Zombie Night In Canada (Book 2): 2nd Period

by Friesen, Jamie

“What the fuck are you going on about Professor?” Xander asked.

  “I’ve lived here for eight years and I still can’t get over your fucking Monopoly money!”

  “Oh, for fuck sakes! It’s coloured so it can’t be counterfeited,” Xander replied.

  “Who the hell is going to counterfeit Canadian money? It’s practically worthless…” Thomas said.

  “You’re free to hand over that worthless money any time!”

  “Fuck that! It may be worthless, but it’s mine, asshole,” Thomas shot back.

  Xander replied, “For someone so worldly and educated, you should know that pretty much every other currency in the world is multi-coloured. It’s only the American one that is one colour – monotone green. Every time I got American dollars, I get a flashback to the shitty Apple IIe computer my parents had with that stupid green monitor.”

  “What are you going on a-boot?” Thomas replied.

  “Oh for fuck’s sakes! An American somewhere heard one fucking Canadian say it that way because they had a fucking cold or something and suddenly you all think we talk that way. Have you ever heard an ‘a-boot’ here in Edmonton?”

  “Uh, no, not really.”

  “Exactly, but if you want to get into it, you guys pronounce words fucked up too!” Xander shot back.

  “Oh really? It’s because you don’t speak American is all,” Thomas said.

  “American? Really, it’s English, not American!”

  “I know that, but sometimes it’s just fun to push your buttons. But please, do go on about all the fucked up words we pronounce.”

  “Okay, how about roof. Every time I hear an American say t, it sounds like ruff. That’s the noise a dog makes. Everyone knows it’s pronounced roooof, not ruff,” Xander said. “Fuck, even on TV they say roof, not ruff!”

  “Okay, ya got me there.”

  “Same goes for been, you guys pronounce it bin, like trash bin. I bin to New York City. Talk about fucking hicks…”

  “What a minute,” Thomas interrupted.

  I’m not finished Mr. Smarty Pants. Let’s not forget the last letter of the alphabet. It’s Zed, not zee. That’s the way it’s been since anyone started speaking English. Or was that pronunciation part of the Declaration of Independence?”

  “Actually, I think it was the 7th Amendment…” Thomas said.

  “I think you’re full of shit, but luckily for you, I can’t go to Wikipedia and prove it,” Xander said. “And what about ya’ll? It’s pronounced you all.”

  “Now, that isn’t fair. If you want to bring up regional slang, then I’ll bring up Newfoundland…”

  Xander put his hands up in mock supplication, “Okay, okay fair enough. Truce?”

  “Until next time!” Thomas said.

  “Fine, I’m going to shave, shit, and shower and get to sleep. Corporal Yang said I need my rest,” Xander quipped.

  “Corporal Yang?” Thomas said, his left eyebrow rising.

  “Yeah, she was the medic who looked me over today. Jack may be a moron who puts his foot in his mouth all the time, but he’s right on one thing, she’s smoking hot.”

  “Lucky you, but don’t go jerking off in the shower, we all have to share it!”

  “Don’t worry, if I plan to jerk off, I’ll make sure to shoot my load on your cot!”

  “Yeah, you would, you fucking fag!”

  “Now, now, nice educated elites like yourself shouldn’t be labeling people like that, or you might lose your NDP membership card. Don’t you care about gender equality?” Xander shot back. “Looks like you can take the boy out of the trailer park, but not the trailer park out of the boy!”

  “Ah, I’m too tired for this shit,” Thomas said as he walked away shaking his head.

  Chapter 20

  November 10th

  “Lucky fucker!” Thomas said at breakfast.

  “What do you mean?” Xander asked.

  “Light fucking duty that’s what! Fucking lucky fucker, I wish I got to fucking sit on my ass all day long.”

  “First off asshole, it’s only a few days. It just means when you guys are lifting weights, I’ll be on the treadmill. I still have to do everything else you do, fucker,” Xander replied.

