Read Online HL 04-The Final Hour by Andrew Klavan - Free Book Online
Authors: Andrew Klavan
Tags: Fiction, General, Action & Adventure, Juvenile Fiction, Ebook, Adventure and Adventurers, book, Terrorism, Amnesia, Fugitives from justice
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him.
The crowd moved with us, leaving us just enough space to fight as they pumped their fists at us and cheered.
Orton and I circled each other. He was good, tough, fast. And I could see by that angry gleam in his eye that he didn’t mean to lose to me ever again.
As for me, I was out of breath, dazed from the blow to my face; aching all over. I wasn’t sure I could handle another solid attack.
Fortunately, before Orton could make his next move, Waylon stepped in between us.
He was even more frightening by daylight. Big and ruthless with nothing but meanness in those baggy eyes.
“All right,” he said in his guttural accent. “That’s enough.”
I put my guard down. I breathed a sigh of relief. I was pretty sure I’d gotten out of a very bad situation there. If Orton had attacked again, he probably would’ve finished me off.
Waylon turned to Orton. “Good job,” he said.
Then he kicked me in the chest.
It was a back kick, perfectly planted. It hit me right above the heart. I went flying backward and then dropped down to the ground, coughing.
Waylon turned and stood over me. “You,” he said in his thick accent. “You need to fight like you mean it. You are not in the dojo at the mall now. If you lose here, you die. You need to fight to kill.”
I started to get off the ground, but then . . .
It was as if someone poured a giant glass of Liquid Night down over us. Darkness ran down on top of us and the training ground vanished . . .
I was suddenly in a silent hallway. It was dark, very dark. Even before I fully understood where I was, I knew I was in terrible danger. If anyone found me here, I’d be killed on the spot.
I pressed close to the wall. There was an opening up ahead. A doorway. I could make out the rectangle of moonlit night, lighter than the inner dark. I edged closer to the door. I peeked out.
From here, I could see the buildings of the training compound, hulking barracks and watchtowers surrounded by a high barbed-wire fence and the deep black expanse of the forest beyond. The structures of the compound were sunk in the night shadows—with one exception. One building, just across the way, over by the fence, had a yellow light burning in its window. A jeep was parked outside.
It all came back to me now. I’d been in bed in the barracks. The other trainees were in bunks all around me. I’d heard the jeep come into the compound. I’d heard voices calling to the guards to open the gates. Tires on dirt. The car engine coming to a stop. Then there had been low voices. Greetings and conversation.
I had looked around me to make sure the other trainees were asleep. Then I had gotten quietly out of bed to see what was happening.
That’s why I was out in the hall wearing only sweat-pants and a T-shirt. My feet were bare. I could feel the splintery wooden floorboards under them.
Prince .
That was the next thought that came back to me. It was Prince who had been in the jeep. I’d recognized his voice out in the night. That’s why I’d gotten up to take a look. That’s why I was risking this: getting caught, getting shot.
Getting shot, I knew, was a serious possibility. Shifting my attention, I could see now that there was a guard in the watchtower to my left and another in the tower to my right. Both were holding high-powered rifles. There were two other guards standing together by the lighted building just across from me. I could hear these two guards speaking to each other in low murmurs. I had no way of knowing if there were other guards moving around in the compound’s shadows, but I guessed there probably were.
Still, this was why I was here in the first place. This was what Waterman and his people had sent me to do. Get information. Find out what the Homelanders were up to. Get the word out. Stop them before the killing started.
The guards outside the building finished their conversation. They moved away from each other and walked off in opposite directions to begin their
The crowd moved with us, leaving us just enough space to fight as they pumped their fists at us and cheered.
Orton and I circled each other. He was good, tough, fast. And I could see by that angry gleam in his eye that he didn’t mean to lose to me ever again.
As for me, I was out of breath, dazed from the blow to my face; aching all over. I wasn’t sure I could handle another solid attack.
Fortunately, before Orton could make his next move, Waylon stepped in between us.
He was even more frightening by daylight. Big and ruthless with nothing but meanness in those baggy eyes.
“All right,” he said in his guttural accent. “That’s enough.”
I put my guard down. I breathed a sigh of relief. I was pretty sure I’d gotten out of a very bad situation there. If Orton had attacked again, he probably would’ve finished me off.
Waylon turned to Orton. “Good job,” he said.
Then he kicked me in the chest.
It was a back kick, perfectly planted. It hit me right above the heart. I went flying backward and then dropped down to the ground, coughing.
Waylon turned and stood over me. “You,” he said in his thick accent. “You need to fight like you mean it. You are not in the dojo at the mall now. If you lose here, you die. You need to fight to kill.”
I started to get off the ground, but then . . .
It was as if someone poured a giant glass of Liquid Night down over us. Darkness ran down on top of us and the training ground vanished . . .
I was suddenly in a silent hallway. It was dark, very dark. Even before I fully understood where I was, I knew I was in terrible danger. If anyone found me here, I’d be killed on the spot.
I pressed close to the wall. There was an opening up ahead. A doorway. I could make out the rectangle of moonlit night, lighter than the inner dark. I edged closer to the door. I peeked out.
From here, I could see the buildings of the training compound, hulking barracks and watchtowers surrounded by a high barbed-wire fence and the deep black expanse of the forest beyond. The structures of the compound were sunk in the night shadows—with one exception. One building, just across the way, over by the fence, had a yellow light burning in its window. A jeep was parked outside.
It all came back to me now. I’d been in bed in the barracks. The other trainees were in bunks all around me. I’d heard the jeep come into the compound. I’d heard voices calling to the guards to open the gates. Tires on dirt. The car engine coming to a stop. Then there had been low voices. Greetings and conversation.
I had looked around me to make sure the other trainees were asleep. Then I had gotten quietly out of bed to see what was happening.
That’s why I was out in the hall wearing only sweat-pants and a T-shirt. My feet were bare. I could feel the splintery wooden floorboards under them.
Prince .
That was the next thought that came back to me. It was Prince who had been in the jeep. I’d recognized his voice out in the night. That’s why I’d gotten up to take a look. That’s why I was risking this: getting caught, getting shot.
Getting shot, I knew, was a serious possibility. Shifting my attention, I could see now that there was a guard in the watchtower to my left and another in the tower to my right. Both were holding high-powered rifles. There were two other guards standing together by the lighted building just across from me. I could hear these two guards speaking to each other in low murmurs. I had no way of knowing if there were other guards moving around in the compound’s shadows, but I guessed there probably were.
Still, this was why I was here in the first place. This was what Waterman and his people had sent me to do. Get information. Find out what the Homelanders were up to. Get the word out. Stop them before the killing started.
The guards outside the building finished their conversation. They moved away from each other and walked off in opposite directions to begin their
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