Clone Killers

by Raylan Kane

  At the top of the ladder a miss in a white uniform directs me to the right. I walk along the side of the ship – the high gray wall on my left, the ocean to my right - until I reach a vast flat deck where hundreds of recruits wait in a serpentine line to be placed in a sleeve. In the middle of the deck is the vat of fish guts we were told about. The smell overpowers the senses. The sound of the crane’s engine is loud; to speak to the person beside you you have to yell. Hundreds of us watch as one recruit after another walks up a set of metal stairs and drops into a long see-through sleeve. I can see each recruit inside the sleeve – they look blurry, but I can see them move around as the sleeve is filled with air by a worker holding a large hose. Two other workers seal the sleeve and place a crane harness around it. The crane operator lifts the sleeve and drags it around in circles until the translucent covering is smeared with chum. The crane then lifts the sleeve and swings out over the ocean as the waves gently rock the ship back and forth. The crane releases and the sleeve drops to the water. Up on this deck I cannot see the surface of the water, which is good. I do not want to see each recruit swallowed by a giant eel.

  Many recruits are ahead of me in line. I am a slow swimmer; I do not see Milne or Trident ahead of me, but I do see Byers, though he doesn’t see me. He’s only about ten people back of being put into a sleeve.

  The longer I stand here watching recruits jumping into their sleeves then taken by the crane, the less daunting the whole thing seems. I see some recruits at varying points in the lineup vomiting from either seasickness or nervousness, but right now I feel numb.

  “Next up – let’s go,” one of the workers yells to me from the top of the small set of metal stairs. It’s my turn to enter a sleeve – all of my nervousness has returned. I think about my parents and Milne and life in general. I think about the choices I’ve made and my regrets and longing to be in the fields with Sterne at this very moment.

  I walk on wobbly legs to the stairs and turn to face the circular opening at one end of the thick plastic sleeve.

  “Okay, go!” The worker says.

  I step forward and drop hard into the sleeve. I land with a thud on one knee. My knee smarts as I get back to my feet. The plastic feels slippery under my feet. The sound of the crane muffles. The deck of the ship and the recruits around me are blurry. I don’t want to be in here. A worker above me pumps air inside with the industrial hose. The walls of the sleeve tighten and expand; I have more room to stand now. The sleeve moves slightly to the right and suddenly I am sealed inside. The sound of the crane is much more muffled now. I see the harness rub against the outside of the sleeve. I feel queasy as I am lifted into the air. I fall against one side of the sleeve like a rag doll as multi-colored innards and guts come into clear focus as they attach themselves to the outside of my sleeve. I let out a yell, just to remind myself I’m still alive and to keep from panicking about what comes next.

  I am lifted again and below me all I see is darkness. I feel still for a moment as though I am not moving, though in my mind I know I’m being lowered to the ocean. I just want out of here! Out of this! No – I am better than that – just breathe – just breathe – not too much – shallow breaths – relax.

  Cold blue-green water touches my back. Half of my sleeve is above water – the sky looks gray through the plastic. Below me is blackness. I can scarcely fathom what might happen next. I-

  Oh – a jolt – I look above me, a slimy white line encircles one end of the sleeve, my end. I push myself against the slippery plastic to the opposite end. I plant my hand hard against the wall of the bubble to stay ahead of the white line that appears as the opening to a red cave. The white line moves forward toward me. I am thrown from my position and enveloped in cold; the world goes dark around me. This is it! I am inside another living creature!

  Breathe – nice and easy – shallow breaths. What size must this animal be to swallow this bubble up so easily? My head spins. I have forgotten all tiredness, my adrenaline spikes as I try to think about what to do next. I shake and am turned upside down as this eel is swimming to who knows what depths. I wonder how long the longest time might be; is this knife going to be enough to get me out of here?

  Others may think of me as a fool but in some strange way I think of this as funny. To meet your end by willingly allowing yourself to be swallowed by a giant blood eel; this is what the military does to evaluate recruits? I am thankful for my ability to relax in stressful situations – the longer I sit in here the more comfortable I become. But now, I am starting to feel undue pressure. What is this fish doing? Perhaps it is swimming to a depth I could not withstand on my own? My head pounds. I am thinking that my air must be running short as well. How long is Rygart lasting? How long do I need to be in here to win?

  I am thrown and thrashed violently. I throw up and wind up coated in my own vomit as I am tossed upside-down and flipped end over end, again and again. Finally, the violent movements end – everything steadies. My nostrils burn; chunks of prison food cover me. The gasps I took while vomiting have used up more of my air – I start to feel light-headed. Is now the right time? How much longer has Rygart lasted? What about those elite High Command soldiers? I want to win.