  “Whatever you lazy fuck.”

  Xander shook his head and kept eating, finishing quickly. Most of the section was taking their time and putting more effort into chatting than eating.

  “Come on, guys,” Xander said. “Hustle up or you’re going to wind up with a hundred and fifty push-ups like I did.”

  “Nah, I doubt it. Since you went down yesterday, they’ve been cutting us all some slack,” Jack replied.

  “If you think that’s going to last, you’re fucking dumber than you look Jack.”

  “Whatever Mom,” Jack replied and returned to his conversation with Frank.

  Xander shrugged and left. As he was clearing his tray, Thomas came up behind him.

  “What’s Jack’s problem?” Xander asked.

  “Ah, word got around that Corporal Yang checked you out yesterday and Gilligan is upset because he thinks he is God’s gift to women,” Thomas said.

  “Jesus Christ, this isn’t high school. It’s not like she gave me a blowjob or something,” Xander fumed.

  “Don’t worry, he’s a special little snowflake whose feelings are hurt. I’m sure in a day or two, he’ll forget all about it. I mean, he’s not exactly the sharpest knife in the drawer, is he?” Thomas said with a smile, then slapped Xander on the shoulder. “Now let’s get outside before the good Corporal can yell at us.”

  “Good idea.”

  Xander and Thomas went outside and formed up, waiting for the rest of the section to finish. Philip, Andrew, and Mack came out a minute later, with Frank following shortly thereafter. Corporal Crozier showed up next, and growled, “Where the fuck is Ashton?”

  Nobody said a word.

  Five minutes later, Jack sauntered out of the mess hall with a contented look on his face and formed up.

  “Well Recruit Ashton, so nice you could join us. Now drop and give me twenty-five push-ups!”

  Jack’s smile disappeared and he dropped and pounded out his punishment, then stood at attention.

  “Okay gents, now that that is out of the way, let’s have another go at the obstacle course. Right Face! Forward march!”

  The section did three runs on the obstacle course, during all of which Xander was only allowed to run alongside his section mates, outside the actual obstacles. While he could provide tips and cheer them on, he wasn’t able to actually help them overcome any obstacles. Possibly because of that, the section’s scores were amongst the lowest posted so far on the course.

  “Goddammit you worthless assholes! I expect this section to have the best score in the platoon, if not the company! Maybe push-ups will motivate you lazy dogfuckers, drop and give me twenty-five!” Corporal Crozier screamed.

  Everyone but Xander dropped and did push-ups. Corporal Crozier added a half dozen extra push-ups then let the recruits stand up. The section jogged back to the parade square where it re-joined the rest of the platoon and they spent the rest of the morning practicing drill on the parade square.

  --------

  After lunch, Xander’s platoon was finally issued their armour, just like the instructors had been wearing from the start. Given Xander’s light duty, they weren’t going to issue his, but he fought and argued and bitched until the armourer relented.

  “If you go down again Barnes, there’s going to be hell to pay, and it won’t be my ass on the line,” Corporal Crozier growled.

  “Yes Corporal. Trust me, I can handle this!”

  “You’ll need to sign this medical form then Barnes,” the armourer said.

  Once it had been issued, they were told they would be wearing it from dusk to dawn, from after PT to after supper. Some of the recruits grumbled about that, but Xander thought it had more to do with the lack of physical conditioning and overall softness of the majority of the recru
its. For him, it was a little more bulky than his own hockey equipment, but not by much.

  “Hey, at least it’s easy to get this down so we can take a piss or a dump,” Xander interjected at one point during the fitting.

  “Fuck off Barnes!” Someone shot back at him.

  Can’t blame a guy for trying to lighten the mood, Xander thought but wisely didn’t say.

  After more than an hour of fitting and testing, the armourer declared the platoon was ready to go.

  “Alright assholes, you heard the man, get your lazy asses outside and form up!” Master Corporal Girardi bellowed over the din.

