Recoil

by Joanne Macgregor

  I pulled on a freshly laundered black jumpsuit, wondering if we’d be wearing the things for much longer now that we’d finished basic training. It would be such a relief to wear something — anything — different. Maybe we’d all be able to switch to civilian clothes soon; it would be so good to wear jeans and a T-shirt again.

  Mom and Robin would be coming in for the graduation ceremony this evening, and I was looking forward to seeing them. I’d last seen them two and a half weeks ago, on the one and only family visit we’d been allowed. It had been kind of awkward — I had loads that I would have liked to share, but I wasn’t allowed to tell them anything about my training. And they didn’t have any real news since nothing much ever happened in the James household. So I’d told them about the cafeteria food and how fit I was getting, and Mom (who was wearing a half-face-piece respirator and had made Robin do the same, even while almost all the other visitors were merely wearing E97s) fretted about whether it was really safe for us to go about without protective gear and told me every detail of the decon process they’d gone through before being allowed in for the visit. Robin rolled his blue eyes — the mirror image of mine — while she spoke. I grinned. I’d missed him. Then I realized with a pang of guilt that I hadn’t missed my mother very much at all. In the six weeks since I’d come here, I hadn’t had more than a few fleeting moments of homesickness.

  But that was good really, because I had no intention of returning home any time soon. I planned on being selected for sniping missions outside in the world, although Sarge had warned me that if I didn’t up my game, I’d never get that far. Before the last family visit, he’d summoned me to his office — a small room, sparsely furnished with a desk, three chairs and two filing cabinets. A collection of miniature cacti in terracotta pots was arranged on the windowsill behind his chair. They reminded me of him: bald on top and prickly all over.

  He sat behind his desk, bouncing his chin on his steepled hands while he stared at me for long moments. I tried hard not to squirm under the intense focus of those dark eyes.

  “I’m wondering about you, Blondie.”

  It set my teeth on edge when he called me that. Or Goldilocks, or Princess. But I kept my face blank. I figured he’d only do it more if he knew how much it got under my skin. I fidgeted with the silver earring Quinn had given me, turning it through my ear.

  “And do you want to know what I’ve been wondering?”

  I suspected not. “Yes, sir.”

  “I’ve been wondering whether I made a mistake with you, whether I backed the wrong horse. What happened to that streak of cool blue that shot me in the neck the day we first met?”

  “Sir?” I was confused. Was he talking about my hair?

  “What am I supposed to do with you, Blue?” he asked.

  “I don’t understa —”

  “You could be our top cadet, Jinx E. James. You could be our ice-maiden angel of death, our ace in the hole in this war. We could use someone with your unique combination of skills and attributes.”

  “Thank you, sir.” I smiled, relieved that he wasn’t about to chew me out.

  “I said that you could be, not that you are!”

  My smile disappeared as quickly as one of his own.

  “Because you are worse than useless at shooting live targets. When it comes to doing precisely what we recruited you for, you are about as much use as a vegetarian at a barbecue. You have not improved in that skill-set at all, and we got no use for slackers here.”

  “I’m not a slacker! Sir.”

  “You need to piss or get off the pot, soldier. If you can’t shoot rats, there’s no point in continuing with this training.”

  “I can shoot rats.”

  “Coulda fooled me, Goldilocks!”

  “Just not, you know, healthy ones. And with live rounds.”

  “If you think we’re going to let infected rats run around the grounds and the compound just so’s you can feel better about shooting them, or if you think we’re going to turn you loose in the world without having practiced with live ammo on live targets, then you’re sadly deluded, girl. And we’re wasting our time here.”

  I stared down at my feet while he pinned me with his glare. A squished bug, a spider perhaps, smeared the tiled floor near my right foot. It looked like how I felt.

  “Are we wasting our time with you, Blue?”

  “No, sir.”

  My mouth was dry. Any minute now, he might dismiss me from the program. I’d be sent home. Back to Mom and our house and my tiny bedroom. Back to playing games while the real war waged on outside and people like Bruce got to fight it.

