Chapter Eight #3
Arayik doesn’t wait for response, stomping to the head of the obstacle course before beginning.
His movements are fluid and powerful as he scales the first wall, using the rope as leverage rather than relying solely on his arms. He crosses the narrow beams with precision, navigates the tunnels with efficient grace, and completes the running section with long, measured strides.
When he reaches the weights, he squats, bending from the knees rather than the hips, and lifts two bulky disks as if they weigh nothing. His balance on the beam is once again perfect—each foot placed deliberately in front of the other as he traverses the twenty feet of it, mud gurgling beneath.
The entire demonstration takes less than five minutes, and Arayik isn’t even winded when he finishes. I marked each point of his technique, knowing I will not match his strength or endurance, but I can mimic his form, and focus on efficiency over power.
“You will complete this course as many times as possible in the next two hours. Begin.”
My mouth drops. The entire course? Multiple times? For two hours…
There’s no possible chance I will make it through the day. I couldn’t even finish one circuit yesterday without wheezing like I was dying.
I’m going to be kicked out today. I’m about to fail so thoroughly that even Arayik’s fascination with tormenting me won’t be enough to keep me here. I’ll be sent home in disgrace, back to hiding in my parents’ house, reading about a world that will never know change.
The thought fills me with a different kind of fire. I didn’t leave my family, cut my damn hair, and risk everything just to fail now. I’m here for a purpose.
And if my mother could endure being violated and dehumanized in a facility for years and still find ways to smile, then I can endure this.
Plus, I need information. Who the people are outside the perimeter; how many women they’ve helped escape; how they’re evading Enforcer surveillance. I know this building must contain things that could aid their operation more efficiently. I just need to stay long enough to find it.
“Move!” Arayik’s voice cracks across the yard, stabbing through my head.
My body responds before my mind fully registers the command.
I sprint toward the first wall, dust kicking up beneath my boots.
Yesterday’s training has left my muscles sore and stiff, but I push through the pain, focusing on the rope dangling from the top of the wall.
Leaping for it, my hands wrap around the rough fiber and pull with everything they have.
Both arms scream in protest, but I haul myself up inch by painful inch, imitating Arayik’s technique of walking the wall as I pull.
When I grunt and scramble over the top corner, I pause to catch my breath, surveying the course ahead. The others are advancing through the obstacles with varying degrees of skill. My eyes widen as Finnick slips on a balance beam and plummets into the pit below with a startled yelp.
Nope, nope, nope. Not falling in there today. “Focus,” I mutter to myself, the word muffled.
Each obstacle needs to be approached with calculated precision.
Where I lack raw physical strength, I make up for in strategy.
The Commander’s demonstration provided a template, and I follow it as closely as possible, adjusting for my smaller frame and limited muscle mass.
At one point, I slow my pace, allowing Calder to overtake me.
It’s better to appear average than to draw attention by excelling or failing compared to the others. I need Arayik to forget me.
After completing the climbing, crawling, and balancing sections, I reach the running portion. The open field that looked manageable from a distance stretches before me like an endless nightmare. My lungs already burn, and the prospect of running makes my legs tremble.
I begin at what I think is a reasonable pace, only to remember I’ve never ran before.
Not properly. The times I moved with speed through my home were brief sprints, nothing like sustained running over a distance.
I’ve made a critical error in beginning too fast. Pacing is necessary during endurance activities, though I know even that wouldn’t have helped me as my lungs are gasping for breath after a mere minute. Shit, it burns.
Sure, I make it through the required laps, but by that time I’m wheezing so hard I can barely stand.
Dropping to my knees, hands brace against the packed earth as I fight to control my breathing.
The mask traps much of my exhaled breaths as they come and go too quickly, creating an environment that makes each inhalation feel inadequate.
“Move it, stragglers!” Arayik barks from somewhere nearby. He doesn’t single me out by name, but I know the command is directed primarily at me.
My arms quiver as I rise, the muscles above my breasts blazing with fatigue.
I stagger to the final portion of the course—the balance beam with its impossible weights.
I don’t think I could even walk across the beam without them right now.
Another recruit is midway on the beam, with the only sets of weights remaining on the other side.
I’ll have to circle to the opposite end and wait for him to finish.
Finally, some reprieve.
Everyone else has finished, staring in this direction, waiting for me to struggle across. I’m determined to make it through, but muscle fatigue and determination do not fuel each other, and the probability of me falling flat on my face in the nasty mud is high.
When Brenner steps off, I position myself at the end. The weights sit on either side of me, the number forty displayed on each. I can assume what that means, but at this point, I don’t care…I do not wish to lift forty anything at the moment.
