CHERUB: Knight

10: Kazakov

All too soon, George's alarm clock sounded, followed almost immediately by Rex's. The two boys switched them off and rubbed their eyes. They didn't say anything to each other, and George didn't think he'd be able to anyway; his stomach was churning with nerves. During the night, some filthy kit had been set out beside his bed. He glanced at Rex, who was examining the dirty underwear.

"I'm not dealing with that," Rex said, going straight for his own clean stuff. George followed suit, only putting on the blue shirt because it had a number on it. He was number one and Rex was two.

"Partners," George said, but his smile was weak and Rex just nodded. Once dressed, they headed out of the room quietly considering that it was five in the morning.

It was still dark outside as they headed in a straight line for the basic training compound, feeling uncomfortably cold. They'd been told not to bring a jumper. Neither of them spoke, preferring to be left with their thoughts. George kept hearing the voices of people telling him all the horrors of training, and as much as he tried to shut it out it kept coming back.

The gates of the compound were open, so they followed a winding track which led them to the training hut, a basic concrete structure without any windows. There were lights on inside, so Rex led the way.

"Ah, Rex Reynolds. And George Knight. Good to meet you," a giant of a man said as they entered, shaking their hands daintily. "Do be so kind as to take a seat on the beds matching your numbers."

There were already two other kids in blue shirts waiting at beds three and eight. Rex and George nodded at them as they sat at their beds, wondering how long they'd have to wait. There were only eight beds in the hut, so George assumed they were waiting for another four. He was freezing sitting still, but the instructor who had welcomed them didn't say anything, he just sat in the office waiting like they were.

It only took a few minutes for numbers four and seven to turn up, two lads who George recognised from the Junior Block. He nodded at them, but one was looking pale and didn't react, going straight to his bed.

They all waited for the final two, and when six o'clock came and went, the instructor got up and addressed them.

"Since five and six have not bothered to come so far, we'll be playing a little game. You'll all remove your new shirts, fold them neatly on the end of the bed, then lie flat on the floor, face down at the end of your bed. After a minute, you'll roll over onto your back, then again onto your front a minute later. We'll continue until your friends arrive," he said, pointing to the floor. "Snap to it."

George wasn't sure what the objective of this was, but he pulled off his shirt anyway and folded it. It was only when he heard the gasps of some of the other trainees that he realised; the floor was absolutely freezing. He gingerly lay onto it and felt the whole of his chest assaulted by cold. His shivering got much worse and he tried to keep his arms tight at his sides to conserve warmth.

After a minute the instructor stamped his boot close to George's ear and everyone rolled over. His back was suddenly freezing, giving his chest a respite. It occurred to George that the idea of the game was to keep them all cold all over and not allow them to get comfortable, but also preventing any damage from lying on the cold too long. He prayed that the others would get there soon.

Seven o'clock came and went and George's teeth were chattering uncontrollably. When he was lying on his front, he could keep his head to one side and look towards the entrance, hoping every second that he'd see the other trainees come in. His wish was finally granted fifteen minutes later, when four boots appeared in the doorway.