  There cannot be much air left in this bubble – my time be-damned – I need to get out of this thing. I pull the folded knife from the pocket in my trunks. I open the blade, suck in as much air as I can and puncture the sleeve. The chunks of throw up on the inside of the sleeve slides against me as I pull myself through the opening I’ve created and swim into the long red gut of the fish bumping against bits of chum and other small fish. The gut forms a circle around me as far as I can feel – there is blackness everywhere. With little time left to hold my breath I slam the blade into the side of the fish, but the eel does not react by thrashing. Again I push the blade through its side and wedge enough space for me to slide out – I close my eyes and I pull through only to open and see I am not yet in the ocean’s blue waters. There is no way the ocean could be this black – unless I am at a greater depth than I’d believed – and if so I’d truly be in trouble. I swim forward and I try to orientate myself and my face knocks into a gray fleshy wall. I am inside yet another even larger animal! I press with my hands and feel ahead of me. My lungs burn and my head drums – I need to get out of this thing right away!

  My hands pass into a small pocket of air. I blast my head into this area and suck in a breath before grabbing the knife handle with both hands and stabbing downward as hard as I can in the water. The creature that has me tosses me and my hand slips from the knife still stuck in the side of this thing. I swim back and feel around; my hands meet what feels like the same kind of plastic our sleeves are made from. I run my hand along the plastic and feel some kind of warm gummy substance and then something hard – this may be the body of another recruit in this thing! I push away and to the side of the animal and I find the knife again. My air is going to run out! I pull the knife out and jab at the same spot again and again and again! I keep jabbing – the movements of the animal become even more violent. I’m thrown again, I grab the knife again I stab forward and feel that I’ve made a hole. The creature stops moving. I need to get out of this thing before it sinks to the bottom!

  I push the blade again and again until finally a large chunk of flesh gives way and I push out into the vast blue-green open ocean. The water feels warmer now. I kick hard – my knee protests – but I keep kicking – I see the light of the surface above – I kick and kick – harder – harder. I gasp the biggest most beautiful cleanest breath of air I’ve ever breathed in my life. I fill my lungs again and again. The sun, the glorious sun shines warmth on my shoulders as I tread water.

  A rubber motor raft speeds to me seemingly from out of nowhere. Three men pull me out of the water and I lay facing the sky – the stunning sky. I made it! A mister with a stethoscope checks me over as the raft speeds toward the huge ship.

  “There’s a body down there,” I said. “It wa
s in the fish – one of them – a recruit.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yes, I felt it. Someone needs to get it – it’s inside the dead fish.”

  “Okay, we will let them know on the Synark and they’ll recover the body – they already have dive teams out recovering others.”

  “Others?”

  “Yes – unfortunately – but don’t worry about that right now. We need to get your pressure equalized. You’re going to have to spend some time in a chamber,” the mister says.

  “I don’t care,” I said. “Do whatever.”

  As we reach the base of the ship I can see the sides of the deck lined with recruits yelling, screaming, and cheering.

  “That for me?” I said.

  The man with the stethoscope smiled at me, “I don’t think you realize what you’ve accomplished.”

  CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR

  After hours in the chamber, I am released. I couldn’t help but feel that being inside that thing was a lot like being in the sleeve – neither are something I want to experience again. I am exhausted. I walk slow to the deck of the ship and notice the sun is going down and no other recruits are around.

  On the front deck I see the vat of chum has been removed. A man in dress uniform walks toward me – it looks like the man on the microphone this morning.

  “So, you’re the one?” He said.

  “I beg your pardon, sir?”

  “You’re Bramen Hold.”

  “Yes.”

  “That was quite a feat today. How do you feel?”

  “Tired.”

  The man chuckles, “I would imagine so. That is the first time in the history of this event that anyone has endured being swallowed by two different creatures – or at least you’re the first to live to tell about it.”

  “Wow.”

  “Indeed.”

  “How long was I down there?”

  “14 minutes.”

  “That’s it?”

  “That’s it? You beat the previous record by almost two minutes – a record held by the way – by one of our most decorated soldiers some 500 years ago.”

  “Wow.”

  “Yes – well – I can see that you’re tired. We’ll have someone take you back to the barracks. Rest up, Hold – tomorrow’s another day. We’ll be keeping a close eye on you.”

  “Yes, thank you.”

  A soldier brings me ashore on a motorized raft to a truck waiting near the beach. I arrive at the courtyard by the stone building and I see Milne sitting on the grass as though she’s been waiting for my arrival.

  “There you are. I was so worried about you.” She wraps her arms around me.

  “I was worried about you.”

  “I’m fine. But you – you broke the record. You did amazing today!”

  “It felt like I was down there for a lot longer than the time the man told me.”

  “I know it felt like an eternity for me too.”

  “How long were you down there?”

  “8 minutes, 32 seconds – good for fifth overall.”

  “Fifth overall – that’s great.”

  “Yes, but you were down for 14 minutes and 44 seconds.”

  “What did Rygart get?”

  “11:02.”

  “That’s a good time.”

  “Yes, he’s in second.”

  “And Trident?”

  “I haven’t seen him. I’m sure he’s around.”

  I run to the stone building; inside the foyer, recruits come over to congratulate me. I rush past everyone and up the stairs to B Block.

  “Where’s Trident?” I said, shouting to anyone who might know. He’s not in B Block.

  I run down the stairs, Milne is right behind me. “Trident?”

