I Become Shadow Page 8

  Junie and I held hands as Not-Beth did her job and left us to suffer through the night together.

  CHAPTER 9

  THE HUNT

  Twenty-two days. I was officially twenty-two days into my stay. I knew this because I had started marking my walls like that prisoner in The Count of Monte Cristo. Curled up in bed I was staring at the four sets of five and two lone rangers. Twenty-two. I rolled over to face the door. It felt like I’d been there for at least a year, but the dashes didn’t lie. Unless someone was sneaking into my room and erasing them while I was training. That would be cruel but sort of funny too. This place was like that.

  I zombie-swung myself out of bed and lazily put on my yellows. I was sore all over and not just from the dose of fire the night before. Three weeks of grueling training left more than bruises. My bones hurt.

  Fully dressed, I pressed the button on my desk that would deliver my piping hot bowl of gruel breakfast. From inside a small nook on the back of the desk I pulled out my secret stash. From the nurses in the hospital wing, I had been overloaded with cinnamon and rosemary. I’d also smuggled out some sugar, salt, pepper, and a few grated Parmesan cheese packets. Feeling adventurous, I added one of the packets to the steaming slop. It didn’t do much good.

  No sooner had I put my licked-clean bowl back in the drawer than my door opened with a bing. Time to boogie.

  I glanced at the day’s schedule on my desktop to see what was first. Camouflage. I groaned. We’d done this last week. It was fun at first, but then extremely painful.

  Allow me to explain: An immensely large room had been transformed into a near perfect recreation of a desert landscape. Sand, scrub brushes, mini rock hills, saguaro cactus … es? Or is it cacti? (Grammar and spelling weren’t high on FATE’s agenda.) Whatever, you get the idea. It was even kept at a balmy hundred degrees. We were given thirty minutes of instruction on desert camouflage techniques and then another thirty minutes to camo up and hide.

  Cole then hunted us down with a pistol, shooting us with rubber bullets when he found us. Big surprise; he found me first and shot me square in the neck. I looked like I had gotten a hickey from a fire hose all week.

  I had a theory that he could literally smell me. I felt it had merit given my history with him. Junie was quick to point out that painting myself green and trying to be a cactus was an awful decision. Funny, yes, but awful. But Junie was wrong, dead wrong. I was a really still fake cactus and totally blended in. Cole had sniffed me out, and I refused to believe otherwise. This morning’s class would be more of the same.

  Junie and the rest of my team all gathered together in our hallway before heading out as one. We passed other groups all heading in different directions to different classes. No words were exchanged aside from an occasional head nod. I really wanted to organize some sort of West Side Story snap-off with another group but what do you know? I had yet to find the time. It was on my to-do list though.

  We were led by our friendly wall lights to a new room for camo class. I instinctively rubbed my neck. The hickey bruise was only now starting to fade. The doors slid open, and a blast of sticky, wet air assaulted me.

  As with most rooms in the training center, the front part was dedicated to instruction and learning—tables spread out evenly—but beyond that it was simply … beautiful. My eyes feasted on a jungle, a real jungle. The rubber floor of the teaching area gave way to a small grassy meadow about twenty yards deep. After the meadow it was a solid wall of towering trees of all types, bushes, and size-of-your-arm vines. There was even a pretty big creek that snaked its way through the middle of it all. A crack of thunder boomed from above, and rain, actual rain, began to fall. Something screeched. I spotted a monkey swinging in the branches trying to avoid the rain.

  I heard a few gasps. We practically fought to get inside and up to the edge of the grass. Thoughts of Cole and his rubber bullets vanished.

  Movement to my right caught my eye. Had that bush moved? To my left, the branches of a tree were swinging, but there wasn’t any breeze.

  As if on cue, five figures materialized out of the foliage, as if from nowhere, as if the jungle had come to life before our eyes. One had literally been lying not ten feet in front of me. I wasn’t the only one who jumped when he stood.

  “Change of plans today,” came the whiny voice behind us. “Eyes on me, children.”

