I hunted around for an image and I remembered Zac. I didn’t care if he got into trouble. I described him, as vaguely as possible.
Morgan squinted at me. His eyes little slits. Perhaps he recognised the description or perhaps he didn’t believe a word of it. He stood up and walked slowly back to his seat and rattled off an amendment to my file on his keyboard.
“Tell, me Scott. What would it mean to you if I were to say the letters… SLF?” he glared at me, as if trying to read a reaction on my face, as if trying to catch me out.
I kept my face as still as possible. “Um, are they a band?”
“How about The Shifters Liberation Front? Does that ring any bells? Ding-a-ling?”
I pursed my lips together and shook my head. “Nope. Sorry.”
“Hmm, we’ll look into that,” he said. “But in the meantime, we have you.” He stretched out his palms. “Mr Scott Tyler who wants to learn how to control his powers. I am very glad to say that you have come to the right place. In fact,” he slapped both hands together,“you have come to the only place.” He laughed again.
“So you will help me?” I thought about what had happened and a shudder rippled through me.
“Of course we will Scotty. That’s what we do here at ARES. Help people. Of course, you’re signing up a little later than most of our…” he paused, finding the right word. “Recruits. And I doubt you’ll ever become anything special. But it’s never too late to learn, is it now? So.” He sprang up out of his chair, sending it rocking towards the window. “There’s no time like the present. Let’s get you signed up and we can begin training.”
“Today?” I said. I was starting to feel like everything was out of control.
“Well, we can’t have you running around, Shifting willy-nilly, now can we?”
What was with this guy? He was only a teenager but spoke like he was thirty years older. It was safe to say I didn’t like Morgan. Not even a tiny bit. He was smug, patronising and, well, quite a large git. But no worse than a lot of my teachers.
I stood up and he gave me that “manly” slap on the shoulder again, harder this time, and led me out of the room.
He guided me back down the corridor to a door marked 101.
“Room 101?” I laughed, nervously. “So will you make me betray everyone I ever loved in there or something?”
Morgan stopped and took a pass card out from his inside pocket. His brow wrinkled in confusion.
“1984? Big Brother?” I suggested.
“I never watch reality TV,” he said, turning his back and swiping the card through an electronic reader. Locks clunked and the door opened, revealing a large white room. The floorboards squeaked slightly under our weight as we walked inside. The room was occupied by five small children – three boys and two girls – and one enormous man. The man slowly turned to face me and I wanted to run out the door, down in the lift, back on to the street and never come back again. He was easily six foot six tall and almost as wide. He wore a cut off T-shirt, which barely contained his bulging muscles. But it wasn’t really his bulk that scared me. It was his face. It looked as if it had been made from two people’s heads, badly cut-and-shut together. A large scar ran from his left temple to his right jaw and another ran just under his hairline. He had one blue eye and one milky white eye. Both of them were fixed on me.
“I have another cadet for you,’ Morgan said, clearly relishing in my terror. “Sergeant Cain, this is Mr Scott Tyler. Mr Tyler, Sergeant Cain.’
Sergeant Cain took a few steps towards me, his strides booming like the steps of a T-Rex.
He looked me up and down. “He’s a little old, isn’t he?”
Morgan considered me too. “Perhaps. It might be he’s only good for admin. But worth running up your flagpole and seeing if he flies.”
Cain turned his glare on Morgan, who shrank under its force. “Do what with my flagpole now?” Cain said.
“I, I mean, subject him to your training,” Morgan muttered, handing my file over.
Cain snatched it out of Morgan’s hand. “So why didn’t you say so, Dick?”
The man reached out a spade-like hand and rested it on my shoulder, all without taking his eyes off the quaking Morgan. I had to bite my lips to hide my grin. Sergeant Cain might be the most terrifying man I’d ever seen in my life, but I was growing to like him.
“I’ll take care of Mr Tyler. Now why don’t you run off and go push some paper.” Cain waved Morgan away with my file and steered me towards the group.
I twisted around in Cain’s grip to watch Morgan. His eyes were scrunched into tight little creases and his fists were clenched. He span on his heels and slammed the metal door behind him.
