Hunter's Legacy

“So, let me get this straight,” I said, looking up from the plate of a bacon cheese burger and fries that I was currently eating. We had stopped at a diner in the town north of Waverly. I didn’t catch was town it was, because I had fallen asleep on the way here, and hadn’t woken up until we had pulled into the parking lot, “I’m not crazy?”

“You’re many things, Camille, but crazy isn’t one of them,” Eddie said, shaking his head and smiling.

The woman who had rescued me from the demon, hadn’t spoken since then, and now she stared out at the dark night, the condensation from her glass of iced tea running onto the table, “Demons, monsters, witches, ghosts...they’re all real.”

“What about Big Foot and the Lochness monster?” I asked, as I put ketchup over my fries.

“Myths,” Eddie said, as he took a sip of his coffee, “They were probably something at one point, but everybody made such a big deal of it over the years that its really nothing more than a myth now.”

“So how do I fit into all of this?” I said, taking another bite of the burger. It was like heaven in my mouth; we didn’t have food like this in Rosling. It was all slop, or leftovers turned into slop.

“You’re a Hunter,” the woman said, speaking for the first time, “It’s your Legacy.”

“My Legacy?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes, you are a Hunter, as your mother was, before you,” she explained.

“So, tell me, do these Hunters have some kind of demon-killing weapon?” I asked, as I remembered the blade that my mother had to pull, seemingly, out of nowhere on the fateful night that she died...the night that my entire world was turned upside down.

“Yes,” the woman said, shortly, as if explaining all of this to me would cut into time that we didn’t have, “It’s called a shadow blade. It kills monsters of any kind, but we mainly use it on demons.”

“What about ghosts and other entities?” I asked.

“On ghosts, we use rock salt, because salt is pure,” she said, sounding impatient. I nodded because it made sense.

“Are there other weapons, besides shadow blades?” I asked. I was starting to feel full, but I was eating my food anyway, because I didn’t know how long it would be before I could get another meal like this.

“Yes, there are daggers, guns, bows and arrows...and we train every Hunter to use them,” Eddie explained.

“We need to stop somewhere for the night, get some rest, and continue our trip tomorrow,” he woman stated, and by the tone of her voice, there was no room for objection.

We asked for a check and I asked for a to-go box for my food, and then, after paying, we walked out.

“I asked the cashier, and she said that there’s a motel about a mile from here,” Eddie said, as we approached the car, again.

“Okay, let’s do that,” the woman said. We clambered back into the truck and drove a mile down the road to a motel that was there.

The paint on the red sign was scratched, as it depicted the name of the motel to be Paradise Inn. Eddie pulled up in front of the office, and got out of the truck, leaving me and the woman in silence. Neither of us spoke for the whole ten minutes that it took Eddie to book a room for the night. When he came back out, he held an actual room key in his hand. We turned, going around the corner, and pulling up in front of room 143.

“Go unlock the door, and I’ll get the bags,” the woman told Eddie. He nodded, and got out of the truck.

For a moment, I watched as he went up to the room and used the keys to open the door, one hand gripping something at his waist. It wasn’t until then, that I realized that Eddie had a shadow blade. Carefully, he pushed the door open, and drew his blade out. Normally, I would have thought that he was a crazy man, but given what I’ve seen the past fourteen years, I wasn’t ready to dismiss his cautionary action. Holding his blade aloft, Eddie walked into the room. After a minute, he came out, putting his blade in the sheath at his waist.

“All clear,” he said, and the woman beside me nodded, before exiting, rather gracefully, out of the truck, while I scrambled to get down behind her.

She turned and grabbed two duffle bags out of the bed of the truck. I followed her, as she walked into the room.

Taking a minute to survey the room, I noticed there were two queen-sized beds, covered with a floral-printed comforter, and white sheets and pillow cases. A dark wood table sat in between the two beds, with an ugly Tiffany lamp on it, which emitted a dull glow. By the big window sat a round table with wooden chairs on either side, and, under the window sat the heater/air conditioner that looked like it had seen better days. Over the window were brown curtains, which the woman pulled, obscuring our room from the vision of any outsiders.

“Get some sleep,” the woman told Eddie, as we both watched him fall onto the queen-sized bed and promptly fall asleep. In the next few minutes, Eddie’s heavy breathing and light snoring filled the room.