  --------

  That afternoon, the platoon spent an hour practicing marching. When it seemed like most everyone had it down pat, the instructors switched things up.

  “Okay numbnuts, now we’re going to teach you the shit you need to survive outside the fence! So pay attention and learn how to do it right the first time, because if you fuck up out there, it’s not just your ass on the line, it’s the lives of everyone else in your section, maybe even your platoon,” Master Corporal Girardi barked.

  “The first movement you will learn is ‘Shield Wall’. This tactic was used throughout the medieval period and forms a wall of steel between you and your enemy. You will raise your shield chest high, and bring you mace up, and ready to strike. Then you will close ranks and stand shoulder to shoulder. Okay let’s practice!”

  And so they practiced for more than an hour, with the instructors screaming at recruits who messed up. This happened quite often, given the complexity of the movement. While Xander had been screamed at, that was all that happened. Several recruits, including both Jack and MacEachern had been shouted at multiple times and been struck by the frustrated instructors and their pace sticks. However, because they were wearing armour, neither one cried out after being hit.

  “Okay, not bad Second Platoon! Now it’s time for a little jog, holster weapons!”

  The recruits hurried to sheath their maces.

  “Attention!”

  Forty pairs of boots slammed to the ground in unison.

  Master Corporal Girardi smiled slightly, then shouted, “Right Face,” quickly followed by “On the double!” and took off at a slower pace than usual.

  Despite the slow pace, jogging with the newer, heavier mace and shield was difficult for all of the recruits, even Xander, and around the two kilometre mark, Master Corporal Girardi shouted, “Forward March,” then slowed to a slow march.

  Many recruits were panting and breathing quite hard as they marched. The march continued until they were in front of the barracks, then Master Corporal Girardi shouted, “Platoon halt!”

  The platoon stopped sharply.

  “Okay platoon, I realize that run was pretty hard, given your new equipment, but by the end of your training, all of you are expected to be able to jog five klicks in your gear. While that may seem like a lot, it is far less than trained Army recruits are expected to be capable of at the end of their training. They are expected to run a minimum of ten kilometres while carrying up to sixty pounds of equipment in their rucksack, and in a timely fashion! Now, you all have fifteen minutes to relieve yourselves and drink some water. See your section leaders when you return outside, dismissed!”

  The recruits filed into the barracks and took turns using the toilets and rehydrating. Xander heard a couple recruits puking instead. Xander got outside and joined Thomas and Frank who were already waiting. Jack raced outside seconds later, apparently having learned his lesson in wasting time. Everyone was standing in ranks when Corporal Crozier returned.

  “It’s about goddamned time you were all assembled and ready to go! Attention!”

  “Left face!”

  “Forward march!”

  Corporal Crozier led them off the parade ground and into the field.

  “Section halt! Okay, now we’re going to work on section tactics,” he said.

  “First things first, we need to determine our assault groups. Okay, Wyndham and Hoffmeier are Assault Group Bravo, Barnes and Skinner are Assault Group Charlie, and Bigelow and McCauley, are Assault Group Delta. Ashton, you’re with me in Assault Group Alpha, where I can keep an eye on your dumbass!”

  Over the preceding week during weapons practice, assault groups had been randomly assigned, but Xander for one was thankful not to be paired with Jack.

  “But…” Jack started.

  “Shut up fuckhead! If I want your opinion, I’ll give it to you! These are now your permanent assault groups, so each of you pair up!”

  Thomas moved to stand beside Xander, as the other recruits also moved into their pairings.

  “Good, ready your maces and raise your shields. Now strike in unison!”

  Even though they had practiced this exact same move for almost a week, with the larger, heavier shield and new mace, it was more difficult than usual, and when Thomas and Xander swung their maces forward, they hit each other’s shields. The same thing happened to each of the other pairs.

  “Again!”

  As they practiced, Corporal Crozier shouted at them to anticipate each other’s actions, and over the next two hours, Thomas and Xander got pretty good at timing their strikes properly.

