The Only-Live-Once Society | Book 2

Chapter Three

Stan has decided that the best time for a lesson in stealth missions off school grounds is now. I think Stan is insane. I wonder if the bullet to his leg caused more damage than we know?

Has he simply forgotten that I have an entire terrorist organisation hunting me? That a few days ago we had to fight adult spies off? I air this, but he bats away all my concerns.

When I suggest they go without me, he turns to me and says, "Wherever I go, you go."

"And me." Grace chimes in.

I half expect Elijah to pipe up but he's not here yet. I didn't see him at breakfast, nor have I seen Vince. I hope they haven't killed each other in their room.

Five days of daggers and glares. Honestly, it's quite clear if I had a choice I'd choose Elijah, so whatever they're fighting over they need to build a bridge and get over it.

We're standing in a field just off school grounds, the cold wind blowing in our faces. It's early enough the grass is covered in dew and the wind almost feels bitter.

"What is the misson, sir?" Lily asks.

Stan says nothing.

"How are we getting there? There are no roads for the cars to get out here."

I glance at my teacher, my boyfriends brother, and now one of my protectors. I can see the faintest hint of a smile on his lips. No one says anything else, it's clear Stan won't be divulging.

Out the corner of my eye I see Elijah and Vince jog towards us, six feet apart, as if being closer will signify anything but their hatred of each other. I can't help it; I roll my eyes.

Then something large and black in the sky distracts me, I hear the whirring of blades filling the air before my brain registers what I'm seeing.

Stan points to the helicopter, "That's how we're getting there."

The first and only time I have been in a helicopter was when Elijah rescued me. I was in and out of consciousness, didn't know who my rescuers were and was forced to eat so much food I felt sick.

This is completely new for me and I'm not sure how I should act.

We wait for it to land then we slowly clamber on. Everyone is giddy with excitement. Once we're strapped in, it starts to take off.

I look through the helicopter's windows and watch the school grow smaller and smaller, a feeling of inadequacy sinks into my stomach. If we're requested to jump out of this thing, I'm not sure I'll be able to do it. I have no doubt everyone else here will have some sort of training in throwing themselves out of a flying vehicle, but I assure you, I do not!

Then we hit a spot of turbulence and Stan appears with blindfolds in his hands - my stomach drops. Because of the turbulence or the idea of having no clue where we're going, I'm not sure.

"Hand these out." Stan commands Vince.

I watch as he quickly takes them from Stan and then slowly makes his way towards me. My classmates gingerly pluck one from him, as if touching him will cause some sort of disease.

In a way, I feel sorry for Vince. Who knows what his mum put him up to before he was allowed to stay at the school? How could a mum send her own son undercover to terrorist ring?

I wonder what else he knows; what happened to him; what stories he hasn't told anyone? I wonder far too much about Vince, I know I shouldn't. It's not my responsibility to unravel the mysteries of his life.

When we each hold our blindfolds, some as if it's no better than a grenade, Stan grins. "I'd put them on and relax, we've got a couple more hours to go."

I place the band on my head and try to breathe. Sometimes the not knowing is scarier then the event itself.

Exactly four-hours and forty-eight minutes later, I feel the helicopter descend. Throughout the whole journey there was mostly silence, the muffled sound of Vince snoring (in my eight weeks with him I learnt he can sleep anywhere, a noisy beach, a cramped car - it doesn't matter.)

Elijah held my hand, his thumb slowly caressing my skin, Grace as still as anything the whole journey. I have absolutely no idea where we are.

"I need to pee," Grace grumbles to me, making me chuckle.

We touch down with a jolt. I hear the helicopter doors open, Elijah guides me out onto concrete and into a waiting van. The engine rumbles low as it waits for everyone to follow us in.

Soon, the van is off too.

It dawns on me that Elijah must not be wearing a blindfold. I suppose there are perks to your brother being the teacher. The smell of him, his firm grip, they're a comfort to me in the darkness.

"You can take it off," Elijah murmurs.

"Blindfolds off," Stan tells everyone else at the same time.

I tug at the band that circles my head. I'm squinting into the light, my eyes struggling to adjust. When they do, there are thirteen surprised faces staring back at me.

We're in a minibus, and not a cool one either. It's run down, barely chugging along. A piece of tin with wheels. I had expected gadgets and guns but this is not that. This is anything but that. There's nothing quite as anticlimactic going from a helicopter to this.

Stan looks at us all, "What do we think a Stealth Mission is?"

"A stealth mission is an assignment that requires you to be stealth in order to have an advantage," Lily says, before anyone else can.

"Ugh." Grace groans, only loud enough for me to hear. "Suck up."

"That's right," Stan says to Lily.

He doesn't smile. He's not impressed she's right. He looks at us, his face stoney as he continues, "-The industry that you're being trained for, it mostly relies on stealth. It relies on the ability to blend in. Be unrecognisable. For the rest of your life you will be looking over your shoulder. This is all about intuition - gut instinct. The only way you will learn is to be actively in the field."

"Some of you"—he looks directly at me—"have already experienced what it's like to be hunted and watched. Today," Stan pauses. I swear to you, not a single one of us in the van is breathing. "...is going to be much harder then anything you've faced so far."

No one utters a word.

"We have the day here. I want you to split into pairs. Grab your comms."

I nod to Elijah, Grace nods to Will who is Elijah's old roommate and always Graces' teammate. A box of communication devices is handed to me and I take one before handing the box off. I put the comms in my ear, the same as everyone else.

Then the minibus stops and Stan jumps out. He walks to the side and swings the doors open. Sunlight pours in, he takes a step away from the door. We stream onto the pavement.

"I wish you all luck today." Stan says, "I'll be watching."

I turn to look at him and ask how he'll be watching, see if his face is grave, anxious or worried, but by the time I have turned, Stan Jones is gone.

"We could be anywhere," Grace says, her Irish accent thicker than usual. "He could have given us an objective at least."

She's right. We could be anywhere in the UK. We could be anywhere in Europe. We could have flown somewhere and back, or in circles for hours. We really don't know.

Until I turn around, and realise I know exactly where we are.