The Designate

by J B Cantwell

  Alex.

  Chapter Ten

  An hour later, the helicopter banked hard, and all of the soldiers stirred, waiting for the touchdown, knuckles white on their guns. The Primes sat patiently, not bothering to fiddle with their packs or even adjust themselves in their seats. They showed no fear or apprehension, simply stoic gazes, staring into space.

  The rest of us were terrified.

  As the helicopter touched down, the hatch in the back slowly opened. Two men outside in full body armor motioned for us to follow them. Just feet away was a giant, retractable metal staircase leading down into the heart of the base.

  I didn’t wait for Alex. I didn’t wait for Hannah. I just made for the hole in the roof, unsure and unconvinced that the vest I wore would truly protect me from enemy fire. Once my head was below roof level, I let out a sigh of relief. I was safe. As safe as I could be in this place.

  Overhead I heard the sound of gunfire. I turned, wanting to help, to remove the gun from my shoulder and take my first live shots with it in defense of my crew. In the same moments that I had decided to save just myself, I wanted to go back to protect the others, too.

  My first thought had been selfish. But now, I suddenly understood that the whole group was worth protecting.

  I was pushed back down the narrow staircase, though. The other soldiers were coming, taking cover beneath the rooftop. Nobody turned to fire on the enemy, and the shots were few and far between. Even if we had looked for the shooters, I wouldn’t have known the first place to search.

  Once we were all in, the helicopter moved away, the sounds of bullets pinging off its skin. Not immune to gunshots, I was sure. But no heavy artillery was launched, either because the other side didn’t have it, or because they were saving it for something more important.

  Blackwell was the last down, and he closed the trapdoor to the roof with a thud.

  “Welcome to Lake Saint Jean,” he said.

  Murmurs of recognition spread through the crowd.

  This was a water mission.

  “The Fighters are all around us,” he said. We all fell silent. “The only safe place we’ve been able to hold onto is this building, which we’ve fortified as best we can. If I were to open a door on any one side of this place, a hidden army of sharp shooters would await us. They hide in the trees. They come at us from all sides. Though we are not totally without help. Sometimes the bombers come in, take out a section along the shore, but we have to be careful not to contaminate the water. Until we can capture and keep more land, this building is the only safe place to be.”

  Guerrilla warfare, I thought. In the trees. Everyone in the battle, even the women and some of the older children, I was willing to bet. I was barely an adult, myself, and only because the calendar told me so. I had barely seen the world, and now I would be shooting at an enemy I could not see at all. Kid on kid.

  “They move among the trees, so we will move along the earth,” he said.

  He pointed to an enormous pile of what looked like rags. Disentangling one from the heap, he put it over his head and crouched low. Camouflage. The effect was impressive. If he had been outside among the trees, he would have been difficult to spot.

  He stood and removed the netting from his body.

  “Now,” he said. “Seeing as you all smell like rotting fish, I suggest you hit the showers and grab clean fatigues. It’s hard enough to keep the mash here down, and I would imagine nearly impossible with that smell in the hall. Fall in line.”

  He turned and we filed along behind him, Primes first.

  The Primes were led into separate quarters from ours, and as I stole a glance inside, it seemed nothing more than another bunk room.

  The rest of us were deposited into a room much farther down the corridor. Once inside, relief flooded through me.

  Showers.

  It was a foolish thing to wish for. I was about to be at war, had just been shot at moments before. My best friend had been slowly turned into a monster. I had witnessed the arrest and transfer of two men who had committed no crime.

  But I was the first to strip down out of my fatigues and make for the bathroom. Maybe the others were tired, but I was anxious to wash away the grime from the last few days. And me going first, and quickly, none of the other soldiers would see the giant, skin gouging scar that ran up my thigh.

  The water, while cool, felt like a blessing. I let it wash away the sweat of the past three days, scrubbing my head with the rough soap from the dispenser. It didn’t bother me to let the water flow here, knowing that there was a huge lake just miles away. But when the others began to shower, too, I quickly wrapped a towel around my waist, shielding my leg, and went back to my bunk. I was no longer as modest as I had been when training had started. Like Hannah had said that first day, everyone here was exposed.

  I dressed in clean fatigues and dropped the garbage-infused ones into the laundry bin. I was happy that Hannah had chosen to bunk next to me again. We were in a new place now, playing a new game. And this time there was no viewscreen on the wall to track each others’ progress. Despite the rankings on that board, it couldn’t definitively tell us who would live or die.

  They gave us an hour before we were due in the open area they had named The Cube. There was no way to meet outside without coming under fire, so they had converted the space into a sort of gym. I was encouraged by the lack of handholding in this new facility. It seemed we could wander freely, and I wondered what that would mean for me and Alex.

  As the minutes ticked down, the rest of the unit filtered into line. Alex, along with the other Primes, entered in perfect order, their line single file, their places before the sergeant predetermined.

  As Sergeant Blackwell came before us, the murmuring in our group quieted. We didn’t need to be told to stand at attention, not anymore.

  “I see that many of you have gone to the showers,” he began. “That is good for the rest of us. Getting the stink of the sea off your skin can only benefit the whole team.”

