Hey Jude

Wiley took me home after that, and I have to admit that as soon as he was gone I contemplated getting in my car and just driving. Getting the hell out of there. I couldn't, though. Even if I could have brought myself to leave Mikey, there was a whole world of fucked up going on at the base and I was probably going to have to at least try to do something about it. Happy fucking birthday to me.

I strongly considered calling Mikey and telling him I was sick or something, that I couldn't attend my — his — party, but I couldn't quite bring myself to. My birthday had never meant much to me, but I knew it was important to him. When three o'clock came I changed out of Wiley's clothes and into my own before driving over to Mikey's house.

I should have known that he'd take one look at me and know something was wrong. He'd always had that ability. I had no idea why I'd thought I could get through the party by faking my enjoyment. I was a terrible faker in the first place.

So when the smile Mikey had given me when I pulled up in front of his house had slowly sunk until he was frowning, I wished I'd just cancelled the party.

"'Sup?" Finn asked me. He was sitting on the grass a respectful distance from Mikey.

"Hey, remember that game we used to play when you two were on the awkward cusp of puberty and I was a grumpy bastard? The 'Let's pretend Jude is fine because he's not going to tell us what's wrong anyway' game? It's time to play that game again for old time's sake."

Mikey jumped up and dusted himself off. "Ooh, and I've already got the 'let's pretend sugary baked goods can make everything better' part sorted!"

So that was what we did. Ate cake, watched a movie, did a poor job of pretending I was even remotely okay. Mikey kept giving me concerned glances, but he didn't bother trying to get me to talk. He knew better.

"We'll have another party," Mikey told me when it came time for me to go. "In a few days, when you're feeling better. You'll be feeling better in a few days, right? I'll make another cake. Or cupcakes. Would you like cupcakes?"

I didn't need to force the smile I gave him. He always did manage to make me feel at least a little better. "Cupcakes sound great."

#

Wiley greeted me with a grin when he showed up at my door just past nine the next morning. "I hope you like violence. I've got you scheduled in for a full day of it."

I could be violent sometimes, but I wouldn't have said I actually enjoyed it.

"Yay," I said unenthusiastically, then pushed a bag with the clothes I'd borrowed yesterday in it at his chest. "I haven't washed them."

Wiley shrugged and slung the bag over his shoulder. "We have laundry service. I don't even know how to wash clothes. Come on."

I locked my apartment and pocketed my keys before hurrying to catch up with him. "How can you not know how to do laundry at your age?"

"I've lived in a base like the one we work in now since I was, hmm... twelve, I guess? I'm not very good at cooking, either. I've always mostly eaten cafeteria food, which is pretty good.”

I’d been too stressed yesterday to really pay attention to whether the food was good or not. I remembered there being a lot of variety, and my sandwich hadn’t made me gag, so it was probably at least decent.

The drive to the base wasn't terribly long when there were no diversions to creepy murder huts, only about twenty minutes. It was a nice peaceful drive too, through bush, something I'd appreciated about my old job as well. It was a soothing way to start the day.

I wasn't soothed for very long, though, as the first place Wiley took me when we arrived was the training area.

Sal was already there, sitting on the terraced seats in front of the cage, and she waved when we entered. There was a demon in the smaller cage attached to the main cage, clearly waiting to be released for someone to fight. Someone being me, I assumed.

The demon was feline in appearance, all black like a panther but slightly smaller and slimmer. On its tail and over its knees were spines. It was one of the least horrifying demons I'd seen, but I doubted that meant it was any less dangerous.

"We'll be making things completely safe for you, something most people don't generally get," Wiley told me. "If you get injured, Sal will heal you. If I see anything deadly happen to you in the future, I'll break things up before you get killed."

"What if I don't get killed in the future, just injured in some terrible way?" I asked. "Like, what if my eye gets stabbed out?"

"Hmm," Wiley said, and genuinely seemed to be thinking about it. "I guess I'd stop things if it was an eye. They're not easy to heal, so I doubt Sal would appreciate it."

