Desert Dark (11 page)

“What's this about?” Damon asked. “I know you don't need help redecorating.”

Jack smiled, pleased with Damon's quick assessment of the situation. “True enough. I'm curious what you think of the new recruit. I'd hate to lose another team member.”

“Especially one who looks like her, right?”

Jack laughed. “It never crossed my mind.”

“I like her. She's funny. And not intimidated by Alan. You know he made Drew cry?”

Jack shook his head. “I didn't know that.”

“Yeah. He's nice enough to Libby; it's hard not to be, you know? But, man, if someone rubs him the wrong way, forget it. It's like he gets these personal vendettas. Deliberately sabotaging his own team.”

“Hmm. I'll keep an eye on that. You think Nadia will be able to catch up?”

“Yeah, no problem. Even if Alan refuses to help, she's still got me and Libby.”

“So she and Libby are getting along?”

“Seem to be.”

“What's Alan's problem with her?”

Damon shrugged. “I couldn't say.”

Come on, Damon. You don't miss anything
. “Take a guess.” Damon remained silent. “I'm not asking because I'm a fan of high school gossip. It's my job; I need to know what's going on.”

Damon hesitated. “He's pissed he's gotta help her catch up. He'd rather be a man down than fall a little behind.”

“Is he a pain to live with?”

“A little, but he's all right.” Damon rubbed his face. “Except he talks in his sleep. Bad enough I gotta listen to him all day, you know what I mean?”

The boys reached their dorm. Jack pulled the door open. “How's everything going with you?” he asked quietly.

“I'm great, man. No complaints.” Damon smiled.

Jack watched him carefully. “Good. Hey, thanks for your help.”

“No problem.”

Thursday morning, Jack cornered Alan after breakfast. “How's it going?”

“How is what going?”

“You know, life in general.”

Alan raised an eyebrow as he gave Jack a sideways stare. “Have you met my teammates?”

“What's the problem?”

“Where should I start? Damon? Though recruited to a top-notch school, his interests appear purely social, and let me tell you: he cannot spare the study sessions.”

“Not everyone has had your advantages.”

“Well, Libby has, and she is not much better.”

“What's wrong with Libby?”

“Have you heard her speak?
Ah do dec
lay
ah. Can y'all fetch me some sweet tea?
I do not know if this is a result of inbreeding, which frequently occurs in her part of the country—”

“Hey,” Jack said sharply. “She's your teammate. I don't want to hear you talking about her like that.”

Alan looked genuinely surprised. “Then do not ask my opinion. Anyway, why do you care what I say?”

Jack shook his head. Alan wouldn't understand the necessity of team cohesion. That they must trust their unit without question. “One day your life may depend on her.”

“God be with me if this is true.”

Jack sighed. Talking to Nadia's teammates was not proving as helpful as he'd hoped. “What about Nadia? Things okay with her? Do you have any concerns?”

“Are you joking right now? She is the worst of them—a complete idiot.” Alan scraped his remaining pancake into the trashcan.

“How so?”

“She is unintelligent, combative and unpleasant. I need you to move her to a different team—better yet, send her home. I can deal with Libby and Damon, but Nadia? We were informed during orientation that we will frequently be graded as a unit. She is a detriment to us all.” He pressed his finger into Jack's chest. “Including you.”

Jack firmly moved Alan's hand aside. Alan paused, probably
realizing he'd just poked Jack in the chest. He looked away as he set down his dishes.

“Believe it or not,” Jack said, “I don't get to pick and choose my team.”
Else you would not be on it
.

“Well, something has to be done. I refuse to work like this.” Alan looked squarely at Jack. “You get rid of her, or I will do it for you.” He turned on his heel and walked away.

Friday morning, Nadia found an envelope wedged under her bedroom door. She read the message aloud:

“Did they mention this at orientation?” Nadia asked.

Libby shook her head. “This is the first I've heard of it. Come on, we'll ask Sensei when we get to the dojo. He
loves
answering questions.”

