by J B Cantwell
I wanted to roll over and cry into my pillow, but my hands were still fastened to the rails. So there I was, half naked in a hospital gown, knobby socks on my feet, bright lights overhead, exposed for the world to see. Tears streamed down my cheeks and into my stubbled hair and ears.
I would just have to wait. Time always passes. And one day, one way or another, this would all be over.
Chapter Five
I was warm. Someone had laid a thick wool blanket over me in the hospital bed. I smiled and rolled over, covering half my head with it.
The pain was mostly gone, and it was weird to not feel it. Hushed voices moved around me, touching my forehead, my arms beneath the blanket, my palms, even my feet. It felt like a strange dream where everything was fuzzy and soft.
Then I remembered. My wrists. That throb.
I opened my eyes and sat straight up in bed. The room was empty.
I stared around. I had heard their voices, felt their hands.
As I unclenched my own, I realized that one of them wasn’t empty. I nearly brought it out into the light when someone, a nurse I thought, walked through the door.
“Ah, I see you’re up,” she said. “That’s good.”
Something flashed then, and I jolted back, surprised.
Nora Perkins, RN
Designation: Unknown
It had been nearly a week with no lens, no chip to send me information or track my every move. But I was plugged back into the system now.
I realized that the item in my hand was a slip of paper, one of the only ways we could communicate without the Service knowing. I didn’t know who had left it in my clenched fist, but I quickly shoved it under my thigh.
“Are you alright, dear?” the woman asked sweetly. “How’s your pain?”
“Um,” I said, my voice hoarse. “I don’t have any pain.”
“Really?” she asked. “None at all?”
I took inventory of my body. The space where I had been hit by Rebecca with the rock seemed normal now. The rings around my wrists had no pain at all and barely showed a scratch from where they had been damaged by the combination of the cuffs and my own doing.
But the biggest change was the left side of my head. The chip that had been implanted there, already growing into my brain system, pulling across every synapse; it suddenly no longer hurt. Not at all.
“No,” I said. “I think I feel ok.”
Actually, I felt great, now that I thought of it. My body felt strong and well, and I had an energy that seemed completely new. I suddenly craved physical exertion. It was all I could do not to jump off the table and make a run for the hallway.
And my leg. For the first time in ten years it didn’t throb.
She walked across the room to me and stuck out a thermometer. I opened my mouth obediently.
“Well,” she said, “you sure do seem to have a tolerance for pain. I’ll give you that. Most kids would still be in here moaning, but you …”
She looked at the chart on the foot of my bed, and her face changed.
“Ah, of course,” she said. “Dr. Chambers was in here; he upped your pain meds. That man. You know, you’d never think of him as someone to like. He’s not pleasant, not ever. And then he goes and does something like this.”
She reached for the thermometer.
“Normal,” she said. “I’ll go get the doctor to come by and give you the all clear. I know Dr. Roberts was very interested in your case.”
Yeah. Interested.
The nurse left the room, and I immediately started searching around. But cautiously, carefully, in a way they wouldn’t see. I knew I was being watched now, monitored in every way, probably more than ever before. I was a test case, an adult re-implantation of a lens system.
But I had to hide the slip of paper. Where? A pair of fatigues rested on a chair close to the bed. Even slipping it into a pocket might be picked up by the cameras, but I couldn’t see another way.
I palmed the note, trying to keep my hand in as natural a position as possible.
I carefully came down off the bed, then realized that I was still hooked to it by my IV.
They won’t think anything of it.
I ripped the IV out without another thought.
I went to the fatigues and started to dress, searching for a pocket or unseen place to hide the note. Underwear first. Pants. A white shirt, tucked in. And an overshirt. I put my hands into my pockets and pretended to be checking the size, puffing out the pockets and then tapping my hands against my legs. I let the paper go in my right pocket.
It would be many hours before I would be able to see what she had written. How had Lydia even found her way in here? Wasn’t she out at the remote base? Maybe they had come back. Maybe they had been successful.
My worries quickly drained away, though, replaced by a sense of confidence I had never felt before. I was ready for anything. It could drop to the floor for a hundred push ups. Run ten miles just for the thrill of it.
Now I wanted out.
Not out of the Service, but out of this room; it seemed it couldn’t hold me. I pulled on my boots and headed for the door, which was, of course, locked. I knocked on the door first. Then I began pounding on it.
“What?” Nurse Perkins asked. “What is it?”
“I’m ready to go,” I said, trying not to push past her.
I felt hungry, taken over by the drug in my system.
She blocked my way. I wanted to push past her, to get free, but I doubted I would get very far if I did.
“Tell Roberts,” I said. “He was the one who wanted to see the results, right?”
She looked at me, confused. Then, as she closed the door she said, “I’ll see if the doctor is available.”
Moments later, a doctor returned. But it was not the one I had expected to see.
“You are feeling well, I see,” Chambers said, his face stoic.