“You should get a shower,” the woman said, nodding to a stack of clothes that sat on top of the table.

“Okay,” I said, and I realized that I didn’t even know this woman’s name. “Do you have a name?” I asked, and I realized how rude that sounded, and I tried to back track, especially since she looked at me with a raised eyebrow.

“Piper,” she said, shortly. I nodded once, grabbing the clothes and walking into the bathroom.

Flipping the light switch made the small room glow with dim yellow light. It was the standard hotel room bathroom--toilet and shower with a rack above the toilet that held white towels. The shower curtain was a beige color and was hanging on a slightly rusted rack.

I set the pile of clothes on the toilet lid, and pulled the shower curtain back, turning the knobs for the hot and cold water, and hearing them squeak in protest, before it finally turned on.

I stripped down, and stepped into the porcelain tub.

The water wasn’t as hot as it should have been, it was lukewarm, at the very least, but it was better than having to be in a cold tiled room, in a shower stall with various other women in the room.

When my shower was over, I dressed, quickly, in a pair of light wash jeans and a plain gray t-shirt.

I ran my fingers through my hair, as I plopped down in the other wooden chair, across from Piper, who had opened the duffle bag, revealing a wide array of weapons, from sharpened daggers to sawed-off shot-guns.

Leaning back in the chair, Piper used a wet stone to sharpen a machete.

“Feel better?” she asked, not taking her yes off of the blade.

“Sure,” I said, feeling bored, “Do you ever sleep?”

“Sleep is for the weak,” Piper replied, as she ran her finger along the sharpened edge of the blade, “If we sleep, that means that we’re not doing our job; if we sleep, it means that some kind of monster will terrorize a minute longer.”

“So, is Eddie weak?” I asked, looking at the form of my co-traveler, who was sleeping soundly. Piper didn’t answer, as she pulled the curtain to the side, a bit, to peer out into the parking lot. Obviously not seeing anything, she sat back, and drew out another blade, sharpening this one, too.

“Do you sleep?” Piper asked. The scraping of the blade’s metal on the stone made me want to grind my teeth, but I resisted the urge.

“Not much,” I replied, “Every slumber was drug-induced. Apparently, I had nightmares and became violent.”

“Yeah?” Piper said, as she disassembled a gun and set to clean it.

“Yeah,” I admitted, nodding.

The conversation stopped there, and I found myself yawning.

“Get some sleep kid,” Piper said, and, even though I felt foolish, I nodded, and went to the unoccupied bed.

I felt my eyes get heavy, before I fell and landed on the cold bedspread; I had my first real sleep in four years.

“We need to leave, now,” Piper’s voice sounded hurried and agitated. I opened my eyes and saw the dim yellow light fill the room. Eddie bounded up from the bed, and was busy hustling out of the room.

“What’s going on?” I asked, feeling groggy.

“The Institution reported you missing, and we have to get as far away from here, as possible,” Piper said, hurriedly. I jumped up and started to try to gather my things, when I remembered that I didn’t have anything. Piper and I walked out to the truck, and climbed into the bench seat, just as Eddie started the engine. Eddie drove out of the parking lot, at a normal space, so as not to arouse suspicion; it was five-thirty in he morning, and it was still dark out.

We were five miles down the road, probably out of city limits by now, and it was a silent ride.

“Where are we going?” I asked, breaking the silence.

“To the Bunker,” Piper replied, unblinkingly, as she stared out the windshield.

“Bunker?” I asked. I had the feeling that we were going to some underground home that was unable to be destroyed.

No one answered my question, and I was left to watch out the window, as the sun ascended in the sky. Even though the sun was just rising, I felt my eyelids drooping; I was still tired, and, apparently, I had some time on my hands before we got to the...bunker.

The truck jerked to a stop, and I opened my eyes. Looking around, I squinted and then rubbed my eyes. I blinked and then looked around. We were in a vacant lot, and I started wondering if I should have gone with Eddie and Piper in the first place.

“Where are we?” I asked, looking around and trying to find anything to let me know where the hell we were.

“At the bunker,” Piper said, as she slid out of Eddie’s side of the truck, “Now come on, they won’t find you here.” Finally, I made the decision to get out, and follow them.