"That's right," Sal agreed from where she still sat on the other side of the cage. "Healing eyes is only fun when it's someone who's been blinded for a while. Same with healing people who've been paralysed. It's kind of amazing to be able to help people like that. But when it's just happened, and the person is expecting to be healed, it's just another injury and an annoyingly difficult and time consuming one at that."

"Well, I'm glad to hear the level of suffering I'll be allowed to endure is limited by how much of a pain in the ass it'll be to fix," I said. "That's comforting."

"When we actually get out in the field, I won't always be able to protect you. Come on, " Wiley said and led me over to the tiered seats Sal was sitting on. "If you don't get hurt, you don't learn from your mistakes.”

I wanted to tell him that the last two times I'd dealt with demons I'd come out on top just fine, but I had to admit I'd gotten lucky both times. The idea of getting into a cage with one of those things, though...

Wiley picked up a sports bag that was lying next to the corner of the seats and tipped it upside down, shaking the contents out onto the floor. Boots, clothes, a knife, and a strange looking gun fell out.

"Okay, here are your clothes and weapons for the day. The clothes are a long way from being armour, but they're made of densely woven fabric that teeth and claws have a tough time piercing. The boots are steel toed, good for kicking, but you might prefer to keep your sneakers for dexterity. Up to you."

I was nodding along to what Wiley was saying, but my gaze kept skipping between him and the demon. I was going to have to fight that thing.

"Your stungun," Wiley said, nudging the strange looking gun on the floor. "This will be your go to weapon. It incapacitates rather than kills, so it's safer and it also allows us to capture demons and bring them in so they can be used for training.

"The knife's for if the demon gets too close. It doesn't work out so well when you zap something that's touching you with electricity. On that same note, the bars on the cage are made of metal. Don't shoot your stungun while you're in contact with the bars because if you miss your target, you will get a nasty shock. Any questions?"

I shook my head mutely. From the bleachers Sal watched, amused, her chin rested in the palm of one hand.

"Good," Wiley said. "Get changed."

"Here?" I asked.

Wiley shrugged. "Nobody here cares about your naked body. You're too young for both of us, and too male for me."

“All right.” I honestly didn't care that much about them seeing me without my clothes on, especially since I wouldn't even be removing my underwear. I toed my shoes off and began pulling my shirt off over my head.

The clothes Wiley had given me were made of a thick greenish grey material. The shirt was long sleeved and the pants were full length. I wished I had some good gloves and some kind of face protection, but if this was all that was on offer it would have to do.

"You have scars," Wiley said, drawing my attention away from the clothes. He tapped his shoulder to indicate the position of the scar on mine.

I craned my neck to see the scars that had been left after the encounter with the quilled demon. It was amazing to me that yesterday morning I hadn't even known what a demon was. Hell, I still didn't really know.

"Yeah, I fought a thing a while back," I told him. "A demon. It looked kind of like a dog, but with really long legs and quills instead of fur."

"Oh, those things!" Sal said. "I once treated a guy who had quills from one of them embedded in his face. Pulling them out was not fun for either of us. How are you still alive?"

"Luck and a chef's knife? It attacked me while I was trail breaking — that's what I used to do — and I cut its leg off with my axe and ran. It followed me home, I stabbed it and then buried its body in the woods."

Wiley's smile was almost gleeful. "This is going to be more interesting than I thought.”

"I could heal the scar tissue for you if you like," Sal offered.

"Nah, he should keep them,” Wiley said. "He did something cool, so it's like a badge of honour."

Sal smiled at him fondly. "Says the guy who doesn't have a single scar on his entire body.”

Wiley grinned. "Yes, but we all know I have no honour."

“You’re right, though.” Sal looked at me, her head tilted. “It suits you, actually, Jude. Makes you look a little less soft. Of course, Wiley here is like a poisonous snake, brightly coloured as a warning. That’s why he doesn’t need scars.”