I didn’t like Chambers. The judgement that outlined the features of his face made me cringe. I had a hard time believing the stories Lydia had told me about his involvement in the resistance. Still, he had let me into the Service, even with evidence of my injury, a severely broken leg that had never healed quite right.
“I feel good, yes,” I said.
“Up on the table, please,” he said.
I sighed heavily and jumped up onto the table.
He took out a small light and shined it into my left eye, my lens eye.
“Yes, it seems that the chip has done its job.”
“How can you tell?”
“I can see the little threads in your iris. They swim around behind your eyes like little worms. Lifting you. Fixing you.” He pocketed his light. “I feel we will learn the most about you in the days to come. Your lens has been granted a slightly higher clearance, an upgrade if you will, compared to most. For a time you will see things that your fellow soldiers cannot. Use the information as you will.”
He turned away from the table and moved toward the door.
“Wait,” I said. “What do I do now?”
“Go to dinner,” he said. “You must be hungry. I’ll have Prime Turner meet you there. He can keep you occupied until the other teams return.”
He turned and left the room without another word, leaving the door ajar behind him.
I waited a moment, but then the urge to escape this small room overcame me. I went for the door and looked out into the hallway.
Chambers had taken a right out of the room. I went left.
I passed by those other men again on my way out, the boys being made into monsters, their struggle laid bare for all the inhabitants of this place to see. Is that what I would be like now?
No.
I was different. A test case. I suddenly became very grateful for having had a private room. That way only the doctors could hear me scream.
It didn’t matter, though, and as I neared the end of the hallway I ran for the door. I turned down a hallway and kept going. The physical energy was so strong wi
thin me, I couldn’t stop moving.
Eventually, I came to the Cube, the open space where each of the tunnels led to.
I had been running for several minutes, sprinting, navigating the maze of the place like a mouse hunting for cheese. But I was barely out of breath. Before the drugs, I would have been doubled over after running so fast. My leg would have smarted at the intense exercise.
Now, I felt unstoppable. If this was what they were giving the Primes, I understood their logic, no matter how terrible the crime. To have an army, all like me, all like them, those enormous boys being pumped up right this minute, the Service would be unstoppable.
One of those men was walking to me now from across the Cube. As he approached me, his face cracked into a smile.
I stood at attention and saluted.
“Prime Turner,” I said.
“Soldier Riley Taylor,” he said. “At ease.”
I relaxed my stance.
“Dr. Chambers told me he sent you to chow to find me, but I see I was right to expect you would spend your energies in other ways.”
“Yes Sir,” I said. “Running, Sir.”
“Yes, I am sure you must have a lot of energy to burn. Dr. Chambers insisted that you should have dinner first. However, I will be taking you to the training room.
I sighed. Ugh. The gym, a sad sort of room in a much unused part of the building that stank of sweat and mildew.
He noticed my tone.
“Am I mistaken to assume that you would prefer physical activity to food?” he asked.
He was not mistaken.
“No Sir. I’m ready, Sir.”
He turned on the ball of his foot and I followed him out down a long corridor. At the very end was a room much smaller than the Cube, but with the same height in the ceiling that made me feel like I was in a huge elevator shaft. Improvised exercise machines were crammed into the space.
I caught sight of a rope netting that rose all the way up to the ceiling.
“Go ahead, soldier,” he said, watching my face.
I ran for the wall. I felt like an animal as I sprang onto the net, climbing fast as my body propelled me up the rope. I grunted with the effort, and the sound of my own breathing was hoarse, hungry.
Before I knew it I was touching the ceiling.
My heart was pounding and my breathing wild. I stared down at Prime Turner.
“Come on down now,” he called.
“Yes Sir!” I called.
I felt unsure about what had just happened. My energy was dwindling, but only slightly, and I still felt the buzz of adrenaline coursing through me. What was that stuff they had pumped me with?
Coming down was much different than going up. The advantage of my speed was gone, and I felt off balance as I took unsure steps on each rung of the net below.
“Good work, soldier,” he said.
“Thank you, Sir.”
“I’m guessing that you have other talents now, maybe ones you hadn’t noticed before. Give it a go on the free weights.”
I looked over and saw a long line of weights, organized by weight. Not wanting to seem cocky, I started with the middle one, twenty pounds each. I lifted the pair of weights from the rack and pulled them up into a curl. It was easy. I put them down and grabbed another pair, thirty. Again, it was easy to manage the weight, and I maneuvered them without any problem. Last in the rack, forty. A little heavy, I could admit, but nothing I couldn’t handle. I lifted them in bicep curls again and again.
Doing the work was strangely comforting. Having the immense shot of adrenaline had been welcome, almost joyful. But my body had started to relax now, and while I didn’t struggle with the weight, it did feel heavier than it had at the start.
“Coming down?” Prime Turner asked.
I let the weights fall to my sides.
“A bit, yes, Sir,” I said.
