Darren:

It's two weeks since I let them escape, and they're still on my mind. Well, she's on my mind. Those yellow eyes seemed to look through me. She's the reason I let them run. But why? It's my neck if anyone finds out.

Her black hair, yellow eyes, smooth, pale skin is burned into my memory. The life in those eyes. They weren't the eyes of a monster. And since I've been thinking about it, I've been paying attention when we're out in the forest, when we're bringing in the others.

The hunts have become more frequent. Six times in two weeks. And I'm finding it harder, although John's made sure I'm not, as he puts it, "shirking my responsibilities." I've been made to shoot each time now. I wish I would stand up to him, but how can I? We're in this for life, sworn in. It's treason to break those vows.

The hardest was yesterday. We stumbled on a family, three vampires, hidden in the woods. I remember their faces clearly, the father, the mother, the child. It's the child that sticks in my mind. She can't have been older than ten. Her eyes, yellow as always for the females, gazed at me. She bared her fangs as I approached, hissing. I think it was fear. Her father, eyes blazing, tried to tackle me to the ground, but he was brought down quickly. The mother tried to shield her daughter, but did not fight.

John looked at me and nodded. He didn't need to do anything else. I knew what I had to do. I couldn't see any way out of it. A braver man might die rather than do what I did. A braver man would already have died. But I'm not brave, at least not brave enough.

I shot the mother first, a single dart to the back. The child stared at me. I felt x-rayed. Her look was like a stab to my conscience. I hesitated. John was looking at me. The others were looking too. John smiled, it wasn't friendly. Jack pushed forward.

"I'll shoot the damn thing." he'd said, raising his own gun.

"No." John said. "It's yours, boy." he said to me. "You'll follow orders. Shoot it already."

I wanted to make a stand. I wanted to refuse. Maybe Jack would stand with me. I know he doesn't like it either. He does it though, like me he does it. Who was I kidding about making a stand?

The look in her eyes as I shot that dart, the thrashing, screaming, writhing was like a knife to my heart. A little more of me died yesterday. As it does everyday since I came here.

I'm walking through a wide hallway. It's lunch time and I'm not hungry. I'm not hungry but I have to show up for lunch, make a show of eating. If I don't I'll be referred. They'll refer me to the compound Psychologist for analysis. It happens. The stress of the job. Jack told me, he's seen men taken off the field. No one knows where they go. Quitting is out of the question. When you're in, you're in for life.

The walls are rough stone, uneven. The ceilings are high. The facility is old, although technology has moved on.

The walls have brackets made of black metal for holding candles. Large arched windows look out at the grass. I can see the city in the distance, tall buildings rising into the grey sky.

I push through the double wooden doors at the end of the hallway and enter the mess hall. The noise hits me, chatting, talking, laughing and shouting mixed with the clattering of plates and cutlery.

"Darren! Get over here." Jack shouts across at me. I look around and see him sitting at one of the long metal tables in the room.

The room is large, cavernous, the food is set up on one side, served from big pots and steaming containers. Behind the serving station is the door to the kitchen. There are windows on both sides of the room and a door leading out at the other side.

There are two guards over there. The door is wooden, decorated with brass. And it's locked. I've never been through there, that's the Director's offices and quarters. We don't meet the director, at least not since I arrived.

I walk over to Jack and pull out one of the fold-up chairs and sit. "Eat some damn food." Jack says.

"I'm not hungry." I reply. "I'll eat later."

"Well don't let 'em see you, or you'll be taken in for eval." This is Mike, he works in another group from us. He's sitting across from Jack. There's a number of others at the long dining table, but none of them look at us.

"We doing a good thing, Mike?" I ask. I've met Mike a once before, and not spoken to him much.

"What you mean then?" he asks me, looking up from his bowl of stew-like stuff.

"I mean, are we doing a good thing?" I say. "Hunting and all?"

Mike laughs and looks at Jack, "Where d'you find this one then?" Jack doesn't say anything, but continued on his bowl, mopping up the juices with some bread.

"You swore in right? You know we're doing a good thing." Mike says.

I nod. That's what we were taught anyway.

"Where do the vamps go?" I ask. "The one's we change?"

We'd been taught that they were changed, the chemicals in the dart were designed to reverse the vampire's physiology. Get the heart going and blood flowing. Bring them to life. Bring warmth to the cold. We didn't learn any more than that and we never see them again, after they come in.

"Dunno. S'pose they go back to the world." Mike says.

"Them? Back to the world. No way. No damn chance." Jack says. "Science. It must be science. Experiments or somethin'." Jack looks around, checking for listening ears.

"That's why we don't see 'em again." he says, his voice quieter.

"Through that door?" I ask, nodding over to the guarded door.

"I'd say." Mike says.

A bell rings through the hall, lunch is over. The room fills with the sound of scraping chairs and dropped cutlery.

I fall in next to Jack and Mike as most people make their way over to the door I came through. I'm looking at my feet as we slowly filter across the room. I look down at the watch on my wrist. It's stuck there, welded together after the swearing in. We all have one.

My next hour will be hand to hand combat training, then I'm working onthe grounds, cleaning and maintenance, picking weeds mainly. I'm not sure why we bother, but I like to get out. The watches have a tracker in them. They also hook up to the computer system so we get our schedules and communications.

