Warrior Queen

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Warrior Queen Page 19

by J. N. Chaney


  “Yes, thank you, this is Terrance,” said Mother quickly. “I was told there would be an escort.” She paused, glancing over the man and through the windows. “Where’s Bishop? He assured me he’d be here for this.”

  “The colonel,” he corrected, “is in his office, and the boy is to be taken directly to him as soon as I have registered his arrival.”

  She let out a frustrated sigh. “He was supposed to meet me at the gate for this himself. I wanted to talk to him about a few things.”

  “What’s wrong?” Terry asked.

  She looked down at him. “Oh, it’s nothing, don’t worry. You have to go inside now, that’s all.”

  “You’re not coming in?”

  “I’m afraid not,” said the man. “She’s not permitted.”

  “It’s all right,” Mother said, cupping her hand over his cheek. “They’ll take care of you in there.”

  But it’s just school, Terry thought. “I’ll see you tonight, though, right?”

  She bent down and embraced him tightly, more than she had in a long time. He couldn’t help but relax. “I’m sorry, Terrance. Please be careful up there. I know you don’t understand it now, but you will eventually. Everything will be fine.” She rose, releasing his hand for the first time since they left the train. “So that’s it?” Mother said to the man.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Good.” She turned and walked away, pausing a moment as she reached the corner and continued until she was out of sight.

  The man pulled out a board with a piece of paper on it. “When you go through here, head straight to the back of the hall. A guard there will take you to see Colonel Bishop. Just do what they say and answer everything with either ‘Yes, sir’ or ‘No, sir,’ and you’ll be fine. Understand?”

  Terry didn’t understand, but he nodded anyway.

  The man pushed open the door with his arm and leg, holding it there and waiting. “Right through here you go,” he said.

  Terry entered, reluctantly, and the door closed quickly behind him.

  The building, full of the same metal and shades of brown and gray that held together the rest of the city, rose higher than any other building Terry had ever been in. Around the room, perched walkways circled the walls, cluttered with doors and hallways that branched off into unknown regions. Along the walkways, dozens of people walked back and forth as busily as they had in the train station. More importantly, Terry quickly realized, most of them were men.

  For so long, the only men he had seen were the maintenance workers who came and went or the occasional teacher who visited the children when they were nearing their birthdays. It was so rare to see any men at all, especially in such great numbers. Maybe they’re all teachers, he thought. They weren’t dressed like the workers: white coats and some with brown jackets—thick jackets with laced boots and bodies as stiff as the walls. Maybe that was what teachers wore. How could he know? He had never met one besides Mr. Huxley, and that was months ago.

  “Well, don’t just stand there gawking,” said a voice from the other end of the room. It was another man, dressed the same as the others. “Go on in through here.” He pointed to another door, smaller than the one Terry had entered from. “Everyone today gets to meet the colonel. Go on now. Hurry up. You don’t want to keep him waiting.”

  Terry did as the man said and stepped through the doorway, his footsteps clanking against the hard metal floor, echoing through what sounded like the entire building.

  “Well, come in, why don’t you?” came a voice from inside.

  Terry stepped cautiously into the room, which was much nicer than the entranceway. It was clean, at least compared to some of the other places Terry had been, including his own home. The walls held several shelves, none of which lacked for any company of things. Various ornaments caught Terry’s eye, like the little see-through globe on the shelf nearest to the door, which held a picture of a woman’s face inside, although some of it was faded and hard to make out. There was also a crack in it. What purpose could such a thing have? Terry couldn’t begin to guess. Next to it lay a frame with a small, round piece of metal inside of it. An inscription below the glass read, “U.S. Silver Dollar, circa 2064.” Terry could easily read the words, but he didn’t understand them. What was this thing? And why was it so important that it needed to be placed on a shelf for everyone to look at?

  “I said come in,” said Bishop abruptly. He sat at the far end of the room behind a large brown desk. Terry had forgotten he was even there. “I didn’t mean for you to stop at the door. Come over here.”

  Terry hurried closer, stopping a few feet in front of the desk.

  “I’m Colonel Bishop. You must be Terrance,” said the man. “I’ve been wondering when you were going to show up.” He wore a pair of thin glasses and had one of the larger pads in his hand. “Already seven. Imagine that.”

  “Yes, sir,” Terry said, remembering the doorman’s words.

  The colonel was a stout man, a little wider than the others. He was older too, Terry guessed. He may have been tall, but it was difficult to tell without seeing his whole body. “I expect you’re hoping to begin your classes now,” said Bishop.

  “Yes, sir,” he said.

  “You say that, but you don’t really know what you’re saying yes to, do you?”

  The question seemed more like a statement, so Terry didn’t answer. He only stood there. Who was this man? Was this how school was supposed to be?

  “Terrance, let me ask you something,” said the colonel, taking a moment. “Did your mother tell you anything about this program you’re going into?”

  Terry thought about the question for a moment. “Um, she said you come to school on your birthday,” he said. “And that it’s just like it is at home, except there’s more kids like me.”

  Colonel Bishop blinked. “That’s right, I suppose. What else did she say?”

  “That when it was over, I get to go back home,” he said.

  “And when did she say that was?”

  Terry didn’t answer.

  Colonel Bishop cocked an eyebrow. “Well? Didn’t she say?”

  “No, sir,” muttered Terry.

  The man behind the desk started chuckling. “So you don’t know how long you’re here for?”

  “No, sir.”

  Colonel Bishop set the pad in his hand down. “Son, you’re here for the next ten years.”

  A sudden rush swelled up in Terry’s chest and face. What was Bishop talking about? Of course Terry was going home. He couldn’t stay here. “But I promised my sister I’d be home today,” he said. “I have to go back.”

  “Too bad,” said the colonel. “Your mother really did you a disservice by not telling you. But don’t worry. We just have to get you started.” He tapped the pad on his desk, and the door opened. A cluster of footsteps filled the hall before two large men appeared, each wearing the same brown coats as the rest. “Well, that was fast,” he said.

  One of the men saluted. “Yes, sir. No crying with the last one. Took her right to her room without incident.”

  Terry wanted to ask who the last one was, and why it should be a good thing that she didn’t cry. Did other kids cry when they came to this school? What kind of place was this?

  “Well, hopefully, Terrence here will do the same,” said Bishop. He looked at Terry. “Right? You’re not going to give us any trouble, are you?”

  Terry didn’t know what to do or what to say. All he could think about was getting far away from here. He didn’t want to go with the men. He didn’t want to behave. All he wanted to do was go home.

  But he couldn’t, not anymore. He was here in this place with nowhere to go. No way out. He wanted to scream, to yell at the man behind the desk and his two friends, and tell them about how stupid it was for them to do what they were doing.

  He opened his mouth to explain, to scream as loud as he could that he wouldn’t go. But in that moment, the memory of the doorman came back to him, and instead of
yelling, he repeated the words he’d been told before. “No, sir,” he said softly.

  Bishop smiled, nodding at the two men in the doorway. “Exactly what I like to hear.”

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  About the Author

  J. N. Chaney has a Master’s of Fine Arts in creative writing and fancies himself quite the Super Mario Bros. fan. When he isn’t writing or gaming, you can find him online at www.jnchaney.com.

  He migrates often but was last seen in Avon Park, Florida. Any sightings should be reported, as they are rare.

  Warrior is his twentieth novel.

 

 

 


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