“Come on,” he said. “I’ll drop you off at chow.”
I followed behind him as he led me through the familiar part of the building. When we entered the chow hall, it was completely deserted. All except for one lone young man sitting at a table toward the back.
Alex.
Chapter Six
Alex.
His back was turned to me. I took a few tentative steps in his direction. When I turned back to look for Prime Turner, he was gone.
I walked around the side of the table.
God, he’s so big.
His arms were muscled and huge, even bigger than before, as he gazed out the windows between us and the Cube.
“Hi,” I said. “This seat taken?”
He looked up at me, a slight smile on his face.
“Nope.”
I sat down across from him, perplexed by his demeanor.
“They let you out,” I said. “And they’re letting you see me.”
His eyes met mine, and this time he couldn’t chase the smile away. He grinned broadly and took my hands over the table. He looked up pointedly at one of the many cameras that lined the ceiling of the mess hall.
“After I started the final phase of training, I was able to think more clearly,” he said. “Turns out it wasn’t such a big deal to come see you. They wipe our memories of phasing so that we can’t tell the enemy if we’re caught.”
They hadn’t wiped mine.
“What about your team?” I asked. “Aren’t you supposed to be out there directing them in battle?”
He raised one eyebrow.
“Not today,” he said. “I traded places with Prime Baker when I heard about what happened to you. They rotate us through, anyway. There are ten of us and only four exit points in current use.”
“Oh,” I said lamely. I could feel the red rising up to my cheeks.
“Don’t worry,” he said. “You’ll feel fine in a bit. I already feel great. Though I’ve had more phasing than you.”
His speech was so formal, so measured.
I wanted to fling my arms around him, but all I could do was hold his hands across the table. I wanted to ask him what had happened, why he was so out of it the last several times I had seen him. But now he was telling me he didn’t know the answers.
There were few questions I could ask without raising some kind of alarm, without letting the Service know how I really felt about being stuck here, a soldier.
It had been the worst decision of my life to join the Service.
“So now … what are you doing now?” I asked. “What is this ‘phasing’ all about?”
He sat back in his chair, pulling his hands away from mine. It felt like someone ripping off a bandage around my heart.
“It’s all learning,” he said. “We learn all about the enemy. And of course we also learn about our own great government.”
I gave him an odd look, not understanding. Was he playing to the cameras?
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“Well, it turns out that we’ve been lied to all these years by our families,” he said. “Many more than a quarter of the force survives a tour. At least if they come in as a Green.”
“What happens if you’re a Red? Or an Orange?” I asked.
He shrugged. “Who cares?”
“What? Are you kidding?”
“No,” he said. “The whole reason you or I are here is to protect the country, to guard our nation’s resources. But for the Reds and the Oranges, they’re here because they have to be. They’re paying off a sentence; they don’t really care or understand what it means to fight for something you believe in.”
I was perplexed by his little speech.
“I thought that the whole reason we were here was to get away from our families. To start a new life once we got through the three year term,” I argued.
I didn’t care who was listening to that, either through a microphone in the ceiling or maybe even through my chip. It was true for most Greens that the motivation for joining was the potential for riches at the end of the term.
“Well,” he said, “I don’t belie
ve that anymore. Since I’ve joined I’ve started to see things differently. You know what it’s like now, to have that energy burning through your veins. Now I have energy burning through my whole body. I know now that what our government is doing is right. We should all be fighting the enemy with everything we’ve got.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. But before I could argue, I saw through the window to the Cube that an entire team of soldiers had returned. Hannah was among the group. All of them were whooping and punching the air with their fists.
“Ah, they’re back!” Alex said, jumping up from his chair.
He made for the door, not even caring enough to look back at me. I stood up and followed him, but I didn’t care that the troops had made it back at all. All I could think of was that Alex and I had barely seen each other for months, and he had just stood up and walked away from me without a thought.
I rounded the corner of the hallway and walked into the Cube. The soldiers were dirty, some bleeding, but all of them were there.
“Hannah,” I called. “What happened?”
“We found another camp,” she said, caught up in the turmoil of the group. “We took them out. All of them.”
She seemed excited, but something in her eyes told me she had been rattled by the event. She had killed before, this I knew. What was different about this time?
She turned her back and joined her unit again. But she was just playing along, I was sure of it.
Right?
I saw Alex talking to Prime Harris. I slowly made my way over to where they were standing, trying to hear without being noticed.
“It was easy,” Harris said. “They were all gathered around in a circle. Having some sort of meeting, I think. Anyway, we picked them off easily enough. A few of them scattered and got away, but the leader of the group, a woman, we shot on sight.”
Suddenly, I had forgotten how to breathe.
Margaret.
“How many were in the group?” Alex asked.
“Maybe fifteen,” Harris answered. “There’s really not that many left, if you think about it.”
“But what about the other groups?” Alex asked. “There has to be more than one band of Fighters.”
