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  Training Days

  The Race: Book 2

  By

  Joan De La Haye

  This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

  TRAINING DAYS

  First edition. August 23, 2017.

  Copyright © 2017 Joan De La Haye.

  ISBN: 978-1386428879

  Written by Joan De La Haye.

  Also by Joan De La Haye

  The Race

  The Race

  Training Days

  Besieged

  Retribution

  Standalone

  Fury

  Requiem in E Sharp

  Shadows

  Burning

  Oasis

  Sliced and Diced

  Watch for more at Joan De La Haye’s site.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Also By Joan De La Haye

  Dedication

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  11

  12

  13

  14

  Further Reading: Fury

  Also By Joan De La Haye

  About the Author

  Monique Snyman for being my second opinion, for always taking time out of your busy schedule to read my stories and ripping them to shreds. But most of all, thanks for making me a better writer.

  Melissa Delport, thank you for all the help, advice, and just being generally awesome.

  Johan, my big brother, thank you for all the great advice for my books on the best ways to kill people.

  Eileen, my big sister, thanks for teaching me to read and giving me a love of the written word.

  Thanks Mom – for everything!

  1

  It was fucking cold and my arm was killing me. Using it as a shield from Elena’s sword may not have been the smartest move, but I was alive and she wasn’t. Her blood soaked the sand of the arena, not mine. Apparently Graff Von Zimmer had transferred my winnings into a numbered Swiss bank account for me. I vaguely remembered him telling me on the plane just after leaving the island, but my memory was a little hazy to say the least. The money would, of course, only be mine if I survived another two races. My chances were slim to none, but I’d survived the first one with absolutely no training, so maybe, just maybe, with some real training, I stood a chance. A small chance, but one I had to take. It wasn’t like I had a choice.

  My room in the Graff’s castle was bigger than my entire flat back in Johannesburg. It also had considerably fewer rats, I hoped. My new bed was larger and much more comfortable. My suite was the epitome of opulence. Thankfully it was relatively modern in style and not classical baroque like some parts of the fortress’ interior or a throwback to the dark ages. Not that I’d seen much of the place. The sword I’d won was propped up against the wall on the other side of the room—discarded. Just looking at the damn thing made me want to hurl chunks.

  I’d slept most of the way from the island, thanks to the pain meds, exhaustion, and dehydration, which had made consciousness impossible. I’d only been in the drafty Schloss a few hours and I already wasn’t a fan of German weather. The sleet hadn’t stopped since our arrival. The fire in the hearth and the blankets I snuggled under did little to warm me up. I was frozen to my very core.

  Shock will do that to you.

  The snow and the impenetrable walls formed a silent cocoon around me. The stillness isolated and unnerved me. I longed for the sounds of the city. To hear kids screaming as they played, or my neighbour’s crap music, which he always played way too loud. I wondered what would happen to all my stuff back home. I didn’t have much but it was mine. Or at least it had been. One of my neighbours would probably help themselves to everything when I didn’t come home. They wouldn’t wait long, if they hadn’t already done so.

  I tried getting up, but my head spun, and pain shattered my resolve. Plus the moment my bare feet touched the marble floor my brain barely had time to register the temperature before my feet were tucked back underneath the blankets. Too fucking cold.

  Thankfully, the dead quiet was interrupted by the sound of voices drifting through my bedroom door. I recognised Von Zimmer’s voice barking orders at someone. He opened the door and grunted some more in German at someone I couldn’t see from my bed. I heard rapidly retreating footsteps pounding down the passage. Clearly the man inspired enough fear in whoever he’d been speaking to, to result in such fast obedience.

  He and I were going to have a lot of issues with each other. I wasn’t the obedient sort.

  “Ah! You are awake,” Von Zimmer smiled as he strode into the room.

  I simply snuggled deeper into the blankets, and stole a glance at my sword.

