by Elodie Colt
The sudden lump in my throat felt as if it had the weight of a bowling ball. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Sarah huffed a dry laugh. “You’re already convinced Ricky’s death is your fault.”
“It is my fault. And now I have two proofs!” Why didn’t anyone seem to understand?
“You couldn’t have known. None of us could have known. That’s just how it is,” she retorted in a bitter tone, leaning her elbows on her knees and entwining her fingers.
I shook my head in desperation, asking the question I dreaded the most. “Does… does Dylan know?”
“No. It wouldn’t change a thing. It happened the way it did, and none of us could have stopped it.” Sarah was right, of course, yet it gnawed on my conscience like an acid burning holes in it. “Don’t fret now, okay? You can’t change it, anyway. We have bigger issues to focus on,” Sarah advised.
I gave in unwillingly, continuing to throw wary glances at the gravestone with the yellow flowers surrounding it.
“Self-defense is about escaping blows and maintaining your guard. Offensive moves can also help you defend, but that’s not what we’ll focus on today.” Scott’s voice rang through the hall.
“When you go on the defense, you tend to react to the situation automatically without much forethought. This is why, no matter how many scenarios we’ll play through in here, it will never prepare you for how it is in reality out there. That’s not our goal. The self-defense course’s priority is for you to gain knowledge about how you can win as much time as possible to escape or to avoid attacks, no matter what your ability is,” Scott addressed his students who sat casually on the blue mats in front of him.
“But no matter what situation you find yourself in, there are a few rules that can decide between life and death.” Scott ticked them off with his fingers. “The first is to know your environment. It doesn’t matter if you are attacked in the woods or your kitchen or anywhere else, you will always be surrounded with advantages and disadvantages. What objects can you use as weapons? Can you identify possible escape routes? Where are your hiding places? What advantage could you have in the current environment your attacker does not?”
Scott took me by surprise again. He didn’t strike me as the fighting type, yet he was one of the few Professionals down here with experience.
“The second rule is to move efficiently. Use techniques which cause the most amount of damage with the fewest number of moves. What do you gain if your energy is drained halfway through the fight, and your attacker is still in better shape than you?
“And the third rule is to stay out of the attack line. Who can tell me what the attack line is? Yes, Marcy?” Scott pointed to the girl who smacked herself unconscious in Dylan’s class a few weeks earlier.
“The invisible, straight line between two opponents. As long as you stay in the attack line, you are vulnerable.”
“That’s right. Marcy and Dominic, come forward, please. Dominic, you’ll attack and Marcy, you’ll show me how you would defend yourself.”
Marcy and another boy rose and walked over to Scott. Dominic had a sturdy build and towered over Marcy’s slender frame, but she stomped her feet on the ground with confidence. Height and strength were not the only advantages in a fight, much to my favor.
“Go!” Scott shouted, and Dominic struck Marcy.
The girl glided out of the attack line and parried the blow with her hands. In the same instant, she grabbed his wrist and twisted it upward until Dominic couldn’t help but slump to the ground in defeat. His wrist still firmly in her grip, she stomped her foot on his back to keep him in place.
“Good. Marcy gained the upper hand. She got out of the attack line and counterstruck with an efficient move that grounded her opponent. Keep standing at all costs. Your options are highly limited when you’re down, especially when you’re confronted with multiple attackers. Alright, you can sit down. Haylie and Jared, please come forward.”
Oh no.
I had no clue about self-defense except for the few moves Scott had shown me before our hospital mission. Sure, I‘d defended myself before, but I’d always reacted on poor instinct and hadn’t followed any of Scott’s rules.
Standing up, I tentatively followed Jared to the blue mat. Jared smiled encouragingly at me. At least, I didn’t have to fight Amber, the bitch who’d tripped me up not long ago.
“Jared, you attack. Haylie, you defend. Keep the attack line in mind. Go!”
