Recruitment

by K A Riley

  Granden smiles and gives us a slight bow as we approach. “Welcome to hand-to-hand combat training.” Trench bows to us as well and explains that today, we’ll begin our unarmed martial arts training.

  Looking out over the magically-transformed Agora, I greet Render from across the open space. As if for my exclusive entertainment, he launches himself from his perch just above the turret on top of the Delta Cube and skims over Chucker’s head.

  Chucker swats at him but misses, and Render goes into a steep climb. I follow his flight path with my hand above my eyes to block out the harsh rays of red morning sunlight just materializing over the horizon. Glancing around to make sure no one’s looking, I give my forearm a quick tap. It takes a few seconds, but eventually I get glimpses of the raven’s point of view. For some reason, though, the images quickly fade. I try again, but this time, I’m rewarded only with a sudden throbbing headache.

  “What’s wrong, Render?” I mutter into the morning air. But even as I say it, I start wondering if the problem is with me. Did something cause an overload? Or, even worse, could Render be blocking me out, tired of seeing the world through my eyes? Maybe human vision and feelings aren’t as interesting as we think they are. It’s terrible, but kind of funny, to imagine a bird finds me too boring to bother with.

  Whatever the case, I don’t have time to delve into the mystery right now.

  “You have exactly five minutes to meet me in front of Gamma Cube!” Granden calls out. Kellerson is stationed high up in the turret, looking out over us, his rifle hanging from his shoulder.

  As we approach, the building looms over us like a shadowy guard. The symbol “Γ” is stamped on its face just above the door. “It’s the Greek symbol for Gamma,” Trench explains, although I’d already figured that out.

  The day begins with Granden sitting us all in a circle and talking about “chi,” which he describes as the life force that flows through our bodies. He then leads us in hours of breathing exercises and meditation techniques. It all seems simple at first, but pretty soon, I find myself getting light-headed and kind of bored. My mind begins to wander despite my earlier resolution to get my head in the game.

  Out the corner of my eye, I can see the other Recruits. They’re stone still and seem to be far more at peace than I am. How come I can’t get myself out of my head? Am I just too easily distracted?

  As if in answer to my question, my eyes wander over to Brohn, who’s sitting on his knees, his feet tucked neatly under him. His hands are palm-down on his thighs, and his back is ram-rod straight, his head tipped ever so slightly forward. His lips are parted just the tiniest bit.

  His lips are perfect. Full, but not as thick as Card’s. How did I never notice them before? Have his shoulders always been that broad? Has his jaw always been that chiseled?

  Wait—why am I thinking about his jaw when I’m supposed to be concentrating on improving my breathing so I don’t pass out in the field?

  Keep it together, Kress. You’re not here to lose your mind over a boy.

  Not even a ridiculously handsome one.

  Finally, Granden instructs us to open our eyes and stand up. “Follow me,” he says before leading the eight of us over to a different training station.

  As we’re walking, Card taps me on the shoulder and nods toward Brohn. “You like him, don’t you?”

  Damn. He caught me.

  “What makes you say that?” I ask.

  “I saw you staring at him when we were supposed to be meditating.”

  Damn again. “Then you were looking at me when you were supposed to be meditating,” I snap back.

  “Guilty,” Card says. “Just making sure you were okay.” He glances up ahead in Brohn’s direction. “Looks like you were maybe more than okay.”

  “It’s nothing,” I tell him curtly. “We’re…family. That’s all.”

  “Ha. If my sister had ever looked at me that way, it would’ve been pretty weird.”

  I know he means it as a joke, a way to needle me. But it’s also backfired. His older sister Angie was a Recruit from the Class of 2037. That was five years ago. For Card, that’s five years of trying to figure out why she did what she did. Why she resisted the Recruiters. Why she didn’t just go along with the other new Seventeens or listen when they shouted at her not to run. There were twenty-two in her Cohort that year. Four of them preferred to be shot dead and buried behind the church than to be taken away in the Recruiters’ transport trucks.

  Card clears his throat and tries to laugh off what I know must be excruciatingly painful memories. “Maybe you should just tell him how you feel,” he says. “You know, like, more than friends.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. I admire him just like everyone does. He’s cool under pressure. Someone we can rely on.”

  “Uh-huh,” Card says, hitting my shoulder with his. “Just be careful. You tell yourself that for long enough, and you’ll start to believe it.”