  “My dear girl, you have no need to fear me. You are perfectly safe,” Von Zimmer said as he plonked down on the bed next to me. “We are going to be great friends, you and I, and to prove this I have brought another friend of mine to take a look at your wounds. He is a genius. The best in his field. You will be up and ready to fight in no time.” The bastard smiled again.

  And with those words I realised that I’d be running and fighting for my life sooner than I’d thought.

  Fuck!

  I wanted to scream at him. I wanted to rip his goddam throat out. But I didn’t. Instead I plastered a smile on my aching face and glanced over Von Zimmer’s shoulder, at the man standing in the doorway. Glasses perched on a slender nose. Unlike Von Zimmer his was a face that had known real laughter, laugh lines danced from his hazel eyes to his cheeks. He had an old, but kind face. It was the sort of face you would probably find yourself confessing your greatest sins to over a few glasses of wine—or in my case a few shots of tequila.

  “May I present Herr Doctor Ernst Mannheim,” Von Zimmer said as he gestured at the old dude who smiled and did one of those old fashioned German bows. He even clicked his heels. I almost expected him to do a full on Hitler salute, but he didn’t. Thankfully.

  I tried to smile again. It didn’t work.

  My face felt as though it was contorted in a weird mask and the nerves in my cheeks felt like they were twitching. The pain meds I’d been given had well and truly worn off and my facial contortions were simply my body’s way of letting my incredibly stubborn brain know that I was not coping. After the twitching, numbness descended, and nausea joined in the fun as the room spun.

  The old guy’s face loomed over me. A bright pinprick of light flashed across my vision, hurting my eyes. Then a slight slap stung each of my cheeks in turn, followed by a sharp stinging in the crook of my right arm. I floated. It was bliss. No more pain.

  “She will sleep now, I think,” I heard a voice say from the other side of the void.

  2

  I didn’t wake up to a pleasant sight. In fact, what I saw was fucking freaky. I dangled naked from wires like a marionette in a tank of what felt like sea water, only thicker, more like I imagined the Dead Sea to be like. Not that I’ve been there, but I have a pretty decent imagination and I’ve seen photos on Facebook. At least it wasn’t cold, more tepid than anything else, so that was something to be grateful for. The breathing tube shoved down my throat and the mask clamped over the bottom half of my face was another matter altogether.

  Tubes stuck into my arms and legs. The whole thing was reminiscent of that scene out of The Matrix when Neo wakes up after taking the red pill. I had a whole new appreciation for that scene. Actually no, it was more like that scene in Starship Troopers when Casper van Dien wakes up in that tank after being sliced and diced by some
or other weird alien. It was definitely more like that. It’s strange what floats through your mind during those high panic situations.

  So you can understand why it took a few moments for me to notice the weird little spider-robot thing that was doing something to my damaged arm. It looked to be rebuilding the nerves and damaged tissue. It had these tiny pincers for arms at the front of its body and a miniature laser thing mounted on its head. It was actually quite cute and fascinating to watch it work. I almost forgot how extremely uncomfortable I was, suspended, and nude in a water tank with an audience.

  Doctor Mannheim, Von Zimmer, and a soldier who seemed vaguely familiar, stood around the tank. They simply stared in fascination. They weren’t looking at me in a way that I was used to. I can handle a man undressing me with his eyes and lusting after me. I’m used to that. But I have never felt like a science experiment. I have to say, I did not enjoy the experience. The way those three men watched me was anything but empowering. I wanted to curl up and hide in a dark corner like a cockroach.

  When the robot finished the last of its repair work it scampered up the glass and disappeared through a hatch I hadn’t noticed before. I heard a loud thunk and all the water rushed down what looked like an unplugged bath drain, and I was dropped on my arse like a puppet whose strings have been cut.

  I really wanted to punch that self-congratulating smile off that fucking old doctor’s face.

  But I couldn’t.

  I had a feeling I was going to need that crazy old man a lot in the near future. The excitement on Von Zimmer’s face told me as much.

  I was so beyond fucked.

