“I don’t think you know how momentous an occasion this is,” Bettina said to her in a stage whisper. Jaz threw Sarah’s pillow at her, which she had just finished stuffing into its pillowcase, hitting Bettina in the face.
“Shut-up.”
At that point the lights went out. Sarah sat down on her bed, suddenly feeling tired. She would have loved a shower but she didn’t know where it was and doubted she could find it in the dark. She didn’t even know if she was allowed to leave her room anyway.
“Hey, can someone throw my pillow back?”
It landed in her face with a soft thud.
“Thanks.”
She thought Jaz and Bettina continued talking, but she wasn’t sure, as two seconds later she was fast asleep.
Chapter Twelve
Sarah woke up next morning to a bell ringing in her ears. She groaned and covered her face with her pillow.
“Get up sleepy,” said Jaz. “Trust me, you don’t want to keep the Sarg waiting.”
Sarah groaned again and sat up. She realised she must have slept with her mouth open because it felt as dry as the desert. She also felt filthy. As she sat up she tried to remember the last time she actually had a shower. It was back at the camp. She must look gross. She didn’t even want to know how she smelt.
“Up, up, up!” prompted Jaz. She came over as Sarah rose to her feet and helped her quickly make the bed. Sarah was envious. Jaz was super-efficient first thing in the morning, with no wasted movement. And, Sarah noted with grudging admiration, not a hair was out of place. She reached a hand up to smooth down her own hair only to realise that the only thing that was going to help that tangled mess was a lot of conditioner and a very strong comb.
“Shower?” Sarah spoke the single word hopefully.
“Nope, not ‘till after dinner.” Jaz’s eyes darted up and down Sarah’s figure. She pulled a sympathetic face. “Sorry, looks like you need it.”
“Ah, that makes me feel so much better.”
She turned around and found Bettina had gotten up and made her bed, poorly, and was now sitting on it with her head in her hands. At least she didn’t look like a morning person either.
Someone had opened the door to the room and they could now see the boys stumble out of their room and head down the corridor. Bettina watched them go with sleepy eyes.
“Hey, Sarah, what’s with your friend’s hair? It’s white, and like, mega-weird.”
“Shut up,” said Sarah, a bit more viciously than she had intended. “Leave him alone.”
Bettina held her hands up in a placating gesture. “Ok, jeez, settle petal.” She gave Sarah a bleary smirk. “What’s with you two anyway? Are you a couple?”
Sarah found herself blushing. They had never actually talked about it. She didn’t actually know where they sat. She shrugged and muttered something non-committal.
“Yeah, right,” snorted Bettina. “Well, he is kind of hot, even with that hair.”
Sarah didn’t know how to reply, so she pretended that she hadn’t heard. Bettina stood up, stretching and yawning simultaneously.
“Let’s not be late, again,” muttered Jaz, pushing Bettina forward from behind. Bettina stumbled a little and then fell into place behind Jaz. Sarah followed them both out of the door and into the corridor. There were a few stragglers coming out of the dorms in front of them and heading outside, but they looked like they were the last few. They exited the building and Jaz immediately tugged Sarah’s arm, leading her to the left. Sarah blinked in surprise. It looked like all the recruits in the building were lined up against the front of the building in single file. They were yawning and chatting amongst themselves. Most hardly spared Sarah a glance. They slid into position on the extremity of the left arm of the line, apparently just in time. A large, solid looking man with a bald head strode into view and suddenly everyone snapped to attention. Sarah quickly imitated those around her. The man looked ferocious. There was no way she wanted to stick out in a crowd with him watching. The man was wearing military fatigues. He had a large nose and small ears, which might have been comical except for his small, mean eyes, which changed the whole look of his face. He looked deadly.
“The Sarg?” Sarah murmured softly to Jaz out of the corner of her mouth.
Jaz’s nod was barely perceptible, but it was there. Clearly she wasn’t willing to risk a verbal reply. Sarah took that as a cue and didn’t say anything else. The Sarg was walking down the line, heading towards them. He stopped in front of Sarah.
“Who are you?”