  We turned. Cole was sitting on a bench cleaning out his fingernails with the point of a large knife looking, dare I say, giddy. It was unsettling. I glanced back. In my peripheral I could barely make out the jungle ghosts cleaning the mud, paint, and leaves off of their bodies and out of their hair.

  “As you can see, we have guests today. Special guests with a special treat. Today, you have been chosen to participate in a time-honored tradition here at FATE. Today you will be taking part in The Hunt. May I introduce you to the Hunters.” He nodded and stood, indicating we could turn.

  The room filled with a cacophony of excited whispers and gasps from my peers. Only the absolute best of the best were chosen as Hunters instead of Shadows. Once we were out of here, if we ever decided to run, or break any of the FATE Center’s rules, we would be targeted for extermination by the Hunters. Only a killing machine can bring down another, you know? They were legends. Or nightmares, depending on your point of view. They never failed. They were awesome.

  A tall, thin man with shoulder-length brown hair walked over and clasped his hands in front of him like a priest. His movements were graceful, like a dancer’s. He was young, late twenties maybe, and eyed us all curiously with the faint hint of a smile. The other Hunters soon joined their leader. They were an interesting group. Two of them were massive, almost a parody of comic-book bad guys: rippled muscles and scowls. Then there was a smaller, stocky guy with a shaved head and grey eyes that looked through you. He looked bored, which was somehow scarier. And finally there was a woman. She was tall and thin and if she ever smiled she might be called beautiful. Her eyes were black, as if they were all pupil. For a second I wondered seriously if she was some kind of robot.

  “I want to thank you all for participating in this,” said the leader. “My name is Luka.” His voice was soft, and he spoke with some sort of accent—Russian or Eastern European if I’d had to guess, but it could have been anywhere. “I will keep this simple. You will have two minutes to run—”

  “One minute,” corrected Cole.

  Luka turned toward Cole and said coolly, “Two.”

  I held my breath. You did not question Cole. The look Luka gave him made even me shiver. Cole lowered his eyes and didn’t protest.

  Luka turned back to us. “Apologies for the interruption.” His formality was creepy. He spoke as if he were some kind of living relic from a forgotten age. “You will have two minutes to run. After that time we will come after you. When we catch you, you will return to your room. If you escape, you are free.”

  The word “free” echoed in my brain. Had I heard that right? Free? Like, free, free? Like go back home free?

  As if reading our collective minds, Luka nodded. “Yes, truly free. We want you to try as best you can to evade us so the stakes must be worth it. All doors are unlocked, no one but us will try to stop you. You have my word that should you manage to escape no one will come looking for you.”

  Granted, I didn’t know the guy, but his word seemed pretty legit. It could frighten Cole, at least. That was good enough for me.

  Not one to let us dream, Cole added, “Has anyone ever escaped?”

  “Not as of yet,” Luka answered. “But there will always be a first.”

  Nobody said a word. My heart pounded.

  “Well,” said Cole. Then he yelled, “Run!”

  Like scattering birds we exploded into flight. It was a mad dash to the exit and out into the hallways. Half went one way and half went the other. The pattern continued at each intersection until it was just Junie and me—alone sprinting through the corridors together.

  Had it been
two minutes yet? Had anyone been caught already? There was no time to stop and think.

  “This way,” Junie said. He crashed through a door that had never been unlocked before. I’d tried it a few times out of curiosity but it had never budged. There must have been a reason to keep it locked, and there must be a reason it was unlocked now. But I shoved the thought aside. Stairs. And they only led up. One flight. Two flights. Higher and higher … Our legs burned and our lungs ached for air when we reached the top, twenty-five flights later.

  The corridor we entered was nothing like the ones below. It was carpeted, well-lit. It looked like a nice office building instead of our prison. There was no time to think. We kept on running, barreling into some surprised-looking people in business suits.

  Real people? Here? We found ourselves looking at them like they were some exotic creatures at a zoo. To be fair they looked at us exactly the same way. My heart leapt. Could it be that FATE had made a mistake? We were close. I could feel it. I could smell it. No really, the air was cleaner up here, fresher. There were doors to the outside somewhere close.

  I heard yelling from behind us and turned. My heart sank. The female Hunter was closing fast.

