by Tarah Benner
“Harvard! Horwitz!” yells a voice. “On the mat.”
The angry lieutenant from the Recon welcome wagon is standing off to the side, arms folded across his chest. He isn’t wearing his full fatigues — just the gray pants and a tight black T-shirt that shows off his chiseled arms.
“His name’s Eli Parker,” Lenny whispers. “A friend of mine was in his recruit class. He’s the youngest lieutenant in Recon. He’s only like . . . twenty-four.”
“He’s an ass.”
Lenny makes a low sound in her throat that I think is a growl. “A sexy ass.”
I stifle my laughter and follow her over to where the tiny blond girl and the weird-looking burnout kid with the spiky hair are already standing in line.
Before we reach them, Eli points to a line of peeling tape on the mat. I roll my eyes and put my heels on the tape, feeling like an idiot.
I didn’t study three years for Systems so I could stand on a line like a kid in gym class.
Up close, I can see that Eli’s sharp features are actually handsome. And Lenny’s right — he has an okay ass. But with that permanent scowl on his face, he’s way too sour to qualify as hot. His intense blue eyes scrape over us, scanning for weakness, and I feel the hatred bubbling in my gut.
“You got any lip for me today, Horwitz?” he asks.
“No,” says Lenny.
“No, what?”
“No, sir.”
Eli just stands there, eyes boring into her. Finally Bear arrives, slightly out of breath from power walking down here. He lines up on the tape on my other side, and Eli claps his hands together.
“All right. Day one.” He pauses for effect. “Cadets! Look around you.”
I glance at Bear and Lenny, who both look as nervous as I feel.
“What do you see?”
Nobody says anything.
“Harvard!”
I’m going to punch him. I’m going to punch him in his handsome face.
“Yes, sir,” I say through gritted teeth.
Eli’s sizing me up, baiting me. “What do you see?”
“I see there’s only five of us.”
“Right!” He smacks his hands together again. “Two of your little friends already punched their one-way tickets out of here.” His eyes dart down the line, lingering for a second on each of us. “This is your last chance to crawl away and join them.”
He waits.
“No? No takers?”
Silence.
“Great. You belong to me now. Every moment you are in this room, from oh-eight hundred until twelve hundred and thirteen hundred until seventeen hundred, you do as I say. If you train hard and listen, you may live longer.”
“Sir?”
I glance to my left, where Bear is still standing with both his heels touching the piece of tape on the floor. He looks terrified, and I’m actually amazed that Recon found fatigues big enough to fit his bulk.
Eli whips around as though seeing him for the first time. “What is it, Kelso?”
Bear’s huge round face grows a little paler, and a line of perspiration forms above his lip. He swallows and speaks again in a strained voice.
“Could you be more specific? Only . . . only you haven’t really told us why we’re going to die.”
Eli smirks, which is a little off-putting, and he nods in approval.
“Good question. I told you all to forget everything you think you know about Recon. I’m sure you all learned about our efforts to gauge the relative ‘livability’ of the outside world in school. They tell you it’s our job to keep an accurate estimate on the Habitation Clock, counting down the days until we can crawl out of this glass box and run free in the wild.”
He rolls his eyes, as though he thinks this is a waste of time.
“That’s all true, but gathering information about radiation levels, soil composition, and air quality are just a small part of what you’ll actually be doing.” He frowns. “Your main task is defending this compound.”
“Defending the compound against what?” I blurt before I can stop myself.
Eli shifts his attention to me, rooting me where I stand with a piercing stare, as though he’s deciding whether my outburst constitutes curiosity or insubordination.
He seems to make a decision and takes two long strides toward me. When he speaks, his voice is a cold whisper. “You’re First Gen, Harvard. I’m surprised you haven’t asked before.”
All the blood rushes to my head and inflames my face. I can feel it pounding in my ears. The fury is too strong — stronger than I’ve ever felt. I clench my fists until my nails dig into my palms so I don’t deck him across the face.
