Valour

Chapter 5- Ace

"This is the ugliest house I have ever seen."

"What did you expect? It's named The Shack." is all he says in return.

I scowl and trudge into the worn down building, my exhaustion and fatigue getting the better of me. I lean into the door frame, my healed leg feeling sore from all the walking. I guess even high tech healing has its limitations. I take a sip of water and look around the place. The walls are caked with mold and mildew, tiny holes puncture the thin layer of plywood, letting in polka dots of light filter through the two room home. Or what was once a home. For some reason I can tell this place is old, like before the Arena was built old because no one would be dumb enough to make a home out of a tinderbox. Despite the neglected feel, the roof and walls emulate a sense of security buffering the outside world. A lone glassless window is the only decoration.

Cal stealthily steps into the other room, his rifle in hand. Of course, we had to check to see if the Shack was completely empty before making ourselves feel at home. I silently scold myself to be more vigilant in the future.

Cal reappears in the doorway. I can't tell from his body language if it's safe or not to rest here for a bit. Gosh, I wish he had a face.

"All clear. Bedroom is empty but I don't think we're gonna stay here long enough to use it."

"What about the roof?" I reply, raising one eyebrow. Cal looks up, his neck craning up to see better. I laugh out loud, because he looks so ridiculous with his helmet in that position, "I'm just messing with you, we would've been dead already if someone was hiding in the rafters."

Cal stares at me, his rifle limp in one arm.

"What? Can't take a joke?"

"I liked you better when you didn't talk."

"Harsh. I was just trying to get to know my rescuer a little better."

Silence. This is the closest I've said to a thank you. I suddenly feel ashamed for not saying anything earlier. A decent person would've done something more in return, but already, I owe Cal my life.

Cal shrugs back his shoulder as if to loosen up his muscles. Then he nods at my sniper clipped to my pack. "Anyways, you know how to shoot that thing?"

I stare at him. Did he just-

"I'm just asking, or is it just for decoration."

"No." I say tightly, "It's not just for decoration."

"Yeah?" Cal drops his pack on the floor, and promptly sits on the ground, one hand resting on his knee while the other leg is extended outwards. His back rests against the wall behind him. "How good are you?"

I realize I'm staring at his knees and I quickly look away before he gets any other ideas.

"I don't miss."

Cal starts chuckling, "Now who can't take a joke?"

"That's not a joke." I roll my eyes and take position for the first watch. It's true, in all my years of missions, I have never missed my target. Ever. There is a reason why I was selected into one of the most elite squads at fourteen. Aria would've vouched for that. I erase her smiling face from my mind and focus on the now. No time to dwell on the dead. I can do that later when I leave this wretched Arena.

I crouch down until my knees are resting on the ground and aim my rifle out the window, keeping low and only looking through the scope. I'm glad for the zoom on this thing. I'm also glad I'm not dead yet. "So how long are we staying here for exactly?"