Walking behind Piper, I noted that it was a vast stretch of land, and then the grass dissolved into a cement pathway. Down a set of steps, and we stopped at a heavy-looking metal door. A small panel presented itself, and a keypad was produced. I didn’t catch what it was, but Piper pressed in a four-digit code, and then a series of locks sounded. When the last one clicked into place, Piper pushed the door open, with ease.

“Welcome to the Bunker, Camille Andrews.”

The Bunker was amazing. Down a winding staircase, we came to a kind of foyer, with various panels and monitors.

“Security?” I asked, looking at a monitor that seemed to stare into some sort of arena.

“Yeah,” Eddie answered, simply, “We need security, in case some monsters break in.”

“They can do that?” I asked, surprised at this new revelation.

“Yeah, but, in addition to the security cameras, we also have the bunker warded with spells to keep it off anyone’s radar,” Piper said.

“Spells? like the kind of spells that witches cast?” I asked. Then, it occurred to me, would a witch be considered a monster?

“Yes, but because witches can rarely be trusted, we look up the spells and cast them ourselves,” Piper said.

“Why can’t witches be trusted?” I asked, and Piper sighed like it was a stupid question.

“Very rarely, you find a witch who will help you out with charms and spells with no price to be paid, and that’s where things get sticky,” Piper explained, as she leaned against the panel that operated the security cameras, “So, we get the candles and we do it ourselves.”

“That’s really amazing,” I said, feeling slightly awestruck at this new information.

“Come on, there’s more,” Piper said, as she pushed off the panel. Eager to know how much more this place housed, I followed Piper out of the room.

We walked through, what looked like, an office. Various people were sitting behind glass panels, watching computers with moving dots, and talking into headsets.

“This is our technical department,” Piper said, as we passed by people, “They find the monsters, they alert us, and we go and take care of them.”

“How exactly do you do that?” I asked. After being in the institution for so long, I had fallen into the habit of feeling dead inside. I felt nothing; no sadness, no happiness, I had taken on a numb feeling. Now that I was out, I was beyond curious about the world around me, much like a toddler who has ventured outside for the first time.

“Depends on the monster,” Piper said, shrugging, and I realized that she had given me the briefest explanation at the motel, “Demons, we use rock salt to incapacitate them and the blade to kill them; ghosts, we use salt and we burn their corpse; other monsters, we use the blade as well.” Piper continued on, walking into another room, the room that I had saw on the security camera.

In the middle of the room, was a platform, and in the middle of that platform, two people were sparring.

“This is the training room,” Piper said, and my eyes were glued to the people on the platform. It was a man and a woman; the woman had mocha skin and a brown braid trailing down her back. She wore sweats and a tank top, as she danced out of the way of the punches that the man threw at her. The man had slightly pale skin and black hair, the ends brushing his shoulders, swaying back and forth as he moved.

I watched as the woman got the better of the man, jabbing, punching, and then with one final kick, he landed on his back; she kneeled down, putting her right knee on the platform, to the right of the man’s head.

A smile formed on the man’s face, as well as the woman’s, as she thrust her hand out, and pulled him up. He patted her on the shoulder and then came over, stepping off the side of the platform, and standing beside Piper.

“Demetri Chaykovsky, this is Camille Andrews, our newest Hunter; Camille, this is Demetri Chaykovski, Hunter and trainer. Demetri will spar with you and show you how to fight, accurately, so you don’t get brought down by a monster the first time around,” Piper said, introducing us.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Demetri said, and I detected a slight accent in his voice.

“Nice to meet you too. Excuse me for asking, but are you from Russia?” I asked, hoping that I didn’t sound too rude. A smile graced Demetri’s face.

“Not rude at all,” he said, as he shook my hand, “Not many people Pick up on that Miss Andrews, you are quite perceptive.”

“Thank you,” I said, smiling, because no one had ever commented on my ability to be perceptive, before. Of course, when you get sent to a mental institution for seeing a Demon murder your parents, no one cares if you’re perceptive; everyone assumes that you’re crazy.

Piper beckoned me to follow her, as another person approached Demetri. The trainer broke off his conversation with us, to turn to the man that had walked up to him, just as I turned and followed Piper down another corridor.

At the end of it, was a heavy-looking, safe-like door. There was a key pad next to it, and I stood to the side, as Piper punched in the code; like the front door, there was a series of clicks, and then, finally, the light on the key pad--which had been red--turned green and then beeped. Piper wrenched the handle of the door, and it scraped against the wood floor.