“I’m sorry,” he says, clearly not sorry at all. “Did I strike a nerve?”
I don’t say anything, but I can feel myself shaking.
He turns to the rest of the group. “What do you all think happened to the people who were left out there?” His voice is deadly quiet. “The people they didn’t let in?”
“Th-They went to the other compounds,” stammers Bear.
“All of them?” Eli pauses for a beat, standing completely still. “No. Saving everyone wasn’t an option.”
“They all died,” says Lenny in a quiet voice. “Eventually.”
“You would think so, wouldn’t you? Anyone still alive out there when Death Storm hit should have died. Recon operatives who have prolonged exposure to the outside environment often develop radiation poisoning or cancer. A few early operatives who stumbled into red zones got exposed to such a high dose of radiation that they died within days. So how are they doing it?”
“Who?”
“The drifters — the people who are still alive out there.”
“I’ve never seen anyone out there,” says Lenny, a note of challenge and desperation in her voice. “There’s nothing out there on the Fringe.”
“You’ve never seen anyone out there because of Recon. We patrol the perimeter to keep anyone from getting too close. Gangs of drifters have attempted to sabotage the compound in the past, and once, they almost succeeded.” He raises an eyebrow. “Defending this compound is your job.”
“Parker!” snaps a voice from behind us.
We all turn, and I see the same diminutive woman who bid on me at the ceremony.
“Commander,” says Eli with a quick nod.
“Is it story time, or are these cadets here to train?”
“I’m just bringing them up to speed.”
“Please save your excuses for someone else, Parker. Are they soldiers, or are they as useless as they look?”
“They’re new recruits, Commander. I’m just —”
“Stop wasting my investment,” she snaps. “Show me I got my money’s worth.”
I feel the commander’s eyes boring into my forehead, and I look up, forcing myself to meet her sharp gaze.
“This one cost a fortune. And for what? A forty-six?” She shakes her head. “I don’t think so. There must be some reason she appeared at the top of my list.”
My face is burning, but I’m too curious to care. What list is she talking about?
Eli claps his hands together. “Right. Your training starts now.” He turns to me. “Riley! Front and center.”
When he says my name, the anger roars low in my stomach. Of course he would drop the “Harvard” bullshit to look good in front of Jayden.
I step forward and turn to face him. As he towers over me with that smug look on his face, I wonder if Recon always singles out a recruit just to instill fear in the others.
He takes a step to the side and circles me, looking me up and down as though searching for weakness.
“Well?” snaps the commander. “Are you going to fight or ask her to dance?”
Eli sighs. I hear the mat give behind me, and suddenly he has his arm around my neck, choking off my airway.
I gag and stagger backward, flailing around, but his grip doesn’t loosen.
“The element of surprise . . . is what will kill y
ou ninety percent of the time,” says Eli. He squeezes harder, and I feel my eyes watering. “Don’t let this happen again.”
I force myself to focus through the panic and tap his arm, hoping he just grabbed me as a scare tactic. But he doesn’t let go. All my muscles seize in response, and I feel the fear shooting up my chest.
“Come on, Harvard,” he growls into my ear. “Figure it out.”
I struggle, but the lack of oxygen is making my brain fuzzy.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Lenny staring at me, her mouth hanging open. The commander has her arms folded across her chest. She looks pleased.
All my limbs jerk haphazardly as Eli drags me around the mat like a rag doll. With a huge amount of effort, I swing my elbow back as hard as I can. I feel it connect with Eli’s abdomen, but it might as well be a brick wall. He doesn’t budge.
“Never took you for a sweetheart, Harvard.” He leans back, lifting my feet off the ground.
A horrible sound escapes my throat. My entire upper body is burning. I jab my elbow back again, trying to shake loose of his grip. I feel his whole body behind me, supporting my weight, but he is unshakeable.
I kick a leg back, but it just grazes his knee. There is no oxygen in my body. I feel my brain shutting down.
