Slayers (Jake Hawkins Book 1) (13 page)


Not yet, brother,

Sam said, clapping a hand on his back in reassurance.


I can

t go on much further.


Almost there, man.

Jake let a drop of sweat fall from his nose. He ran a hand through the hair matted to his forehead. It came away wet.

So what

s next?


Full contact sparring,

Wolfe called, overhearing the conversation.

Jake looked up from his position, hunched over with his hands on his knees.

I already did that.


You had combat training,

Wolfe said.

This is the real deal.

Jake was too exhausted to protest.

Back down into the basement they went. For half an hour, Jake fought each of them in turn. Each man had his own unique specialty.

Jake never stood a chance.

According to Wolfe, the fastest way to learn was to fail.

And he failed miserably.

Jake put his soul into the fights, giving each one all he had, but he was running on empty. He ducked and weaved until his strength ran out. Everyone around him was quicker, stronger, more efficient. And they were relentless.

Felix and Sam had similar fighting styles. Traditional and efficient. Crank and Link were also alike, faster than the other pair. They dazzled Jake with their speed. He didn

t see half the punches they threw until they left him in a daze on the ground.

Thorn was a powerhouse. Thankfully, he refused to use his fists at fear of crippling Jake, but he still slammed and battered him into the ground. The domination was supposed to teach Jake how to maneuver out of harm

s way. It did little but crush his spirit.

The last fight of the day took place against Wolfe. Jake swung a fist, too exhausted to put power behind it. Wolfe caught it and punched him so hard in the forehead that he collapsed back onto the mats in a haze of semi-consciousness. For a second, he had no idea where he was.

That was the first of a series of knockouts that over the next month became something of a routine.

The final two hours of the day were dedicated to what the gang called

exhaustion weapons training

. By this point, the physical exertion Jake had been subjected to made even standing painful. He staggered into the shooting range in a daze, not fully aware of his surroundings.


This is stupid, Wolfe,

he panted.

You

ve pushed me way too far.


The best time to practice shooting is when you can barely see straight,

Wolfe said from somewhere nearby.

If you

re conditioned to hit a target at the lowest point of your physical state, then hitting a slayer at full capacity should be easy.

Or so he was told.

He stood at the firing spot and fired hundreds of rounds until he was on the verge of fainting.

Finally, when his body was wasted, Wolfe signalled that the day was over.


You

re done, Jake,

he said.

You made it.


I can

t do anymore.


Remember what I said. This will get better. You just need to push through.

Jake could barely summon the energy to raise his head.

Alright.

Wolfe pulled him in tight; a friendly gesture.

I

m here for you. This place probably seems hostile, but it needs to be. You can do this.

Wolfe clapped him on the back and released him.

Now go upstairs and get some rest.

That night was blissful. Of course there was pain, but Jake welcomed it. There was something about the agony that was comforting

the knowledge that his body was responding to the stress. He felt each muscle throb and ache.

It had been the longest, most demanding day of his life.

Link had made an understatement when he said they were going to make his life hell.

Twenty-nine identical days followed.

 

 

DAY 30 OF TRAINING
3:07p.m.

 

 

The basement was alive with energy. Shouts and cheers of encouragement echoed off the walls as the seven men rotated through a full contact sparring session.

Everyone was waiting for the big showdown between Wolfe and Thorn.

Now, Crank finished off Sam, darting under a fist and sweeping his legs out from underneath. Crank leapt on top and smacked him in the head with a padded fist. The blow would have knocked any normal man unconscious, but these men were different. Jake had come to notice that. They were so conditioned at taking hits that they had almost developed a resistance to pain. As Sam

s head smacked into the mat, Jake saw him grin.


You got me,

he said as Crank pulled him to his feet.


Who

s up next?

Link said.


You know who,

Felix said.


Here we go!

Jake yelled out, jumping up and down and feigning excitement. The other men laughed. He had become more comfortable with them over the last thirty days. The gruelling training regime had proved to be the bonding experience of a lifetime.

Now, Thorn stepped forwards, flexing his padded fingers.


Come on then, Wolfe,

Thorn said.

Let

s see what you

re made of.

Jake and the others let out a low
ooohh,
which escalated into whoops of approval as Wolfe strode up from the equipment rack. His long hair was tied back in a ponytail, just like Sam

s.


Don

t go too hard on him, Thorn,

Jake said.

He might need a bandaid.

Sam burst into laughter beside him. Wolfe gave him a sly look and pointed a finger.


You

re up next, kid. We

ll see if you

re all talk then.

Jake grimaced.


That

s not good, brother,

Sam said, still giggling.

He sounds pissed.

The fight began.

Wolfe and Thorn squared up to each other. It was Thorn that made the first move. He swung a gigantic fist. It narrowly missed Wolfe

s face as he ducked away from the punch.