We reached the row of kids and Cain gave me a firm shove. I staggered into place beside them. I looked down the line. Not one of the kids looked over twelve years old. They were all dressed in the same loose, black trousers that Cain wore, only in miniature and each of them wore a black T-shirt with the word “fresher” printed on the back. Although someone had crossed out the “er” in white pen and added the word “meat”. Fresh Meat. Clearly, Cain had a sick sense of humour.
Cain was flicking through my papers. His eyes lit up as he read something. “Brown belt in kick boxing, hmm?” He slapped the file against his thigh. “Well, seems like you have arrived in perfect time, Mr Tyler. I was just about to give a little demonstration on martial arts. Perhaps you would like to assist?”
“I’m not really dressed for fighting,” I said, indicating my suit.
“Is that so?” Cain said. “And if an assailant was to jump you on the street, would you stop him and say…” He took on a high-pitched voice and pressed his hands together as if begging. “Please don’t attack me, Mr Mugger, not until I’ve changed out of my suit.” He raised a thick eyebrow.
“I suppose not.”
“I suppose not. Now if you would step forward and assume the position.”
I jerked off my tie, undid the top button of my shirt and kicked off my shoes. Then stepped forward and moved into ready stance; my feet shoulder-width apart, my right fist out front and my left close to my chest.
“CP, will you do the honours?” Cain pointed at one of the little girls who stepped forwards. She was a tiny thing, with long brown hair and a fringe that covered her eyes.
“Oh, come on. I can’t fight her,” I said.
“I suspect you are quite right,” Cain said, and nodded at the girl to continue. She stood in front of me, her body upright and her hands hanging loose by her side.
“Begin,” Cain barked.
Neither of us moved. I shook my head. It was ridiculous that I should fight this girl. Sure, Katie and I had gone a couple of rounds against each other. But that was different; she was my sister. Besides, Katie had the meanest roundhouse I’d ever been unfortunate enough to come up against, whereas this kid looked like she wouldn’t hurt a fly.
I decided to play along and started to circle around her. I made a few play jabs in her direction, but she didn’t even twitch. I thought that perhaps if I went for a throw, I could end this silly game without hurting her too much.
The punch came from nowhere. One second I was reaching out to her shoulder, the next she was standing on my left and had punched me square in the ribs. I staggered back trying to calm my ragged breathing. The girl was back standing in front of me. She flicked a dark curl out of her eye.
All right then missy, I thought, you want to play?
I threw out a left jab. One instant she was in front of me, my fist heading for her chest, the next she was running up my bent thigh and raining blows down on my head. I pushed her away. She flipped over and landed perfectly on her feet.
My blood was pumping now. I punched left, right, swung a snap kick, a roundhouse, running through a simple series of moves. But with each strike I threw out, the girl had moved. Sometimes just enough for me to miss, other times she was suddenly standing behind me. My head was spinning and my ears ringing. How was she doing this? I started to get that strange dizzy feeling again, like when watching the croupier at the casino, or when Aubrey and I had been running through the streets. As if reality wasn’t fixed anymore.
I tried a jump kick and the girl caught my leg in both her hands and pushed. I landed flat on my back.
I heard a clapping and sat up to see Cain slapping his huge hands against each other. “Well done, CP. Perfect work.”
Cain leant over and offered me his hand. I took it and he jerked me to my feet then slapped me on the back so hard I nearly went crashing to the floor again.
“Don’t be too hard on yourself, Scott. Fighting a hifter is not like normal fighting. And that is because?” he asked the group.
“Shifters don’t react. They anticipate,” the kids chanted in unison.
“Exactly,” Cain said, grinning at his pupils. “In one reality, you did beat little Miss Finn here.” The girl bowed and returned to her place in the line. “But with every wrong move she made, she undid it. So that she was always exactly where she needed to be to win. Do you understand?”
I nodded and returned to the line. I didn’t really understand, but I wasn’t about to admit that in front of all these kids.
“Now let’s see what happens when two trained Shifters fight.” Cain pointed at two of the boys who took their place. They stood in front of each other, looking relaxed and poised.
“Begin!”