  “Because if you can’t shoot a rat, how in the hell are you going to be able to shoot the infected cats and dogs and other tangos that are running around out there?” Sarge tilted his bald head in the direction of the world beyond the window.

  I grimaced at the very thought of it. Sarge leaned forward with one of his sudden movements.

  “No one is making you do anything you don’t want to, Princess. But you need to choose. Here and now.” He tapped the desk with a down-pointed index finger. “What’s it to be: shoot the freaking rodents — and let me be clear as crystal here, Blue, by “shoot” I mean shoot to kill — and be prepared to shoot other infected creatures and plague-spreaders, or go home with your momma this very afternoon?”

  It was a no-brainer. No way was I going back to that house, to Mom hovering over me, nagging me, keeping me inside every moment she could. No way was I letting the rest of the unit advance while I went home with my tail between my legs. I had a shot at freedom, at really getting out, beyond the confines of the Academy which was now beginning to feel as stifling and constricted as home ever had. And I was going to grab it with both hands. Failure was not an option, and I would not quit over a bunch of mutant critters.

  I looked Sarge in the eye and spoke firmly. “I’ll do it, sir.”

  “Good man!” he said and shook my hand.

  And I did do it. I took Mitch’s advice and forced myself to stop thinking about what I was doing. I listened to Leya’s encouraging pep talks and made myself believe her when she reassured me that what I was doing was right, that I had a gift and I should use it in the service of my country, that my skill and dedication were an example to her. I practiced until I could shoot those rats with as much accuracy as I shot the paper targets. I cringed and winced every time I did it, but only after sending the round down the barrel. And every time that peculiar mix of pride and guilt crept through me afterwards. At heart, I was not a killer, even of diseased rodents. But if it came to a choice between the mutants and me, then their days were numbered, because I was also not a quitter.

  Now, as I closed the door of my quarters behind me and met up with Quinn outside the entrance to our wing, I hoped I’d be sent out on a ratting mission soon. How awesome it would be if sniper units like our own could really help stop the spread of the plague, if we could take the whole of our society a step closer to being free again.

  “Where should we meet afterwards?” asked Quinn as we made our way to the foyer, where we’d be meeting our families before the graduation ceremony.

  “Secret staircase?”

  We often met in a small space under the staircase to the second floor that was located directly outside the entrance to Quinn’s wing. I liked it because it was private — sheltered from the hallway where cadets and instructors were always walking past. Quinn liked it because it was out of the sight lines of the security cameras. Sometimes we’d take our cups of coffee and donuts there — the top of the fire alarm box made a useful surface to stow them while we had a quick hug or a kiss.

  “It’s a date.”

  “Look at that,” I said, pointing down a deserted hallway that intersected with our own.

  Leya stood outside one of the now empty classrooms, talking with CEO Roberta Roth. When she looked up and saw us, Leya said something more to Roth and then came jogging up to join us.

  “Not in trouble
, I hope?” said Quinn.

  “Nah. She only wanted to know how I’m getting along with the job,” said Leya, smiling. “I reckon Sarge told her that I was the lowest-scoring cadet in our squad.”

  I rushed to reassure her. “Only in, you know, that one skill.” She was great in camouflage and stalking and tops at observation.

  It would be great when, in just a few hours, we could talk freely.

  “Yeah, but it’s the one that really matters,” she replied. “Still, at least I’m good enough to graduate. Oh, seems like everyone’s here already.”

  The marble-floored foyer was full of people talking and laughing as families met with the graduating cadets. Some were wearing short sleeves and light dresses which spoke of a hot early summer’s day outside, but most wore lightweight PPE suits. Quinn spotted his family at once and dragged me over to meet them.

  “Mom, Dad, Kerry — this is Jinxy James. My Jinxy,” said Quinn. He sounded — there was no other word for it — proud.