Suddenly I’m on the ground, choking and retching on all fours.
“Pathetic,” the commander snarls. “You’re dead, Riley. Parker just killed you.”
I glare up at her, still unable to suck in enough air to form a response.
Eli’s eyes are locked on mine, but they’re no longer gleaming with satisfaction. What is that look?
“You want another go?” he snaps.
I really don’t, but my body is moving without any direction from my brain. I’m on my feet, striding toward him and preparing to strike.
Eli smirks, backing up just fast enough to stay out of my reach. Then he stops, and without thinking — without considering the fact that he’s my commanding officer — I swing out a balled fist, aiming for his jaw.
Eli slips sideways to avoid the brunt of my hit, and I feel my hand glance off the side of his face.
Before I can prepare myself, Eli’s leg shoots out. He kicks me just above the kneecap, and I collapse. His foot comes at me again, but I roll away on the filthy mat, panting and heaving like crazy.
I stagger to my feet, but I haven’t even regained my balance when his leg comes from behind me, sweeping me off my feet again. I hit the ground on my side, and the pain reverberates up my ribcage.
I roll onto my stomach in silent agony, trying to regain my breath.
Eli’s face appears above me. “You had enough, Cadet?”
I won’t look at him. I’m still summoning the strength to get to my feet, and then Eli is gone. He isn’t talking to me anymore, but I hear the hum of his voice nearby. He’s addressing the others. Something about surprise. This is what you’re up against.
Tears burn my cheeks, and I wipe them away furiously. My skin feels too hot, and I’m shaking uncontrollably.
I can’t believe what just happened.
“You’re going to have to be tougher than that, Riley,” says the commander from somewhere off to the side.
White-hot anger surges through me. She’s the reason I’m here, and she’s taunting me. But before I can retort, she’s gone. I hear the other cadets’ anxious voices, but then they start to trickle out, too.
Eli is back. He’s kneeling in front of me, looking at me with those sharp eyes. He looks . . . worried?
“Harvard!”
With all the energy I have left, I swing my fist out and collide with the side of his face harder than I’d ever thought possible.
“Don’t call me Harvard.”
seven
Eli
I’m not surprised when Harper doesn’t return to training after lunch. I try to ignore her absence, but the other cadets don’t say a word for the rest of the day.
Even though Jayden’s appearance should have spurred me to train them more ruthlessly, I just can’t summon my harsh, cold alter ego after knocking Harper on her ass.
I knew she was crazy and aggressive enough to take the bait, and part of me was curious to see how the legendary Institute shit-starter fared on her first day in a fight. But I scared the crap out of her, and the memory of it fills me with a sick sense of shame. I should never have let Jayden goad me into it.
I’m relieved and a little impressed that Harper hit me. It shows she has a spine.
The rest of the cadets . . . I’m not so sure. I work them until they’re bone tired, and they all disperse at the sound of the quitting bell before I formally dismiss them.
That isn’t good. I can’t let a little remorse destroy my authority.
I work out through the dinner bell and prowl the training center like a caged animal. I’m not hungry. There’s no room for hunger with this sick feeling in the pit of my stomach.
Finally, the desperation gets the better of me. I grab my bag and head toward the maintenance tunnel that runs adjacent to the Underground. The stench of sweat, blood, and old mats hits my nostrils, and the sides of the tunnel press in closer on either side.
When the tunnel opens up and the dimly lit room comes into focus, the sick feeling in my gut gets a little bit stronger. Two Recon guys are squaring off in the ring, one looking a little worse for the wear. Lopez has his shiny bald head between the ropes, shouting directions at his guy in the ring. But when I walk in, Lopez meets my gaze and sneers.
The room isn’t as packed as it was on Bid Day Eve, but they’ve attracted a decent-sized crowd of lower-ranked Recon operatives. A few turn around to stare at me when I walk in. I know how I must look: drenched with sweat, pissed off, that crazy gleam in my eyes.