  “Maybe he hasn’t returned from the ship yet?” Milne said.

  “No, can’t be, there was no one left when I came out of the chamber.”

  A recruit walks over from across the foyer and extends his hand. “You’re Bramen Hold.”

  I shake his hand. “Yes.”

  “I think what you did today is incredible.”

  “Thank you.” I twist and turn my head looking in all directions for a glimpse of my friend. “Milne, will you check the Mess?”

  “Okay.”

  “Who are you looking for?” The recruit asks.

  “My friend, Trident Foil – do you know him?”

  “Can’t say as I do. What’s he look like?”

  “He’s blue.”

  “Oh, that guy? He’s your friend?”

  “Yes! Have you seen him?”

  “Yeah – he’s out back – pretty sure, by that hill.”

  “Thanks.” I run from the foyer to the back lawn. A faint glow remains in the sky. I sprint across the grass with renewed energy until I see a figure sitting on the hill. “Trident?”

  He stands and walks to me. “I thought you were dead.” Trident hugs me; I can tell he’s been crying.

  “I’m right here.”

  Milne reaches us and wraps herself around the both of us.

  “Please don’t ever do that again,” Trident said. Milne laughs at the comment.

  “You mean get swallowed by a blood eel and then get swallowed by something even larger? Never.”

  CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE

  We form up in the courtyard in front of our buses. I still notice recruits glancing over at me. I look over at Ri beside me, we share a polite smile. She seems quiet this morning.

  “Warell,” I said in a whisper. “Where’s Byers?”

  Warell didn’t hear me. Ri turns to me and shakes her head. What if that was who I felt inside that fish yesterday? Why does leadership see fit to torture these recruits like this?

  We board the bus and we turn north this time out of the courtyard. We drive north of the cliffs and turn right. The drive is quiet, no one speaks; I stare out the window at the Thiel countryside. We stop and get off the bus next to a long airstrip. The area is flat and the wind really whips through here.

  The man with the microphone, whose name I still do not know, steps up to deliver today’s awful news. We’re to be taken up in planes and dropped. We must parachute to the ground landing within large painted circular targets. Meanwhile soldiers on the ground will fire live rounds up at us trying to hit our chutes. We must steer clear of gunfire if possible and land in the target zones as close to the center as possible with the fewest amount of bullet holes possible.

  “Can you believe this?” Ri said.

  “Yes.”

  Two long lines form as recruits wait to pick up their chutes and helmets from the supply desk set up beside the buses. I throw on my pack and carry my helmet. I walk to where Milne and Trident are still waiting in line.

  “Are you nervous?” Milne said.

  “Of course.”

  “Great – now I’m really nervous,” Trident said.

  “You’ll do fine – this challenge is miles better than being fish food,” I said.

  “I don’t really relish the idea of being shot,” he said.

  “So don’t,” Milne said. We smile at her.

  “Recruits! Once you have your gear, come this way!” One of the leaders said.

  “Gotta go,” I said.

  Milne looks at me, concerned.

  “I’ll be alright,” I said. “You be careful.”

  “Always,” she said with a smile.

  We’re grouped off into groups of 10 and taken to a bank of planes parked at the end of the runway. My plane is the fourth one to go – I prefer this as opposed to watching hundreds of recruits go ahead of me and make me more nervous than I already am.

  “Good luck,” Warell says. He’s part of my group. We walk together with the other 8 recruits from different regions following someone from leadership in red and the pilot in a blue flight suit.

  The engine rumbles and we roll behind the three planes ahead of us. The side door of the pla
ne is open and wind rushes throughout the cabin blowing everything around. Five recruits sit across from each other on benches. The plane tilts as it climbs and the sides begin to rattle. Through a window I can see we’re close to the clouds. They haven’t taught us anything about how the chute works – I know there’s an orange pull tab that opens the thing and handles that hang down to allow you to steer – but that’s just common knowledge; no one’s instructed us on the proper way to jump or when is the right time to deploy your chute, or how to land for that matter. Perhaps this is by design – they want us to improvise and think and solve this dilemma on our own. It might just be that whoever designed this evaluation process is a sadist for sure.

  The leader from High Command in red stands near the open door; he motions for us to stand up.

  “Check the person in front of you! Tap them when you’re done!”

  I don’t even know what I’m checking for – I haven’t packed a chute in my life. I look at the pack on the miss in front of me and her pack appears normal as far as I can tell.

  “Recruits at the rear – check each other’s pack!”

  I don’t think these checks are doing anything, I see recruits running their hands over the packs a couple of times and tapping, as though they’re pretending to know what they’re doing.

  “On my mark you will jump!”

  Bullets rip through the bottom of the plane near the door. The High Command leader falls back toward the cockpit; blood squirts out multiple holes on his body. More shots hit the plane. A shot goes through the first jumper on the opposite side. He slumps to the bench holding his gut. Another bullet nearly takes his head clean off. A fireball cuts through the tail of the plane. Shots blast through the cockpit and the pilot falls forward on the controls. The plane tilts down at an extreme angle and the recruit in front of me falls forward and out the open door.