Lone Wolf - Robert Muchamore Page 0,10

the residue from thousands of paintball battles. ‘I’ve seen one-legged pensioners move faster than you. If you’re not dressed, equipped and lined up for inspection within two minutes, you can run five laps around the training compound.’

There were two teams of four on the training exercise. Fifteen-year-old Ryan Sharma had been dragged out of bed ninety minutes earlier. He’d been given ten minutes to dress and eat breakfast, before being made to run out to the campus obstacle course. After three gruelling circuits over climbing nets, narrow poles and rope swings, his black CHERUB shirt was a soggy sheet of sweat that clung to his skin.

Ryan’s team mates were his three siblings: twelve-year-old twins Leon and Daniel, and nine-year-old Theo.

‘We’re gonna boil running around in this lot,’ Leon moaned, as he zipped a padded overall over his running kit and started pushing his feet back into his boots.

While Leon complained, Theo was having a meltdown because the zip on his overall was stuck. ‘This is so bogus,’ he shouted.

Ryan already had his boots and face mask on and instinctively moved to help his youngest brother.

‘Calm down,’ Ryan said firmly. ‘How will you make it through a hundred days’ basic training, if you get flustered over a little zip?’

‘You’re such a wuss, Theo,’ Leon added unhelpfully.

Ryan gave Leon a look of contempt as he stepped in front of Theo and put a hand on his shoulder. ‘Let me try.’

‘It’s totally stuck,’ Theo blurted, as he tugged the zip with all his might.

‘You’re trying to force it,’ Ryan said. ‘You’ll just break it.’

Instructor Speaks shouted through the doorway. ‘Thirty seconds.’

Ryan went down on one knee. He took hold of the long zip running up the front of Theo’s overall and ran it back and forth a couple of times before successfully whizzing it all the way up to his chin.

‘There,’ Ryan said, as his little brother smiled gratefully. ‘Panicking won’t get you anywhere, will it?’

Warm sunshine hit the four dark-haired brothers as they stepped out of the changing room dressed in matching army-green overalls, thick gloves and black paintball helmets.

‘Ahh, finally,’ Instructor Speaks said, as he made a clap with his giant black hands.

The Sharma brothers’ rival team had already assembled on the tarmac ramp leading up to the paintball range. Its four members were all friends of Ryan: fifteen-year-old Fu Ning, his sometime girlfriend Grace Vuillamy and his two best mates Max Black and Alfie DuBoisson.

‘Gonna flatten you!’ Alfie threatened.

‘We may be younger and smaller, but we’ve got it where it counts,’ Daniel shouted, as he tapped his head. ‘Brainpower.’

‘Your team consists of two chubby chicks and a pair of cock heads,’ Leon added.

Ning and Grace both reared up.

‘Say that to my face and see what you get,’ Grace shouted.

Mr Speaks puffed out his muscular chest and cracked some knuckles. ‘This banter is all very entertaining, but I want to keep those hearts pumping, so listen good because I’m not going to repeat myself.

‘Spread around the paintball range you will find eight paintball guns, eight compressed air cylinders to make the guns work, and eight hoppers containing a hundred and fifty paintballs. You may also find shields and other equipment that will assist your efforts to get hold of these items.’

‘It’s like the Hunger Games,’ Theo said quietly.

‘The object of the game is to find and assemble the guns and shoot the four members of the opposite team. If you are hit by a paintball, you’re dead and must leave the compound.

‘If neither team wins within three hours, the game will be declared a draw and I’ll make you all run around campus holding large sandbags over your heads. Usual safety rules apply. No low blows, or eye gouging. Additionally, with paintballs zipping around, keep your helmets on at all times and don’t do anything to remove another person’s helmet.

‘Your individual performances will be assessed. Anyone not showing initiative or working hard throughout will be referred to the training department for a one-on-one refresher training course with yours truly. Any questions?’

Max Black raised his hand and Mr Speaks pointed at him.

‘Three laps of the training compound after the exercise for you,’ Speaks spat.

Max was incredulous. ‘What?’

‘I explained everything that needs explaining,’ Speaks shouted. ‘If you need to ask a question, it means you weren’t listening.’

Max swore quietly inside his mask, but knew he’d only get more punishment laps if he argued.

‘The time is now eleven minutes past nine,’ Mr Speaks shouted. ‘So you have until eleven minutes past twelve. Get moving!’

Mr