  “You have improved the procedure,” Von Zimmer said to Herr Doctor Mannheim and slapped him on the back. The Doctor almost fell over from the blow, but he corrected himself and merely stumbled a couple paces forward.

  While they congratulated each other, I kicked the glass. I’d had enough and wanted out. I didn’t notice or care that the pain was gone or that my arm was completely healed. It barely registered that my body looked better than ever before, or that I suddenly had abs that would make any gym bunny envious. I wanted out of that fucking glass fishbowl and I wanted the fucking tubes out of my body. If it weren’t for the tube shoved down my throat and the mask clamped over my face I would have been screaming at those bastards.

  “Calm yourself, Fräulein,” Mannheim said, as he pushed a button on a console next to the tank. The glass lifted and the tubes in my arms and legs released themselves, leaving behind red rings on my flesh where they’d been attached, but those quickly disappeared. My skin was soon completely unblemished. The Doctor then unclamped the face mask. “As I pull the tube out of your mouth, you must breathe out. Do you understand me?” Doctor Mannheim asked.

  I nodded.

  As he gently tugged the tube I tried to breathe out, but there wasn’t much air in my lungs and I ended up gagging. It was worse than trying to deep throat a big cock and having the guy cum at the wrong moment. Panic settled in.

  “You must calm yourself,” Doctor Mannheim said, but his soothing voice didn’t help much.

  I ended up freaking out even more. I couldn’t breathe. My lungs screamed for air.

  “Exhale slowly, Fräulein. Everything will be alright. You will live. Simply exhale,” the old codger said with a smile on his face as he slowly pulled the tube. “The more you struggle, the more unpleasant it shall be.”

  I really wanted to punch that smile off his face.

  Considering what the bastard had put me through, I think my anger was completely justified.

  But instead of punching him as he deserved, I pushed the panic way down into my churning stomach and exhaled slowly. I’d punch the good Doctor later. And let’s face it; I’d been through far worse the last few days. I could handle some deep throat by a tube. I coughed and gagged as the end of the pipe left my mouth. My jaw felt like it had been dislocated, but after moving it around a bit I was satisfied that it wasn’t. It was uncomfortable and tender but nothing serious.

  The Doctor patted me on the head like a good puppy that’d performed a trick, which only made me want to hit him even more.

  I took a deep breath. The fresh air tasted like sweet iced-tea on a boiling hot day. Another deep breath in and another long slow exhale. It took a few breaths before I could focus on the conversation between Von Zimmer and Doctor Mannheim.

  “What have you done to me?” I asked as I stood up and took in the full scope of how different my body looked and felt.

  “I have made some improvements to your physicality,” the Doctor stated. “You have not taken care of your body.” He tsked-tsked at me like he would a naughty school girl. “But your liver and other organs have been repaired. Your muscle tone has been improved, as has your stamina and your reflexes. You will now be able to take part in the Olympics and win a gold medal in every discipline without breaking a sweat. I’m rather proud of the work I have performed on you. You are, without a doubt, my greatest creation.” The Doctor smiled again then took of his glasses and polished them with a cloth before putting them back on. “Yes, I am very proud of the work I have done today.” He looked me up and down and nodded.

  I, on the other hand, didn’t know how to respond or how to feel. I felt violated and yet excited by the possibilities.

  “So ... You’ve made me, what? A Superhuman?” I asked once I’d finally found my voice, which thankfully still sounded like it always had. I was still me after all.

  “No. Not really,” he said with a chuckle. “You are simply enhanced. Better than you were before. More capable of handling yourself in a deadly situation. You are stronger, fitter, better equipped to deal with those in our world and to compete on a more equal footing. Understand?”

  The confusion I felt must have been stamped on my face.