  “She can only follow one of us,” was all Junie said before he took off to the left. I went right running as fast as I could, but stumbled every time I looked behind me. The Hunter went after Junie without hesitation. He was the bigger threat.

  I ran and ran, trusting my gut, trusting my senses. Finally, I turned down a hallway, and my heart jumped. There were double doors at the end: thick, with two small, blacked-out windows.

  If there had been a giant cliff through those doors I would have fallen to my death. I flew out of them without pausing and into the most beautiful thing I’d seen in weeks. The woods. The sky overhead, visible through the trees. Clouds. Sunlight.

  This was no illusion. This was no room done up to look the part. No, this was real. I was really outside. To my left and right a sidewalk hugged the building’s wall—vast, seemingly endless in both directions. I had grown up in the woods. This was home, this was my domain.

  I took two deep breaths of fresh air before sprinting off into the trees. A couple hundred yards in I realized I was smiling. For the first time I began to think, to believe, I could do this. I’d be the first. I was careful where I ran, trying not to break twigs or leave an easy trail to follow. I started moving faster, slicker. I was water. I was free—

  I jerked to a stop. A chain-link fence, a fifteen-foot beast, suddenly appeared in front of me. I grabbed it and started climbing before I saw the massive coils of razor wire at the top. Climbing was not an option. My lungs heaved. I dropped to the ground and looked around, desperate. I was so close. If up was out, under was the only other option. I grabbed a stick and began to dig.

  “Nearly there,” came the familiar, soft, accented voice behind me.

  Not thinking, I spun around to face my enemy, clutching the stick like a club.

  Luka was leaning against a tree not ten feet away. He smiled kindly at me. “Fair enough. I’ll play.” He smoothly flipped up a fallen branch with his foot and snatched it out of the air with his hand. As he spoke he ripped off the smaller twigs, fashioning his own club. “No one’s ever gotten this close. I’m honored to have found you, Ms.… ?” He lifted his eyebrows for help.

  “Sharpe. Ren Sharpe.”

  “Beautiful. I’m honored, Ms. Sharpe, and thus compelled to offer you another chance at your freedom. Strike me cleanly and I will turn around and leave you be. Strike me cleanly and freedom is yours.”

  “And if I don’t?” My mind was coming around to the situation. There was always a catch.

  “Then you don’t, and you will return with me. We both believe that is punishment enough, am I right?”

  I nodded.

  “Now, we haven’t all day. Your freedom awaits, Ms. Sharpe.” He bowed to me and I did the same. Bowing was a reflex now.

  I went after him with all I had. I’d had no training in any weapons other than guns so I swung at him like I was trying to cut down a tree. He easily spun around my hacks, blocked a few others, and then rapped me on the knuckles with his stick. “Aggressive, but clumsy. Again.”

  The result was a harder crack to my knuckles that drew blood and made me drop my stick. I clutched my throbbing, bleeding hand to my chest. Continuing was pointless. I’d lost.

  He sighed. He wasn’t the slightest bit winded. “I was hoping for a different outcome,” he murmured. “I mean that.”

  I honestly believed him.

  “Alas, a deal’s a deal. Come with me, Ms. Sharpe.” He nodded for me to follow.

  I hung my head, too tired to protest. But as we walked, he kept talking. “It really is impressive how far you got, Ms. Sharpe. Do please remember that as your studies continue.”

  It was hard not to like this guy. As we walked I noticed that his footsteps made no sound whatsoever. It was eerie. I watched him; his movements reminded me of a panther.

  Something big was crashing through the woods to our right and instantly Luka was in front of me, as if protecting me. Tom, eyes wide with terror, came running at us.

  “Help me,” he choked out. Blood dripped from his lips. His face was ghostly white.

  All at once, something shiny popped out of the middle of Tom’s chest. I knew what it was, but I didn’t want to believe it. The tip of a knife. He stumbled forward a few more feet before falling to his knees and revealing the smaller, shaved-headed Hunter with the cold grey eyes behind him. His body was still positioned in a throwing motion. He straightened up with a smug grin as he saw us.

  “No!” I wanted to cry. No sound came. The word died in my throat.