After the students gathered on the mat, Sensei entered the room. “Several of you received a summons this morning. The survival course, an Academy tradition and critical element of training, is a simulated mission: You must retrieve a package and return to campus as a group. You are issued a knife and tranquilizer gun. The knife is for fire-building. It is not a weapon. For
those of you not incompetent, the trip will take two days and one night.”

Nadia smiled.
Finally, something I'll do well
. She glanced at the worried faces around her.
What's the big deal? It's a camping trip
.

“This exercise requires physical stamina and mental discipline. You will move from sunrise to sunset. You will be hungry and tired. And keep in mind, your group travels only as fast as its slowest member. Do you understand?”

Several students raised their hands.

“Lower your hands! I have said everything you need to know. If you have been called to the survival course, see me after exercises and I will distribute weapons. One team at a time.”

Instead of their usual morning run, Nadia's team followed Sensei down the hall while Noah's juniors waited in the lobby. He stopped at one of the closed doors and pressed his thumb onto the keypad. A green light flashed and he shielded the keypad with his body before entering a password. The lock clicked open and he led them inside.

“I did not know we had a shooting range,” Alan said.

“We do not. I do.” Sensei led them past ten firing stations, each with a paper target at the end of a long aisle. The targets were printed with a human silhouette; the stations partitioned off with glass.

When they reached the door at the far end of the room, Sensei again placed his thumb onto the keypad and entered a code. “Wait,” he ordered.

The students peeked inside. Stainless steel pegboard lined the walls. Guns, ammunition, knives and swords covered every square inch. Nadia had never seen a gun up close, much less hundreds lined up together.

Damon whistled softly. “It's like a high-tech, lethal candy store. I could have some fun in here.”

Sensei emerged from the room and distributed handguns. “Choose a lane. We will now have target practice. You do not need
ear protection; these guns are equipped with silencers. Use both hands to steady your aim. Face forward, eyes open and fire.”

Nadia held the gun awkwardly in her hand. She wasn't sure what to do with her arms.
Lock my elbows? Relax?
She flinched as she squeezed the trigger with the tip of her index finger. Nothing happened. She wrapped her entire finger around the trigger, held her breath and pulled harder. The gun fired and she stepped back to catch her balance. The kickback was stronger than she'd expected.

“Do not hold your breath. Press the trigger after you exhale,” Sensei instructed.

Nadia fired again. He corrected her stance, adjusting her form so her left hand supported the right as her arms were extended.

“These firearms, designed especially for your training at Desert Mountain, are lethal weapons. They have been modified to hold magazines of either tranquilizer darts or bullets. It is impossible to tell by glancing at this gun whether or not your ammunition is lethal. We train with these weapons specifically to sharpen awareness of your combat situation: never take for granted your opponent will behave as expected. Never assume your enemy is dead. You must relinquish all weapons to me immediately upon your return.”

The team took several practice shots before Sensei showed them how to bring the target forward. Damon's paper man had a grouping of holes around the heart. Libby's had a nice cluster in the head. Sensei raised his eyebrows in approval.

“My brother takes me hunting,” she said.

“And you, Damon-san?” Sensei asked.

“Skeet shooting.”

“Next,” Sensei ordered.

Alan's had miscellaneous holes: two in the shoulder, four in the neck, a few in the heavy white border around the silhouette.

“Where'd you learn to shoot?” Libby asked.

His face flushed and he scratched his collarbone. “Just lucky.” He pulled at his shirt, fanning his chest.

“What's the matter, honey? You feeling all right?”

“I am fine.”

Sensei pulled Nadia's target forward. Her paper was pristine. “Nadia-san, it seems your proficiency with a bow and arrow was an aberration.” Sensei shook his head and addressed her team. “I suggest if you need to subdue your opponents, someone else take the shot.”

Nadia sighed.
Look at that, I'm the worst on my team. What an unexpected turn of events
.

