The Kazak Guardians (4 page)

"Stop. She makes it on her own or she falls. No one helps anyone. You'll find we don't care whether you make it or not." I couldn't see him or I would've punched him in the face. Rage surged through my body, and I pulled myself up and over the ledge and collapsed on my back. A man dressed in black stood looking down at me.

"Welcome to the Hill. Several girls have made it to the top over the years, but they didn't last. Seems like a lot of trouble for nothing."

"Go to hell," I managed to gasp out. He smiled and walked away. I lay there for a long time enjoying the cool breeze and the puffy white clouds floating by.
They can all go to hell. I'm staying.

***

When I finally sat up and looked around, I was amazed. The mountain rose another ten stories or more in what looked like steps. From what I could see, they were large terraces, many encompassing several acres. On each terrace were multiple buildings.

"Now that you've rested," the same man in black said as he looked down at me with a grin. "Your luxury apartment is that long gray-stone building on the first terrace. You are free until the competition ends at six p.m. Until told otherwise, you and the others are restricted to the first terrace."

I found myself in the same barracks as the men, a large open room with multiple beds, showers, and toilets. After my experience in foster homes, this would inconvenience them more than me. There were eighteen of us. As soon as the competition time expired, we were gathered outside for our welcoming speech by several men dressed in typical black Kung Fu attire: long baggy pants tucked into soft leather boots, hip-length long-sleeved shirts closed at the neck, and a black sash around the waist.

The man in the middle appeared to be the oldest with his silver-gray hair. His face was narrow and hawk-like. "I am Master Johar, the head instructor on the Hill." He paused as he locked eyes with each of us in turn. I felt like a mouse looking into the eyes of a Tiger. "You aren't here to have fun. If you came for fun, you came to the wrong place. We did not ask you to come here; therefore, you'll stay only as long as it takes us to find a reason to get rid of you."

Like Jianyu, he spoke softly, yet he held me frozen. Jianyu had been right. The Kazaks didn't care about our needs or us. They may not have invited me; nevertheless, I was there to stay. They'd better get used to it.

"You've successfully passed the first challenge. There will be four more. If you fail a challenge, you'll be sent home. There are no second chances. We'll wake you each morning with a bell. You'll have thirty minutes to eat and get ready. Eat hearty. It'll be your only meal until dinner."

After a quick breakfast, we were led into a building filled with electronic stations by one of the men who had been standing alongside Johar. Inside were several... instructors... masters?

"You will have three years to pass your second challenge. During that time, you will be expected to develop computer skills, achieve reasonable proficiency in two languages of your choosing, and pass the academic courses we feel necessary for any Kazak to function in our elite clientele's varied environments."

I stared at the room, more terrified than I had been climbing the face of the mountain. I had only attended three years of high school. No one had encouraged me to do well, so I hadn't. I was barely familiar with a computer and had never attempted to learn a second language, unless street slang counted. English was hard enough. Now I would be expected to learn two more. While screams echoed in my mind, the instructor continued.

"We understand not all of you have the same level of education; therefore, for this challenge we'll provide limited assistance. However, don't expect us to do your work."

***

I labored during those years, staying up late, poring over self-paced material to supplement lectures, and crying at those times when exhaustion overcame me. It was slow and painful, but I learned to use a computer, associated programs, and equipment. I chose Spanish since I thought it easier than the other languages I had listened to that first week. To my astonishment, I took to the language like a bird to flight. By the end of the first year, I was reasonably fluent. I also did well with psychology but scored average at best in the other subjects.

During the second year, the language instructor asked me to take Arabic as my second language. Apparently, I had performed better than expected learning my first language.

Our rest time, all fourteen hours a day, was reduced to twelve. In its place, they added two hours of exercises for strength and flexibility, and began basic empty-hand self-defense. I performed below average in strength, above average in flexibility, and held my own in self-defense.

