they're just going to suffer. I've seen it.”
“Me too,” Arie said. She cleared her throat. “My mom actually got the Starvation right after Mike brought us in. She asked my dad to kill her, but there is a faction here that thinks taking any life is wrong, so they locked her up and waited for her to die.”
Wendy's chest tightened. For a moment she couldn't breathe. Her own mother hadn't gotten the Starvation, but she'd suffered in a different way. “I'm sorry, that's horrible.”
“Yeah, they made me go see her right before she died. Worst day of my life.” For a moment a cloud passed over Arie's face.
Wendy felt a little bad for bringing the whole thing up, but this was good information. “Sorry to pry, but are you alone now?”
Arie's eyes brightened. “No. I'm with my dad. He's a fighter, so I don't see him a whole lot, but he's around.” She looked at Wendy. “Are you alone?”
“Yes,” Wendy said. She'd practiced this so she would stop choking up. “A big group of Skinnies overran our compound. I was the only one who got away. Mike found me and brought me in.” The words tumbled out, but she got through it without getting emotional.
“Sorry,” Arie said.
What would Kenzie say? “I'm sorry about your mom. Isn't there anything you can do to change the policy?”
“Oh, there is,” Arie said. “I'm working on it.”
They made their way back through the fighters’ quarters, where Wendy took a moment to change in a bathroom, and through the mess hall. Tables and benches had replaced the chairs, and twenty or so people sat in there, either eating or talking. A few of them waved to Arie, one calling her by name as Arie dragged Wendy out the door
and down some stairs.
“It's an off day for most of the fighters, so there are a lot of people around this afternoon,” Arie said as they descended.
Wendy wondered about the schedule the fighters kept, but didn't get a chance to ask about it before the stairs ended and they came to a wide, double door.
“Here we are,” Arie said, pushing the door open to expose a viewing room. “The combat rooms.”
Shaped roughly like a crescent moon, large windows lined the inner wall, giving the people in the viewing area plenty of opportunity to see the four combat rooms. Opposite the windows, three tiered benches ran the length of the wall. Fighters, some laughing or talking, but most watching through the widows, filled the benches and half of the rest of the room. Wendy clicked her teeth together so her jaw wouldn't drop open.
One group of fighters gathered around the second window, cheering loudly. Her lack of height made it impossible for Wendy to see much of anything past the crowd.
“Why don't we go stand in a far corner until it's our turn? We've still got a few minutes before we start.” Arie pulled Wendy by the elbow, through the crowd and to the window of combat room four, as indicated by the blue number four on the glass door. A group of eight people—both men and women—emerged into the viewing area.
“Nice move there,” one of the men said. “You almost had me.”
“I did have you, but your friends are better than mine are.”
The fighters all laughed as they passed Wendy and Arie.
They all wore loose fitting, gray body suits, complete with hoods that covered everything but their hands, feet and faces. Most people had green tinted glasses on.
“That's part of Riggs' team,” Arie whispered as the group sat on the bench and began to pull off their hoods and unzip their gray suits. Underneath they wore the same style of light shorts and t-shirt Wendy had on.
“They must be pretty good,” she said.
“The next group is better,” Arie said with a twinkle in her eye. She jerked her head.
Wendy turned and saw more people coming in through a door on the far side of the room.
“I love watching these guys,” Arie said.
Right away Wendy could tell this group really knew what they were doing. They moved like a pack of graceful, beautiful cats.
A short, Asian figure trailed at the end of the group.
“Who's that?” Wendy asked.
“That's Yan. He's in charge of our hand-to-hand training, and he's the guy we all wish we were. He's always got the best group.”
Wendy turned to watch them go in the door, when a familiar voice cut through the din.
“Hey, Wendy!”
She swiveled her head back and found Matt, dressed in a gray body suit, trying to tuck his red curls into the hood.
“Hi,” she said. First Elle, then Matt. She was slowly becoming part of this place, but she wasn't sure that she liked that. Too many emotions involved.
“Glad to see you made it,” he said. His eyes moved past her to the combat room and back. “Are you here to watch?”
She nodded.
“Great!”
Someone called Matt's name, and he stuffed the last of his hair back. “I, uh, gotta go.”
“Good luck,” she said in unison with Arie.
A grin split his face, and Wendy could have sworn that Matt skipped a little as he jogged away.
“He's in Yan's group?” Wendy asked.
“Don't let the bumbling, shy act fool you,” Arie said. “Matt's good.”
Wendy watched him go into the combat room and pulled the door shut behind him. “So, what are we watching?”
Arie stood up straighter. “There's only one rule—don't break anyone beyond repair. But,” she held up a finger. “The point is to win. Every fighter has a stat chart that records their wins and losses in the combat rooms. At the end of each month, the highest ranking fighters get together and have a tournament.”
“So it's all for show?” Wendy frowned, looking through the glass. Matt and three others stood huddled in a corner, heads together. She couldn't fathom training for some sort of tournament. If you did that, then when the time came to be in a real fight, you might not go all in.
“No, not for show. For training.”
Wendy filed that away and studied the room beyond. The eight fighters filled about a third of the space, but with nothing but open air in there, she didn't understand the point.
“Do they just fight to the last man standing?”
Arie made a face. “It's easier to watch than to explain. They'll start in a second. For now just know that those four guys are on one team and everyone else is on the other team. You see how Yan's team already has a plan? They're ready. The team Matt is on doesn't usually fight together, so they're at a disadvantage.”