  I smiled at them, searching what I could see of their faces above their masks for a resemblance to Quinn. He nudged me gently, and I saw that his mother and father had their hands extended. I hesitated — though they were wearing gloves, I wasn’t. Then I reminded myself that they would have had to pass through a serious decontamination process before being admitted to ASTA HQ. Besides, Quinn had already hugged and touched all of them, so if they weren’t “clean”, then neither was he now, and I didn’t intend to never touch him again. I reached over and shook their hands, hoping they hadn’t noticed my momentary awkwardness. Quinn beamed when I took his little sister’s hand and shook it solemnly too.

  “Are you Quinn’s girlfriend?” Kerry asked with a lisp. She was missing a front tooth and had a sparkly temporary transfer of a sequined dragonfly stuck on her forehead.

  “Now, Kerry, don’t embarrass the poor lass,” said her mother. Her lilting Irish accent was much more pronounced than Quinn’s.

  “Are you?” Kerry persisted.

  No escape from the awkward today.

  “I don’t know,” I said, casting a desperate glance at Quinn. “Am I?”

  “Most definitely,” he said, igniting a small golden glow in the region of my heart.

  “You’re very pretty,” Kerry said, nodding at me in approval. “I like the blue in your hair. I want to make mine purple all over, but Mom says no.” Then she asked her brother, “Are you going to marry her and make a baby?”

  “Kerry!” said her mother and father simultaneously. Quinn tugged on his brow ring, looking half-embarrassed, half-pleased.

  “I like babies, and I hardly ever get to see one,” the little girl said, unabashed. “But my mother takes me to Freedom Park every day at four after we finish schooling, and sometimes a lady comes to the play park with her baby. She has yellow hair with green on the ends! We also go there on Saturdays and Sundays in the morning, but the lady with the baby doesn’t come then. If you make a baby, you can take it there, too.”

  “Um,” I said to Quinn, desperate to change the subject, “Didn’t your brother come today?”

  Quinn and his parents exchanged a glance, and then Quinn said, “No. No, he couldn’t come here today.”

  “That reminds me, Connor sent a letter for you. Give it to him, Kerry,” said Mr. O’Riley. He spoke softly.

  I watched in amazement as Kerry took a tightly folded piece of paper out of the side of her shoe and slid it into Quinn’s hand, taking the one he handed her and stowing it in the same place. In the press of the crowd, no one noticed the little girl crouching down to fiddle with her shoe. We were not supposed to exchange letters directly like this, I guess because, as Quinn had pointed out, they liked to check our communications for sensitive information. But I had no time to wonder about it now. If I missed seeing my mom, she’d never forgive me.

  “It was nice meeting you all, but I’d better go find my brother and mother now,” I said.

  “Nice meeting you too,” said Mrs. O’Riley.

  “And congratulations on making it through to graduation,” said Mr. O’Riley.

  “Goodbye, Jinxy,” said Kerry.

  Quinn gave me a quick kiss, and then I was pushing my way through the crowd, making for a head of fair hair that might belong to Robin. I spotted Leya on the way — alone and half-hidden behind a tall potted plant. Didn’t she have any family here to support her? Nearby, Bruce was introducing Sarge to his family. I could heard the phrase, “Sarge says …” as I passed by.

  “There you are, Jinxy! I was so worried we wouldn’t get to see you. You look thin. Are you okay? Eating enough? It looks like you’ve lost one of your earrings, honey. And shouldn’t you be wearing protective gear — I don’t like to see you all … exposed like that!”

  It was my mother, of course, wearing full protective gear.

  “Hi, Mom, I’m perfectly healthy.” I bumped elbows with her. I knew better than to try hug her.

  “Hiya, Jinxy.” Robin gave me a tight hug.

  “Hey, Robin. What’s up?”

  “Ah, you know, same old, same old.”

  “Yeah.” I did know. I gave him a sympathetic grimace.

  “Exciting day for you, though.”

  “Yeah!”

  “You going to stay on and work for them?”

  “If they let me, sure.”