  I fell to my knees and caught Tom in my arms. He was so big and so heavy he knocked me onto my butt. I clutched at him as he began to cough, his eyes full of fear, staring up into mine.

  “You’re going to be okay,” I lied.

  “I want to go home,” he managed, his mouth now full of blood. He began to cry. “I want my mom.”

  “Help!” I cried at Luka. He was gone. My head whirled.

  And that’s when I saw them: Luka and the stocky Hunter were locked in an all-out battle. It was a blur of action. Punches, kicks, throws. Watching them, a weird thought occurred to me: how fake combat was in every action movie I’d ever seen. This was moving death. But it was like ballet, in a way. I was mesmerized and frightened by it. Frightened for Luka and frightened by what might happen to me if he lost.

  Tom’s body gave a violent heave in my arms. I tore my eyes off the fight. When his body relaxed, his eyes were blank. He was still. This was no fake death, like Katie’s. This was the real thing.

  “No, no,” I whispered furiously, shaking him. “Come on, Tom, no.”

  “He’s gone, Ren,” came Luka’s voice.

  I looked up. He had wrestled the other Hunter to the ground and had him pinned.

  “I’ll kill you,” gasped the other Hunter as he struggled, “and then I’ll kill her.”

  With barely as much as a glance, Luka struck the man in the throat and he went limp. Then he stood, gracefully strode over to me, and gently pried my arms off of Tom’s body. I allowed him to lift me to my feet. My arms and shirt were covered in Tom’s blood. I couldn’t stop shaking.

  “I’m sorry for this,” he murmured. Once I was steady, he let go and motioned toward the unconscious killer. “He will be dealt with accordingly, you have my word. You must go back now. Walk around the building until you find a door. Enter the code. Three nine zero four. They will come for you. Now please go.”

  “What about Tom?”

  “Tom will be handled with honor.”

  He put his hands on my back and gave me a soft push. At first my feet didn’t seem to work, but they figured it out after a few steps.

  “And Ren? Should you try to run, you will find out what it truly means to be hunted.”

  I turned to him, and then turned back. I picked up my pace. Once
more I was flying through the woods—only this time, back to captivity. And strangely enough, as awful as it sounds, I no longer thought of Tom, even though I was soaked in his blood. My only thought was: They make mistakes here. They’re human, just like me. Which means they have a weakness because there’s always someone better to punish you for your mistakes. So that’s who I had to become.

  CHAPTER 10

  SWEET MONTAGE

  Okay, so let’s imagine we’re in a movie, and this is the sweet montage sequence in the middle of it. So flip through your music collection. Queue up your favorite “Eye of the Tiger”-esque, inspirational, I-am-becoming-a-badass song. Crank the volume and hit play.

  Here I am getting my butt whooped all over the place by dozens of different kids and instructors in every form of martial art and fighting style on the planet. Cole, of course, is a recurring butt-whooper with his smarmy grin. But wait; I’ve got this hard, determined look about me. A never-say-die, blow-the-bangs-out-of-my-face, get-up-and-keep-fighting mug. And what’s this? I’m doing push-ups and sit-ups in my room. I’m training harder in the gyms and dojos. I’m all sweaty and gross as I shadowbox, perspiration dripping off my brow. But it’s all paying off, as I get better, stronger, faster. Next image: I take out five masked attackers at once. Oh, and I just knocked out Cole with a spinning something-or-other kick.

  Now I’m failing to put together a gun. Shameful. So I practice in the gun room. My hands and fingers are caked in black gun oil as I get better. Failed attempts turn into successes. I do it blindfolded in under five seconds … with one hand cuffed behind my back. Wassup.

  I’m driving a car, backward, shooting at targets as I go. I jump out of perfectly good helicopters, airplanes, and hovercrafts. I slide a motorcycle under a moving semitruck and then keep moving. If it’s got an engine, I can drive it, crash it, and escape from it.

  Oh, and since this is a Hollywood movie montage, I’m getting better-looking by the shot, naturally. I grow out of my awkward, gangly body and fill out as only a hot, Hollywood leading woman can. I can kick butt but still look good doing it. I’m totally smokin’, kids.