Chapter 8
Cal handed Arie and Wendy each a gray suit as they headed for the changing room. The cloth felt as light as air next to Wendy's skin, not hampering her movements at all. She noticed that Arie didn't pull her hood up, so Wendy left hers down. When they walked back out into the viewing room they found the place full of the other trainees.
Yan stood in one corner, talking to Matt and Jeff. Matt spotted Wendy and gave her a little wave. Jeff’s gaze followed the gesture, and his eyes met Wendy's for a moment. Wendy didn't get a chance to respond, because Cal and Kev stepped in front of her.
“You should stick with us,” Kev said.
“Why should she do that?” Arie asked, placing a hand on her hip.
“Because,” Cal said, “people fear us.”
“There are several reasons for that,” Arie said, “and none of them have to do with your mediocre fighting skills.”
Kev put a hand over his heart. “Shots fired.”
Wendy shook her head and smiled, turning away as the banter continued. The others from the meeting that morning gathered in groups, talking or waiting. Wendy expected to hear Dennis bragging, but instead he stood by himself, a look of concentration on his face. Maybe he wasn't all bluster.
Footsteps approached. Wendy knew it had to be Yan—she could practically feel danger coming up behind her.
“Wendy,” Jeff said.
Wendy turned to face both him and Yan.
“This is Yan, our melee fighting instructor.”
Wendy held out her hand, as she'd seen everyone here do. “Nice to meet you.”
Yan's hand wasn't huge, but it was warm and strong as he squeezed just enough to be comfortable. He only stood a little taller than Wendy. Thick, black hair lay combed on his head, while his almond shaped eyes regarded Wendy with interest. “Wendy, Mike told me about you.”
Good to know Yan and Mike were buddies.
“How are you feeling?”
“I'm good,” Wendy said. “Just a little sore in a few places.” She could feel his eyes assessing her.
“Well, we're not doing anything too physical today. If the contact gets to be too much, just tell your partners.”
Wendy smiled. She was getting good at it. “I will, thank you.”
The door to room two popped open, and a voice over an intercom said, “Ready.”
“Everyone in,” Yan said.
Wendy, who happened to be close to the door, stepped in right behind Kev and Cal. They moved to the far end of the room, and she followed. The space filled quickly, and when the door closed behind Yan, Wendy saw there couldn't be more than a foot between any two people. Arie had said something about working on fighting in close quarters. Is this what she’d meant? Wendy's feet suddenly became restless, and she started to sweat.
“Everyone line up, tallest to shortest, starting at the door,” Yan said.
Kev and Cal towered over Wendy, so she stepped into the middle of the room and waited for the line to form, knowing she would be at the end. People darted around her, trying to get into place. She felt a hand on her shoulder, and looked up to find Jeff next to her.
“The far end will be right there,” he said pointing and giving her a push.
Wendy stepped forward, and kept going. Sure enough, Jeff was right. She moved to the wall and stood next to another girl, who had an inch on Wendy. Arie was third shortest, which surprised Wendy, because she wasn't that short.
Jeff and Matt took the unoccupied corner and leaned up against the wall to watch.
“Good,” Yan said, standing in the middle of the room, surveying his students. “Today we are going to continue working on fighting in tight quarters. We'll start with partners of the same size, and then we'll mix it up.” He motioned to Dennis, whose body type closely resembled Yan's, though Dennis sported more muscle. Dennis ran the three steps to Yan and bowed. Dennis might not respect any of his teammates, but he did respect Yan. Yan returned the bow.
Hours and days and weeks of training with Pelton came back to Wendy, settling in her stomach like a stone, a feeling that was becoming all too familiar. She took a breath to steady her emotions.
“We're about the same size,” Yan said, “so there is no obvious advantage here for either of us.”
Someone, Wendy suspected Kev, snorted.
