The Volunteer

by J B Cantwell

  “Hi. Riley Taylor.”

  “Nice to meet you.”

  “It’s Soldier Taylor, Jack,” Hector corrected.

  “I think I’ll leave that title for you to use,” I called across the room. “To everyone else, Riley will be fine.”

  The other three soldiers I hadn’t met waved at me from across the room. All four of them were Greens, and one of them had half his face horrifically burned. I swallowed hard and tried not to stare.

  I turned to Emma and Jeremy, keeping my voice low. “Hey. Where did Alex go?” I was suddenly worried about his departure. The last time I’d lost him, they’d taken him away and returned him to me a monster.

  Jeremy spoke up. “Major Tanning came for him. Not sure where they went.”

  My stomach dropped at this news. What were they doing to him? More phasing? More brainwashing? Or maybe they were giving him orders about how to handle me. How to watch me in the most effective way. How to cheat me. Rat me out. Break inside my brain and find all of the secrets I had hidden there.

  Paranoid.

  That didn’t even begin to cover it.

  I turned and headed for the bathroom. As I closed the stall door, I found myself wishing I would hear the crinkling of paper from the next cubicle over. I looked to the bottom of the partition, waiting for Lydia’s hand to appear, a vital note tucked into the palm of her hand.

  A door slammed outside the bathroom, and I heard Major Tanning’s voice.

  “Alright, soldiers. It’s time to assemble.”

  I dashed out of the stall and raced for the door. Whatever was going on next, I wasn’t going to miss it like I’d missed breakfast.

  “Where is Soldier Taylor?”

  “Here! I’m here, Sir. Please excuse me.”

  I fell into line between Jeremy and Alex, who had returned now from wherever he’d disappeared to. I felt Jeremy’s puppy dog eyes on me as I stood at attention.

  This was going to be a problem.

  “Follow me,” Tanning ordered, grimacing.

  He turned on his heel and walked out the door. Hector was the first one in line, followed closely by Tom and Emma. Jeremy waited a split second before joining the line, palming a small stash of nutrition squares and handing them to me.

  “Hide these,” he advised. Then he smiled sheepishly.

  Ugh.

  “Hey, thanks,” I said, motioning to the disappearing line of soldiers. “But let’s get moving.”

  He turned back to the door and followed Emma. As he ran to catch up, I turned my head back toward Alex.

  “Where did you go?” I whispered as loudly as I dared.

  “Later,” he said, giving my shoulders a small push. “This guy is no joke.”

  I followed Jeremy through the door.

  Tanning was leading us down the dimly lit hallway back toward the infirmary. He stopped the line of us in front of it.

  “It’s too late for those of you who are new; you’ve already been able to read the color designations of your new bunkmates. Still, you’ll have to have your chips altered while you’re here.” He directed me into the room first.

  I remembered the first time I’d lost my ability to read the designations of my fellow soldiers. It had been jarring at first, being unable to see their colors, but I had grown used to it after a while. Now, though, I made a mental note of everyone I had seen in the bunk room. Hector was the only Orange. Emma the only Red. Everyone else was Green, and, I thought, had been here for a while.

  “We meet again,” Michael said, holding up a small metal device to the chip I had on the side of my head. I felt a cold sensation emanate through the chip and onto my skin as he altered it.

  When I turned back to look at Alex, his Green designation had vanished, replaced by just one word: Prime.

  I squeezed out the door, which his huge frame was blocking.

  “Sorry,” he said. Then, quick as a flash, his hand touched mine as I slipped out. It felt like a bolt of lightning shot up through my arm and into my chest, leaving me flustered and confused.

  “Prime Williams,” Tanning called. “There’s no need. Follow me.”

  No need? So, Alex alone would be able to read color designations?

  I fumed. It wasn’t fair, but arguing would only bring me trouble. In fact, I wondered why they bothered to take away our color sight at all, with so few of us here. Did they intend to send us into battle in the end? I couldn’t imagine how useful it would be to blind us down here underground.

  I followed Jeremy, who was standing in front of me. He didn’t look back this time, and he instead stood at attention.

  Good. Let’s keep it that way.

  The line started moving, and soon Tanning led us down a steep staircase deeper into the silo. Here, the floor numbers went backward; instead of increasing on the way up the stairs, they increased on the way down. Flight by flight, we made our way until we were five floors underground. As Tanning opened the door and Hector and Tom followed him through, Emma paused.

  “What are you doing?” Jeremy whispered, giving her a little shove. But as soon as she’d made it through the door, he stopped as well.

  “What is it?” I said.

  He didn’t look back. Didn’t say a word. Just slowly made his way through the open doorway. I followed on his heels, eager to see what all the fuss was about. Then, through the dimly lit room, the thing that had been stopping Emma and Jeremy came into view.

  The nuke.

  It was huge, at least three stories high, so big that we could barely see the tip high above our heads in the dim light. The whole thing was painted with the colors of the U.S. flag, stars the size of my head covering all around the tip of the bomb.

  The gangway encircled it, and looking high up toward the ceiling, a large, round hatch was just visible. Its exit.