Wiley grinned at her, then glanced back at me. “Come on, finish getting dressed. I want to see whether or not I'll be wasting my time with your training."

“Lovely,” I murmured, but I hurried up.

"Okay Jude, pick up your stungun," Wiley told me after I was dressed. "There are two settings. Setting one if for humans, setting two is for demons. Shooting a human with setting two won't kill them, but it might do some damage. Shooting a demon with setting one might not knock them out, or might have them coming around too soon.”

I checked the stungun was on setting two and nodded.

"Fire it at the ground," Wiley told me. "It's better if you know what to expect before your life's on the line."

"Didn't we establish that you wouldn't let me die?" I asked uncertainly.

"Before your pretty face is on the line, then," Wiley said with a grin.

This whole thing was looking less and less appealing, but opting out wasn't really an option. I fired the stungun at the ground.

White light erupted from the stungun and crackled when it met the ground. I'd been expecting it to behave like a real gun, I realised, but it hadn't kicked and nothing had ricocheted off of the ground. It looked kind of cool, actually, and I felt a tiny trickle of some emotion other than cold dread flow through me.

"Okay, you're ready. Get in the cage," Wiley said, and all other emotion was once again flooded out by fear. I did it anyway.

Staring at the small door on the other side of the cage that was about to open and release the demon, I realised this probably wouldn't be very difficult. It was a large target, and it wouldn't have the opportunity to pick up speed before entering the cage. As long as I didn't hesitate, I was fairly sure I was a quick enough shot to hit it before it even had a chance to get a swipe at me.

I took a deep breath and raised my stungun before nodding at Wiley, who had positioned himself at a small slot in the bars with his own stungun. "Okay. Let it in."

I was fair and waited until the demon was fully out of the cage before I shot it. It had decided to stalk me rather than leap at me immediately, so downing it was ridiculously easy. I stared at the unconscious form of the demon. Well. That was anticlimactic.

"That one was to build your confidence," Wiley said, and I looked over to see him leaning against the bars of the cage. "Next one will be harder. Help me drag the body out."

Even though I had someone who could tell the future by my side, touching the unconscious demon was nerve racking. There was a small wheeled cage in the corner of the room, and Sal dragged it over for us so that we could toss the demon in. Wiley then dragged the demon in its cage through a door, thumped around for a while, and then returned with a different cage containing a different demon. This one was awake and quite angry.

It was smaller than the other one had been, about the size of a house cat, though almost insect-like in appearance. It had a distinct head and body like most mammals, but it had six long, spindly legs, and instead of skin had a tough exoskeleton. When it stopped flipping out for a moment, it was to lick one of its front legs and wipe it over its face, grooming like a fly. Or a cat, I supposed, as it had a mammalian tongue.

"That’s just too terrible to exist," I said to no one in particular. "Can that be a thing? Can there be an upper limit to terrible and anything that goes over the just isn't allowed to exist anymore?"

"Usually these things just kill people," Wiley said, "but when its time for the female to reproduce they'll maim someone, enough to keep them still but not enough to kill them, and then they'll lay their eggs in their victim's belly."

For a moment I just stared at Wiley in horror. "You're a terrible person."

Wiley lined up the doors before releasing the demon into the cage leading onto the bigger cage. It leapt in and then skittered around, climbing the bars of the small cage.

"Get back in the cage," Wiley told me.

Why was I listening to this guy? Why was I doing any of this? Clearly I had made some terrible, terrible life choices. I got back in the cage.

I was ready to shoot this demon just as I had the last one the second it cleared the cage, but it was fast and moved unpredictably and had springy legs to quickly propel it into the air. It was on my face before I was really sure what had happened. I panicked.

I wasn't generally scared of bugs, but a giant one on my face was pushing it. Its long, tough legs were clawed at the end, and when I tried to grab hold of one of them to pull the demon off I found they were covered in barbs. Really sharp barbs if the pain in my hand and warm wetness that followed was any indication. I couldn't see how much damage had been done, though. Hell, I couldn't see anything, because I had a fucking insect demon on my face.