  “He has simply improved you. That is all,” Von Zimmer chimed in. “We had expected that we would have to make changes to your cerebral cortex, but we are delighted with your underlying aggression and survival instincts. They were completely sufficient and we did not have to tinker with your brain. These underlying strengths were no doubt why you were able to survive our little event on the island. Without them you would have died in the coliseum that first day. But now, thanks to Doctor Mannheim, you will not merely survive by the narrowest margin. You will now thrive and be a true contender. They underestimated you on the island, the next time they will not make that mistake. You will now have the strength to match your own innate talents. I am very excited.”

  I listened to his voice drone on but the enormity of what he said made my face burn and my stomach churned, forming a rock the size of Gibraltar. I just wanted to go home. I didn’t want to have to fight in that coliseum again.

  “The surgery was performed by one of Ernst’s marvellous creations, like the one you saw repairing your arm. They are fantastic, no? It is always so exciting for me to watch them work.” Von Zimmer wouldn’t stop talking.

  “Is this what you did to that Zelda chick?” I asked, my voice sounded hollow.

  “No,” Doctor Mannheim answered. “She was only enhanced to a certain degree. Nothing as advanced as what we’ve done with you. You are the first person that I have successfully performed such enhancements on.”

  “Well that’s a relief,” I said. “Because if Zelda was an example of your best work, I’m screwed.”

  “I promise you, Fräulein, that you are a far superior specimen, and the chance of you suffering the same fate, at the hands of a novice, is extremely remote,” the Doctor said.

  “That does not fill me with confidence,” I said.

  “To limit the possibilities of your failure in any future events we have also procured the services of one of our Organisation’s top instructors. I would like to introduce you to Sunil Jamwal,” Von Zimmer said, and gestured at the soldier who’d been standing silently at his side.

  On closer examination I realised why he’d looked vaguely familiar. It was the same guard from the boat who�
��d laughed when I fell on my arse, and the same one who’d stood sentinel outside my room on the island the night before my fight with Elena. He also looked like a Bollywood action star.

  “You’re the dude from the island,” I said looking him up and down while he made a point of not looking me up and down.

  It was his refusal to look anywhere but in my eyes that made me realise I was still naked. I didn’t understand why he was so uncomfortable. He’d been fine staring at my naked body while I was behind glass. As I looked at the three men standing around me, I took in the anxious looks on their faces and processed everything they’d said. The tweaks the doctor had performed may not be all bad. In fact I was starting to see the benefits.

  “We start training tomorrow,” Sunil said, sounding like he’d been educated at Eton or some other snooty school. “Get some rest. You’re going to need it.”

  3

  Sunil Jamwal looked me up and down from across the cavernous room early the next morning. He looked at me without any issues, thanks to the clothes I had on. Von Zimmer and his friends in the Organisation seemed to have a fondness for tracksuits. He’d stocked the closet in my room with a supply of them. Thankfully none of them were pink. Most of them were black like the one I was wearing while Sunil examined me with a judgemental smirk on his lips. He wore similar tracksuit pants and a matching vest that showed off his perfectly toned biceps.

  He’d seen me fall flat on my arse on the rust bucket that had ferried us to the island. And now it was his job to train me. At the time I’d thought he was just another muscled goon with a machine gun, but now, as I assessed him objectively, the muscles trapped beneath his vest and tracksuit pants were lean and perfectly cut. I couldn’t help but wonder if he’d also had a turn in Doctor Mannheim’s machine.

  The castle’s cavernous training room was cold, not only in temperature. The stone walls were bare of any art. There weren’t even curtains on the windows or carpets on the marble floor. There were racks of swords and other assorted weapons, most of which I had never seen before, adorning the walls. A variety of training equipment, which ranged from a complicated-looking treadmill, to a red punching bag that looked like a life sized man with targets on the head, abdomen, and groin, to a boxing ring, and opposite the boxing ring was a massive sandpit. On closer inspection, I noticed what resembled blood-splatter around the sandpit’s walls. So the sandpit wasn’t a kiddie’s playground, it was a fighting pit. The room was basically what I imagined a well-equipped fight club gym to look like.