“Sarah, um, Pratchett, Sir.” Sarah couldn’t believe it. She had nearly forgotten her fake name. Unfortunately, the Sarg picked up on it.
“Um?” he practically bellowed at her in disbelief. “Um? Do you have problems remembering your name, recruit? Are you so damn stupid that you had to think twice about your name?” A small amount of spit landed on Sarah’s face. It took all her willpower not to wipe it off. Sarah didn’t reply. She figured that any attempt to apologise or try and excuse herself would just make it worse. “And why are you so filthy?” he now bellowed, changing topic. Sarah blinked in surprise at that one. She would have thought most of the recruits would be getting dirty at some point. Her eyes flickered quickly over the man in front of her. His clothes were obviously ironed to perfection. His badges were probably pinned with the precision of a level, so that they were perfectly horizontal. Great, she thought with an internal sigh. The man was a neat freak. Sarah opened her mouth to reply but was thankfully cut off by the sound of Buchey’s voice cutting through the air.
“She’s a new recruit, Sarg,” said Buchey. The Sarg whirled around at the voice, allowing Sarah to see behind him for the first time. Buchey was striding towards him. She looked confident and collected, clearly not worried about having to deal with the Sarg. “She only came in last night, along with the other one.”
The Sarg raised his eyebrows at the mention of the ‘other one’ and quickly scanned the line of people. It didn’t take him long to pick out Finn.
“Are you kidding me?” he bellowed as he approached Finn like a bull intent on doing some damage. “You think we allow people to dye their hair like that?”
Finn flushed. “It’s not dye, Sir, my hair is like this naturally.”
“Bullshit.” yelled Sarg. He reached Finn and grabbed a handful of white hair, pulling Finn’s head in for a closer look. Finn had given a surprised grunt but otherwise didn’t resist too much. Sarah just stared at them in surprise. What was the Sarg doing? Looking for regrowth? The thought almost caused her to giggle. Apparently the Sarg wasn’t able to see what he wanted to and so shoved back Finn’s head violently.
“Get it sorted, recruit!” he snarled at Finn.
“But if we’re not allowed dye…” began Finn through gritted teeth, the question obvious.
“I said get it sorted!” bellowed the Sarg, inches away from Finn’s face. Thankfully, this time Finn stayed silent. The Sarg moved on and finished his inspection of the line, now and then straightening the clothes or posture of the recruits. He then disappeared into the building, his stride long.
“He’s gone to check out the bunks,” whispered Jaz, hardly moving her mouth. “If it’s messy, he ruins your life. The boys had to run for three hours straight yesterday.”
“Pratchett, Simmons,” commanded Buchey, “you’re with me.”
Sarah and Finn stepped out of line and approached Buchey. She stalked off without looking back, expecting them to follow, which they did. They didn’t have to travel far. Buchey stopped at the next building. It was squat like the others, only smaller. There were two doors. One had a female figure on the front, the other a male.
“Sarg was right. You two are filthy. You have,” she paused to look at her military watch, “three minutes to shower and change. Clothes are in there. I’ll be waiting outside. If you’re not here in three minutes I’ll come in and get you, no matter what state of undress you’re in. Go.” They didn’t need to be told twice. The w
omen’s side had ten cubicles, each with its own shower and change area. In the first cubicle military pants, top, socks and underwear were neatly folded on a simple bench. A pair of military boots was neatly placed below. Sarah stripped off and got into the shower. She turned it on, waited for the cold water to turn hot and then stood it. It felt like bliss. She showered quickly, keeping a mental count of how long she had. She was standing beside Buchey again, dried and dressed, with, according to her count, ten seconds to spare. Finn had already been waiting, his white hair still dripping all over his clothes. As soon as Sarah arrived Buchey strode off again. Sarah and Finn exchanged a look and followed.