I'd expected Wiley to intervene, but I was beginning to realise he wasn't going to. I'd dropped my stungun at some point, which was a pity. I wouldn't have minded firing it in close quarters and knocking both me and the demon out if it got the damn thing off me. I still had my knife, though, clipped onto one of the belt loops on my pants.

My right hand, the one I'd used to grab the demon's leg, hurt too much and was too slippery with blood to hold the knife with, so I awkwardly retrieved it with my other hand instead. From what I could tell the shirt was doing a pretty good job of protecting the parts of me it covered, but my neck was getting scratched to hell and I was worried it might soon cut me deeper and I'd bleed out. That Wiley had promised not to let me die felt pretty meaningless right then. At least my face was actually fairly protected under the demon's body, even if the hairs on its underbelly were kind of scratchy.

Attempting to stab something that was presently over my face was rather concerning, and I couldn't even see what I was doing. The problem came when I decided, fuck it, and just stabbed its torso, only to find that tough exoskeletons were knife resistant. I felt a sharp pain on the back of my head, and realised the demon had bitten into my scalp.

Oh fuck, oh fuck, I was going to die and then it was going to lay eggs in my belly, oh fuck, why did I agree to this? Calming my panic was not at all easy, but I managed to get it under control just enough to think about the problem. Okay, so stabbing its back was a no-go. What were its weak points? Its underside, probably, but that was presently smooshed against my face, so unless I planned on biting it to death that was out of the question. What about under its neck? I had no idea. I hadn't gotten a good enough look at the thing to make many guesses about its anatomy.

It was my only idea, though, so with my bleeding hand I felt around to locate the underside of its neck. It felt... maybe softer than the rest of it? It was hard to tell, since just then most of what that hand was capable of feeling was ridiculous amounts of pain. I really didn't have my options regardless, though, so I carefully located the same point with my knife and then quickly forced the blade forward.

For one terrible moment the demon's teeth and claws tightened, digging in deeper, but then all of a sudden it relaxed. A poke of my knife and a shake of my head were enough to dislodge it. It fell to the ground, dead. Of course, that didn't stop me from stabbing it again a few more times.

For several long moments, I just stared at my sliced up hand. Wow, that was kind of deep. I could feel blood trickling down the back on my neck from where the demon had bitten my scalp. I jumped when Sal crouched down beside me. I hadn't noticed anyone come in.

I wanted to shout and scream and punch everyone and quit this stupid job, but instead I coiled my rage up and tucked it away. I watched curiously as Sal's magic stitched the skin on my hand back together. It looked even cooler on big, fresh cuts.

I wasn't sure how long it took her to heal me, but it wasn't a quick process. At some point Wiley brought me a bottle of water, and I took it and drank without comment.

"Can you stand up?" I heard Sal ask, and I realised she was finished.

"Oh. Yeah." I tried to stand and was mostly successful. I swayed a bit and my head spun, but I remained upright.

"Well, I'm tired," Sal said. "Lunch time?"

"It's ten in the morning," I heard Wiley respond, but I couldn't be bothered looking up. "You had breakfast, what, two hours ago?"

"Morning break?" Sal suggested. "If Jude can't shower himself, you're going to have to wash him."

"Ha. No," Wiley said. "He can do it. Come on, Jude."

I followed Wiley out of the cage and then through another door leading off of the room. There were showers in it.

"I'll be back in a minute with your clothes," Wiley told me. "If you haven't gotten your clothes off by then, I'll have to help you. I'm sure neither of us want that."

Getting my clothes off wasn't too difficult. Mostly I just felt dizzy and tired, but it wasn't enough to greatly impede me. I kept expecting certain movements to hurt, but they didn't. When I turned on one of the showers and began rinsing out my hair, I half expected to find a giant gash on the back of my head. It was so odd to be so badly injured and then to suddenly be completely unhurt. I was halfway clean by the time Wiley returned with my clothes.