It was that strobe light effect again. Their moves were jerky and impossibly fast. I tried to focus through the ringing in my head and stop thinking about the fact that whatever was happening before me was impossible. The two kids were leaping about throwing out fists and feet, but for every strike one of them went to make, the other would suddenly not be there or have the perfect block. It was as if they were able to anticipate each other’s exact move, a constant redoing, until they made just the right choice. Ripples of light pulsated out from around them, swirling off into the walls and beyond.
The fight went on for about three minutes and I saw the kids were getting tired. Their faces showed the strain of the focus. The smaller boy was starting to get a little sloppy and his Shifts not so certain. I heard a yelp and a thud and it was the bigger boy who was lying on the floor, holding his nose.
“All it takes is the tiniest break in concentration and you’ve lost the advantage.” Cain helped the losing boy to his feet and checked to see if he was OK. Apparently he was, and satisfied, Cain patted the boy on the head.
“But can’t they just Shift again?” I asked. “I mean, couldn’t he just Shift now and make sure he wins?”
“Shifting takes a lot of energy. And ultimately, it’s the more powerful Shifter who will win. They will take it to the place where there is no possibility of their opponent winning. In any reality. OK, everyone. Now pair off and go through your routines.”
CP and the other girl and the two boys who’d just fought peeled off and started sparring.
“Care to have another go, Scott?” Cain gestured towards the remaining boy. “Jake here will go gentle on you, won’t you Jake?”
“Sure,” the boy said with a crooked grin. He had sandy hair, coffee-coloured skin and eyes that glinted in the overhead lights. He led me by my arm away from the rest of the group.
“Don’t worry about it,” he said as we walked away. “I so got my butt handed to me when I first tried it. And at least you’re a good fighter. You made some really sick moves there.”
“Not sick enough,” I said.
“But it’s because you’re only thinking on one level. As soon as you start to see across the possibilities, you’ll be fine.”
“How old are you?” I asked, depressed that even a kid as young as he was had a better grip on it all than I did.
“I’m eleven. Been here since I was eight.”
“Oh, great.”
“Come on. Try and hit me. I promise I won’t hit you back.”
It took me a while, but I did manage to hit Jake. Shifting intentionally was a strange, almost drunken feeling. As if your limbs are just a few nanoseconds ahead of your brain. The best way I can describe it is like physical deja vu. You know where you’re meant to be because you’ve been there before. You just sort of let go and let your feelings guide you.
As I got a little more control over Shifting, Jake started hitting me back. He was good too, even though I knew he was going easy on me. Once I got the grip of strikes he showed me how to dodge by Shifting. The key to it all, I worked out, was to think about all the possible ways I could hit him and how he might hit back, or all the possible places I could move to dodge his blows, and hold them all in my head, just enough to be able to take another path. Then I focused on the alternate reality and jolted it into existence. It was exhausting and after half an hour I was panting for breath.
Cain came over to watch our last few exchanges, which ended with me getting Jake in a headlock. I had a sneaking feeling Jake had let me win, but I was too grateful to protest.
“You learn fast, Scott. Might be a future for you beyond Admin after all.” He grinned and then turned to address the group. “OK everyone, good work. Quick break and then I want you all outside room 104 at 11.30 ready for the poles.” The group groaned.
“What are the poles?” I asked Jake.
“Oh, you are gonna love them,” he said.
And I knew I really wasn’t.
‘The poles’ turned out to be a terrifying assault course in a large gymnasium. There were about fifty poles in total, each the diameter of a small tree, sticking straight up out of the floor as if someone had taken a chainsaw to a forest and taken the tops off leaving only the trunks. The poles themselves were between six and ten feet high and they wobbled slightly. The floor was covered in blue crash mats, the kind we had in PE at school. The kind that were supposed to stop it from hurting if you fell, but never really did.
I already knew what we had to do. I’d seen enough kung fu movies in my time to recognise a set up like this one.
“So we have to run across them?” I asked Jake.
He nodded.
“Sounds easy enough.”
He shook his head. “They move,” he said by way of explanation.
I heard a loud clunking noise and the poles started groaning as they moved, like a huge engine, going up and down like pistons.