Saturday morning the group met Jack at the front gate. They climbed into one van as Noah's team entered another. They drove an hour before the van pulled over.

“We get out here,” Jack ordered. “Noah's team will be dropped on the other side of the target, equal distance from the destination. The good news is since it's your first time, we get a map.” Jack held up a topographic map.

“And the bad news?” Alan asked, his voice tight.

“Everything else. Now come on.” Jack led them into the desert. “And no talking. We each have one bottle of water and we don't know whether or not the stream will be dry. See the dotted blue line?” He pointed to the map. “That means it's an occasional stream. Depending on how much it's rained here we may or may not get to refill our bottles. Talking dries out your mouth.”

They continued in silence along the narrow path. A collection of cactus parts accumulated on Nadia's pants. A few of the sharper spines poked through the fabric and scratched her legs. She brushed at them as she walked. Two of her fingers swelled slightly from the pricks, but Nadia refused to stop and pick them out. She wouldn't be the one to hold up the team.

Hours later, when the sun disappeared behind the mountains, they stopped for the night. Nadia couldn't even guess how many miles they'd traveled. Her fatigue was nothing compared to the raw hunger scraping at her gut.

Jack demonstrated how to make a bow drill—which basically consisted of a couple of sticks and a shoelace—to start a fire. By the time he'd finished the temperature had dropped significantly. They huddled around the small flame. As the fire dwindled, she regretted sitting for so long. Her muscles had stiffened; her legs and feet throbbed.

“Gather plant debris for bedding,” Jack said, “but watch for rattlesnakes and scorpions.”

Are you kidding me?

“We'll spoon. It's the best way to keep warm,” Jack said.

Libby inspected small piles of fallen leaves before pushing them together. She picked through her meager bedding, chucking rocks and large twigs off to the side. Alan got on his knees and shoveled dirt into a pile like a bulldozer. Nadia rolled her eyes and half-heartedly gathered some leaves before collapsing on the ground. A few hours later, she regretted her carelessness. The cold desert floor sucked the heat from her body and she woke often, shivering despite being wedged between Jack and Libby.

This is miserable. What am I doing? I can't even handle one stupid camping trip!
She couldn't bear the thought of quitting—it had only been a week.
I just need a little more time to acclimate
.

As she finally drifted off, Jack roused the group. “The sun's almost up. Let's move.”

They hiked along the foothills of a low mountain. Nadia's body ached; muscles she'd never felt tightened and seized. She kept her eyes on the dusty ground and trudged behind Libby, planting her front foot in the exact spot Libby's back foot vacated.
One more step
, she repeated.
Just one more step
.

They walked for hours. By mid-afternoon the heat had become unbearable. Nadia's t-shirt, soaked with sweat, clung to her skin. Her canteen had been empty since late morning. Her feet burned, her lips were chapped and she felt sick to her stomach. She wanted to go home.

I can't go home
. Tears stung her eyes.
I don't belong there either
.

“We're here,” Jack whispered. “Everyone, quiet. Noah's team
might be close.” He unholstered his gun. Alan and Damon drew their weapons. Libby shrugged and readied hers as well. Nadia was the last to draw.

Jack moved like a mountain lion stalking prey. The team followed, keeping low to the ground. “I see the package,” he whispered.

In a small clearing, a white envelope sat on a wooden crate, weighted down with a rock. Jack stepped forward to retrieve the item.

When he rejoined the group Alan whispered, “What is it?”

“I don't know,” answered Jack.

“Open it,” he urged.

“Absolutely not. Our mission is to return to school with this package. What's inside is none of our concern.” They retreated, retracing their steps.

An hour later, they stopped at a small stream. Before rehydrating, Libby vigorously scrubbed her hands in the water, then dampened her handkerchief and wiped her face. Nadia filled her bottle and sat down hard on the ground. Her gun dug into her ribs so she reached for it, to move it around. She leaned back and pulled the weapon from its holster.