He didn't say anything, just dropped my clothes on a bench and left, for which I was glad. I didn't have the energy for conversation just then. I hadn't lost anywhere near a dangerous level of blood, but it was enough to make me dizzy. It was more the shock of what had happened that was affecting me.

I still didn't really feel safe. This whole thing was crazy. I willingly went into a cage and let them unleash that thing on me? I'd known Wiley wouldn't stop things unless there was a serious risk to my life, but knowing it and experiencing it were two different things. Though Wiley would have, theoretically, not allowed me to die, I still felt like I'd had a close call. I was probably going to develop some kind of bug phobia now.

By the time I was dried and dressed, I was starting to feel a bit more grounded.

When I re-entered the main room, Wiley shoved a bottle of water at my chest. "Come on. We're going back to my place. You need a while to lie down."

I made a sound of acknowledgement. Making words just then seemed like too much effort.

"I'll keep driving you to and from work for a while," Wiley told me as we walked. "I'd only planned to do it today, but now I realise you might not always be safe to drive after training."

My gut tightened in fear. I wasn't sure I'd be able to convince myself to get back in that cage again.

"You did good today," Wiley said when all I did was stare intently at the floor. "A lot of people would have just freaked out and that would have been the end. I mean you did freak out, and I have to say it was just a little hilarious, but you didn't stop thinking. You have a lot of potential."

It felt good to hear him say that even if I wasn't sure it was true. "Do I have to do that again today?"

"Today?" Wiley shook his head. "No. There won't be any more dangerous activities today. I make no promises about tomorrow, though, or any days following it."

I couldn't believe I'd somehow gotten myself into all this. Mikey had been right when he'd warned me to keep my head down. Not that I was sure there was any way I could have avoided it. Would they have left me alone if I'd slammed the door in Brandon's face rather than gone with him?

Those were selfish thoughts, though. I mean, I was selfish as hell, but I had limits. There were kids involved, and after what McCartnnon had done with me I doubted they were the only ones he was mistreating and endangering. I had to do something, but I still didn't know what. Was there anything I could do?

For a moment I considered telling Wiley right then and there. He'd know what to do, wouldn't he? And he did certainly hate McCartnnon. But would he believe me? And what if beneath his ire lay loyalty? Surely there were many people who disliked their bosses but who wouldn't actually go so far as to betray them.

There was Sal, too, but I was fairly sure telling one of them was as good as telling the other. I let out a ragged sigh. I was tired. I would think about this later.

When we got back to Wiley's apartment he led me down the hall and opened a door a few doors down from his bedroom. It was another bedroom, similar to Wiley's in design and furnishings but clearly unlived in.

"I guess you might as well use this room if you ever need to lay down after training," Wiley said. "Try to get some rest."

After Wiley left and the door slid shut, I turned off the bedroom light and climbed into bed.

There was a small red light on the door, but other than the dim illumination it provided the room was completely dark. With my nerves still ramped up, I found it a little disturbing. I found my way to the light switch near the door and flicked it back on before heading back to bed.

I was far from sleep, and any efforts to relax just resulted in the battle with the demon replaying again and again in my mind. After about ten minutes I'd had enough and left the room.

Wiley wasn't hard to find. He sitting at the kitchen table, eating an apple while he scrolled through something on his tablet.

"I thought I sent you to bed," Wiley said without looking up. "Did I not tuck you in? Read you a bedtime story? Do you need a glass of water?"

I sat down across from him at the table. "I couldn't just relax and go to sleep after that. Maybe you're used to this to the point that you can just switch it off, but I can't."

Wiley's eyes flicked up and he grinned at me. "Guess I'd see a face full of demon coming and avoid it, so it'd never be an issue in the first place."

"There have to be times when you can't avoid things, though," I pointed out. "When you're outnumbered, or things are moving too fast."

"It happens," Wiley admitted. "And I am a hell of a lot more used to it than you. I've been in training for this since I was a kid. Coming into this when you're eighteen, and when you don’t have an ability, is going to be a lot more difficult.”