“Welcome to the armory,” Piper said, stepping inside. My curiosity was piqued, and I stepped inside, right behind her. My mouth dropped open at the sight in front of me.

Cases--small and large--lined the walls. Some were filled with guns, others with blades, I think there was even a trunk that housed a grenade launcher.

“We keep our weapons here, to be used only when we fight monsters. We have wooden training staves, daggers...that kind of thing,” Piper explained, as she walked around the inside of the room, while I just stood there, feeling dumbstruck. I had never seen this many weapons in one room, before. I ran my hand over a case that house gleaming silver blades.

“When will I be getting my weapons?” I asked, the thought occurring to me, as I looked around me.

“After you’ve completed your training,” Piper answered.

“I’m ready though!” I said, indignantly. I knew how petulant it sounded, I hated the idea of sitting around while the same demon that killed my parents, could be out there, killing others.

“Really?” Piper said, raising an eyebrow at me, “Can you shoot a gun?”

“Yes,” I said, though I was lying; I had never used a weapon of any kind before--unless you want to count the time I had taken a knife from my brother, and I was attempting to use it on a demon. Granted, it was a knife, but it was a carving knife, and it could still inflict damage, but it didn’t hold a candle to any of these weapons before me.

“Alright,” Piper shrugged, as she typed in a pass code to one of the cases. I watched as she took a gun out of the case, and them opened a drawer, took out a rectangle-shaped box, and then walked past me, beckoning me to follow her out of the armory. Using all my strength, I pushed the door closed, hearing the beeping from the panel, signaling that the door was locked.

I followed Piper, and she led me through a hallway, before ending up in an old-fashioned-looking elevator. I stepped in, behind Piper, and she closed the doors, and then pressed a black button on a panel to her left.

With a squeak and a jerk, I felt the elevator descend. With another jerk and a bing, the elevator stopped, and Piper opened the door. We stepped out, and I noticed that we were at a kind of shooting range.

Booths were situated at one side of a long room; booths made of brick, with a shelf of wood in front, at waist height.

We walked into a booth, which had two pairs of ear muffs, and two pairs of safety glasses.

“You think you can shoot a gun?” Piper asked, with an arched eyebrow. “Than show me, tough girl, show me that you can protect yourself.” She put the gun in my hand, and I immediately noted its weight, as I palmed it. I carefully set it on the shelf before me, putting on the ear muffs and safety glasses, as Piper fastened the target to a hook, and then pressed a button that sent it to the other side of the room, away from the booths.

Picking up the gun, I took a deep breath, and held it out before me, my hand shaking slightly. My finger was shaking slightly, as I pulled the trigger...nothing happened. I tried again, but all I heard was a click.

“First, you have to know when the safety’s on,” Piper said. I heard a click, and she handed the gun back to me, barrel pointing downward. I took it, and then raised the gun, my hands still shaking. I pulled the trigger again, but the clicking sound echoed throughout the room. I pulled back, and looked at the weapon, wondering what was going on.

“Second, you have to make sure it’s loaded,” Piper said, and she came up ext to me, taking the weapon from my hand, and I watched as she, expertly, loaded the pistol, cocked it, and then expertly unloaded it into the target.

A minute later, a bell sounded somewhere and the target came forward. I saw a hole in the middle, and at the top of the target.

“Wow,” I breathed, awestruck by her expert skills, “When will I be able to do that?”

“After you train with these, a little bit,” Piper responded, as she put the pistol’s safety back on, “You will be practicing with blades, as well as firearms and bows.”

“Cool,” I responded.

Holding the gun, barrel down, Piper walked back towards the elevator, with me following behind her. We went to the elevator, and it jerked as we ascended to one of the upper floors. The elevator dinged, and we stepped off of it, as I followed Piper up another spiraling staircase.

The floor had a long hallway, with dozens of doors on each side.

“These are the residential rooms,” Piper told me, as she walked down the corridor.

“Residential?” I asked, following behind her, “People actually live here?”

“Yeah, the Hunters do,” Piper replied, as she stopped in front of a door at the very end, “And this room is yours.”

I walked in, and took a look at the gray walls and the wooden furniture. It seemed like only a step-up from Rosling, but, at least here, I didn’t think I would have to be in a drug-induced sleep. The twin bed frame sat against the wall, made up in white sheets, pillow cases, and a generic gray comforter. Next to the bed sat a simple wooden desk, with stationary and a lamp on it. Mounted on the wall, above the desk, was a shelf with two wooden bookends. I walked over and sat on the bed; I noted the balance of firm and soft. Unlike the beds at Rosling, this one was very comfortable.