Jared’s foot kicked out, aiming at my upper thigh. I jumped backward and grabbed his ankle, giving it a shove, which caused Jared to tumble a little, but it wasn’t enough to throw him off balance. He twisted his foot out of my grasp, and before I could think about what to do next, Jared swiped his other foot under mine. My legs gave out, and I hit the mat with my back, the impact pushing the air out of my lungs.
How the hell had I managed to survive the last attacks? Adrenaline overdose or pure luck?
Scott blew his whistle, making a shrill sound. “Not bad for a start, but Haylie couldn’t keep the upper hand. What went wrong?”
“You’re okay?” Jared’s face appeared in my vision. He stretched out his hand to help me up, and I took it.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Just didn’t see that one coming, it was incredibly fast.”
“Yeah, sorry about that. I held back my ability, but there’s still Racer blood in my body,” he added with an apologetic smile. Did Scott think I could compete with someone who was nearly as fast as a four-wheeler?
“She didn’t get out of Jared’s attack line,” Scott answered his own question. “Grabbing the ankle is a good move to throw your opponent off balance, but if you’re still in the attack line, you can’t redirect the energy from the blow, at least not as long as you are the weaker opponent.”
I nodded, trying to follow Scott’s way of thinking.
“There is another important thing you need to keep in mind. Your point of gravity should not extend beyond your base of support. If you aren’t skilled enough to keep your support base while performing difficult moves, then don’t do them.” Hmm, sounded reasonable. “Alright, try again. Jared, make the same move again, please.”
We both took our positions, and I crouched a little lower, anticipating the kick. When Jared kicked out with his leg, I spun to the right and clamped his shin under my right arm. Wrenching it up, I caused Jared to tumble down awkwardly.
“That was great. Really good. Alright, next one,” Scott extolled, and Jared gave me a high-five.
I smiled back at the boy with the dark brown hair. It was too long, the bangs falling into his eyes and forcing him to make jerking moves with his head every few seconds.
In my second round with Jared as my opponent, it was my turn to strike. I threw a punch straight at his face, but he sidestepped and caught my arm. Jared spun inward and took my arm with him until I had nowhere to go other than scrambling on his back. He bent forward, trying to throw me off him, but I clamped the heels of my feet in between his thighs, holding on tightly. As a result, Jared and I toppled down to the floor in a mass of limbs.
“That was an interesting move. Holding on for dear life can also throw your opponent off balance,” Scott said, chuckling. “Haylie switched Jared’s balancing point. I don’t know if it might help with a stronger attacker, but it definitely gave you the upper hand.”
We watched the entire class performing basic self-defense moves in every variation. I tried to remember them all, mimicking the motions while watching. My outstanding photographic memory helped.
After the lesson was over, Scott came up to me. “You did well today,” he complimented.
“Thanks,” I replied shyly.
“How are you?” he asked in a more serious tone.
“I’m… coping,” I mumbled after a few seconds of hesitation. Lying to a Tracer was futile, anyway. Scott gave me a long, measured look.
“Why don’t you take a shower and join me outside later?”
“Outside? You mea
n in the cemetery?”
“Yeah, I could use some fresh air.”
I eyed him warily. Had Jimmy ordered babysitters to watch over me? Whatever…
“Alright. See you later then.”
~~~
We wandered through the green forest behind the cemetery. It had stopped raining, but there were still heavy clouds in the sky. I immediately felt better outside the walls of the underground.
“Do you come here often?” I asked after a few minutes of silence.
“Mostly on rainy days. I like the smell of wet earth,” Scott explained and took a seat on a mossy undergrowth in front of a tree trunk. “If the air is too dry, I can sometimes smell the rotting bodies under the ground. Not pleasant, I can assure you,” he added dryly, and I wrinkled my nose in disgust.
I sat down beside him, and we both leaned back against the trunk, watching the glistening forest.
“I heard your mission in the hospital went well?”
I sighed. “Not really. I’m sure Dylan told you of my failure.”
“Um, no. He said you did great,” Scott answered with a frown. That surprised me. I’d nearly blown our cover. Why had Dylan kept it a secret? “What happened?”
