Grounded

Chapter 27

Chapter 27

The next day, David bangs on my door before the sun is up. He chides me for being late and demands I be ready and waiting every morning by seven. I'm not usually a late sleeper, but my body aches from the paces he's put me through.

"I can hardly move," I complain.

"I thought that might be the case." From a zippered black bag he carries, he pulls out a syringe of clear liquid. Before I can protest, he's grabbed my arm and stabbed my bicep with it.

"Oww. What was that?" I ask, rubbing the injection site.

"Something for the pain. Come on. You'll be fine once we get to the training area."

Warmth spreads from my shoulder outward as I follow David into the hall. The same path as last time, he hugs the wall to the stairwell, making a production about using the Biolock, while glancing at the door where I think they are keeping Korwin, then jogging down the stairs as he counts down from twenty-one. By the time we've reached the training center, the ache in my muscles is completely gone.

He kicks off his shoes and I sink into the fighting stance he taught me. He waves his hand.

"We'll get to that, but first we're going to learn about weapons. Have you used any of these weapons before?" He points at the rack of metal in front of him.

I'm overwhelmed by the sheer number and variety. I attempt to distract him. "Aren't you going to explain the rest of the symbol?"

"Later. When you've earned it." He points at the rack.

Aside from the knives, I can't even name most of them. "No," I say. I don't explain that I grew up in a place where implements of war are forbidden, and he doesn't ask for justification.

"We'll start at the beginning." Methodically, David introduces me to each item on the rack.

There is an entire section of weapons for stabbing—daggers, swords, spears, double-edged knives. He says these tools are used to puncture the enemy. On a diagram of the human body, he shows me where to attack to inflict the most damage. I have to stop myself from vomiting when he discusses with complete detachment how a proper stab to the lung will cause an opponent to drown in his or her own blood.

I'm relieved when he moves on to the next section, but end up just as horrified. These are weapons created to bleed or de-limb your enemy, curved blades and scythes. "Aim for the arteries," he says, demonstrating in the air at the sides of his throat and in front of his inner thigh. "A wrist is easier to sever with this than a shoulder."

I try to block the images that come to mind. Rotating one of the weapons in my hand, I cannot fathom using it.

 "With the axes, I recommend you aim for the skull. If they dodge, chances are you'll hit something on the follow-through."

I nod.

"These here, the blunt objects, they're for breaking bones." He twirls a staff in his hands. "You might not see your enemy bleed with these, but if you use them correctly, the injury will be on the inside."

"Oh." My eyes burn with the desire to cry.

He hands me a dagger and lifts a staff from the rack.

"Attack me," he says.

"You can't be serious." I scoff. "I can't stab you."

He jabs the staff in my direction, and I notice he is glowing. The slight blue aura is barely perceptible in the light. Narrowing my eyes, I stab experimentally at his midsection.