Page 38 of Hell’s Weapon

Ipush the button to send the treadmill faster, I’ve already been running for half an hour, unable to silence the thoughts in my head. I hate exercise, but it does take the edge off, stopping my head from spiralling too far because I’m concentrating on not dying from my lungs being put to use.

My new interest in spending time in the compound’s gym, outside of the obligatory sessions, may also have something to do with the two people that are lifting weights in front of me. Tacita and Wyatt’s animosity seems non-existent now they’ve slept together. They’re laughing as they egg each other on with more and more ridiculous moves with the barbells they’re currently using on the mats in front of the machines. It’s fascinating at how he’s won her over. I’m so curious as to what went down in his room last night, but my imagination on that front can’t truly picture it, despite trying to. Several times.

Does that make me a pervert?

If it doesn’t, running on this machine so I can watch them now, and just be in their vicinity, might tip the scales.

Both are dripping in sweat, their clothes sticking to their skin, as they try to outperform the other on every move. Some latent instinct, that’s laid dormant deep inside me, wants to go over there and touch them both in some way, to feel their hot and sweaty bodies press against mine. They’re the first people to show me kindness in years and I want to bask in it. It’s pathetic really.

Their banter and chuckles echo around the gym only adding to my distraction. I wish I could join them. But there’s no way I could compete with the insane amounts they’re lifting and so I stay put. I’ve been with them all morning anyway; I shouldn’t overstep my welcome. They’ve both been nothing but friendly towards me but I’m sure my time is limited before they move on like everybody else does.

Today has been strange all around. We’ve been kept to the schedule but have been escorted everywhere and kept separate from all the other contestants. Each group isn’t allowed within ten feet of another, and the guards have been stricter than usual about conversation–insisting on silence in the classrooms when we’ve had to be in the same room as any others.

There was another murder last night. That piece of information wasn’t kept from spreading through the population of whatever you want to call this facility. The guards are more on edge and clearly exhausted. They warned us that we might be pulled out for individual questioning but so far today none of our group has been taken away.

“Fuck, you’re so freakishly strong.” Wyatt’s voice interrupts my thinking again as he spots Tacita lifting what has to be the weight of a small car above her head. She does it with such grace that it looks almost effortless to her.

“And that’s why I’m the best,” she taunts the man made of pure muscle. Holding the bar for a few more seconds she lowers it gently to the floor and steps back.

They trade places and Wyatt links his fingers in front of his chest before pushing his arms out in a stretch. It makes his biceps pop, not that I’m checking him out.

But then he raises those linked fingers above his head, stretching out his abs, causing the black vest he’s wearing to rise up, giving me a full look at the base of his six pack and two delicious lines either side of his hips that dip into the gym shorts that are slung low. I cough, choking on the saliva I’ve just swallowed.

Closing my eyes, I pound my feet on the treadmill. I’ve never had this issue before. I don’t find people attractive generally. I don’t notice taunting curves and heat inducing muscles. It’s just not how I’m wired. Coming here has been eye opening in more ways than I can fathom, and my brain feels all scrambled because of it.

Forcing my head to focus on my breathing so I don’t let the overwhelming feeling of being out of control creep into my bloodstream, I feel for the buttons on the machine and increase the speed even more.

The sprint works. I open my eyes after a minute or two and slow back down to a jog. Deciding I’m done for the day, I slow it even more, cooling down my aching muscles. Just as I’m stepping off the machine, Head Officer Zephyr walks in the gym and spots me immediately, the stern look on his face halting me like a deer in headlights.

“Nineteen, I need to talk to you.” His voice is one that sends my nervous system into overdrive. Even when he’s not speaking to me I feel my brain shutting down, my flight instinct kicking in, so now that he’s addressing me directly, I’m no more animated than a marble statue.

“What do you need him for?” Tacita is at my side in an instant. Releasing the breath I’d been holding, her body heat is an instant soother to the adrenaline flooding my veins.

“Never you mind, Ninety-Eight. Nineteen come with me,” he beckons as he turns back to the entrance. I don’t even attempt to move but Tacita’s hand comes around my arm. Wyatt is watching on silently as well. He’s stepped over the weights so there is nothing obstructing his path to us but he does stay over on the mats.

I shake my head even though Officer Zephyr is no longer looking at me.

He wrenches open the door as if to let me through ahead of him, only he realises I am still standing several meters away.

“Nineteen, don’t make me ask again,” he snaps.

“Where are you taking him?” Tacita asks. “And don’t tell me it’s none of my business, I’m asking because he can’t do it himself.”

“Unless you can read his thoughts, Ninety-Eight, or have been hired as his interpreter then you don’t get to speak for him.”

“The point is he can’t speak,” she counters. “And he doesn’t have his notepad in here.”

“Come on, sir,” Wyatt joins in, snapping my gaze to him. “She’s only looking out for him.”

Officer Zephyr takes a deep breath before slowly releasing it. I wonder if he’s counting to ten to calm himself. When he looks back to me my breathing falters, his irises have turned completely amber, the pupils vertical slits. “Nineteen, will you please come with me? We are simply asking every contestant a few questions, in private, so you can tell us anything you might otherwise feel uncomfortable discussing.”

My hand comes to my throat, my own way of saying I can’t talk. It's a reflex whenever people talk to me and I can’t explain that my voice simply doesn’t work.

“You can use a notepad to write your answers.” His voice is softer but the tension in his hand still on the door doesn’t ease the fear zipping through my limbs at the thought of being alone with him.

I find myself nodding though. I look to my side to see Tacita scanning my face. I pat her hand which is still on my arm before she releases it and I follow the Head Officer away from the gym.

We head upstairs to the second floor. He leads me to an empty classroom and gestures for me to sit, whilst he digs around for some paper and a pen.