In the After

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    “Owwww,” I couldn’t help but yowl, even though I knew it would make Kay come at me twice as hard.
    “Toughen up,” she said. She took another swipe at me with her practice knife. This time she got me in the ribs and I gasped as a sharp pain shot through my abdomen.
    “Jeez, give the kid a break,” Gareth shouted. He was small and wiry, and we often sparred together. I glanced up and noticed they were all watching us now. Even Rob, who wouldn’t give me the time of day, since I wasn’t technically one of them yet.
    “Like the Floraes will?” Kay called. She was right. If she had been a Florae—if one got a claw in me—I’d be dead.
    I wasn’t used to the synth-suit, the way it clung to my body and muffled my movements. It was lightweight and skintight, which almost made me feel naked. You had to pull it over your body like panty hose. There were pockets too, little compartments to hold things, like a knife or a superthin compass.
    Kay lunged at me. In each hand she clutched a knife, trying to simulate hand-to-hand combat with a Florae. I heard her foot loudly make contact with the mat and I could tell she was off balance. I parried her blow and pulled her arm forward. She fell on her side and I placed my practice knife at her throat, tracing the line of her neck with its rubber tip.
    “You’re dead,” I told her.
    “Good job, Harris,” Marcus yelled. I looked up and grinned. Marcus was one of the military badasses; to get a compliment from him was just short of amazing. Suddenly the world shifted and I was flat on my back, the wind knocked out of me.
    “Don’t gloat,” Kay told me from where she sat on my chest. “Now, you’re dead.”
    She stood up smoothly and offered me her hand, winking as she pulled me up. I was improving and she had just given me the Kay equivalent of a compliment.
    “Pair up,” she yelled. “Half-hour rumble before we hit the shooting range.”
    I headed over to Gareth. He’s wasn’t like the Guardians who were former military; he was more of a smart-ass than a hard-ass.
    “You’re looking good out there,” he said as we began to spar. Gareth wasn’t nearly as aggressive as Kay, though he did get a knife to my shoulder. “That synth-suit accentuates your . . . talents.”
    “You old perv!” I was trying not to blush. He was always acting flirty with me, even though he’d told me that I wasn’t his type, being a girl and all.
    “Old!” he yelled, dropping his guard and allowing me to stab him in the arm. I knew that would get him. Although Gareth was only twenty-five, his hair was almost entirely gray. He was living proof that the life of a Guardian is stressful.
    “You’re getting really good, Amy.” He smiled, rubbing his arm. “Even Marcus and the Elite Eight have noticed.”
    I looked over to where the intense training was going on. The Elite Eight were the military personnel who were on the Hutsen-Prime compound when the Floraes showed up. Kay led the Guardians, but Marcus was her second in command.
    “If you care what the Elite Eight think so much, maybe you should put on about twenty pounds of muscle and try to join them,” I teased.
    “Then they’d have to change their name to the Nimble Nine,” he joked. He came up next to me and surveyed the training area. “That Jenny is as fast as a Florae,” he observed.
    She was quick, dancing circles around her partner, Rob. She used her knives as an extension of her arms, lunging, stinging, moving away.
    “Floraes are faster,” I said, shaking my head. There was no way to fend off a Florae without a gun or a bow. All I really knew was that the farther away they were, the better your chance for survival. “Seriously, Gareth, do you think this will help, if you’re actually alone with a Florae?” I asked.
    “It definitely helps.” I was surprised to hear no doubt in his voice. “It’s mostly the synth-suit that will protect you, but not panicking, being able to kill without hesitation, that’s what will keep you alive.”
    “Less talking, more fighting,” Kay yelled at us from across the room. I didn’t know how she saw me roll my eyes, but she called out, “Amy, come here. I want to demonstrate something.”
    I looked at Gareth. “Oh, crap.”
    “You’re on your own, honey,” he said, holding up his hands and backing away from me.
    I made my way over to Kay, debating whether or not to pull on my synth-suit hood to protect my face. I decided against it, hoping she would