  I wondered if Michael the nurse had told me the truth, if it really was disarmed. Not that I expected him to lie, but who knew what sorts of secrets this place was teeming with? In a Service where the wounded were left for dead, I wondered why anyone would bother to defuse it. Lives weren’t exactly precious commodities to the United States government. Liabilities, more like.

  But surely, if they were bothering to train us in a specialty so important, so secret, our lives here must count for something more. And if not that, then the facility itself would be worth saving, not to mention the miles and miles of food crops that surrounded the silo that would be destroyed if the nuke went off.

  One by one, we filed onto the platform. Most of the other soldiers had seen this before, I reminded myself. But when I looked toward the back of the line, I saw the reservation on the face of the boy who had been burned.

  Kyle Stanley

  Designation: Infantry

  He didn’t seem to think the bomb was defused. His eyes were glued to the missile as if he were expecting it to blow at any time.

  Tanning stopped and turned toward us. We all stood at attention, waiting for instructions.

  “This,” he said, gesturing around, “is the nuke room. I assure you all that it has been defused. However, the material for an explosion is still encased inside the missile. If you want to live, I suggest you move through this room on your way to and from your assignments with caution.”

  He turned around and started walking again. We all fell into line and followed him through a door on the other side of the huge room. Then through another dim hallway, and down several more flights of stairs. Our booted footsteps echoed against the bare concrete walls, and I felt my heart beating faster the farther we went into the murky depths.

  Finally, after what felt like ages, we exited the staircase at the 10th floor. Tanning started to lead us through a maze of tunnels. I felt blind. There was nothing on the walls and doorways we passed, no numbers, no windows. It was impossible to say what was going on on the other side, and the farther we went, the darker the halls seemed to be.

  After five minutes of wandering, Tanning stopped at a doorway and pulled out a larg
e ring of keys. He unlocked the door and held it open as we filed through.

  Hector didn’t hesitate. He went right to the front of the room, which was set up like a classroom, with long tables and benches stuffed into the space. Tom followed closely behind him, and they both sat down.

  Both Jeremy and Emma, though, made their way straight to the back. Alex and I each paused, looking around, unsure.

  “Move it, soldiers!” Tanning called from the open doorway.

  I jumped, surprised, and immediately found a spot in the middle of the classroom. Alex didn’t follow me. Instead, he took a seat along the outer edge of the benches. I frowned, confused, but then I saw why he’d stayed behind. His frame was simply too big to fit into a regular seat like the rest of us.

  So I sat alone.

  Without a word, Tanning slammed the door shut. I listened for the sound of a lock, but it didn’t come.

  We didn’t dare speak, or even look around. Not even Hector. I’d seen a camera set into the ceiling on my way in. They were watching our every move here.

  The air was hot and stuffy, and in my nervousness I felt a drip of sweat fall from my neck all the way down my back.

  Suddenly, the door flew open so hard that it bounced off the wall and snapped shut again. That was when we saw him, a shadow of a man in the dark. He walked to the head of the class and slammed his binder, thick with papers, down on the front desk. Just barely visible in the dim light, I saw his arms. They were covered with burns which ran all the way up to his t-shirt sleeves.

  Well, at least one of us was able to stay cool. While he wore only his undershirt, the rest of us were sweating it out in our heavy canvas fatigues.

  He stared around at the class, and despite my intense desire to shrink back, I instead sat up as tall as I could, trying to show some sign that I was ready to learn.

  Ready to learn how to kill. As if I didn’t already know.

  Corporal Alaistair Fraser

  Designation: Bronze

  “Good morning,” he said under his breath. Then, he held up a small remote control and clicked it, pointing it toward a projector at the back of the room. A moment later, he was bathed in the projected light, his body blocking part of the image against the wall.

  The image was that of a mushroom cloud.

  He moved to the side, allowing us to see the full slide.

  “As you can see,” he growled, “the use of nuclear weapons has not ceased as humans have advanced industrially. This image shows the most recent of our attacks on our enemies. Here is the explosion at Moscow, 2079.”

  He clicked the controller again, and another image much like the first, shone onto the screen.

  “Baghdad, 2062.”

  Click.

  “Tehran, 2065.”

  Click.

  Click.

  Click.

  “Four of you are new to us, putting you at a significant disadvantage compared to your fellow soldiers. Still, not everyone here is a fast learner.” He nodded his head pointedly toward the back of the room, toward the spot where Kyle, the burned boy, sat.

  I didn’t dare follow his gaze, and instead sat up even straighter in my seat. The last thing I wanted was to anger this new man, and if that meant I had to pay close attention to his every word, so be it. I resolved to not end up burned like Kyle.

  He turned off the projector with another click, throwing his face into shadow once again. He pulled out a tablet from his desk drawer and started typing, and his fingers quickly flew across the keyboard. An instant later, the image of a small explosive, a soda can next to it for scale, came up on our lenses.

  “We will start from the beginning once more. This will serve to teach the new soldiers the ropes, and to remind those of you who have already been stationed here of the many rules and dangers of making and detonating explosives.”