“From here, the kitchen is down the stairs and to the left; the library is downstairs, through the hall, second door on the right, and there is a bathroom through that door over there,” Piper explained, as she leaned against the desk, “Your training will start early tomorrow, five o’ clock, to be precise. You should get some sleep.” She pushed off the desk, and turned, walking to the door.

“You said sleep was for the weak,” I said, remembering her statement about sleep, when I had asked her in the motel room. Piper paused, her hand on the door knob, and turned to me.

“Fledgling Hunters need all the sleep they can get,” she answered, and then she turned the knob and then disappeared out the door.

I looked around the room, and my eyes landed on a dresser, on top of which, sat a plastic bag. Curious, I walked over, and drew the bag down, taking it back to my bed, so that I could look through it. I dumped the contents on top of the comforter, and I was surprised to see that it was my CD player, a few CD’s and the sweatsuit that I had been wearing the day that I was admitted to Rosling.

I looked at the outfit and felt disgust roll through me; I remembered as my brother had watched as I screamed at him, screamed for him to help me. How he looked at me with concern in his eyes, but made no move to come forward and help me.

I grabbed the clothes and threw them in a nearby trashcan, and then I looked through the desk, looking for a book of matches. Successfully finding them, I took the trashcan into the bathroom, and I set it in the bath tub. Striking the match, I threw it into the can, and watched the clothes go up in flames. I was glad that the bunker seemed too old to have a sprinkler system.

I watched for a few minutes, as the flames danced merrily, and the scent of burnt fabric hit my nose. At that point, I ran the shower, watching as it drenched the can, and smoke took place of the flames. I knew that I had, most likely, burnt the only other outfit I had, but that outfit contained memories I did not wish to keep a hold of.

Five o’ clock seemed to come early; or maybe it was the fact that I hadn’t slept. I had stayed up, listening to the CD's, amazed that it had survived so long without being used.

I looked at the desk, which had a digital clock sitting on it, and the red numbers flashed five o’ clock. I took the headphones off, just as there was a knock on my door.

“Yeah,” I said, putting the headphones down, and shoving both those and the CD player under my pillow. A girl with Auburn hair opened the door.

“Piper said to come get you for training,” she said, and I noticed that her eyes were cast at the floor, she wasn’t looking at me.

“Okay, thanks,” I said, and I got up off the bed. She was gone before I reached the door.

I walked into the hallway, unsure of where to go from there.

“Camille,” Eddie’s voice reached me, and I looked up to see him jogging my way, “Piper wants to see you in the training room.”

“Where is that?” I asked, looking down the hallway, as though I would see a sign directing me the right way. Eddie smiled, as though expecting this question, and beckoned me to follow him. After a few minutes of following Eddie through the maze that they called a bunker, I came to a room that had all kinds of work-out equipment.

I would say that was surprised to see Piper, running on a treadmill, but I wasn’t; she seemed to be more disciplined than most people I knew. She stopped the treadmill, and walked towards us, wiping her face with a towel.

“Morning,” she said, without a smile on her face. Even though it was five in the morning, and some people were waking up, Piper looked as though she had been up for hours.

“Morning,” I responded, “What are we doing here?”

“Your training starts this morning,” Piper said, as though it were obvious, “We need to make sure your time at Rosling didn’t deter your skills. to fight monsters, you have to be thinking one step ahead, and you need to be quick. Let’s start you off on the treadmill.” I nodded, and walked over to the machine that Piper had just vacated, and stepped onto it. I set it to a slow pace to start out with.

An hour later, I was jogging; sweat was running down my face and my jeans and t-shirt were sticking to me, due to the heat and perspiration that was coming off my body.

“I don’t know why you wore that,” Piper said, shaking her head, as she reached over and turned the treadmill down and then, eventually, off.

“I’m sorry,” I gasped out sarcastically, as I fell into a nearby chair, “It’s the only other outfit I have, and I didn’t know you’d be trying to kill me today.”

“Oh Camille,” Piper said, squatting down so that she was eye-to-eye with me, as she sported a predatory grin, “You haven’t seen anything yet.”

