Slayers (Jake Hawkins Book 1)

by Matt Rogers

  They reached a single door, built into the wall at the end of the corridor. Wolfe opened it, and Jake stepped through.

  “This is your room,” Wolfe said.

  It looked like the master bedroom of a five-star resort. Jake realised it ran the entire length of the corridor on the other side of the wall. Up the far end lay a king-size double bed, with an adjacent bedside table complete with a sleek, white laptop. Behind the bed, Jake saw the entrance to an en-suite bathroom.

  “Holy crap,” was all he could think to say.

  “Do you like it?”

  “It’s probably a tad better than my jail cell.”

  Wolfe chuckled.

  “Your wardrobe is in there,” he said, motioning to a door in the wall next to them. “Now, I take it you need some sleep.”

  “That’d be good. I’m about to drop off on the spot.”

  “I’ll leave you to it then. Get some rest. You’ll need it.”

  Wolfe turned and left the room. On the way out, he thumbed a panel on the wall, and instantly the blinds running along the tops of the windows began to lower. Before the room turned black, Jake walked over to the bedside table and switched on the lamp.

  He took a shower. The hot water poured over him and washed away into the drain in the centre of the bathroom. With it went the dirt and grime that he had accumulated over the past twenty-four hours. It felt good.

  When he was done, he took a quick glance at himself in the mirror. His long hair was matted to his forehead. He swept it back and took a deep breath. This was his new life now. He had to forget about the old one.

  He made his way, naked, into the bedroom and slipped into bed. The mattress was made of memory foam. It moulded to his body shape, enveloping him in comfort. He pulled the covers up over himself.

  Jake lay there, staring at the ceiling, weighing the consequences of his actions. Everyone who ever knew these five men believed them to be dead. Technically, they didn’t exist anymore, and neither did he. He wanted to place his full trust in them, but he couldn’t. Not yet. He’d only met three.

  His nerves were unshakeable, but they slowly began to fade as he rolled over and closed his eyes. Within seconds he was asleep.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  He woke slowly. There was no light coming from underneath the blinds. It was dark outside. He lifted his head from the pillows and took a glance at the alarm clock.

  7:53p.m.

  He had slept all day. Light from the bathroom seeped through the crack under the door, gently illuminating the room. He had forgotten to turn it off last night.

  He untangled himself from the sheets and moved into the wardrobe, which alone was the size of his old room. He pulled a pair of tracksuit pants and a Nike singlet off their hangars. They were just a few clothes amongst an arsenal of designer gear.

  Despite a lengthy sleep, his eyes were droopy. His sleeping pattern had been thrown off, much akin to what he believed jet lag would feel like. He hadn’t experienced the feeling before. He’d never been overseas. His dad had never been that generous.

  Scrubbing sleep from in between his eyes, Jake left the room and made his way down the corridor, out into the lounge.

  “Evening, sunshine.”

  The black man who had assisted in the breakout was sitting on the couch, typing away at a slim laptop. He had spoken without looking up.

  “Sorry,” Jake said. “I was pretty tired.”

  The man looked up and smiled. “No need to apologise. How’re you feeling?”

  “Fine, actually. Well, as fine as I can be. Nothing hurts at least.”

  “That’s good. I wouldn’t be surprised if you’d strained a muscle during the breakout. Stress can do that to you.”

  “It’s Felix, right?”

  “It is.”

  “Thanks for getting me out of there, Felix. I’m serious. I can’t tell you how relieved I am.”

  “Happy to help,” Felix said. “Honestly, when you hunt slayers for a living, police stations aren’t all that much of a challenge.”

  Felix stood up.

  “How are you feeling, though?” he said. “About all this?”

  Jake knew what he meant. “Not too bad. I don’t really know what to think about what’s happened. I’m alive. I guess that’s all that matters.”

  “You’ve got an optimistic take on things.”

  “I need to. If I stop and think about what’s happening it’ll be too much. I can’t shake this feeling that I’m in way over my head.”