I arrive in the training room with Jack. The rest of my team are already there. Mike moved off wherever he was going. I see John at the opposite corner. The martial arts instructor is talking to him. The instructor is a small man, about five feet. His skin is darker than mine, his eyes are brown. He's bald. He's wearing his usual white robe, tied at the waist. The rest of the men are milling about the room. It's a large room, with a gym style set up, plain walls and a hard floor.

"Gather round." The instructor says to the group. His voice is slow, deep. His eyes dart around, looking at us all. He's always alert.

"Pair up again and we'll continue where you left off.  I want you all on multiple opponent fighting shortly."

At the beginning of each year, when new recruits are brought in, the soldiers all start training from the beginning again, each cycle through makes them more and more efficient. It's my first time through, so I pair with Jack who's only a year ahead of me.

"Boy!" John calls over. "You're with me today." There's a glint in his eye.

He's been here for how many years? I don't know. Definitely not an even pairing. "Damn it." Jack mutters, not loudly.

I don't say anything. What can I say? He's in charge of this team after all. I walk over to John and look into his eyes. I force myself. His eyes are deep brown, almost like coal, his face has a cruel look. "I thought you might want to hit me." he says. "If you can, that is."

I don't say anything. I would like to hit him, to knock some humility into him, or humanity. Even now he's looking at me with those cruel eyes. Why is he like that? "Why are you so cruel?" I ask him.

His eyes burn at the question, his jaw becomes set. But he doesn't reply.

"Now you are paired up, let's begin where we left off. Take it in turns to attack your opponent, focus on blocking as I showed you last time." The instructor says.

John moves in closer, eyes fixed on mine. "Block me then boy." His voice is quiet now. I step back and ready myself. I raise my arms in the defensive position we were taught.

John is fast, he swings out his left fist and as I move to block it his right fist collides with my face. The pain is intense. John smiles at me. "Come on boy, block it."

No one's paying us any attention, they're embroiled in their own fights. John moves again, right hand swinging. I manage to block it, but his foot moves with speed and my leg buckles from the impact. He brings his left fist round and smashes it into my cheek. I fall onto both knees.

John moves his right fist. I jerk back but his fist stops just before my face. "Remember who's boss, boy." he says. He slaps me lightly on the cheek. It stings where the bruise is already forming.

"Now it's your turn." John laughs.

I get up slowly, my leg is aching, my face is tender in two places and I'm shaking. Partly it's pain, partly fear, partly anger. I take some deep breaths.

John's watching me, still smirking. Anger wins over the other emotions and I launch myself forward, fist flying. John deflects it with his own hand and pushes me back easily. I move in to kick, he grabs my leg, sending a shooting pain into my injury. I feel the rage burning inside me and I examine my opponent. He's bigger, stronger, faster. His eyes are watching, moving, alert.

I recall earlier lessons on surprising your opponent, I'm trying to think of something that'll work. Something that'll land a hit. Then I'll feel better. I need to free the anger. I launch forward, moving to the left and then changing to the right, moving my left leg as though to kick. At the last second I bring my right fist round to land a punch to his stomach. John steps back easily and using his foot kicks me back. I stumble and fall to the ground.

I don't get up. I'm trying to squash my anger. It's not going to work. Not here, not now. He's too fast, too strong. I promise myself I'm going to do something about this guy. Now is not the time. I take a deep breath and stay on the ground. "I'm done." I say.

" 'Course you are boy. And just remember it." John turns and walks away.

--

I'm limping. The pain in my leg is worse. I push my finger into the area and it throbs. My face feels swollen and my pride damaged. I'm going to sort have to sort this out. There's no way it can go on this way. I'm not sure why John's like this, but I want to find out. I want to know how to beat him.

I'm heading to my duties outside now. I'll be working in the grounds. I reach the door leading out and the supervisor is waiting. There's an assortment of men milling around, some I know, some I don't. I recognise Mike from lunch. "Hi Mike." I say. He nods at me in acknowledgement.

"Check the fence, report any problems. Pick the weeds around here." says the grounds supervisor.

I step out into the cool air and Mike is by my side. We walk together towards the fence. It's a grassy area, surrounded by a high metal fence. The fence stretches into the distance, going in each direction from the compound. I know there are small stone buildings all the way around and these are patrolled by soldiers. I've not been to these yet. The fence surrounds the forest on all sides and stretches for miles. It's like a giant game reserve for vampires and wolves. Who knows what else lives in there.

Our job is to protect the city and catch the vampires. I look out to the city in the distance. The city where I was raised, the only human city I've seen.

"What happened to you?" Mike asks quietly as we start to pull weeds from around the fence.

"Combat training." I say.

"Hm. Seems a bit much for training amongst friends." he says. I look at him, there's a knowing look on his face. "Wouldn't be that John by chance?" he says. I nod and continue picking the weeds, digging my fingers into the soil, throwing them into the sack I have for them.

We continue moving round the fence, pulling weeds and inspecting the fence for damage. It's not damaged.

"You'll be wanting to get 'im back for this." Mike says. It's not a question. I don't reply. You can't be too careful, not knowing who belongs to who.

"Well, there's a story in that one. Come to me in the free time after dinner, and I'll show you. And I'll show you where them vamps go, if you're still wanting to know." Mike says. I don't reply. But I'll find him after dinner, I need to do something.

Please remember to vote and let me know your thoughts by commenting!