Tesla: A Teen Steampunk/Cyberpunk Adventure (Tesla Evolution Book 1) (17 page)

She turned around and was greeted by a huge bear of a man. In one easy movement he had picked her up and flung her over his shoulder. She struggled, kicked and shouted, but to no avail.
 

Thrown pointed to a large wooden barrel. “He’ll push you under the water for several minutes until you have a change of heart.”

Bernheart plunged her into the cold water. She struggled and flailed and water splashed everywhere.
 

“All right,” she gasped. “All right, I’ll do it. But know that I don’t like you very much.”

“Just doing my job. Following procedures.”

Lightning cracked across the sky, and thunder, so loud it shook the ground, rolled overhead. Melanie picked up the heavy sack and struggled to get it above her knees. She repositioned her arms and tried to roll it up her body. With one final push she lifted it above her head. Then she dropped it, her arms shaking. She bent over, gasping for air.

“One. You’ll find it easier if you keep your back straight. Bend your knees, keep your head and chest up, and keep your core tight.”

“Is this a samba class?” Melanie said. The humidity rolled in, and perspiration poured off her as she toiled. “Ohmygod. How many of these have I done?”

“Eleven.”

“Eleven? Is that all?”

“No, sorry, I got distracted. Nine.”

“Nine! My legs already ache.”

“It could be worse.”

Another crack of lightning seared across the sky, lighting up the darkened exercise yard. Rain fell out of the sky, drenching her and turning the ground to mud.

She lifted the sack up above her head. She wobbled under the weight and lost her footing, tumbling to the ground into the mud. The sack fell on top of her.

“Ten.”

“I don’t consider this quality of life,” she shouted.

“If the doctor says you should do it, then you will.”

*

Isaac was sitting on his bed reading a letter when Sebastian flopped down on his own bed. He groaned. Isaac was fully engrossed in his letter and paid no attention. Sebastian groaned louder. Still no attention was forthcoming. He threw his pillow at Isaac, who finally noticed.

“Is everything all right?” Isaac said.

“Oh, it’s just all this thinking I’ve had to do. It’s so tiring.”

Isaac returned to his letter. “I thought you liked that kind of stuff.”

Sebastian gave up trying to get sympathy. “Who’s the letter from?”

“It’s from home. I’ve only heard from my mother once since I got here, even though I’ve been writing every week.” Isaac sighed and lay back on his bed. “No one seems to write at all back home. I hope they’re too busy.”

Another of the boys wandered down between the beds, throwing red envelopes on each one.

“It’s an official letter for teslas,” explained Isaac as Sebastian gave him a quizzical look. “They usually hand these out at the end of the semester, with a bill for services and food. But it’s a bit early for all that.”

Isaac ripped open his envelope, extracted a small card with gold edging, and wordlessly mouthed the contents.

“What’s it say?”

“A dinner’s being held to ‘celebrate the students’ excellent work,’ and there’ll be a special announcement at the end of the semester. How dull. That’ll mean we have to use the right knife and fork. And just to make us feel really special we’re allowed to bring a guest. As if we know anyone here.”

“I have a friend,” Sebastian said. “I don’t know if she’ll come, though. She’s not into getting along.”

“You’re not going to believe this. No Bearing is playing.”

“That’s it, she definitely won’t come.”

“Looks like they’re going to a lot of effort.” Isaac threw the invitation under his bed and lay back with his hands behind his head. He looked thoughtfully at the ceiling. “I wonder why.”

22

SEBASTIAN AND MELANIE were sitting in their usual place above Mr. Stephenson’s quarters. Normally they never failed to be impressed by the terrace with its magnificent view over the distant hills, with the boiling sun crawling down behind them, but at the moment it
was
failing to impress Melanie. She was lying flat on her back, looking up at the sky and crying. And occasionally swearing.

“Can’t you say no?” Sebastian said.

She swore at him.

“Oh, look over there at those fruit bats taking off. There must be thousands of them.”

“I can’t move,” Melanie shouted.

“It’s majestic the way they soar into the air, twirling together. It’s like a tornado of black, leathery death.”

“I can’t move,” Melanie shouted.