  With that, he heads over to the new training station where Granden and Trench are starting to gather us up to continue with the day’s session. I wait for a minute and then follow him. There’s no way I’m taking his advice to talk to Brohn, not that there’s even anything to say. I’m sure his mind is on his little sister back in the Valta. He doesn’t need me complicating his life. Besides, he’s been spending so much time with Rain, I’m not sure if he even remembers my name.

  “We’ll be doing some simple sparring exercises first,” Trench announces, pulling me out of my own head. I’m grateful for the distraction. He proceeds to lead us in all kinds of grappling and throwing lessons. We learn how to shift our weight, keep our balance while under attack, and deliver counter-attacks to our enemy.

  Despite his size, Terk quickly falls behind. The moves are tricky, and his body can’t quite keep up with what his mind is telling it to do.

  Despite her lack of size, Rain is great. She proves to be a quick learner, which doesn’t surprise anyone. But she’s also turned out to be a lot stronger than any of us suspected. During throwing drills, she’s able to grab me by the jacket, lean her hip into mine, and toss me halfway across the ring like I’m a small sack of potatoes. After she’s dazzled us over and over again with her prowess, Trench explains that her strength comes not from muscle, but from her ability to channel her chi to when and where she needs it for any given parry or attack.

  “We all have this in us,” he explains. “We all have a strength and an ability to regulate it. We can alter our weight, amplify our power.”

  Kella looks skeptical. “You’re saying we can control how much we weigh? How’s that possible?”

  Trench rubs his chin and looks at her. “Ever try to pick up a baby or a puppy that doesn’t want to get picked up?”

  Kella nods.

  “And how’d that go?”

  “Harder than it should be,” she admits.

  Trench says, “Exactly. You have more control over yourself than you think. It’s a matter of finding and developing your inner energy like Rain’s been doing.”

  No wonder Brohn likes her. Not only is she perfect on the outside. Apparently, her inner energy is off the charts, too.

  Rain is the best at this stuff, but it’s Karmine who really loves to fight. Over the course of the next few days, he practically drools every time Granden or Trench asks for a volunteer to demonstrate a move. Even so, he’s stiff and constantly relies on his instincts, instead of on the lessons we’ve been learning. I’m open to the lessons, which is why I keep beating him.

  That drives him batty.

  I think I’m starting to learn how to access my inner energy. I’m no Rain yet, but I’m finding all kinds of ways to be stronger than I thought I was, and it feels really good.

  After nearly two weeks of prep, Granden and Trench tell us we’re finally going to push ourselves to the limit. Today, we’re getting a chance to show what we’ve learned from all the Close-Quarters training.

  Clicking his Catalyst, Granden calls up a cylindrical
cage the size of a boxing ring from the bowels of the Agora. Trench climbs in and invites me to the do the same.

  “Me?” I ask, shocked to be the first.

  “Yes, Kress. Time to fight.”

  I climb in.

  We spar.

  I hold back because I can tell he’s holding back. As he baits me, I start to ramp up my attack. But the harder I swing, the faster he moves. I attempt the front leg kick he taught us a few days ago. The sweep. The elbow strike. The reverse punch. Even the knife-hand. He seems to anticipate my every move and counters with quick feints and half-powered punches to my shoulders and light tap-kicks to the outsides of my legs.

  In such close quarters, I’m amazed I can’t make contact with him. It isn’t long before frustration overcomes me, and I’m lunging at him like a drunk maniac. When I still can’t hit him, but he seems able to hit me at will, my frustration levels go through the roof, and it isn’t long before my anger follows. My arms and legs are burning from the acid build-up in my muscles, and I’m weak from exertion. I don’t know if it’s the sweat in my eyes or the blindness of fury, but I can barely see anymore. The blurry figure that Trench has become puts me out of my misery with a reverse-elbow to my solar plexus that sends me crashing backwards into the steel mesh and then head-first to the floor, the last bits of breath fleeing from my body in one last massive whoosh.

  I can hear the others rushing toward the cage, calling out my name, asking if I’m okay. I’d answer them if I could, but my ability to form sounds is long gone—as is my grip on consciousness. I drift off into a murky blackness.

  When the first bits of fuzzy light appear, I think I must be dead. But the shadowy figures eventually take shape, and I realize I’m just on the floor outside of the cage with Brohn and Cardyn both kneeling over me. Brohn’s hand is on my cheek like he’s feeling my temperature. When I make eye contact with him, he offers me a reassuring smile and strokes his fingers over my skin, which I have to admit feels pretty good.

  “She’s awake,” he calls out to Trench, who I can now see standing over by the entrance to the cage. He’s leaning against it, inspecting his knuckles without a care in the world.

