17. Getting on the Wrong Side Cub

We were running the 5 kilometre. I was rather disappointed. At school I had won all the races from primary sports day to cross country run. But now there were several who were faster than me including Lizard, Saber, a member of D Unit, Hound, Mole, Rat and another member of R Unit. But who really surprised me was my father. I knew that Dad had kept himself fit and had brilliant stamina and insisted on us keeping up with physical activity. Now I understood why but what really shocked me was the fact that Dad was faster than us all.

'Come on, your supposed to be the young ones,' Dad laughed, 'in your twenties some of you. I'm forty-four. Your grannies could run faster than that.'

I groaned. Just typical; the five kilometre run was hard enough without my own bleeding father showing me up in front of everyone. Didn't he know what great a weight I had to live up to? I thought he looked much younger than forty four maybe mid thirties. Dad certainly aged well but I supposed that at least part of it was due to dad's physical upkeep and nutrition. If I did the same with my genetics I would most likely be the same. By the time we were done Dad had already finished half an hour before.

I had come in ninth place including Dad which out of the thirty seven us wasn't too bad. Dad of course had come in first place looking the same as if anyone else had run a hundred metres. I supposed Dad had been doing this since he was a teenager he must be very used to it. I was still the fastest in my unit which was unsurprising considering Polar Bear had come second last. Dad seemed mildly disappointed in him. That was when I remembered what Dad had said about Polar Bear being a possible spy.

Polar Bear himself was glaring at everything obviously angry at how badly he had done. He was especially glowering at Bat who had done fairly well coming in eleventh place. Dad seemed to be pleased with him. Bat was another of my team who was a possible spy in Dad's book. The others were D Unit; the blonde had come in fourth place a point that Dad had nodded to him about, Bird however had come in twentieth, the other two had come in the last ten places. I looked for Dog who had come pretty low as well.

It seemed that it was Bat and I who were the only ones who could run in our unit. Dad was looking around frowning at us with the Sergeant. They obviously weren't happy with our timings when a forty four year old man could beat us. I didn't blame them about that. We should have the physical to beat the older generation but we didn't have the endurance born of life in the SAS (well in MI6 in Dad's case). Wolf and Cub glanced at each other. Cub nodded. I felt nervous I knew that look only to well.

It was the look that Dad would give us before he doled out punishments for one thing or another. I remembered when I was thirteen and had lost my temper at Ian who had been just turning ten. I was having a temper tantrum because I was unable to go to Venice because Dad had something against that city. Lord knows what. He always acted like it was a really dangerous place when it was supposed to be one of the most beautiful and romantic cities on the planet. Not that I cared about that.

'John,' Dad had said. 'You are not going to Venice and that's the end of it,' Dad had said calmly.

'Why not!' I had demanded.

'Because I don't think it's a suitable place for you to go,' Dad had told me.

'I'm not going to drown,' I retorted.

Dad's eyes flickered with amusement for some reason at the mention of drowning in the Venetian canals. But that was just Dad for you (I now wondered considering Dad's job if he had ever almost drowned in the canals of Venice). He had a completely odd sense of humour. But right now I was furious that my father was preventing me from going to Venice with everyone else. What did he have against Venice anyway? I glared at my father's annoyingly amused expression that refused to feel pity for my plight.

'Everyone else is going,' I glared.

'Jake's not,' Dad said.

'Only because Uncle Ben and Aunt Tamara say no,' I scowled. 'What do you have against Venice anyway?' I demanded.

'Nothing,' sighed Dad.

'You and Tom went when you were my age,' I said. 'Tom showed me the pictures.'

Dad seemed to be regarding me shrewdly, 'John no.'

I was furious at Dad for this. Why did parents always have to act like they knew everything? If mum had been there she would have let me come. I was so angry that I had then (rather stupidly) slammed a fist onto the oak table. My blue eyes had then watered and I could see the blood on my first and the table where I had cracked my knuckles. That wasn't the brightest idea I've ever had. But I refused to let it show that I was in pain. Dad seemed to notice the pain because he pulled my hand off the table and inspected it.

'John,' Dad said reproachfully. 'Hitting the furniture isn't going to make me change my mind only hurt you. Come on I'll get you a plaster.'

'I'M NOT THREE!' I had then shouted. 'I DO NOT NEED A PLASTER!'

'Then stop acting like it,' Dad has said coolly.

'Fine,' I snarled.

I had turned around to storm off out of the kitchen away from Dad, away from home. I was planning to run away to one of my friends' houses until I felt like coming home. Well more probably until Dad decided it was time for me to come home. No matter whose home I ended up in Dad always somehow found out where I was. But this time I was stopped by my brunette ten year old brother. Ian seemed to have been drawn out by the shouting. Ian was always very inquisitive (one of the few things we had in common).

'I heard shouting what's going on?' he aksed.

What happened next no one could predict. I had no idea why I did what I did but I did. I brought my hand out and SLAP! I had hit my little brother. There was a silence as Ian stood blinking a hand shaped red mark on his face seemingly in shock. Then Ian had begun to cry. Later I would feel awful for making Ian cry but at that minute I didn't care. I was just glad that someone was feeling the same pain I was. Then Dad had stood up wearing a furious expression like I had never seen before that terrified me.