  “It would be strange if you didn’t feel that way, Jake. Slayers are a mind-boggling thing. But your choice isn’t as bad as you might think. You won’t be in any danger with us. We’ll protect you at all times.”

  “Protect me from slayers?”

  Felix nodded, and Jake swallowed fear. He was reluctant to ever see one again. The dread that he had experienced during his encounter on the balcony had been too much to handle. He had been in the hands of a monster. Even recalling it made his palms sweaty. Felix sensed his apprehension.

  “Don’t worry, kid,” he said. “There’s six of us here, and we’re going to look out for you whenever we hunt. We won’t bring you in until you’re more than a hundred percent ready. Understand? That’s what we’re here to do, to train you so that you can be better than them. We wouldn’t throw you in the deep end for no reason.”

  “So what exactly is going to happen?” Jake asked. “What do you want from me?”

  “Easy, kid. Let me introduce you to everyone first.”

  Almost on cue, a man walked in from the kitchen. Like Felix, he was muscular. Jake figured it was a requirement of the slayer hunting business to be in peak physical condition. He was dressed in shorts and a singlet and padded into the lounge barefoot, sucking on a chocolate milkshake. His long, gritty hair was tied back in a ponytail.

  When he saw Jake, his eyes lit up. They were bright green.

  “Hey!” he said. “Good to finally meet you. How’s it goin’, brother?”

  “Not too bad,” Jake said. He was a little hesitant to jump into conversation.

  “This is Sam,” Felix said, as the two shook hands. “He’s our engineer, so to speak.”

  “Engineer?”

  “The guns, dude,” Sam said. “I build ’em!”

  “Build them?” Jake queried. “Why don’t you just buy them?”

  Sam laughed. “Boy oh boy, have I got a lot to teach you. Come, I’ll show you downstairs.”

  There was something quirky about Sam, Jake thought. He hunted slayers for a living, yet he was just an ordinary guy. He reminded Jake of … normal people. Jake already liked the man.

  They went through the kitchen and into one of the spare rooms branching off from the grand hallway. It was a gaming room, filled with various arcade machines and a full-size pool table in the centre of the room. Jake ran his hand over an old-school pinball machine as he passed it. Tucked into one corner was a flight of metal stairs, spiralling downwards into the depths of the house.

  The three descended from the ornate furnishings of the house above into a room of stark whites and greys. The enormous space below the mansion was lit by neon lighting. Jake figured that the basement stretched the entire length of the house. It was split into two separate sections, each bigger than a concert hall. One looked to be a workstation, with rows of stainless steel benches positioned in equal intervals across the concrete floor.

  The other was a gym. Sparring mats covered the floor and punching bags hung from the ceiling. In the corner lay a workout station, with twice as much equipment as his old kickboxing gym. Everything was in pristine condition, not a single weight out of place. At his old gym, the rusting weights, general untidiness and friendly atmosphere had make Jake feel at home every time he stepped in the door. Now, he shivered in unease. This place was a factory, designed to turn him into a killer as fast as humanly possible.

  As Jake stepped down off the last stair, he saw two men hunched over a workbench, both with welding
masks covering their faces. Their bare chests were glistening with sweat. One of the men was working over a piece of metal with a welding gun, sending sparks flying off the workbench. They noticed Jake, Felix and Sam come down the stairs and lifted the tinted visors off their faces in unison. The whining of the gun fizzled out as they cut the power.

  Jake recognised the man on the left as Crank, the getaway driver. He had shaved his hair since the breakout; now, his blond locks were cut close to the skull. In any other situation, Jake would have been impressed by his musculature, but he was dwarfed by the man standing next to him.

  This man was bald and black and stood at least seven feet tall. He was one of the largest people Jake had ever seen, and single-handedly made the other three men in the room look puny. Despite his height, his physique was not disproportionate. Quite the contrary, Jake noted. His biceps were the size of basketballs and his legs looked like tree trunks.

  Jake feigned a blank expression, but was unable to hide his surprise. The other men noticed. Crank burst out laughing.