  A daring few chuckled at his words.

  “But your work is not done for the day,” he went on. “Since arriving here and fortifying this building as our base, we have been under nonstop attack by the enemy. They control Lake Saint Jean, every border, every drop. It was originally in the plan of the U.S. Government to siphon off just a small section of the lake that remains and build a pipeline through Canada and into Maine. If we had been allowed to do so, we could take that water and use it to grow food that would benefit both the United States and Canada. Unfortunately, the Canadians were not so receptive to our request. While they flourish here, with clean rains and fresh food, they have watched their neighbor flounder.”

  He paused, his silence dramatic.

  “So we must take the lake from them.”

  Behind him, a large viewscreen panel came to life. It was a map. Our base was at the bottom, each waterway marked clearly. A thin ribbon of water flowed right through our camp, I saw, which had provided us with the cool water in the showers.

  But other lines, thicker lines, were indicated, too.

  “As you can see, we have a source of freshwater already. Luckily our enemy has not thought, or has not been willing, to poison that which flows through this particular waterway. Still, we check the water before we let it hit the chow hall.

  “We might have less control than we would like over the waterways, but we have something the enemy doesn’t.”

  He pointed to the thick brown lines that splayed out from the base like a spiders web.

  “This is how we will infiltrate their forces,” he said. “Tunnels. Being dug right now through these underground walls, tunnels shoot out in every direction. GPS allows us to pinpoint our exact location, and to change our course based on the movement of the enemy. Starting now you will each be assigned to work inside one of the tunnels. We already have a sizable workforce in motion, but you will be giving those soldiers a much needed break. We need shovelers, haulers, and dumpers. There is
another room in this building much larger than this one, and that is where the dirt gets deposited.

  “So, all that said, you have been assigned your teams.”

  Behind him the screen lit up with five teams, seven in each.

  I searched for my name and found it on Team 3. I scoured the list to find Alex, Team 6. Hannah, Team 6. Lydia, Team 8.

  I froze. The opportunity for Hannah was enormous. I tried to exchange a glance with her, but she stayed at attention.

  “You will find the tunnels marked along the far wall of the building. Fall out.”

  We were dismissed. A low murmur rose from the crowd, or at least from of us who weren’t Primes. The Primes didn’t speak at all, just marched to their assigned posts in their stilted, robotic way.

  “You have to get to him,” I whispered to Hannah as we followed the crowd. “You have to find out what’s going on.”

  For a moment I debated giving her the note I had held in my pocket for so long now. But the memory of it falling out of his hand, discarded on the floor for anyone to find, stopped me. Maybe it was okay for us to be talking to the Primes now. We were mixed in with them on the shoveling teams.

  But if he lost the note, dropped it, even threw it away, there was the chance of discovery by the sergeant. I wondered what would happen then. That note talked about abandoning our commitment to the Service. I felt certain that it would put me in danger of being sent back to the burning plants, just like everyone else who had failed to meet the strict regulations.

  “How do I find out?” Hannah whispered. “He doesn’t even know me.”

  “Just try talking to him,” I said. “Try to get him alone. Tell him my name. Remind him. Riley. Riley from back in Brooklyn. Will you do it?”

  She shrugged.

  “Sure,” she said. “I don’t think they have cameras in dirt tunnels. Not yet.”

  We split off from each other as she followed the signs to number six, and I went to three.

  I didn’t know how far our surveillance went. Could they see us everywhere? Could they hear us, too?

  As far as communicating with Alex, I would just have to wait and see.

  Chapter Eleven

  The work was back-breaking, much harder than it had been on the trawler. Of course, I thought, the military would have no way of hauling proper digging tools into the base without the enemy figuring out their plan. And we couldn’t use dynamite without giving away our position to anyone listening up top. So shovels it was.

  The holes were ten feet below ground and just tall enough for the Primes to duck their heads beneath. I was one of the smaller soldiers, landing me with the job of digging. For hours I hit at an unforgiving wall of dirt and rock alongside two other soldiers I didn’t know. Two Primes ducked into the hole to collect our dirt and bring empty pails. It was archaic, the method, but it was all we had. We wore helmets with lights attached to the top, true miners. But we weren’t mining for gold. We were mining for the blood of our enemy.

  Nobody talked. Everyone struggled against the hard earth, too distracted by the nearly impossible task to have anything to chat about. Occasionally a Prime would enter the shaft and bring us water. We would take a break then, leaning back against the wall of unforgiving dirt to rest and drink. It didn’t seem like enough time before the canteens were emptied and it was back to digging.

  Even though I understood the method to infiltrate the enemy camp, the work was more than I had bargained for. The muscles in my arms, honed after weeks of training, cramped now under the force of ax hitting stone. Finally, after four hours of work, a soldier none of us recognized crawled into the tunnel.

  “Hey, diggers,” he said.

  I noticed his hair, still wet from a shower. He must have been digging when we had arrived.

  “I’m Marcus. Your shift is officially over. We have four shifts now that you’ve joined us. What used to be five hours has been reduced to four. You will have two shifts a day. Lucky for you, this was the last shift of the day and you can head over to chow.”