Yan smiled. “For the sake of argument,” he said, “let us presume that the two of us don't know one another. We don't know the fighting skills of the other, and we meet in a hallway, or in a dense forest. What do we do first?”
“Attack,” someone said.
Yan's head swayed back and forth. “Maybe, but with what?” He pointed at the four tallest people. “Come out here and surround us.”
They did so, forming the corners of a square around Yan and Dennis.
“Now, step in,” Yan said.
They did, forcing Yan and Dennis so close together they could easily touch each other’s shoulders. Dennis' jaw twitched. Wendy understood. Any safe space had disappeared, and now he stood in Yan's range.
“Do you attack now?” Yan asked.
“May as well,” someone said. Wendy silently agreed.
“With what?”
Silence hung for a moment before Arie said, “A short punch.”
“Good,” Yan said, nodding. He motioned to Dennis, who sent a flurry of short-ranged punches at Yan's face. Yan kept his guard close, turning his body in order to block. After six or seven punches Yan retaliated, using his speed and alternating his targets to force Dennis to get tangled in his own arms. Yan backed him up against Cal, who didn't budge.
Wendy watched the movement. What would she do if someone had her backed up in a corner?
The image of the bloody sword flashed through her mind. Her arm came up to block. Then it was gone, faded back into black. Wendy shook the memory away.
Yan stepped back and motioned everyone back in line. “What else?” No one answered. He looked around the room. “What won't work?”
“Kicks,” Jeff said.
Yan nodded. “Kicks are no good. What else?” He turned his attention to the rest of the group.
“Guns,” Sven said. Wendy hadn’t taken much notice of the other team leader. His impressive broad shoulders and muscular arms faded into the background as he somehow made himself as unobtrusive as possible. Blond hair topped his head, and his eyebrows were so light Wendy could hardly see them against his fair skin.
“Very good,” Yan said, pointing. “Unless the weapon is in your hand, pointed at the other guy, you won't get it out and aimed before he's on you.” He looked around again.
“Clubs,” someone said.
“Right, long weapons would be more of a detriment than a help in close quarters.” He continued to turn, looking at his students. “So if we can't use our feet, guns or long weapons, what do we have left?”
Again, no one spoke.
Wendy imagined herself backed against a wall by someone bigger than her. Maybe someone with a knife. What would she use?
“Knees,” she said, voicing the thought before she meant to. “And elbows.”
Yan looked at her. His eyes twinkled in a way that reminded her of Pelton just before he took her apart in a sparring match. “Why?”
Every eye in the room trained on Wendy, and she chewed the inside of her lip for a second before she spoke. Time to impress people. “Because they have a short range of motion.” She added, “And they hurt.”
Pointing to Wendy, Yan nodded. “Very good.” He started to turn again, addressing the room. “Elbows and knees can only go so far, but they're powerful from short range.” His eyes settled on Wendy. “Would you please?” He pointed to the spot next to him.
Wendy swallowed and glanced over at Arie, who gave her a quick nod. Wendy jogged the four steps to stand in front of Yan, who bowed. Wendy did the same. He motioned for the tall guys to come out again. They closed the gap, leaving Wendy just inches from the best fighter in Shelter.
A deep breath cleared her mind, and
she put one foot out and slightly ahead of the other. Her lead arm came up to guard her head, and the other stayed down, protecting her ribs. She shifted her weight to the balls of her feet. A wave of relaxation rolled over her—years of training and fighting taking control. The only part of her that remained tense was her jaw as she tightly clenched her teeth together. The last thing she needed was to bite her tongue off.
Yan adopted a similar stance, mirroring Wendy. “I've got a size advantage here,” he said, “but Wendy is fast, and she knows what she's doing. Let's say she goes for my face, and then moves in with an elbow.” He nodded.
Wendy went. Her lead fist shot out toward Yan's face. He blocked it, leaving one side of his ribs open. Wendy stepped in and drove her elbow toward his solar plexus like a battering ram.