  “Not bad for your first day of real combat training, you fuck-ups,” Corporal Crozier conceded.

  --------

  The section was playing poker. Until yesterday, games had been friendly, but then they had gotten paid, and like most guys with too much money and nothing to spend it on, they gambled.

  Xander looked down at his hole cards and then the face up cards. One shitty little pair of eights. The hand was down to Thomas, Jack and himself.

  Probably have to fold, he thought to himself. Jack should be easy enough to bluff, but Thomas may be more difficult, so I have to find a way to distract him. Time to push a button or two.

  “Well, say what you want about the end of the world, but at least we don’t have to put up with all those hippies and their goddamned communism any longer,” Xander said.

  “Really? You want to get into this now?” Thomas asked.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Look, you right wing assholes may not like it, but Canada wasn’t a Communist country,” Thomas replied.

  “Sure it was, at least on some levels. The government took wealth from me and gave it to lazy, shiftless assholes who’d rather sit at home and smoke pot and play Xbox all fucking day rather than work and make a positive contribution to society,” Xander replied.

  “Look, communism is a much maligned style of government, but in theory, it's probably one of the best forms government could take,” Thomas said.

  “Are you crazy? Communism led to the deaths of millions of Russians, Chinese and other people around the world when it was practiced,” Xander said.

  “Those countries may have claimed to be communist, but that doesn't necessarily make it true. They were really dictatorships that used the cult of personality to stay in power. But if you really think about communism, it's a fine form of government. Everyone's need is taken care of by the state and nobody dies prematurely because they can't afford to eat or go to the hospital,” Thomas replied.

  “The problem with communism like so many other things is that human nature gets in the way. There will always be the chunk of people in the middle who just want a decent life and are willing to work just hard enough to get it. Those people by and large do okay no matter what type of government you have. The problem lies at the edges of that group. The lazy sponge off everyone and piss society off and make it harder for the government to deliver services, while the go-getters want more than just a house, three meals, and a happy little family. They want a nicer car, bigger house, and a trophy wife with fake tits. Those extremes always chafe at the government and create instability. That's why communism ultimately failed, not because of anything some politician did.”

  “Oh please, communism and its evil twin socialism, are terrible and led to all sorts o
f problems. Look at all the lazy people on welfare sponging off hard working saps like you and I. You also have the government introducing so many laws and regulations that companies can’t get anything done. And that means no jobs for anyone. In a capitalist system, that wouldn’t happen,” Xander replied.

  Thomas shook his head, “Look, anyone who thinks socialism is evil needs to look at the world they live. The snowplows that cleared the snow in winter – that’s socialism. The police who catch crooks and protect people from thieves and murderers – that’s socialism. The doctor who took care of you when you fell out of your treehouse and broke your arm – socialism.”

  “I never had a treehouse,” Xander said.

  “Shut the fuck up. Hell, this military base and all the troops on it – that’s socialism too. That’s the problem you crazy right wing nut jobs never seemed to understand – some forms of socialism are actually pretty desirable because they make society more livable. You think any of those Wall Street Greedoids would waste money on plowing snow or hiring cops? Fuck no, because there isn’t a profit to be had, which means no dividends, which means they don’t get a cut. Even ‘socialist’ ideas like labour laws are a good thing – unless you are in favour of having children work eighteen hours a day in a fucking coal mine or a sweatshop. That’s the way it used to be when capitalists controlled the economy a hundred and fifty years ago. ”

  “No, without a doubt the best system is the one we had – a mixed system, with a little capitalism and a little socialism. Together, they balance things out and eliminate the ills each system has inherent in it.”

  “Okay, okay professor, point made. Now shut the fuck up and either call or fold,” Xander said.

  Thomas looked at his cards again, “Fuck. I fold.”

  Jack folded without hesitation.

  Xander grinned and laid down his shitty cards, “Maybe you should have used that big fucking brain of yours to study poker instead of economics!”

  “Fucker!”