I don’t recall asking Lopez to fight. You don’t really ask Lopez anything. But when his guy finally hits the mat, the drunken spectators shove me toward the ring, and Lopez throws me a glare that says he’s looking for payback.
The last time we fought, I laid him out for a week. But I wasn’t looking to lose that time. Tonight, I’m not so sure.
Lopez is one mean son of a bitch, which makes him lethal in a fight. He’s short and stocky, but he’s as strong as an ox. He doesn’t drop his gaze as I yank off my shirt and pull on some gloves. He’s watching me like a predator as I climb into the ring, and a tiny voice in the back of my head urges me to walk away.
But then somebody hits the bell, and I lunge at him as if my life depends on it.
I’m drunk on my own self-pity, and I barely block his wild haymaker. Lopez isn’t as strong as Miles, but he’s much more scrappy. His swings are random, hard, and fueled by rage.
One of his punches connects with the side of my jaw, and I grin hazily at what Harper will think when she sees that bruise tomorrow. It’s the same place she hit me earlier.
She hates me and she doesn’t even know me, but I know everything about her. I read her permanent file. Talk about the poster child for charm school. Lots of fighting in the Institute. Lots of hair pulling.
It’s not surprising. The Institute is for Fringe kids and any tier-three children who are conceived by accident or stupidity. The compound doesn’t need any laws to keep tier-three workers from starting families, though Recon and ExCon expressly forbid it. No tier-three workers can afford to support a child on what they make. What you get is a bunch of unsupervised, parentless little thugs. Most of them self-destruct, either with drugs or by failing out of their classes and ending up in the same sections their parents were in.
But Harper is smart as hell. She desperately wanted to escape that place, just as I had.
Lopez swings out wildly, and I block his hit and counter with a fierce jab cross of my own. He isn’t as fast as me, and I nail him right in the side of the face.
The crowd lets out an angry jeer. Lopez staggers backward, and I aim a kick above the knee. He buckles but doesn’t go down.
Harper probably doesn’t remember, but I met h
er once about six years ago. I was just weeks from aging out of the Institute, and she was probably fifteen. Worlds collide in the headmaster’s office.
I was nursing a black eye, about to be issued yet another demerit for fighting. She was sitting in the chair next to me with her tangled dark hair spilling everywhere, knees scuffed under her skirt, looking as though she didn’t give a shit.
She knew I was staring at her. Even then she was hot. She looked over, cool as can be, and spit blood into a napkin.
Harper walked out of the headmaster’s office that day with a black mark on her record, but I heard the other kid spent a week in the medical ward. I all but forgot about Harper Riley after that — until she appeared on a list of recommended recruits for Recon.
She fascinated me because she and I are the same: Both of us came into the compound with nothing, and both of us desperately wanted to achieve something.
When that Recon worker brought me into the compound, I thought I’d been given a gift — a chance to live life on my own terms. That was before I encountered the meat grinder of Bid Day.
I didn’t get a bid from Control, but I swore to myself I’d be good at something — even if that something was killing drifters and teaching cadets to do it.
But the meat grinder doesn’t stop when you’re recruited. It keeps tearing you apart until the day you die.
Lost in thought, I let my glove slip down. Lopez sees his opening and lands one hell of a punch. But there’s so much adrenalin coursing through my veins that the pain barely registers.
I lunge forward and manage to get him in a headlock, but his right elbow is vicious. I groan and let go of him, planting an uppercut in his abdomen as he slithers away.
Lopez is on the ropes, but I don’t stop. I keep pummeling him in the gut and then strike an elbow across his face. His head swings to the side, and a few beads of sweat slide off his polished bald head. He has a hawk tattooed down the middle of his skull. Suddenly that hawk is flying at me, and I yell as he headbutts me in the chin.
My neck snaps back, and the jarring sensation is enough to shake me out of my stupor. As I stagger backward, he throws out his right foot and connects with my leg. It folds under me, useless and weak.