She expected him to block, or step aside, but instead he took the blow, exhaling with a grunt and retreating a step.
Wendy froze. She blinked, swallowed and then moved back. Should she say sorry? Her eyes rose, only to find Yan smiling.
“Good,” he said. He addressed the others. “Did you all see how she snuck in under my guard with that driving elbow? She's small, but even the biggest guy here would feel that blow, and it would give her enough time to follow up to the face, the groin or whatever target she chose.”
Yan waved the human walls closer. Wendy focused on Yan.
“Now we'll see what a few seconds of tight brawling will bring. Wendy, be the aggressor.”
Wendy refastened her teeth together before she began. She punched to Yan's face, he blocked and tried to come in at her ribs. Dropping her arm, she used her elbow to knock his hand out of the way. His other fist flew toward her face, and she ducked, squatting down and punching at his groin. A knee intercepted her strike, and she jumped to the side, bouncing off of Cal. Her own knee came up, blocking a rising back kick aimed for her chin. She pushed off Cal and punched for Yan's head. He used his forearm and stopped her fist, turning to avoid another elbow. The turn continued, and he spun around so fast Wendy didn't have time to do anything but throw an arm up to keep his elbow from hitting her in the skull. The blow forced her off balance, her ribs wailed in protest, and she knew she was in trouble.
Before she could counter, or regain her balance, his turn took him behind her and he grabbed her around the neck. She did get an arm up, but it didn't matter—she'd be dead. And now Yan had her from behind, with one of her arms tucked up next to her head.
“You see,” Yan said, keeping a tight grip on Wendy, who had to stand on tip toe to keep from being strangled, her body protesting loudly. “Elbows and knees are very effective while fighting in tight quarters. We did get in a few longer punches, and some rising kicks, but if you're any taller than we are, you wouldn't be able to pull them off.”
Wendy caught Arie's complete look of surprise as Yan turned her around, still talking to the others. Cal and Kev stood with their jaws hanging open, and even Jeff blinked a few times, furrowing his brow.
Wendy mentally smacked herself. She'd just got beat, and for something stupid too. She knew better than to let her opponent get behind her.
“And now if Wendy wants to get out of this hold, she's going to have to sacrifice a joint. Probably a separated elbow or shoulder.” Yan slapped Wendy on the arm and let her loose.
“Everyone back in line. Break up into groups of four by height.”
Wendy ignored the urge to rub her sore muscles and jogged back to her spot. Those in her group looked at each other, looked at Wendy, and then all shook their heads.
“That was incredible,” one girl whispered so soft that Wendy barely heard.
The boy nodded. Arie looked at her through narrowed eyes.
Yan's instructions kept Wendy from having to ask Arie what the problem was.
“You will rotate, so everyone gets to try against everyone. Two people will stand facing one another, their fingers out, touching the wall, with the other hand held forward, touching each other, forming a square. The other two people in the group will have to fight in the space provided.” Yan's voice took on a teacher-like quality. “Try a few punches, use your elbows and get your knees into it. Start slow and work up to a good speed. No injuries today, please.”
Wendy got nominated to stand touching the wall while the first pair of her group fought. The girl, Monica, moved her arms and legs like a dancer—graceful but lacking in power. The boy, Chase, closed in with an unimaginative, but effective, straight attack. They exchanged a few blows before one of them ended up backed against either the wall, Wendy or Arie. By the end of the minute Yan gave them, both had discovered a move or two that worked for them.
Arie and Wendy switched places with the fighters and stepped into the box. Arie's face settled into a mask of concentration while her body relaxed into what looked like a very familiar stance.
Wendy chided herself for not noticing it before—Arie also knew a thing or two about fighting.
Arie moved in first, going straight for Wendy's head. Everyone did that. Wendy blocked and turned. She grabbed one of Arie's punches and pulled her off balance and into one of their corners. Arie recovered quickly, and came again, this time faster and harder.