“If Yan is so good, why don't they put him at the disadvantage?” Wendy frowned.
Arie grinned. “The odds are stacked different each time. You'll see.”
A low buzzer sounded, and the eight figures in the combat room came to stand with their backs against glass windows. A few seconds later, Wendy saw a handful of shelves, big enough to step on, but not deep enough to stand on, slide out from the wall at different levels. Through the legs of the combatants, she saw a thick slab of the floor rise from the middle of the room until it stood three feet tall.
Three squawking honks sounded, and before the third faded away, all eight people scattered. Running, jumping and diving, they looked as if they were part of an intricate dance. Yan, by far the shortest, ended up on top of the raised portion of the floor. He dodged everyone who tried to attack him, twirling like a top and keeping them at bay with a whirlwind of punches and kicks. Two of the members of the other team attempted to divide his attention, but Yan easily kept up with them as they circled. He blocked, parried, punched, kicked, jumped and even did a cartwheel, looking neither rushed nor concerned. Wendy couldn't take her eyes off him. He flowed like water, and like the wind.
“Watch Matt,” Arie said.
Wendy blinked and tore her eyes from Yan. Two men had Matt boxed into the far corner. They both couldn't attack at once, Wendy saw that, but Matt would have a much better position if he moved.
“He should get out of there,” she said.
“Wait for it.” Arie’s voice sounded gleeful.
Matt's face split into a grin as he turned from one man, only to be confronted by a hook punch from his other assailant. Matt waited until the last moment, just before another buzzer sounded, then ducked as he used a hand to guide the man's fist into the wall.
Wendy flinched. That would leave a mark. But to her surprise, the man's hand didn't break on impact. Instead it sank into the wall like he'd pushed it into bread dough.
Matt popped up behind the trapped man and went after the other in a flurry of punches.
“What just happened?” Wendy asked.
“The walls, the shelves and the platforms are all on timers. They start out hard but get soft and then go back again. If that guy can pull his fist out of the wall before it goes hard he’ll be able to move, if not he’s stuck there. Basically a non-threat.”
“They’re on timers?”
“Matt has some kind of clock in his head; I swear it’s like a computer, because he always knows when they change.”
With renewed interest, Wendy watched as people scrambled around the room, dodging one another and those now stuck. One man dangled by his foot from the highest shelf.
Yan, on the other hand, had jumped off the platform, and managed to get two people's hands stuck. In the process, a tall man grabbed Yan in the same hold Pelton was always putting Wendy in.
“He's in trouble,” Wendy said.
“Who?” Arie asked.
“Yan; that hold is impossible to get out of.”
“Watch.”
Wendy's jaw hinged open as Yan wiggled and used his other arm to create an opening in the hold. A moment later, he was free.
&n
bsp; How had he done it?
Arie laughed.
Yan moved fast, and Wendy noticed he avoided Matt. Matt hung back for a little while before springing forward at his next opponent, jumping on him like a crazed animal. One woman got her hand free from the platform before it went hard, but everyone else remained stuck.
Nearly all the people in the viewing area stood gathered around room four. Most cheered, a few talked tactics. Wendy and Arie had moved to the glass at the beginning, so they could still see. Everyone laughed as Matt tossed someone into the windows, who landed with his back to the crowd and slid down to the floor.
Wendy looked at Arie.
“Obviously strong glass,” she said with a grin.
Dennis' voice cut through the crowd as he said, “Matt and Yan need to have it out. There's no point to the rankings if the two of them won't fight.”
Wendy bristled at Dennis' arrogance. Part of being a great fighter was that people didn't know you were that good. Every element of surprise helped.
Wendy leaned close to Arie. “Is Dennis really that good?”
Arie snorted. “Unfortunately.”
The fight continued to rage. Within minutes everyone except Yan had some part of themselves stuck. Even Matt, but Wendy suspected he may have done it on purpose to keep the higher ground against Yan.
The buzzer went off, and the spectators broke out into wild cheers.
“Now it will all go soft and they'll pull themselves out.”
“How do they keep score?” Wendy asked.
“You get points for not getting stuck, for getting someone else stuck, for getting out of being stuck, for how many good strikes you get in. There are a bunch of categories.”
Wendy watched as people pulled feet and hands free. “So the gray suits make it so nothing but your hands and feet stick?” she asked.
Arie nodded. “Yup.”
“So technically your face could get stuck?” Wendy asked.
A laugh sounded behind her, and Wendy turned to see Cal and Kev standing nearby.
“You planning on face planting, shrimp?” Kev asked.
Arie answered. “No, just wondering if we could get you to run into one of those shelves. Stop your mouth for a few minutes.”
“Oh come on.” Kev draped an arm over Arie's shoulders. “You like it.”
“Let's see how much I like it while we're in there.”
“Wait, are we going in there?” Wendy asked. It looked fun, but potentially painful with her still healing ribs.
“Not with the sticking,” Arie said. “We're working on fighting in tight places and using our surroundings. Probably just drills. But any of the fighters, or us, can sign up and come down here whenever there is free time. The really good guys come late one night every week. ”
Kev opened his mouth to say something, but snapped it shut when Yan and Matt came through the glass door. Matt's smile could have encompassed the entire room.
“Did you see?” he asked Wendy.
Wendy nodded. “Looks fun.”
Yan pulled his hood off and shook out his dark hair. “Get dressed, trainees; we'll be in room two in ten minutes.”