“I will not be giving you a tour. You can work that out for yourselves later,” said Buchey. “There are, however, some things you need to know. Any alliance you may have held in the past to any group or individual is void. You’re allegiance is now with us. If we find any evidence of treachery you will be punished, severely.” They arrived at a small open area where a lone figure was trudging around in a circle. A guard was watching him run impassively. “He shared information. He says he didn’t realise the importance of the information he shared, but it doesn’t matter. He’s been running for three days straight. Tomorrow we’re sending him to the front line, unarmed.” She looked at their shocked faces. “It’s not completely hopeless, he can take a weapon off a dead enemy or friendly,” she reassured them, “if he survives long enough.”
It didn’t reassure them at all. They walked on.
“That being said, those who are loyal and fight well for the cause are rewarded appropriately.” She grinned at them. “The perks can be quite good. So,” she summarised as they came to a halt again, “remember where your loyalties lie, and remember if you’re talking to someone who isn’t one of us, watch what you say. And if you hear of anybody else talking to people they maybe shouldn’t, it is your duty to report it. If you don’t, you’re just as liable and will receive the same punishment. Understood?”
They nodded. Buchey pointed at a group of recruits going through a series of exercises fifty metres away. Sarah could make out Jaz and Boulder doing star jumps at the back of a large group of other recruits.
“Go join your team,” she said. They did as she said.
“Well that sounded bloody terrifying,” mumbled Finn as they walked over.
“I know, right? Although seriously, when are we going to get an opportunity to talk to other people? Do they let us out on the town or something?”
Finn shrugged, unable to say anything more as the Sarg zeroed in on them while they were still twenty metres away. Sarah saw his face change to malicious glee and sighed. She had been hoping that they could just quietly join the others at the back of the group without anyone noticing them.
“New recruits, here now!” he bellowed.
Awkwardly, not quite knowing what was expected of them, they increased their gate to a half-trot.
“What they hell is that, you brainless degenerates?” screamed the Sarg when they finally arrived in front of him. “When I say now, I mean NOW. YOU WILL USE YOUR SPINDLY PATHETIC LIMBS TO GET TO ME AS FAST AS HUMANLY POSSIBLY, AND THEN SOME. DO YOU UNDERSTAND?” The spit was flying thick and fast and it was taking all of Sarah’s control to keep the disgust off of her face.
“Yes, sir,” they said simultaneously.
“Good. NOW GET IN LINE.”
They jumped a little involuntarily but quickly joined the back of the group, more than glad to get away from the Sarg. Team 32 had been assigned to the back of the group. There were four other teams in front of them, looking a bit more coordinated than theirs. At the very front an older recruit was standing alone, facing them and leading them in all their exercise. They were doing star jumps at the moment. Sarah and Finn joined in, keeping the pace. The star jumps changes to push-ups, then crunches, then burpies. The push-ups were the worse. Sarg, who apparently spends his time insulting people on their techniques until they get it right or cry, had spent nearly the whole push up session by Sarah’s side, criticising her incessantly. When the lead recruit finally changed to crunches, Sarah could have cried in relief. She didn’t she think she was capable of doing a single further push up. By the time they finished Sarah was hurting in ways she didn’t know was possible.
“Form-up!” yelled the older recruit who had led the exercises. Sarah looked at him through the gap of bodies suddenly at attention. He had a light sheen of moisture coating his forehead, whereas everyone else around her looked like they had nearly drowned in their own sweat. “First four groups to the gym. Final group to the firing range.”
Grins broke out amongst the other members of Group 32. Bettina turned a happy smile towards Sarah. She noted her confusion with a raised eyebrow.
“They haven’t let us near a firearm the whole time we’ve been here,” said Bettina. “Looks like we’ll finally get to do something fun.”
“So what have you been doing instead?” asked Sarah as their group trotted away from the others, and thankfully, away from the Sarg.
“Push-ups. Climbing ropes. Cleaning boots. You know, shit-kicker stuff.”
The firing range, as it turned out, was on the far side of the compound. A range of targets were visible at the side closest to the surrounding forest. A large, solid building made of concrete and metal, that looked like it could have held off a bomb, sat to one side. It was guarded by a bored looking soldier carrying a rifle. He eyed them without much interest as they gathered around, full of nervous excitement. Sarah didn’t like guns as a rule, but she couldn’t help it, the feeling of nervous excitement was infective. She glanced at Finn. He had a funny look on his face that she couldn’t quite make out.