  “Long time no see, Jake,” he said. “I guess no-one warned you about Thorn.”

  The giant stepped forwards.

  “I’m Thorn,” he said, his voice deep. He stuck out a hand.

  Jake shook it. Thorn’s grip was gentle.

  “Most people get taken by surprise at first,” he said. “Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it.”

  Jake laughed. “You did take me by surprise a little. Do people stare in public?”

  “That’s why I don’t go out much,” Thorn said. He hesitated. “Something you’ll have to get used to, no doubt. I hear breaking out of a police precinct draws attention these days.”

  Crank stepped forward. “I’ve heard you want to hunt slayers, Jake?”

  “I didn’t have a much of a choice,” Jake said. “But yeah, I guess it looks like fun.”

  “It’s not,” Thorn said.

  Jake was being sarcastic, but suddenly the friendly atmosphere evaporated. The air grew hostile.

  “Slayers are the most dangerous creatures you could possibly imagine,” Thorn continued. “One wrong move in a fight against one and you’ll have your throat ripped out before you can comprehend what’s happening.”

  Jake gulped.

  Crank picked up the speech. “I’m guessing Felix told you that we will protect you. And we will. But there’s only so much we can do. Eventually you’re going to have to fight for yourself. This might be a bit much to take on but we’re not going to skirt around the truth.”

  “And the truth is…” Jake said.

  “We do need you. That’s why we offered you this position. Slayers are posing more and more of a threat to us every day.”

  “You know what,” Jake said. “I’m going to be honest here – I don’t understand how I fit into this. I’m sixteen. How can you need a sixteen-year-old?”

  “We do,” Crank said. “We need another man. Several times we’ve been ludicrously close to getting outnumbered. Besides, you’ve already got the build of an adult, so it’s not like you’re physically limited in any way.”

  “I am compared to you guys.”

  “That’s what we’re here to do, buddy,” Sam said. “Trust me, man, it’s not our intention to lead you to your death. The idea of fighting slayers probably seems daunting, but we’re here to train you. We’re gonna teach you how to defend yourself from them, how to outsmart them, and how to kill them. But it’s gonna take time, and it’s gonna take patience. All we’re saying is that you need to be switched on, brother.”

  “You’re in our world now,” Crank said, “and you need to play by our rules. That’s the simple truth.”

  Jake glanced around at the other three men. Felix was anxiously scratching his goatee and giving Crank a look. He obviously hadn’t intended to give Jake the harsh truth so early.

  Sam, Crank and Thorn, on the other hand, were staring at him, heads tilted, awaiting a reaction.

  What was his reaction?

  “I know,” he finally said. “I’m not a little child that you’re here to protect. That’s not why you took me on board. You don’t need to babysit me. Teach me how to hunt them, and I’ll hunt them. But whatever you do, don’t send me back to that boring hell of a life I used to have. This is my life now. I’ve accepted that.”

  By the time he had finished speaking, Thorn, Crank and Sam had broad grins stretched across their faces. Felix wasn’t smiling, but he looked relieved.

  Sam chuckled and punched Felix in the shoulder. “Wolfe was right, brother. The kid wasn’t forced into this. It’s his choice.”

  “Yeah,” Jake muttered. “It is.”

  “Come on, then,” Felix said. It sounded like a weight was lifted from his shoulders. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

  He brought Jake over to the wrestling mats. The other three followed, but on the way Jake watched Sam poke the metal that Crank and Thorn had been welding and grimace.

  “What is this?” Sam said.

  “Crank and I thought we’d weld a barrel for the new Snowdog,” Thorn said. “What do you think?”

  “I think I’m still the only one who can build a gun around here, brother. Stick to picking up heavy things. That’s your forte.”

  “Shut up. Get a haircut.”

  Jake smiled as he walked away.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Clang.

  The bullet pinged off the metal plate on the rear wall. Another miss.

  “I give up,” Jake exclaimed, setting the pistol on the stand in front of him, exasperated. “I’m never going to get three hits in a row.”