He threw a stone into the street below and watched it arc away until it bounced on the ground and was lost to his sight.

“I can’t move,” Melanie shouted.

She struggled up, inching her way forward on her elbows. She flailed around until Sebastian reached out for her and pulled her into a sitting position. She grimaced all the way.
 

“Every inch of me hurts. Even the places I never knew had muscles hurt.”

“You wait until tomorrow. First day of the harvest season was always like that.”

“You know what I said yesterday about looking forward to the sun rising on a new day?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m feeling less optimistic. Wake me in a couple of months.”

“There’s a dinner at the tesla school at the end of the semester. I was just wondering if … if you’re not busy … if you wanted to be my guest.”

She groaned. “I thought I’d be beyond school dances by now.”

“No Bearing will be there.”

“Oh.”

“What?”

“I guess it has been awhile. I doubt they’ll recognize me.”

“What happened?”

“Last time they came through New Toowoomba, Candice managed to get into their changing rooms for a ‘special’ meeting. I was worried. It was a bit unpleasant. Some things were broken. And I was banned from ever coming within fifty feet of them. Ever.”

“What did you do?”

She sighed. “I might have punched them, broken some of the band’s musical instruments, nothing much. But it was totally their fault.”

“I understand. It’s probably for the best that we don’t go. To tell the truth I wasn’t really looking forward to it anyway.”

She sat there in quiet contemplation as the day’s dying rays reflected off her eyes, then looked up at Sebastian. “One thing you need to learn, one thing I thought you’d have noticed by now, is that no one tells me what to do.” She thought back to her recent training with Thrown. “Unless it involves actual death. Damn it, I
shall
go to the ball. Dust off those dancing shoes, boy.”

“You’d better make yours running shoes.”

They both laughed.

“I think I’ll go in for the night,” Sebastian said. “My head’s spinning with what I learned today.”

“I think I need some help getting up. And you might have to help me get down to my room.”

“Isn’t it a bit early for you?”

“If I have to do this training again tomorrow I need all the sleep I can get.”

*

“Where is she? She’s even later than yesterday,” Thrown shouted. He looked at his watch. “Bernheart, go fetch her.”
 

As he waited, he watched the sun rise above the city. The clouds were still on the horizon, giving them until early afternoon before the rains hit.

Bernheart reappeared fifteen minutes later with a drooping Melanie over his shoulder. “I had to carry her here,” he rumbled.

“I can’t move. My legs won’t bend,” she shouted.

Bernheart dropped her to the ground. She collapsed in a heap, and rolled onto her back with her arms and legs out in a star. She grimaced at the pain.

“You should’ve had a bath, like I told you,” Thrown said.

“I did. And I won’t go into the intense embarrassment I felt when I couldn’t even lift myself out of it.”

“It’s just a bit of stiffness from your training. A quick run will get you going.”

“There’s no way I can run. It’ll take me weeks to recover. And I’ll need a whole team of experts to help me with my rehabilitation.”

“I note your mouth is still working, princess. When I was your age I never had the luxury of complaining. The sergeant would hit us until we did our training. These days we’re all soft and caring, so Bernheart will dump you in the water until you decide your legs can bend.”

Bernheart reached out for her.
 

Running wasn’t an option, so she relented. “All right, all right,” she shrieked. “Do I have to lift the stupid sack again?” She glared at Thrown, implying he was the stupid sack.

He chuckled. “Not today.”

She brightened.

“Lift it, run across the yard and put it down. And do it one hundred times.”

She darkened. She staggered over to the sack, her muscles complaining at each tiny movement. Occasionally a leg would twitch and she would nearly fall over.
 

Bernheart and Thrown watched her struggle.
 

“That’s four,” Thrown shouted.

“It’s five.”

“You don’t count the first one. And I can hear you swearing. Even my dear old grandmother wouldn’t use language like that.”

She swore at him.
 

He smiled back at her.

“One day she’ll find out about you lying about the old sergeant. He was a total soft touch,” Bernheart rumbled.

“She doesn’t need to know.” Thrown shrugged off the potential threat.
 

“She won’t be happy when she finds out.”

