Dangerous

Chapter 6

The training room was impressive, to say the least. It was divided into sections by large sections of floor-to-ceiling netting, each section with a specific purpose. One was a firing range, targets lining the brick wall, the area encased by bulletproof glass for safety, another a fighting arena, mats spaced apart evenly on the floor, yet another area a center for learning how to throw knives. A long line of windows stretched across the back of the room, letting in sunlight. It was perhaps the biggest room I had ever been in, and it was filled to the brim with teenage soldiers. Shouts, gunshots and the smell of sweat invaded my senses. I gazed around with wide eyes.

"Listen up!" A man yelled over the noise. He was ridiculously tall, and the muscles on his arms were probably the width of my waist. His glare burned into every person in the room, brown eyes cold. The room quickly fell silent.

"Enough fooling around," he boomed. "The other trainers will be here in a second. For those of you who don't know," he said, swiveling around to make eye contact with me and a couple other newbies, "my name is Matt. I'll be your supervising trainer until you get shipped out of here."

I stood beside Liz, towering over her five foot frame. She reached up to grip my shoulder reassuringly. I looked down at her, and she smiled up at me. The sight may have been slightly comical, if not for the ominous aura floating around the entire room. No one dared to laugh here.

"Get started!" Matt yelled loudly, and the room burst into action. Everyone seemed to know where to go, jogging toward the fighting arena or making their way toward the knife center. I was surrounded by a sea of black clothing. Liz patted my shoulder and wished me luck before heading over to the fighting arena.

After I stood around dumbly for a minute or two, Matt approached me.

"Name?" He asked briskly. I guess he didn't bother with formalities, or politeness for that matter.

"Um, Jessalyn. Jessalyn Peterson." I cleared my throat, trying not to seem so nervous around him. Up close, he was even taller, and still managed to tower over my willowy frame. His flat brown eyes looked me up and down, and I struggled not to wince under his condescending glare.

"Okay, we're gonna have to work with you. You don't have much muscle, so we'll work on that. Come this way." He grabbed my arm, tugging me over to a running track lining the outside of the room. Somehow I had failed to notice it before.

"Run until I tell you to stop." He seemed distracted, glancing at the clipboard he held in his hands, then back up at me when he realized that I hadn't moved. He looked at me expectantly.

"Just... run?" My voice came out smaller than I had intended, but if there was one physical activity I hated more than any other, it was running.

"Did I stutter?" Matt said, eyes narrowed. I shook my head quickly and started running, my pace uneven and steps thudding loudly on the track. Within a minute, I was already breathing heavily, my legs burning.

"Pick it up!" Matt yelled from across the room, his voice carrying over the gunshots and shouts.

I shook my head disbelievingly. You have got to be kidding me.