Yan obviously wanted them to learn something from this, so Wendy did her best to try something besides her first thought. Arie got faster after each punch, and Wendy found it challenging to keep up. While Arie's frustration pulled her face further into a frown, Wendy felt herself relaxing.
Thus far Arie hadn't gotten a single good hit on Wendy. Wendy threw a few things at the other girl now and then, but mostly went on the defensive. Until Arie decided she'd had enough and simply charged. In the small space it probably looked more like a flop than an actual attack. The thought of getting squished against the wall, and the pain in her ribs that would follow, turned Wendy to the side. She grabbed Arie and none too gently guided the other girl into the wall. Arie got her hands up in time and managed to avoid a face plant.
“Up,” Yan said.
Wendy stepped back. She expected Arie to turn around and be angry, but instead the other girl had a grin on her face.
“That was fun,” Arie said.
Yan had them rearrange to let the next pair fight.
“Good,” Yan said when everyone had finished. “Now let's change things up. Jeff and Matt, mix up the groups. No need to be fair.”
Jeff and Matt put their heads together, and then started grabbing people. Matt pulled Wendy to the other end of the room, where Kev and the tallest boy in the line were standing. Dennis joined them a second later, facing Wendy. Wendy couldn't decide if she should hit Matt or thank him.
“You two again?” Dennis asked.
Kev grinned. “I think I still owe you for last time.”
Dennis leaned in and whispered, “You'll always owe me.”
“Maybe.” Kev winked and turned his attention to Yan.
“Looks good,” Yan said, after surveying the new groups. “Do the drill again.”
He came directly to Wendy's group, giving the boys a hard stare. “I want control from this group,” he said, looking mostly at Kev and Dennis.
“Sure, boss,” Kev said with a shrug.
Yan turned to Wendy. “Except you. You can hit these three as hard as you want.”
Wendy nodded.
“Go!” Yan yelled as he turned away.
Wendy and Dennis stood as a wall first, and she almost got bowled over when Kev drove the taller guy into her. Kev gave her an apologetic shrug as he waited for the guy to get back in the ring. He fought in large circles that seemed to come out of nowhere, while the taller guy picked away at Kev like a snake. Neither strategy worked well in tight quarters.
Next Kev went against Dennis, and Wendy could see why Yan reminded them about control. The two of them fought well, but the speed of their blows quickly escalated, and both grunted as they got hit in the ribs, stomach and chest.
After twenty seconds, Dennis came around with an elbow aimed at the back of Kev
's neck. Kev didn't get his guard all the way up, and Dennis didn't do much to pull the strike. Kev fell to his knees, shaking his head.
“Switch,” Yan said.
Kev used the wall to pull himself up, keeping a hand out for support.
“Looks like you owe me another one.” Dennis said.
“Yeah, yeah.” Kev waved a hand. He hid his anger well, and didn't retaliate, but Wendy could tell by the thin line of his lips that Kev wasn't happy with the outcome.
“You forget the meaning of the word control?” Matt asked Dennis as he approached Kev and looked into his eyes.
“He can stand,” Dennis said in a deep, smug voice.
Kev waved again. “I'm fine.”
Tension rolled off of the two boys, and Wendy wondered how often Jeff had to enforce crowd control.
“Be a wall,” Matt said to Kev after looking at his eyes. “You'll be fine in a second.”
“But I think I can take the shrimp.” He pointed at Wendy.
“We don't want you to embarrass yourself.” Matt said. He pointed at Dennis. “That's one extra garbage duty.”
Dennis grunted. He seemed neither surprised nor upset.
Kev took Wendy's place, and she stepped into the square. Dennis stood almost a head taller than she, but the obvious disadvantage didn't bother her. She searched his stance for weak spots, and the moment Yan said go, she attacked.