I shook my head, the incident still frustrating me. “Did you see the picture?” I asked Scott in a hushed tone.
“No. Dylan just told us what he’d found, but he didn’t show us. He only showed Jimmy and Chris, I think.”
I was grateful. No one else should see me like that. It was embarrassing enough that Dylan knew. “I was frozen in shock when I found it. Dylan snapped me out of it, but I wasn’t able to do much more after that,” I confessed in a low voice.
“Don’t worry about it. Dylan is one of the best. He knows how to handle difficult situations, even mental breakdowns. You don’t have any training, and it was your first mission. Jimmy put you in safe hands.”
“Have you ever been on missions?”
“A few, but I’m not the action type. I’m a decent fighter, but I don’t enjoy the battle. As a Tracer, I can do without the stenches of dirt, blood, and sweat. It’s different with Fighters. They need the battleground to release their aggressions and make use of their adrenaline. It’s in their nature.” Scott was the complete opposite of aggressive. He was the chiller type, that was for sure.
“How long have you been here, anyway?”
“You mean in the compound?”
“Yeah.”
“For about seven years. My father was a student here, too. He put me in here right after high school.”
“You’ve been living in the compound for seven years?” I was baffled. I knew people lived here permanently, but I’d never thought about how long the compound existed.
“Yeah. When I started to take classes here, I swore to leave as soon as my education was over. Then, Jimmy offered me a job as a trainer, and well, here I am,” he added with an easy smile, swirling his dreadlocks around his fingers and making a knot on the nape of his neck.
“How do you get the students in here, anyway? What about children without parents to tell them what they are?” I briefly thought about my situation. If the Hunters hadn’t attacked me that night, Jimmy wouldn’t have found me so quickly.
“We keep a close eye on the traffic system. It’s the only opportunity to keep track of who is a Roe, and who is not. We register every Roe in our database. Then we try to persuade them to join us. “
“What about the ones who refuse to come here?”
“That’s a rare case. Jimmy’s very good at persuading. There are only a few who refuse. The ones without parents have it difficult. A better life awaits them here. Besides, an untrained ability is like having feet without the ability to walk. They are relieved to know someone can help them.”
Yeah, a life in the compound with proper education where everyone lived as one big family seemed better than a lonely life out there with no one to care about you.
“I think you need a distraction. You’re too troubled, I can smell it,” Scott suddenly said, scrunching his nose to make his point.
I snickered. “What does being troubled smell like?”
“Hmm, how should I describe scents only I can smell? I don’t know. ‘Dusty’ would fit, I guess. Troubling thoughts fog the scent and dampen the individual odors. I can hardly smell your honey scent anymore… we can’t have that.”
I smiled at his attempt to cheer me up. “How do you plan to… oh no, that’s certainly not the right therapy for me,” I quickly exclaimed and waved him off when eyeing the thing Scott pulled from the inner pocket of his jacket.
“You don’t need to if you don’t want, but don’t underestimate the power of cannabis.” Scott chuckled, putting the long paper cone to his lips.
“Why do you smoke weed, anyway? I thought you were touchy about certain smells and ingredients.”
“I am, but cannabis is different. It’s pure. It’s a plant, just like tobacco. I guess the taste is even better when you’re a Tracer. When the cannabis kicks in, it heightens my senses and my ability. You could say it’s like a nasal orgasm.”
I snorted at the mental picture in my head and watched Scott lighten the tip of his joint with a lighter. He puffed a few times to get it burning and finally inhaled slowly. Keeping the smoke a few seconds in his lungs, he puffed it out with a satisfied moan. The spicy scent tickled my nose.
“I don’t do drugs. I can’t even control myself under normal circumstances, how should I control myself while I’m stoned?”
“That’s exactly the point, Haylie. Maybe you’re trying too hard to stay in control.” He cast me a sideways glance. “You carry a huge burden on your shoulders. Your life changed drastically over the last few weeks. You need to find a release of some sort so you can relax. I don’t want to get you addicted. I want to give you an opportunity to let go for a moment now and then.”