  I sighed, so relieved that it was over. At least for now. Our little team began to collect our shovels and the remaining buckets.

  Marcus shook his head.

  “Don’t worry about the tools,” he said. “It’s easier to just leave them here. They’ll be picked right up again when the work starts tomorrow. You’re scheduled to have the second shift tomorrow, which starts at 1000 hours. You’ll be relieving the team of workers that starts early that day. The shifts rotate as the day goes on. Your slots from now on will be 1000 to 1400 and 1800 to 2200. During the time between you can rest, shower, eat. You’ll have two hours of firearms training during each four hour break period.”

  He looked up from his clipboard then.

  “That’s it,” he said. “You want chow, follow me.”

  We dropped our tools to the ground and followed Marcus out. My stomach was already rumbling for food, any kind of food. Even the fishy mash from the boat might’ve stayed down. I doubted my stomach would protest.

  When I entered the mess hall, I scoured the room for Hannah. I found her on the far side sitting with, I assumed, her digging mates. Her face and head were coated with dust, and the tattoos on her neck and shoulders were almost entirely covered. I grabbed my tray and headed in her direction.

  But when I sat down, she caught my eye and, almost imperceptibly, shook her head.

  Something had happened. I was sure of it. But now wasn’t the time for her to share it. Whatever relationship she had built over the past four hours with the two soldiers sitting beside her, it wasn’t enough for her to trust them with my story.

  The soldiers were named Frank and Avery. They, like Hannah, were covered head to toe in dust from their tunnel. As I sat down I noticed a plume of the stuff shake off my fatigues. I hadn’t realized that I was covered, too.

  I imagined photos that I had seen in history class back home. The class was about outdated technology that had eventually been abandoned. Coal mining was something that had been stopped in 2035 after the scars left by the mines eventually began to crumble and cause huge landslides. I remembered the pictures of the miners, covered head to toe in soot.

  But they, I realized, at least they had had proper tools. All we had were shovels and biceps to dig our tunnels.

  “So,” I began, trying to sound casual, “you all were digging together today?”

  Hannah answered with a huge mouthful of mash.

  “Mmm-hmm,” she said.

  “You two,” I said, looking at the others. “You’ve been here before?”

  “I was here on my first tour,” Avery said. “Back then we were just starting to dig. They’ve made a lot of progress.”

  I turned to Frank, expectant.

  “Infantry,” he said. “Straight to infantry. Nowhere near here, though. We were farther west, just outside Rochester. Half those huge lakes are gone from the drought and the piping into the lower states. But the Canadians own half of what’s left. And they don’t wanna play fair with it. They say that it’s our fault for causing all this. The drought. The rains.” He took a bite of a nutrition square. “Truth is they’re trying to keep all the water for themselves. They can still grow up there, you know. They have fields of food as far as you can see that they sell to us down in the states. But they gauge the prices on us and we’re forced to eat this.” He held up his square, looking at it with disgust.

  “What was it like?” I asked. “Being out there?”

  He cast his eyes down and balanced his nutrition square on the edge of his tray. He picked up a paper napkin and wiped his forehead with it.

  “Well, they mean it when they say you gotta leave the wounded behind,” he said. “We lost a lot of good soldiers that way that might’ve been helped. But when the squad moves out, it does it fast. If you’re not quick enough to catch the ride, they leave you behind, too.”

  “But why?” I asked.

  “They can’t lose the resources. The important ones. Tanks.
Artillery. But you, you’re expendable, kid. Just like every one of us. The only soldiers they care about are the Primes. They suit those guys up for battle like you wouldn’t believe. You’ll see.”

  “They use us as bait,” Avery said. “They send us in first, to figure out where the enemy fire is coming from. Then, when the infantry is tapped out, the Primes move in to finish the job.”

  I thought about the horror of being in battle, scared out of my mind, and then left behind. Like Frank had said: expendable.

  “How did you make it through?” I asked.

  All three of my table mates had made it through at least one tour. They sat silent for several long moments.

  Finally, Hannah spoke.

  “Greed.”

  Chapter Twelve

  So that was the name of the game. I had expected something better, more heroic. But the way that those three had made it out alive came down to the fact that they ran fast and put all thoughts of helping their fellow soldiers out of their minds.

  I pushed back my tray, disgusted. With the three of them, but also with myself. The feeling had been growing that the only way to get out of the Service was to watch my own back. Every time. But here, with three sets of eyes focusing silently on their trays, here was the result. The broken, torn-up result of leaving people to die so that you could live. So that you could win. And go home rich.

  They were ashamed, I knew. Just as I was. But here we were in an impossible situation. Each of us had come into this from different places, different circumstances, but our outcomes would be the same. A roll of the dice and a sharp eye for escape would be all we had each time we went above ground.

  The military must have known this, must have realized that they were turning their recruits into monsters. They fed us to the enemy like insects to a bird. And then, when the supply of us began to dwindle, they replaced us with the Primes. The Primes would never argue, never think of a fallen soldier as anything but a block in their path.