Unlike with her first group, she didn't have to go slow for Dennis. He moved fast, dodging her initial blows and going for her head. Of course. Wendy ducked, rose, sprang forward and went for his chin with a rising elbow. Dennis backed away. She missed him by less than a finger width.
She had to admit, Dennis was good. He used a straight-forward pattern that worked for his thicker body and quick arms. He didn't mess around with anything fancy and always struck to hit, not just fake.
But Wendy was faster.
They exchanged a few more blows—Wendy always a step ahead, always the aggressor. She saw in Dennis' eyes that he had come to the same conclusion, and with a growl, he tried to take control. Taking advantage of his greater size, he pressed her back, trying to trap her against the wall. She danced around and maneuvered out of his way and landed a few hits to his ribs. He grunted.
With so many shots taken at her, some of them started to land. She got one to the shoulder, a few to her back—which hurt—and one to the side of her head. The head shot dazed her, and she had to retreat, backing into Kev.
She felt Kev's hands on her shoulders, keeping her in the square. Dennis' leering face loomed right over her.
The room around her faded, replaced by dark shadows and flickering lights. A man grabbed her from behind and pulled her out of the way of a club-wielding skeleton. No, not a skeleton, an emaciated man who should be dead.
A roaring sound filled Wendy's ears, allowing nothing else through. The man who held Wendy turned her and shoved her down a dark hallway. But instead of safety, another skeletal figure rose before her. He leered down at her as if she were nothing more than an insect.
Anger filled Wendy. She would not die here. Too many had died already.
She surged forward, striking the man in the stomach before he could get his knife around. A groin shot followed, and as soon as his face was in range, Wendy kicked the side of it. The man went down. Wendy pounced. She grabbed his arm and forced his face into the floor. Thoughts of ripping the limb off filled Wendy's mind. He didn't deserve anything less.
The scars on his face and neck caught the light. The tail of a scorpion.
Where was her knife?
When Wendy turned her head to find it, the vision dissolved. The combat room reappeared, as did Jeff, whose face sat inches from hers.
“Wendy?” he said.
Wendy blinked. An arm squirmed in her hands. She looked down and found Dennis, his face pressed against the floor, blood pooling beneath his head.
Jeff looked into her eyes and held her gaze as he reached out and gently tried to pry her fingers from Dennis' arm. “That might have been a little hard.”
Horror filled her. She didn't remember taking Dennis to the floor. What had she done to make him bleed? Control was one of Wendy's biggest concerns while fighting. Jeff continued to work on her fingers, and she released them. Dennis pulled his arm down and placed his hands on the floor.
Everyone in the room stood frozen.
“Hey,” Jeff said, using his hand to swivel her head toward him. “Look at me.”
Wendy couldn't. Her hands started to shake. What had just happened? Is this what going crazy felt like?
“Inhale,” Jeff commanded. Wendy did. “Good, now exhale.” She did that too. “Again.” He rubbed her back with his hand as he continued to guide her breaths. The combination helped. Her vision cleared.
“What happened?” Yan asked.
Wendy raised her eyes to Yan's, expecting him to kick her out. He said nothing, but waited for Dennis to get to his feet.
Dennis didn't say anything, just held his cheek, where the blood was coming from. The cold look in his eyes sent a shiver down Wendy's spine. Sure, she could beat him in a fight, but now she would have to watch her back. She hadn't even meant to do it. She didn’t need any more enemies.
Matt ran over and pulled Dennis' hand away from his face. The blood seeping from the cut made him look even more murderous.
Wendy couldn't breathe. Jeff still had one hand on her back and the other around her shoulder. He was ready for her to attack someone. Which could apparently happen at any moment.
Yan stepped toward Dennis. He looked the young man up and down and grunted. “You apparently need to learn to guard your face.”
The muscles in Dennis' cheeks flexed as he ground his teeth together.
Yan turned to Wendy, his knowing gaze piercing as he said, “One extra garbage duty for you. And try not to get any more blood on the floor.”