“She’s not going to find out unless someone tells her.” He looked at Bernheart.

Bernheart scratched his throat and looked at Melanie as she toiled away, swearing profusely. “I hear there might be a promotion going for me.” He gave Thrown a sly glance.

Thrown cleared his throat and shouted, “I suppose you’ve done all right, for someone of your …”

“Of my what? Gender? Age?”

“I was thinking about, er, weight.”

“Are you calling me fat?” Melanie shook her finger at him, which was the only part of her body that didn’t ache.

“Well, your ass is so large it eclipses the sun,” Thrown said. “If you bend over we’ll be able to see the whole of the moon.”

“Liar. I’m so not fat. I’m just a whole lot of woman.”

“Who would have thought that would be worse. We’ll do some chin-ups. Whoever does the most is telling the truth. You go first.”

“In the rain?” she said.

“What’s wrong with that? It’ll keep you cool.”

She glared at him. “Okay.” She limped over to the bar suspended ten feet off the ground.

After a minute of futile attempts to reach it, Thrown nodded to Bernheart. “Give her a leg up.”

Bernheart rumbled over. “Do you need some help?”

“No,” she shouted. “I can do this.”

She struggled and twisted and did her best to pull herself up above the bar. She eventually put in a herculean effort and managed to crest it. She giggled deliriously, and then slowly lowered herself. She tried again but there was no more strength in her arms. She collapsed to the ground, landing heavily in the mud.
 

“One,” shouted Thrown. “I think we can call it a win to me.”

“You haven’t even done
one
.”

“I could argue the same with your effort. The technique was terrible. But if it makes you feel any better, I’ll do two.”

He ran up to the bar and leaped up, grabbing the crossbeam and easily lifting himself up repeatedly.

“All right, I concede. You don’t need to do it one armed as well. That’s just showing off.”

Thrown dropped lightly to the ground, smoothed back his wet hair and gave her a wink. “Okay, lardass, no more pies for you. It’s salad for the next three years.”

She turned on him with her finger dangerously close to his nose. “We’re coming back and doing this again tomorrow.”

“Really?” He was surprised at her determination.

“Oh yes, don’t think you’re getting away with calling me fat that easily. I’ll show you, old man.”

*

The days rolled into weeks and Melanie endured the painful regime. Every day she turned up in all kinds of weather to take on the daily challenge, often with support from Bernheart. And every day, just before she crawled back to her room, ended with a chin-up battle with Thrown. Every day they increased the chin-ups by one, but he could always do more.

And each evening she would watch the sun set with Sebastian, with him either waking her up afterward, or helping her down to her room. He could see and feel how her body was changing.

Then one day, as she was running around the exercise yard with her newly increased bag of gravel above her head, Thrown called her over. He told her to put down the bag. She tried to drop it on either his head or foot, but as usual he was too quick.
 

“As you actually have some strength now, just, we might as well put it to some use.” He threw a long stick at her.

“Ow!”

“You’re meant to catch it.”

“How should I know that?”

He rolled his eyes. She picked up the stick and swung it at him. He caught it effortlessly and gave her a smile. He whistled and a young boy in his early teens appeared. He was wearing light armor and carried a similar pole.

“Meet … what’s your name, son?”

“Les Patterson, sir.”

“You’re a boy?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Okay, tubby, this is Les, who must be all of seven. Hit him with your stick, but wait until I say so.”

She swung wildly at the boy. There was a flurry of clacks and wallops. Bernheart rumbled over and lifted her up off her back and out of the mud.

“Like to try again?” Thrown said.

She narrowed her eyes, screamed in rage and charged at the boy.

Bernheart lifted her out of the mud again.

“Would you like to know how to actually use the pole? I’ll take your silence as a yes. Bernheart, lead her through the basics.” Thrown turned and walked back to his office.

“I’ll be taking you through your weapons training,” said Bernheart. “Then we’ll see if you can learn to channel your anger through your training.”

He parried the blow coming in from her.

23

TIME WOUND ON.

A staff hit her in the stomach and she tumbled backward, falling over in the mud. With a determined look on her face she got up and attacked …