'John Alexander Rider,' Dad had said barely raising his voice above a whisper but looking deadly. 'Go to your room and don't come out until I let you.'

I had the fled from the kitchen. I saw Dad take Ian into a hug. I didn't want to anger my father anymore so I went up to my room. By the time Dad came up I had calmed down and realised that what I had done was wrong. I had hit Ian. Okay he bugged me but I shouldn't have hit him and I knew that. Unsurprisingly I was not only banned from Venice but I was also forced to help the mad cat lad for the first month of the summer which meant I couldn't go out in the sun much. For an active person like me that was my own personal hell and Dad knew that.

And that was the look he was giving us all now. I looked around and could see the fear on everyone else's faces. A few of the older people who had been here before were obviously waiting for whatever punishment that the sergeant and Dad happened to doll out. I knew I wouldn't get it any easier for being Dad's son. There was a collective silence as we waited for one of the instructors to speak. I was sort of relieved that it was the sergeant to speak not Dad. I knew precisely how cruel his punishments could be.

'I can't believe the lot of you are actually trying to pass for SAS soldiers,' growled the sergeant. 'And I have to create five units out of you,' he sounded disgruntled.

'When I first came here I could run quicker than some of you,' Dad added. 'And I was a teenager.'

'Disgraceful, performance,' growled the sergeant.

'I know there are injuries,' Dad's eyes flickered to Polar Bear. 'But that does not excuse you in the slightest. If your injuries are unable to make you run you should pack you bags and go home. If you are unable to run on the field then you will die. And I do not send doomed souls onto the field of battle.'

'Yes sir,' we all murmured.

'What was that?' demanded the sergeant.

'Yes sir, yes sergeant,' we all repeated.

'Drop-'began the sergeant.

'No Wolf,' Dad stepped in.

'Have you got a better idea?' asked Wolf with a feral snarl.

'Oh yes,' Dad threw back his head and laughed.

I could have groaned at this. I knew that whatever Dad had planned for us to do was not going to be good. It seemed that my colleagues had this idea too. I was understandably nervous at Dad's punishments. At home Dad's punishments were very varied depending on what we had done. Some of the hardest ones were spending time "volunteering" in old people's homes, helping the batty lady from across the road, painting the garden shed. Not all at once and that was only very rarely normally we just had our favourite things confiscated.

But we were never grounded. Dad didn't agree on grounding children. That was another thing that he didn't have in common with the other parents. Uncle Ben and Aunt Tamara were more than happy to ground Jake upon occasion. They may be slightly odd parents but they weren't anywhere as near as insane as Dad. Dad had said something about being locked in your room encouraging idleness or something similar to that. I personally was pleased if I got grounded when Uncle Ben and Aunt Tamara were looking after us I got bored out of my mind.

'May I ask what?' asked Wolf.

'Well you know how they say practice makes perfect?' Dad asked.

I could have groaned if it would not be a sign of disrespect so I wisely kept my mouth shut. I could see the dawning looks of horror on my comrades' faces when they realised what Dad was telling us to do. He was going to make us run another five kilometres. Or at least make us run some more. It wasn't so bad considering we had the morning off but we still weren't looking forward to it. Dad was smirking with Wolf with the looks of horror painted on all of our faces. These two were some sadist bastards.

How had I never noticed this side of Dad before? I had always known that Dad had a cruel streak and was terrifying when angry but I would never have thought he would have been purposefully cruel like this. I begged him with my eyes to change his mind. His eyes met mine once. I thought I saw them waver slightly but he shook his head so minutely that I didn't think anyone but Bat and I had noticed. It was then that I knew he was going to make us do another run. I could only pray that it wasn't too long.

'Okay this is what we'll do those who took less time will do less time now,' Dad said.

I was slightly relieved at this considering I wasn't the slowest but nor I was the fastest. I could see that Hound was looking very pleased with himself whereas Polar Bear looked ready to eat anyone who was near or Bat. The rest of us weren't very happy about it but accepted our punishment. I had never thought that I would wish that the sergeant would punish us but I did wish it now. But the sergeant seemed happy to let Dad doll our punishments probably because he was so much harsher that the sergeant was himself.

'Hound, Rat, Saber, and Mole a five minute run. Hawk, Lizard, Kingsnake, Tiger,' Dad's eyes twinkled at me. 'Lion, Spider, and Bat you will run for ten minutes. Dragon and Ox will run for fifteen minutes. Camel – twenty minutes. Cat and Coachwhip – twenty five minutes. Pigeon and Meerkat – thirty minutes. Snow Leopard, Bird, Owl, Badger, Stag and Lynx – thirty five minutes. Raven and Otter – forty minutes. Terrier, Swan, Dog, and Bull – forty five minutes. Boar – fifty minutes. Mouse and Woodpecker – fifty five minutes. Adder, Polar Bear,' here Dad frowned, 'and Crocodile – sixty minutes.

Please review. Do you want some more chapters or epilogue? Either way is good for me I just don't want to drag it out.