The Hunted

Never the Case

The room reeked with the powerful smell of sweat as grunts filled the room. I stood in front of a wooden target, a knife in hand. The target was only about four meters away, a fat red circle painted in the center of it. The knife I held was smaller, one that would be ideal for slipping into one's boot as a backup.

I held the knife out in front of me, eyeing up the target before I drew my arm back, my eyes still focused on the red circle. I snapped my arm forward, sending the knife end over end towards the target. The thud of the knife into the circle was muted by a shout across the gym, but I didn't turn to see what was happening. The instructors were all the time yelling at the students about improper stance.

"Nice," Jordan said from the station next to me. We had been in the same classes since primary school. We were on the same career path.

"You're not too bad yourself," I told him as I walked towards the target to retrieve my knife.

Jordan was one of the smaller boys in our class. It worked well for him, though. What he lacked in height he'd made up for in muscle. He could keep up with everyone else in our grade in all of our workouts.

"Well, I'm just glad I'm not Knuff. The instructors have been riding his ass all day," Jordan said as he came to collect his own knife, which had hit the outer edge of the target.

I glanced over to where Derek stood across the gym. The shout I'd heard apparently had been him arguing with one of the instructors about how he should stand.

"How much detention do you think he'll get for that?" I asked as we returned to our starting positions.

Jordan shrugged. "Depends on what kind of mood they're in."

I rolled my eyes. Wasn't that the truth. Sometimes a backlash like that would just result in a person being reprimanded. Or it could result in a whipping. It all depended on if the Guardians, who were tasked with delving out the punishments, were feeling bored or if they were tired of giving punishments out.

I stood at my station, watching as Derek was escorted out of the gym by a Guardian. He met my eyes and winked, a ghost of a smile on his face. I forced myself to give him a smile before he turned away.

"Whipping," Jordan said behind me. I swallowed hard and nodded.

"Yep."

x.x.x

The memory of that day came back in a rush as I sat on a log near the shore of the lake. That had been the first time that Derek had received a whipping, but it certainly wasn't the last time. I could remember meeting him in the parking lot that day, his eyes full of pain even though he acted like nothing was wrong. It was just a normal day.

I didn't push him on why he had talked back to the instructors. It was something that he had never done before. He always had just grit his jaw and done as he was told. He was changing, though. For better or for worse I hadn't known at the time.

I still didn't know, but I thought it was for the better. We lived in a society where the government tried to control our every word and our every action. If you stepped out of line, you had to face the punishment that suited the crime—or the mood of the Guardians. People were bound to grow tired of such a society and rebel.

Derek was only one person, though. He wasn't going to cause an uprising. At least I didn't think he had that kind of power. There had been rumors of one, though, after we had been framed. Two people who, in their professional careers, had followed every order to a t. It hadn't made sense for them to step out of line.