Free Indestructible (Indestructible Trilogy Book 1) by Emma L. Adams

like this, but from what I’ve heard so far, it’s unlikely.
    The food distracts me. Fresh-baked bread sits in baskets on the tables like it’s not a forgotten commodity in the outside world. Fresh fruit, too.
    “Where do you get all this?” I ask Elle.
    “We’ve been self-sufficient for years,” she says. “The water comes from reservoirs in the hills, and my dad’s farm takes care of the rest. We have greenhouses on the other side of the hill where we grow fresh fruit and veg.”
    “Wow,” I say, simply, as an enticing smell hits my nostrils.
    God, there’s even coffee. I follow the smell over to a table at the front of the room set up like a hotel buffet. In the old world, I’d never have thought the sight of bacon and toast and coffee would ever be as out-of-reach as first-class holidays and winning the lottery. This place, totally self-sufficient, has managed to preserve things that died out in a heartbeat in the outside world.
    I try not to let my reaction show, but Elle’s sharp eyes glitter with amusement as I pile my plate high.
    “Hungry, right?”
    “Yeah, starving.”
    ‘”You’ll probably be on kitchen duty at some point,” she says. “We have a rota. Louie’s head chef.”
    We sit with the rest of our dorm-mates at the table. I don’t join in the conversation, but listen and try to memorise people’s names. Just when I think I have them down, another group of teenagers joins us, and the table becomes unbearably crowded. I give up my attempt to pay attention and let the noise fade into a buzz.
    After, Elle gives me a tour. She shows me where the various higher-up Pyros live. I’ve only met Murray so far. There’s a training hall, where I’m supposed to report to Nolan in an hour—apparently, they even have clocks here—and a weapons room.
    “But I thought weapons couldn’t harm the fiends.”
    “Most can’t,” Elle says, “but ours are special.”
    Like Cas’s knife. I haven’t seen him at all, but since there are so many people here, I don’t know why that surprises me. Nolan’s been put in charge of making sure I’m physically able before I get put in training classes with the other novices. They even have school-type classes like Maths and History here, but only for the kids under sixteen. I don’t feel like I’m missing out. Nothing I learned in my four-and-a-half years at secondary school has done me any good in the wilderness.
    I’d rather learn to fight.
    I took basic self-defence classes when I was younger, but it’s been a while. Life after the world ended has always been about running away, not fighting back. As for weapons, I’ve never handled one. Despite eight-year-old me’s pleading, my parents never caved in and let me take lessons in swordplay. That one was during my anime phase, when it was my lifetime ambition to own a katana.
    First, I have to be declared fit to enter training. I’m not keen on being poked and prodded, but Sandra, the doctor, reassures me that my hair will grow back soon, and that I’m in better form than I should be, considering what I’ve been through. Only light bruising on my body hints that I might have been mildly injured, certainly not almost-fatally. But she still insists on taking a blood sample. I stare as my blood flows down a tube into a glass container, thick and dark red. When she’s done, Sandra holds the container up to the light, frowning. Then she takes it into a back room.
    Something about the medical bay makes me fidgety and uneasy. Perhaps it’s the clinical smell associated with hospitals. I’m relieved to be given the cue to leave for the training hall.
    As it turns out, Nolan has no intention of letting me near the weaponry on my first go. Instead, I get beaten up.
    In fairness, he does take it easy on me. But the Pyros have a different definition of ‘easy’. After yesterday, I figured I must be stronger and faster than regular people. But head-to-head with someone like me, I’m suddenly average