After the treadmill, I jumped rope, lifted weights, did crunches, sit-up, and pull-ups, and, by the end of it, Piper had taken pity on me and lent me a pair of shorts and a sports bra. After I had guzzled about half a bottle of water, Piper led me to the room with punching bags and a ring.

“Here, we’ll work on your speed,” Piper said, as she handed me boxing gloves, and a mouth guard.

“My speed?” I asked, with a raised eyebrow, as I wrapped up my hands, before putting them in the gloves. I may have been in my own little world during most of my life, but, time and time again, I had seen my brother readying himself for school boxing matches, “I think I’m pretty fast.”

“That’s exactly what I’m talking about,” Piper said, “You sound cocky, and cockiness will get you killed. And being pretty fast won’t cut it; that will get you killed too.”

We both stepped into the ring, and we inserted our mouth guards.

There was no bell, and when we tapped our gloves against each others, before we stepped back. Jumping from foot to foot, I was able to dance away from Piper’s jabs, but I wasn’t ready for when Piper got down on the floor, swung her leg out, and swept me off my feet.

I gasped, as I landed flat on my back, staring at the light above me.

“That’s what I meant by your cocky,” Piper said, her words slightly muffled by the mouth guard. She grabbed my arm and pulled me up.

Two more rounds, a black eye and a busted lip later, and we called it quits. I, practically, threw the gloves from my hands, as I raised my finger to my mouth, expecting to see blood, and I did. The left side of my face was sore and tender.

“Here,” Piper said, as she handed me an ice pack. I didn’t know whether I should put it on my eye or my lip; my eye won out, and I let the cold soothe the skin that I knew would have a more prominent mark tomorrow, “Next time, don’t let the cockiness get the best of you. Now, are you ready for lunch?”

Lunch? It was only lunch time? I could have swore it was much later.

“I don’t think I can eat,” I said, feeling pain every time I opened my mouth to speak.

“Really?” I Piper scoffed, “I was going easy on you.”

“That was easy?” I asked, disbelievingly.

“Yeah, it was. Although, if I was a monster, you’d be dead by now,” she said, matter-of-factly. She got up, and, unable to do anything else, I followed her.

After lunch--a lunch where I didn’t even eat--Piper took me to the armory.

Excited that I might get to try to use some weapons, I eagerly followed in Piper’s wake, as she opened the armory.

“Do I finally get to do some weapons training?” I asked, smiling, even though every time my mouth widened, pain shot through the flesh of my lips. Piper didn’t say a word, as she went over to a gun case, punched in the pass code, and took out a firearm.

I watched as she took it to the table, and she very carefully, disassembled it, cleaned it, and reassembled it, before putting it back in the case.

“The guns need to be cleaned,” Piper said, looking at me, “The knives need to be polished, and the codes for the cases are on the table.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I said, feeling stunned, “You mean, I woke up at dawn, killed myself during a work out, got the crap beat out of me by you, and now I’m cleaning the weapons? Unbelievable.”

“Camille, how can I let you shoot, when you barely know the first thing about a gun?” Piper said, sounding very condescending, “You need to know how to clean and assemble them. You need to know what you’re doing, before I let you out in the field.” I hated it, but I knew that she was right. I didn’t know the first thing about firearms; I could be out in the field and kill myself before I could even think of using it to kill said monster; and knives won’t kill them all.

“Yeah,” I said, slumping into the chair that sat in front of the table.

“By the way,” Piper said, pausing before she walked through the door, “Since Rosling reported you missing, you have to stay here until the heat dies down.”

“What?” I asked, and I practically felt my eyes bulge out of my head, “How long?”

“I don’t know,” Piper said, shrugging, “Look, I know it sucks, but its in your best interest.”

“My best interest?” I scoffed, crossing my arms over my chest and putting my foot against the leg of the table, and leaning back, “Like I haven’t heard that before.”

“If you’re out there, and you’re seen with a weapon--” Piper started, but I cut her off.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” my tone was short and I leaned forward, picking up the paper with the codes on it, and flipping it over my fingers. Piper didn’t say another word, and I heard her footsteps disappear, leaving me alone.

I kicked the table, resulting in nothing but making the table move a few inches. Great, I got out of a four-year-sentence in one hell hole, just to be put in another for who knows how long.

I let out a breath as I got up and grabbed another weapon; might as well make myself useful, while I’m here.