  “Oh, Jinxy, do you really think you should? A year and a half! It’ll be so dangerous, being out there. I wish you’d come home now,” said Mom.

  “You know I love you and I miss you, Mom” — the first part wasn’t a lie — “but I’ve got a chance to do something really worthwhile here.”

  “I know, I know. But I worry.”

  “You? Worry? I never knew — you should have said something, Mom!” said Robin and we all laughed, even my mother.

  “I know you think I’m overprotective. But with your father …” She hesitated, biting her lip.

  “What have you been up to, Robin?” I rushed to fill the awkward silence.

  “I’ve been doing a couple of programming courses, playing around on some sites.”

  “He’s always on that computer, even late at night,” said Mom.

  “Have you been playing The Game?” How cool would it be if Robin was selected and could join me here. Immediately, another thought intruded. Would Mom cope if she had to live alone?

  “There are other games in the world, you know, and some of them are very interesting. I’m learning a lot.”

  “That sounds cryptic,” I said.

  “We’ll chat when you come home for a visit.”

  “My God — that mother just kissed her son!” said Mom, appalled.

  A loud buzzer sounded — it was time for the graduation ceremony to begin.

  Chapter 15

  Hog’s Tooth

  My mother, Robin and I exchanged hurried goodbyes, with her begging me to write more frequently and him wishing me luck. Then we joined the throng making for Lecture Room 1, which was really more of an auditorium, complete with raked rows of seats and a small platform down front. The families were directed to chairs at the back of the room, while the cadets filed to the front, each division taking their seats in a different row.

  Our graduation ceremony was way different from the ones I’d seen in movies on T.V. We all still wore our differently colored jump-suits, rather than academic gowns and mortarboard caps. No photographer took pictures of the graduates posing with their proud parents, and all cellphones and cameras had been confiscated at the front door. Afterwards, there would be no red-cup keg party around a swimming pool. Our only celebration would be one in the cafeteria, and I doubted there would be any alcohol or much fun allowed.

  The black division was directed to the last row of cadet seats, behind the convicts — which was what we called the division who wore prison-orange suits — and since there were only six of us, half our row was left empty. I took a seat next to Leya, and Bruce promptly installed himself on my other side.

  “I wish we
could sit with our families,” I said. Or boyfriends.

  “No way. It’s right that we’re sitting like this — squad before blood,” said Bruce.

  He left his hand palm-side up on the armrest between us, as if hoping I’d take his hand. He never gave up! I crossed my arms.

  Quinn was sitting in the middle of the ten blue cadets seated three rows in front of us. He was taller than all of them.

  “I saw your brother. He’s gorgeous!” whispered Leya. “How old is he?”

  “We’re twins, so sixteen.”

  “Leya is a cougar,” Bruce chanted in a singsong voice.

  Leya stretched an arm around the back of me to cuff him upside the head.

  Roberta Roth stood up from the line of instructors sitting up front and addressed the auditorium, telling our parents how proud they should be of us, how she hoped we’d benefited from our vocational training, how valuable we would be in the war against the pandemic, how it was each citizen’s duty to serve their country, blah blah blah. I wasn’t really listening. I had my eyes on the back of Quinn’s neck, where his dark hair curled a V into his nape. He was sitting next to Sofia, and as I watched, he muttered something into her ear that made her shoulders shake with suppressed laughter. I fought an urge to pluck a button off my suit and flick it at her pretty little patterned head. Where’s a paintball rifle when you need one?

  The sound of applause brought me out of my fantasy. Cadets from the green division were making their way down to the podium where Fiona now stood, calling out names. Each cadet shook Roth’s hand, received a certificate, and then shook their instructors’ hands and were handed a divisional pin. They lined up with their fellow graduates for one last round of applause before returning to their seats, and the next division’s cadets were called up. When Quinn’s name was announced, I clapped harder than anyone else. Leya giggled and whispered, “He is hot!” Bruce made a sound of disgust.