“Are you ok?” she asked.
He looked at her, slightly surprised. “Ah, yeah. ‘Course.”
She didn’t believe him.
Sarah was just about to say something more when a female soldier in her late twenties strode towards their group.
“My name is Yuki,” she announced as they all swivelled around to face her. Sarah noticed the guard straighten up slightly out of the corner of her eye. The soldier had perfect black hair and smooth, unblemished skin. She looked beautiful. “I will be teaching you how to shoot. Who has used a firearm before?”
As expected, Hutch and Jaz both raised their arms. To Sarah’s surprise, however, Ian also raised his. Judging by Bettina’s raised eyebrows, this was news to everyone. A small frown creased Yuki’s smooth forehead as she realised she had four complete novices to teach.
“Right. I have three months to teach you how to shoot with effect. The life of yourself and your teammates will depend on how you use your weapons and your supplies. Wasted bullets can and will kill you.” She paused to let that sink in. “And I will not tolerate any dicking around. If I see a single one of you not following safety procedures or wasting supplies, you will be running laps for the remainder of the three months. And you better hope you can learn from observing because you will not touch another weapon again until you are deployed. Do you understand me?”
“Yes, ma’am,” said the group in unison, Gillie half a step behind the others.
“Right. There are three main weapons that you need to know about and will be using first hand. Handgun,” she pulled out a handgun from a thigh holster, “knife,” she pulled out a switchblade from a sheaf on her belt, “and rifle,” she said, nodding to the guard behind them who was holding one.
Gillie’s hand shot up into the air. Yuki looked momentarily surprised before nodding at him. Sarah figured that no one had ever interrupted her before.
“But there are bullets, flashers, stunners, bees, stingers-” rattled off Gillie, but he was stopped by Yuki’s raised hand.
“Most of which are all able to be loaded into either your rifle or gun. Anything more specialised and we train those who we believe are capable to handle the different weapons. Understood?” Gillie nodded, his eyes wide and slightly fanatical looking. Ian was also looking particularly intense. It didn
’t take a psychologist to realise that both those boys were looking to be the teams’ resident weapons expert.
“Today, however, we are just going to use standard old bullets.”
Yuki strode over to the building that the guard had unlocked for her in preparation. Today you’ll get your knife and handgun. Not your rifle. You will look after them like your life depends on them, because it will. You will not get a replacement. You will also never leave the firing range with a single bullet still left in your gun. If you are found anywhere with bullets in your gun, it will be taken off you and not returned until a week after your deployment.” Sarah blinked at that one. It was a death sentence. “Rifles you will return to this building after every session in perfect condition. Am I understood?”
“Yes ma’am.”
They all stood in line and received their knife and gun. The knife was identical to Switchblade’s. All the knives opened and shut easily with a small movement of the wrist that they quickly mastered, except for Bettina’s, which stuck at 45 degrees. The guns were all identical. They were squarish and bulky, a dull grey colour. The Hourglass logo was imprinted on the side. They slowly went through how to load their guns and were now standing nervously in front of the targets.
“Okay,” said Yuki. “You three,” she pointed to Hutch, Jaz and Ian. “Show me what you can do.”
Jaz and Hutch managed an impressive shot, both just slightly off centre. Ian hit the centre point. Yuki raised an eyebrow.
“There may be hope yet,” she muttered.
She then proceeded to instruct the rest of them. Thirty frustrating minutes later, Bettina was looking smug as most of her bullets hit the target and Sarah felt less-than satisfied with only three hits to the outside of her target. She did a lot better, however, than Finn, who had failed to hit the target at all, and looked miserable. It was called to a halt when Gillie accidently grazed Ian with a bullet.
As Yuki pressed a wad of gauze against Ian’s leg while he glared at a mortified looking Gillie, Sarah could just make out Yuki muttering, “I was wrong.”
The Weapon (The Hourglass Series Book 2) Page 5
