Slayers (Jake Hawkins Book 1) (10 page)

“
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.

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.

The two sized up and touched gloves.

Jake attacked first. He skirted forwards and threw a hard jab at Crank
’
s face. Crank swiped it away with ease. Jake barely even saw the deflection take place. Frustrated, he tried another jab, and was met with the same result. This wasn
’
t going to work. Crank was so quick that he could hardly believe the man
’
s reflexes were human.

He decided to go on the offensive. Use the element of surprise. He let out a yell and began to strike out with right hooks, twisting his torso with each swing. Each punch was knocked away, again and again and again. He was jolted by each parry.

Finally, as he swung a final punch, Crank darted out in a two-handed attack. With his left hand, he slammed Jake
’
s arm away at the wrist, and with his right, he punched him square in the chest with enough force to drive the breath from his lungs. It was one of the hardest hits Jake had ever taken. He stumbled back, spluttering, desperately trying to catch his breath.

“
Am I still too small?
”
Crank said, grinning. He was having fun.

That pissed Jake off. He had never been beaten so easily before, so
effortlessly.
Years of his life had been devoted to this sport. Now, he was acutely aware that in comparison to the men around him, he was nothing more than a wholly inexperienced weakling.

“
Let
’
s go again,
”
he said, his voice cold.

Crank turned to Felix, seeking approval.

Felix shrugged.
“
Carry on.
”

“
Alright then,
”
Crank said, dancing on the balls of his feet.
“
Let
’
s do it.
”

Jake charged instantaneously, dropping his shoulders low and aiming for the mid-section. He might as well have come running in from the other side of the room. Crank spun away from the tackle and gave him a hard shove in the back as he went steaming past. Jake sprawled across the mats, tumbling head over heels. He rolled to his feet.

He was furious. He had landed hard on his elbow, but he didn
’
t let the pain show. He had to beat this man.

He danced back into range, fists up in front of his face. The whole room was silent, save for the squeaking of their feet on the mats.

This time, Crank attacked first. A padded fist whistled through the air. Jake barely managed to deflect it in time, bringing both his hands up as fast as he could in a reflexive motion, but despite his best efforts, it wasn
’
t fast enough. Half of Crank
’
s padded fist smacked him in the nose. Pain flared behind his eyes.

Crank had such a lethal ferocity to his blows. It was something Jake had never experienced before
–
the intensity of a man who regularly used his combat skills to kill. A man who struggled to hold back.

Angrily, Jake struck out with a roundhouse kick. In hindsight, he knew it was a stupid idea, but he hadn
’
t been thinking rationally. All he wanted to do was hurt Crank. Crank reached down and plucked his foot straight out of the air, like the speed and power behind it meant nothing. Jake was now suspended on his left foot. There was nothing he could do to stop his leg getting kicked out from underneath.

He crashed down into the mat, back-first.

“
Had enough?
”
Crank said.
“
I think we have enough of an idea of where you
’
re at.
”

The remark was laced with enough contempt to make Jake see red. Crank was no longer facing him; he had turned his back and proceeded to slip his gloves off. He was only a few steps from the far wall.

Jake picked himself up off the floor and sprinted forward, letting out a grunt of anger. With both hands, he gave Crank a double-handed push. Crank was taken off-guard and lurched into the wall. He only managed to stop himself from slamming into the concrete by sticking out a foot and bracing against the force of the shove.

He paused there for maybe a second. There was a moment of stillness.

Then he pushed off the wall, at the same time twisting his torso round and bringing his fist down in a blur of movement. Jake never saw it coming. Crank
’
s bare knuckles hit him in the forehead so hard that he saw stars. He slumped to the ground, his vision blurry and unfocused.