I heard the quiet hiss of the front door opening, and a moment later Sal stuck her head into the kitchen. She held out a very heavily laden tray of food. "Hey, Jude. Feeling better?"

"I think so," I told her. "That whole thing was kind of..."

When I just trailed off she nodded understandingly and placed the tray on the table before taking a seat between me and Wiley. "I know. You were thrown into things much faster than I would have liked, but Wiley's the combat training expert. It's not really my area, so I trust his judgement."

"You don't sound like you trust my judgement," Wiley said, but he was smiling. He took a scone from the tray and bit into it.

"Okay, I don't trust your judgement, but I do accept it. Happy?"

Wiley shrugged and swallowed his mouthful of scone before replying. "It'll do. I think everyone needs someone to keep them in check."

"Can I have some of this?" I asked when there was a moment of silence, gesturing to the tray.

"Oh, sorry," Sal said. "Take whatever you like, it was mostly for you anyway. I don't make a habit of waiting on Wiley."

I was an uncomfortable mix of nauseous and hungry, but with the blood loss I figured eating was a good idea. I took a slice of pizza.

"So what do you have planned for me for the rest of the day?" I asked. I'd been promised I wouldn't be exposed to anything dangerous, but not having details was still adding to my anxiety.

"Target practise," Wiley told me. "Nothing dangerous, don't worry. You seem to be a decent shot, but you need to get used to working with a stungun."

Well, that was a relief. Target practise sounded like fun. Learning to shoot was just about the only thing I had enjoyed doing with my father, though after he'd shown me the basics it didn't actually involve much interaction between us. The ear protection needed for shooting meant he couldn't even talk to me while I was doing it. I just zoned everything else out and focussed on my target. By the time he left I'd been better at it than he was, though he never would have admitted it. He'd never once praised my skills.

#

I was feeling much better when we arrived at the range. I seriously didn't want to end up cage fighting a demon ever again, but I'd accepted that it was going to happen and I didn't have much say in it. As a kid I'd learnt not to let fear of what would come in the future control me. I'd deal with it when the time came.

Wiley went into the storage room and retrieved what looked like the stungun I'd been given earlier that day, only this one was painted a garish green.

Wiley handed the stungun to me. "This thing has such a low charge that if it hits someone it won't cause more than an unpleasant sensation. I'll let you try and hit me with it in a minute, but first let's practise on some targets."

The range was a large, open room with plenty of space. One end was dedicated to various targets similar to those that would be found at any other shooting range, and the other side was a maze of obstacles and barriers laid out like a complicated paintball course. There were a couple of people running around it already, trying to hit each other with their ugly low powered stunguns.

Because stunguns were lightweight, had no kick, and didn't need to be reloaded, they were far easier to use than regular guns. The electricity balls were also considerably larger than a bullet, so hitting the targets wasn't challenging at all. Wiley seemed pleased, though, and allowed me to move on to the other side of the room.

Wiley was kind enough not to get his own stungun to shoot back at me, but it still quickly became apparent just how unfairly the odds were set against me. I didn't stand a chance of hitting him and he knew it.

"That's it," I said eventually, "I'm not playing this game against someone who can see the fucking future. That's cheating."

Wiley popped out from behind one of the barricades and grinned at me. "Fine. I'll let you play with the other kids instead."

The man and woman I had originally seen practising were on the other side of the course, and after a word from Wiley they allowed me to join in their practise session. It was actually kind of fun now that I stood a chance. They were better than me, but they'd presumably done this before and I'd never even played a game of paintball. The unpleasant and somewhat painful shock that came when I messed up and someone shot me was an effective learning tool, and by the time my new practice partners had to go I felt I had improved.

The day passed without me coming up with any grand solutions to all of my McCartnnon related problems, and I was left wondering whether there were any solutions to be had. I couldn't even think of a starting point that wasn't likely to get me killed.