The next thirty seconds followed a similar pattern. Wolfe was forced to use his reflexes to avoid the punches. If any of them connected, the fight would be over. He didn

t get an opportunity to retaliate because Thorn was so well protected, always keeping the other fist up defensively, ready to block a counterattack.

Finally, after a full minute, Wolfe found his opening. It came when Thorn overextended, desperate to land a blow. The fat glove missed Wolfe

s cheek by a hair

s breadth, but by then he was ducking underneath. He charged and wrapped a powerful arm around Thorn

s mid-section, driving his shoulder into the man

s abdomen. He let out a yell of exertion. Jake watched as all Wolfe

s muscles strained under the pressure.

But he was
strong.

The five spectators gaped, open-mouthed, as Wolfe lifted all one hundred and fifty kilograms of Thorn

s mass high into the air and then drove it down onto the mat. The giant was not used to being body-slammed. He gasped for air. The enormous weight behind the impact had lent it additional power. Stunned, Thorn did nothing to stop Wolfe leaping on top and raising a fist above his head. The room had grown deathly quiet.


Mercy!

Thorn shouted.

Wolfe dropped the poised fist and rose to his feet.

Jake and the others exploded in excitement. They ran to Wolfe and tousled his hair and clapped him across the back. He laughed. Thorn slowly got to his feet.


Holy crap,

he said.

Was not expecting that.


Someone

s been lifting weights,

Felix said, slapping Wolfe

s enormous biceps.

I didn

t know you were that strong!


So who

s next?

Wolfe asked.

Jake gulped. He was now hesitant.

Looks like it

s me.

He didn

t let his unease show. If he was going to be hunting slayers, he had to prove that he was afraid of no-one. He stepped onto the mat and began to ready up. He already had gloves on from a previous bout with Sam, where he had copped a huge right hook to the face. There was already a purple bruise developing on the cheekbone.

This was the first time he had ever sparred with Wolfe. He usually alternated between fighting Crank, Link and Sam

men who were roughly his size. Wolfe, Felix and Thorn were in a league of their own in terms of strength.


Go!

Felix shouted.

The two touched gloves.

Jake decided to go all out. He was faster and stronger than when he had first entered this basement a month ago. Maybe they were underestimating him.

He threw out a jab, which he was expecting Wolfe to block. The punch was intended to be a distraction

something Wolfe could easily parry but would put him off-guard. He hadn

t anticipated that Wolfe would take advantage of his laziness.

A hand darted out and wrapped around his. Wolfe yanked him forwards. Jake stumbled two steps and suddenly a powerful arm crashed across his temple. A bolt of pain shot down his spine and he flew off-balance, landing hard.

He rolled over. Too late. Wolfe dived on top of him, pinning him to the mat. The man raised a fist high into the sky, just as he had done with Thorn. He was expecting Jake to give up.

Somehow, Jake shimmied one arm loose. He struck out desperately. His fist smacked Wolfe in the nose so hard that the sound resonated across the basement. He might have been imagining it, but it felt like Wolfe

s face
shifted
slightly under the force of the blow.

The basement erupted into pandemonium. Wolfe recoiled backwards, hands flying to his face. He sprung off Jake. Crank and Felix simultaneously dived in between the two men, blocking Jake

s view. They crouched over Wolfe, grimacing.

Jake lay still on the mat. He stared in confusion, unsettled by the outburst. Wolfe

s face had definitely moved. There was something about these men that he couldn

t quite pinpoint.

Felix helped Wolfe to his feet, who was holding the side of his head with a gloved hand. Jake caught a glimpse of him wincing, then he was hurriedly hustled off the mats by Felix. Five seconds later, the two disappeared upstairs.

Silence descended over the room. Link, Thorn and Sam remained where they had been standing, looking around nervously. They were averting eye contact with Jake. Crank stayed squatting where he was. Jake was plagued with uneasiness.


What just happened?

he said.

No-one answered. Each man looked at each other respectively, expecting the other to talk. Finally, Crank spoke up.


To be honest, I

m not sure,

he said.

Wolfe flew off you like a bullet.


What do you think happened?

Jake said, probing for information.


Looks like you hit a soft spot, man,

Sam said.

He took that punch real hard.


I should go say sorry.


Wait here,

Crank said, a little too insistently.

Until Felix makes sure he

s okay.

Eerily, Felix called down just as Crank finished speaking.

We

re good up here! He just took a hard hit!

Jake took the steps two at a time. Wolfe was in the kitchen, propped up against the bench, holding a red tissue to his nose. Droplets of blood were running from his nostrils into the sink, soaking through the tissue.


Oh my god,

Jake said.

Are you okay?

Wolfe nodded and smiled.

You got me good. I saw stars for a few seconds.


I

m sorry.


Don

t be sorry. You hit me fair and square; nothing dirty. We

re all men here, Jake. Just because I

m bleeding doesn

t mean you need to apologise for it. I can take a hit.

Jake paused.


So, technically,

he said,

you got your arse handed to you.

Wolfe grinned.

That

s more like it.

 

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