  I expected Hector or one of the others to make some sort of noise, a sigh of exasperation, perhaps. But the entire class was silent.

  “Good,” Fraser said.

  He pulled out a large stack of papers and began passing them around.

  “Just so we’re clear, just because you’re stationed here, you will not get out of serving your time in battle. When you are done with your training, you will be specialists in setting and defusing bombs; this is the primary reason that you will be sent back into battle. Most of your activities will consist of defusing land mines set by our enemies, namely, Canada.”

  A chill ran its way across my skin at his words. Canada. Our enemy.

  His enemy. But not mine.

  What about making the bombs? That was what Jane had told me back in the Stilts, the woman with the schematics to the holding station buildings. But this didn’t sound like that at all.

  I looked up and saw Fraser’s grimacing face staring me down.

  I resolved to keep my questions to myself. For now.

  Chapter Six

  We spent the entire morning watching film after film about different types of bombs, showing how they were used in combat and to what effect. Pipe bombs, land mines, grenades, larger explosives, missiles, nuclear devices.

  And then, there it was on the screen: an image of an E-bomb, an Electro Magnetic Pulse device. The bomb worked by sending out a wave of energy intended to disrupt anything that used electricity. If implemented correctly, the pulse of power it emitted would fry the circuits of anything electrical in the vicinity without putting human life at risk. It was the most advanced explosive device in the Service’s arsenal, even more complicated than a nuke. Bringing down the power grid in Canada would result in a huge blow to their ability to guard the resources the U.S. was trying to acquire.

  This was what I was supposed to be learning, my reason for being here, the reason someone invisible to me up the chain of command had arranged to have me stationed in the explosives unit. A device like this would be how I took down the power grid, our power grid, that supported the technology that powered our lenses. Taking this action would free the people of New York and beyond from the eyes of the government that watched their every move.

  That was the idea, at least.

  After seeing the carnage in New York, I felt more resolved than ever to carry out the mission set for me by the Volunteers. Fear seemed to have left my body, and I felt laser-focused on the task. I didn’t know how many of them had survived the bombings that had taken down the Stilts, but if I were the only one left, it would be up to me.

  Maybe Jonathan survived. Chambers. Kiyah. Maybe.

  I was disappointed when Fraser turned up the lights. But a moment later, he typed something into his tablet, and a large schematic appeared on my lens.

  It was the layout of a pipe bomb, each piece of it labeled. And at the bottom, written instruction for how to defuse it. I let out a low sigh of frustration, then caught myself and quieted my breathing before anyone had a chance to look my way.

  Not an EMP. Not one of the most advanced weapons in existence. Not yet.

  I didn’t even notice when the clock ticked over to 1200 hours. I was eager to learn, more than I had ever been in school or any other classroom since joining the Service. The morning had flown by.

  “Study this,” Frasier said. “This afternoon you will be defusing one. You will have an hour and a half to eat and rest. Then, at 0130 I will collect you from your barracks for practical training.”

  He snapped the cover of his tablet closed and made for the door.

  I looked around at the others. Everyone looked exhausted, but I was more awake than ever.

  I stood up and ran after Fraser.

  “Excuse me, Sir?” I asked, stopping him.

  He turned abruptly, an angry frown on his face.

  “What is it, soldier?”

  “Are we going to be learning how to create the devices, too? I was told that—”

  He crossed his scarred arms over his chest and stared down at me.

  “Your job here is to learn how to disable devices, not build them. Is this going to
be a problem?”

  I felt like a balloon with a hole ripped in its side, and suddenly it was difficult to breathe.

  A problem?

  “No. No, Sir.” My voice was stilted.

  It took everything I had to not break eye contact with him.

  He didn’t speak again, just turned around and walked away, leaving me alone with the awful truth.

  There would be no help for me in the task I had been assigned. I would not be learning how to build bombs after all.

  If I wanted to get my hands on an EMP, I was going to have to steal one.

  Impossible.

  And yet, somewhere between the classroom and the mess hall, a sliver of hope started to lodge itself in my mind. Surely it was possible to engineer the explosives with the schematics assigned for us to study. I just needed to wait, to learn as much as I could. If we were really here only to learn how to defuse explosives, we would need to know the basics about how they worked first. Soon enough I would have the schematics of many other types of bombs accessible through my lens. And if EMPs were on our list to learn about, I’d be golden.

  But I wouldn’t be able to do this all by myself like I’d originally thought. It would require a specialist to take the information from my chip and turn it into a reality. I might learn the basics, but after Fraser’s curt response to my question about building explosives, I doubted any type of construction would be involved in our training.

  I could only do my best to learn. And to find someone on the outside willing to help me. Someone smart enough. Someone crazy enough.

  As the rest of the soldiers filed out of the classroom and started walking back in the direction we came, Alex caught up with me.

  “So, what did you think?” he asked.

  I paused. “Um, it was interesting, I guess,” I lied. It had been way more than just interesting.

  He chuckled. “Is that all?”

  I shrugged.

  We walked on. Soon we were in an extended part of the corridor. A shaft of light beamed out of a doorway up ahead, something I hadn’t noticed on our way down deep into the silo this morning.