In the third year, our rest time dropped to ten hours a day. We used the additional two hours to accelerate our self-defense training. Thanks to my time with Master Jianyu studying Wudang, which didn't require strength, I managed to do a little better than average and keep my rather small one hundred twenty pound frame from being broken. My ability to feel when my opponent was off balance neutralized the men's advantages of strength and reach. That training became increasingly important as the men felt it demeaning to be beaten by a woman and became rabid when paired against me. Ironically, their out-of-control aggressiveness helped me build on my Wudang foundation and provided me a better understanding of the underlying principles.

At the end of the third year, we were evaluated based on our language proficiency, academic work, and self-defense. Four were dismissed for one reason or another. It had been a particularly hard three years for me, but I had survived despite all the odds against me.

The forth year we studied weapons. Unlike Kung Fu, which used ancient Chinese weapons, we used modern weaponry with emphasis on items we could carry on our person: guns, knives, and a variety of batons. Our cardboard targets
looked
at us from behind a variety of objects, moved in random directions and speeds, and popped up and down-and shot back with paint balls until fatally wounded. Knife throwing came naturally to me. Because of my training with Jianyu, I proved good at knife fighting and could hold my own with a baton. I was average with handguns and rifles; I seldom missed the target but couldn't consistently hit the areas designated as fatal. Consequently, the third challenge almost eliminated me. The two who were asked to leave were good with guns but poor with the knife and baton. I believe my hand-to-hand combat saved me.

I found the fifth year fun-finally. We began the year studying professional Assassins. These were men and women each gifted with a unique ability. They could create illusions, radiate a sense of overwhelming attraction, tell lies everyone would believe, run at incredible speeds, or become nearly invisible. They were referred to as Illusion, Glimmer, Liar, Runner, and Ghost Assassins. Six days a week we learned ways of identifying each type and then practiced in various scenarios designed to imitate real Assassins. Even from the beginning, I did far better than everyone else. I found it natural to detect the small nuances that identified the simulated Assassin. Consequently, I killed fewer non-Assassins and usually managed to keep the person I was supposed to be protecting from being killed.

I passed the fourth challenge with ease. Two more were told to leave. Ten of us had survived to see the fifth challenge. We continued to work on everything we had learned up to that point, but the emphasis changed to serious weapons training-and we were given less rest time.

My shooting had improved but I was still little better than average. We accelerated our hand-to-hand fighting and began field exercises. At first they used paint-ball guns to simulate bullets. I did poorly in the beginning, so I compensated by becoming devious. I would lie in ambush covered in leaves or in a small trench behind shrubs, rig bushes to make a noise, and found other methods to distract and confuse my opponent. My ability with knives and the baton continued to improve. To our surprise, we had no challenge at the end of that year.

In the year that followed, the training became more physical. The guns were armed with rubber bullets rather than paint balls and the physical hand-to-hand matches continued until there was a clear winner, which usually meant injuries of one kind or the other. No one was given more than a day to recover regardless of the injury. Two were forced to leave, one because of a compound fracture of his arm and the other due to a major concussion. Many times I made it to class only because of my determination to become a Kazak or die. I vowed that they would have to kill me to make me leave.

At the end of the sixth year, there was no challenge; however, the masters decided who would stay for the fifth challenge, based upon their evaluation of our previous two years. Two more left; I stayed. I wondered whether having mastered Arabic had helped keep me in the game. Every aspect of my training had improved, but so had everyone else.

The seventh year was much more of the same with less rest. We worked sixteen hours a day, seven days a week. One day off a month. I slept the entire twenty-four hours.

You never knew what to expect next and learned the hard way to stay constantly on alert. In one class, an instructor grabbed my neck from behind and began choking me-for real. I had only seconds to respond. I leaned forward and rotated under his arms, a trick I had learned from Gabe. That twisted his arms and caused his hands to come loose. I was now facing him. I hit him several times with my elbows, stomped on his foot, and got hit six times before landing on my ass. At the end of the day, we met at the medic's. We were both full of bruises.