  It felt like he had been shooting for hours. Felix and Crank had taken him from the first room into a second, identical space, the same size as the previous one. He figured this underground network must take up more area below than the mansion above did.

  At various intervals across the span of the room, metal targets were attached to motorised conveyor belts. The belts had been programmed to shoot horizontally across the room at random. They were almost too fast for Jake’s eyes to follow. Felix told him they had been set to mimic the speed of a slayer’s pounce.

  He had no idea how he was going to survive his first hunt.

  Out of more than a hundred shots, Jake had managed to hit two separate targets, both strokes of pure luck. Crank and Felix had informed him that he wasn’t leaving until he hit three in a row, and had then lapsed into silence, watching him intently. Thorn and Sam were nowhere to be seen.

  Jake received no response to his complaint. He turned to the two men.

  “How am I supposed to do this?” he said.

  “You’re focusing too hard,” Felix said. “Try and hit them instinctively.”

  “What?”

  “Stand with your back to the range,” Crank instructed. “Then spin and shoot.”

  Jake almost laughed. “I’m not stupid, guys.”

  “Try it. You’re concentrating too hard on the targets anyway. It’s throwing you off. You’ll never get that much time to line up your shot in the real world. Relax, trust your instincts. Breathe.”

  It sounded ridiculous, but there was no harm in trying. Jake reached down and picked up the pistol once again. The grip was cool against his skin. He faced Crank and Felix and waited for the signal.

  Crank nodded.

  Pivoting on his heel, Jake brought the gun up and fired at the three targets that first appeared in his vision.

  Bang, bang, bang.

  The shots rang out across the room. As he recoiled from the final blast, he eyed his handiwork. He couldn't believe it. One bullet had missed completely, but the second had nicked a target’s shoulder and the third target he had aimed for had the final bullet lodged deep in its chest.

  Two for three.

  Jake was perplexed. Staring at the bullet holes, it felt surreal. “What does that mean?”

  “Like I said, you were concentrating too hard, kid,” Felix said. “It means you’re able to hone in on your
instincts. It’s good. Real good. We don’t need a shot that takes years to line up. That doesn’t benefit us. But this,” he let out an impressed chuckle, “this we can work with.”

  “It seems you’re a bit of a natural,” Crank said.

  Jake couldn’t hold back a smile.

  “Don’t get too cocky,” Crank said. “You’re fighting me next.”

  “Fighting you?” Jake said. “But I’ve got a height and weight advantage.”

  He hadn’t intended for it to come out like that. Crank guffawed, spun around and walked out of the room without saying a word.

  Jake looked at Felix. The man was smirking.

  “What?”

  “Are you assuming you can fight because you’ve done some kickboxing lessons?”

  “No… I just …”

  “Have fun.”

  Jake sighed. “Do I have to do this?”

  “Don’t worry. It’s going to be mainly wrestling, with a few strikes mixed in. We need to assess your hand-to-hand skills. Get an idea of where you’re at. He won’t beat you up too bad.” Felix winked.

  Jake sighed again and reluctantly headed back into the first room. He noticed Sam and Thorn standing on the edge of the wrestling mats, arms folded over their chest. They were smiling. Jake had the sense they were the more light-hearted pair. As he entered, Sam blew a mock trumpet-call. Thorn let out a bellowing laugh.

  Crank began to slip gloves over his knuckles.

  “Are we going full contact?” Jake said, eyeing the padded gloves.

  “Feel free,” Crank said. “Hit me with whatever you can. Don’t hesitate.”

  He nodded to the gloves at Jake’s feet. Jake worked them onto his hands, tightening the straps, feeling the rush. He wasn’t here. He was back in the local gym, sparring with Tim, laughing and dancing around on the balls of his feet without a worry in the world.

  “We going to do this or what?” Crank said.

  Jake shook himself out of the daydream and sized him up. Crank looked powerful – there was no doubt about it – but he was at least two or three inches shorter. Jake couldn’t help but think that they were underestimating him. He was faster than they thought.