Bend at the knees. Don’t pull a muscle. And absolutely do not fall.
Simple.
Spine straight, I lower myself, engaging my core as both hands grip the weights. After three breaths, I heave upward.
The weights barely budge.
My teeth creak when I pull harder, straining until my vision spots at the edges. Slowly, painfully, the weights rise from the ground. My entire body shakes with effort, but I manage to lift them to waist height, whimpering behind the safety of my mask.
I can’t do this.
I have to do this.
My mind blanks, blocking out everything else. There is only the beam, the weights, and the next step forward.
By some stars-given miracle, I reach the midpoint of the beam. A surge of triumph floods through me, distracting me just enough that I lose focus for half a second. My foot slips sideways as both knees surrender, and suddenly I’m falling.
The world spins as I plummet into the squelching pit, landing hard with a cry when one of the weights strikes my ribs.
The impact drives every bit of air from my lungs in a painful woosh, leaving me gasping for the smallest of breaths.
Mud coats my mask, pressing against my mouth when it slides inside, my poor eyes suffocating under a layer of the goo.
I roll onto my back, groaning and swiping a hand through my eyes, only to find my view of the sky blocked by a looming figure. The Commander stands at the edge of the pit, watching me. With the sun behind him, I can’t discern whether he’s angry or amused.
He answers my internal question a moment later. “You’re slow and weak.”
The comment is so matter-of-fact, so perfectly aligned with my own self-assessment, that I can’t help it—I laugh.
The sound bubbles from somewhere beneath the pain and exhaustion, surprising me as much as it seems to surprise him.
It’s a genuine laugh, albeit slightly hysterical, the kind that hurts my dry throat and shakes my aching ribs.
When I finally contain myself, my arms drop limply to the mud. “Yeah, well, we can’t all be you, buddy.”
Collecting every last drop of will I have, I push myself to a sitting position before clambering to my feet.
Fuck, my uniform has transformed to a rusty brown instead of black.
I’ll need to wash it—and myself—thoroughly before training tomorrow.
The prospect of navigating the communal showers is a dreadful one.
“Do you find something funny?” Arayik asks, his voice tight with unsuppressed irritation.
“Actually, yes,” I reply on a staggered breath, not deigning to elaborate further. The vagueness is petty, yet it’s impossible to resist needling him. His entire body tenses, muscles coiling like springs under his uniform.
“I buried my sister because of someone who was as slow and weak as you, so I’m failing to understand what you think is amusing. Care to explain?” What does it say about me that hearing each clipped syllable makes me happier than I’ve been all day?
Then there’s the comment about his sister…quite untasteful for him to bring that up when I’m finally enjoying myself. The human part of me wants to offer sympathies, but I can offer them to her myself. In private. He doesn’t deserve anything of the sort.
“No, thanks,” I answer, allowing a hint of cheerfulness to color my tone. If he’s going to kick me out, I could care less about how I speak to him.
I’ve never considered myself particularly rebellious. With my parents, obedience was a given, as I was always grateful for the risks they shouldered to keep me safe. But something about this pain-in-the-ass man drags out a defiant streak I didn’t know I possessed.
Well, my parents never lowered themselves to the subjugation of women or the expected cruelty of upholding a system that values control over humanity.
Every organ in my body cringes when his eyes narrow. “Tell me, Ashford—what’s the scan sequence when traveling through a provincial checkpoint?”
My stomach flips. What an odd question. I was under the impression Elias and Kellen managed all our mental training, but I do understand why it would be important during physical efforts as well.
I assume this is something any traveling Enforcer—or messenger, I realize—should know. Lachlan would tease me for days for not immediately knowing the answer.
But I do know… “Badge swipe, obviously,” I answer.
Arayik’s features flatten as he stands silent for a moment, heat radiating from his body, before spinning on his heel and walking away. Relief mingles with a strange sense of victory—I’ve managed to irritate him without crossing the line into insubordination severe enough to warrant dismissal.
I’m playing a dangerous game; trying to prove my worth as a recruit while maintaining just enough resistance to preserve my sense of self.
Strange, though, that he’s thrown others from the team for less…
perhaps I’m not as useless as he would have me believe.
My power may be the only thing keeping me here right now.
Wheezing in a deep breath full of mud and sweat, I scoop the area around my eyes again, cleaning it the best I can and begin the long trudge back to the start of the course. There are still hours of training ahead before I can rest.
My body protests every movement, muscles trembling with fatigue and overexertion. But a flame burns steady in my chest—determination fueled by rage at the system I’m infiltrating and hope for what I might accomplish within it.
I will survive this. I will learn from it. Then I will use everything they teach me against them.