"You're small but you're like grabbing a young tiger by the tail. You scratch."

"I wish my mother had been there to help." We laughed together. It was the first time I felt what it must be like to be recognized as one of the Kazaks.

The fifth challenge proved brutal. We started by being tested on our ability to detect Assassins. I excelled and was the best at those exercises. Next, our accuracy using guns and knives against moving and popup targets was tested. I remained mediocre with guns. Jessie was by far the best. I think he could have beaten me blindfolded. I proved best at knife throwing. In knife fights I did well, even though I had the shortest reach. It actually might have helped because it gave my opponents a false sense of superiority. In the non-weapon confrontations, I could give as good as I got, but that didn't always translate into winning. With batons Jessie and I were the best. I think I did well because I didn't care if I got killed. Only staying mattered.

To compensate for my less than stellar performance in face-to-face gun battles, I had decided I'd have to do the unexpected. After a lot of thought, I tried rolling on the ground while shooting. If I could perfect the technique, it would give me a definite advantage. The first month, I didn't come anywhere close to hitting fatal areas, but I did manage to hit the target-sometimes. I persevered, spending hours of my limited sleeping time practicing. Slowly, my accuracy improved, and I could consistently hit the target, if not the fatal areas.

On our final shootout in the field, Jessie and I were the last ones remaining. I had eliminated one and Jessie had eliminated the others. When I saw him, I deliberately darted behind a tree, knowing that normally it would be a foolish move. He would wait for me to show myself and wouldn't miss. I would lose because I would be a couple of seconds slower. It was time to test my roll-and-shoot technique. I dove from behind the tree, shooting as I rolled along the ground. In the end, the judges determined we had killed each other.

Our last test was up close with batons. In the end, Jessie and I were the only survivors over the two days of contests. We went at it like it was real; however, neither of us seemed able to deliver a disabling blow, although we continued to land blow after blow.

"Stop," our instructor shouted. "You two idiots are going to kill each other and waste seven years of our time. Jessie, Lynn, and Cory will stay. The rest of you get packed."

I heard the chop-chop of the helicopter as it landed just before sunrise. It was the only way on or off the Hill, without climbing up it. The helicopter had now claimed fifteen of the eighteen candidates who had survived the first challenge seven years ago. Over the years, the sound had always been evil, like a giant dragon descending upon the Hill looking to snatch up unsuspecting students.

***

The training didn't end as we had expected. They gave us two weeks to rest. We thought it was to heal, but it was to bring up three young women. They were going to simulate clients. One of them was a young newspaper reporter who was preparing to write a series of articles on the Kazaks. The reporter, Clare, had assumed she would watch the training; however, the masters would permit her to stay only if she agreed to participate. To my surprise, she was assigned to me.

Clare found out first hand that having a Kazak for protection was unlike having any other kind of bodyguard. I stayed with her day and night, seven days a week. She accompanied me to my classes, ate meals with me, and slept in the same room. While I was learning to protect my client's life, in this case Clare, she was learning what it would be like to have a Kazak bodyguard. At random times, a master or two would attack Clare and I was expected to protect her. They appeared while we ate, slept, and were going from one place to another.

"Well, Clare. What do you think of this assignment and Kazak training?" I asked one night several months into her assignment.

"Besides being terrified all the time, it's been enlightening. I had reservations when they insisted I participate, but they were right. Watching your training and being part of it are not the same. And being a client has given me a unique insight into a Kazak's life."

I was sad to see Clare leave after only six months. She and I had become good friends. As soon as she left, they assigned me another young woman. She and the other women participated on a regular basis, because the money was good.

During those two years with simulated clients, I learned to wake at the slightest noise, to stay awake and alert for seventy-two hours, to remain functional indefinitely on only four hours of sleep, to eat standing and not care what I ate, to be aware of every detail of my environment, and to recognize the smallest indication of potential trouble. Those two years were the difference between a well-trained Army Ranger or Navy Seal and a Kazak.