After a few seconds of silence, he added, “I once had a student who wanted to find out about his ability. I smoked a joint with him, and after three pulls, his hair changed from brown to green. Turned out he was a Shifter. His energy was exhausted, though, so he couldn’t shift back to his natural hair color. Had to walk around with green hair for three days.” He chuckled at the memory.
My mouth popped open in wonder. Scott would have been the most favored teacher around the world, smoking weed with students and all.
My gaze flew to the joint. I’d smoked cigarettes in my wildest times after Shawna’s death, but quit when I’d started to train. I couldn’t afford the addiction, anyway.
“I don’t know. What if I get caught by Jimmy or someone else? Not the best way to make a good impression in a new environment.”
Scott laughed lazily and inhaled the tobacco-weed-mixture a second time. “You already impressed everyone by how you’re coping with things. I doubt Jimmy would give you a lecture. Besides, you wouldn’t believe what a few minutes of complete relaxation can do to your body.”
I eyed the joint dubiously. Ah, dammit. Who cared?
“Alright. But no word to anyone, okay?” I warned.
Scott gave me a huge grin. “Sure thing.” He handed me the joint, and I clamped it between two fingers. “Just take it slowly. Take tiny pulls,” he advised, and I took a baby-sized pull.
I inhaled deeply and was immediately overwhelmed by the flavor. I’d never tasted anything similar. My lungs constricted slightly, and my eyes started to sting, but it was bearable. The second pull was easier to handle.
“Good?” Scott asked, watching me intently.
“I don’t know. I still feel the same.” Well, I didn’t know what to expect, so how the hell should I know?
“Wait a few minutes, it will come,” he assured me with his lazy voice.
“What will come? Will I have a hysterical laughing fit?”
“Could happen in the best case.” Scott nodded and grinned at me. His eyes were already becoming glassy, and the grin stayed plastered on his face.
“Does Jimmy know? About
you smoking pot?”
“Jimmy knows everything that goes on in his compound. He’s certainly not happy about it, but he doesn’t care as long as we all behave and do our job.”
I took another pull, my gaze wandering over the green and brown scenery until resting on Ricky’s grave. “Was Ricky a Professional?” I wanted to know.
“No, still Intermediate. He was one hell of a Catcher, though,” he answered, melancholy lacing his voice.
“What do Catchers do, exactly? I mean, I know what they do, but how does it work?”
“Catchers and Watchers are similar. They can see or hear exceptionally well. They are quite common. We guess they make up about fifty percent of all Roes. Their training is different, though. See, the ability to extend your vision or hearing senses doesn’t need to be trained. It’s just there and develops with age. The real challenge is to shut it out. Professional Watchers can zoom into the tiniest molecules. It needs a lot of practice to limit this zoom before you overload your brain. They also have an extraordinary photographic memory. With Catchers, it’s similar. They can hear ants crawling on the ground if they want. If you don’t know how to shut it out, you’ll go crazy. So, their training is mostly about focusing. You haven’t met Lisa yet, right?”
I shook my head. The motion made me a little dizzy.
“Lisa is our, let’s say, psychologist. She’s one of the best and trains those who need mental support.”
“Hmm. Who will train me, I wonder…”
“Depends on your ability. Lisa can surely help you, but we can’t look for anyone else as long as we don’t know about your powers. And Jimmy didn’t tell the government about you yet, as far as I know.”
My head snapped in Scott’s direction. “The government? Why should they be interested in me?”
“Um, because you’re a Natural?” Scott pointed out as if it was obvious.
“Wait, the government knows about Roes?”
“Oh, sorry, I forgot. This is all so new to you,” Scott answered in a huff. “Yes, they know. The government operates a separate department for Roes. Jimmy works together with the Head of Roe Security, Serena Stokes. Who do you think funds the compound, the weapons, the trainers, and everything?”
