The Hunt

Chapter 2: Hanna

“Alright people let’s move, two more laps left!” the drill instructor shouts.

We are all panting and soaked to the bone from the rain, that pounds down on us as we run. Two more laps and then we’re done with this god-forsaken training session.

My breathing is thin and ragged, and I shake my head often to clear my face from all the water that runs down it. In a way, it’s exhilarating. At least we’re doing laps. Any other kind of conditioning is a lot worse.

“I love that face you make when you’re concentrated,” Jonas smiles at me, his dark hair matted on his head.

I smile but am too out of breath to talk.

Jonas turns and starts running backwards, as if to rub it in. His training boots stumble on the muddy, uneven terrain a few times, but I know he isn’t going to fall. Jonas is always in the best shape out of everyone, for some irritating reason. I always tease him, because he’s never had any muscle on him, his entire life, and yet here he is, at the head of the group, mocking the rest of us.

My boot slips in the mud, and I twist my ankle.

Jonas catches me before I fall and drags me until I find my footing again, keeping a sturdy arm on me as I stumble along the forest path. It really hurt, but I don’t show it. Not to the rest of these kids.

We’re rounding the last corner of the training building now. Just a little more.

“Come on Hanna, it’s the last stretch,” Jonas lets go of me, pushing me forwards.

I wince and push my screaming muscles down the last stretch of muddy ground and soaked trees, looking around to see if anyone is catching up to me. There’s just one girl, Minea, who wears a grimace on her face and tries to break ahead, but I don’t let her.

And as always, I finish first.

Jonas lets me win every time, so he finishes second, not tired at all. Everyone else eventually comes in besides me, heaving over and catching their breath.

“You know it’s not a race, Hanna,” Minea glares at me, as we all gather under the overhang of the building.

“Then why did you try to beat me on that last stretch?” I squeeze my pony-tail, the water dripping down from it.

She obviously doesn’t catch my joking smile, because she shoves me back out into the rain. I just barely keep my footing, pain seizing my sprained ankle.

“Whoa there, I thought it wasn’t a race,” I laugh, and the rest of the team stifles their mirth.

Before Minea can react, there’s a beep, and a click, and the door is unlocked.

We all pour into the warm room, shedding our layers of camouflage uniforms and unstrapping our boots and gear belts. I had actually been burning up while running, so I take off all four layers, leaving just my tank top.

“I’m glad they didn’t make us carry our guns while running. Remember when they did that, during the last few weeks of summer training?” the largest guy in our team, Stefan, says.

I am unstrapping my boots now. Stefan is right, summer training was the worst, because it was so hot out. To me, rain was much better than heat.

Suddenly, the intercom in the room clicks on, “Criminal Management team, emergency mission.”

I groan, and exchange glances with Jonas. We grab all the gear we had just shed and shove past everyone to the door.

Outside of the changing room, the halls are busy with people in the government uniforms, which are very different from the military uniforms, and the military trainee uniforms. So Jonas and I look out of place, sweaty, loud trainees carrying bundles of soaking wet layers and gear. But we don’t care. Nobody really looks at us strange, not anymore, after we’ve been here so long. Almost our entire lives.