  “Too bad,” Trench says. “A little more time asleep, and maybe the lesson would take better.”

  “What’s the lesson?” Cardyn mutters. “How to knock out someone half your size?”

  Trench overhears him and storms over. He grabs Card by the back of his white workout jacket and hauls him to his feet. “It’s not about size, Recruit. It’s about speeding yourself up by slowing yourself down.” He tosses Card aside and turns to the others. “Once that makes sense to you, you’ll be better able to avoid that.” He points to me and spits in my direction before storming off to join Granden over by the fence.

  When I’m feeling strong enough, Brohn puts a guiding hand on my back and helps me push myself up to a sitting position. Either my head is spinning or else the world is. Either way, I try to grip the ground beneath me and hope I don’t throw up.

  “You okay?” Brohn asks.

  I nod, pressing my hand to my forehead. “I think so,” I tell him, letting my body sag against his. I can feel the hard beats of his heart now, fast and furious. I can’t tell if it’s from rage or something else. All I know is that as usual, I’m grateful to be close to him.

  I just wish I could get closer without losing myself.

  “Don’t worry,” Terk says as he kneels down next to Brohn. “I’m sure this is as bad as it’ll get.”

  The next day—one of our final days before moving on to the Delta Cube—we discover that it’s not.

  After learning the bare-bones basics of judo, aikido, and jeet kune do from Granden and Trench over the past two weeks, they declare us ready for a final few days of hand-to-hand combat training. This time, Granden has summoned a small mock grocery store to serve as our sparring arena. The space has a cashier’s counter, glass-doored refrigerators, and four rows of shelves lined with all kinds of cans, cartons, and food props. It reminds me of how our own grocery store back home looked in the days before the attacks.

  “This will simulate one of the many locations where you may encounter the Order,” Trench tells us. “Not every site in a war zone will be a battlefield. Not every fight will take place in the pristine comfort of an open-air gym. The fights you’ll face will be in real places. Apartment buildings. Alleyways. Restaurants. Parks. And yes, even small convenience stores. I’ll take the part of the Eastern Order terrorist. I need two of you to try to take me down.”

  We stand in a little group to watch as Karmine and Kella step across the threshold and into the simulated store. Trench looks only too pleased to square off against the toughest most gung-ho members of our little Conspiracy.

  I’m next to Brohn, who’s standing protectively next to me, close enough that I can press my shoulder into his if necessary. As usual I’m trying not to let myself touch him. Trying to convince myself to focus on my end goal of Special Ops. But right now, my head is throbbing, and all I want is the reassurance of his strong body against mine.

  Karmine and Kella start slow, shifting into their places on either side of Trench. They quickly outflank him, just as we’ve been taught. Trench retreats a bit between two of the aisles, but Karmine and Kella reposition themselves to keep him between them. Kella is the first to attack, covering the space between them in an instant and delivering a side kick that Trench easily deflects. Keeping her balance, she resumes her fight stance as she and Karmine advance.

  This time, it’s Karmine who initiates the attack. He lunges forward with a straight fist punch, but Trench deftly steps into his attack, and Karmine’s fist sails harmlessly by Trench’s face.

  Trench delivers a close-in elbow strike to Kella’s face. It’s not a full-contact blow, but it’s strong enough so her head snaps back, and she staggers against one of the display shelves before slumping to the floor. Karmine snaps into an instant fury and lunges at Trench, who deflects his punch with one hand while delivering an open-hand strike to Karmine’s exposed forearm with the other.

  The sickening sound of a bone snapping in two horrifies me to the point of nausea. Instinctively, I lunge forward, not sure if I’m supposed to leap to my friends’ defense, attack Trench myself, or just hold back and be grateful it wasn’t me. Brohn has the same idea and leaps in front of me, looking like he’s ready to beat Trench senseless, but Granden puts an immediate stop to any thoughts either of us might be having by stepping between us and the mock store.

  “Lesson’s over,” he says with his hand up. “The medics are already on their way.”

  He’s barely finished announcing this when Kellerson arrives with two other guys who he introduces as part of a Med-Team. They confirm that Karmine has a fractured ulna before scanning Kella’s face with a small device and announcing that she has a broken occipital bone.

  While we look on, horrified, they apply a gel-filled splint to Karmine’s arm and what looks like a blue, half-filled water balloon to Kella’s eye.

  For the next two days of training and sparring, those two sit on the sidelines, brooding and recovering. Their injuries are bad but not crippling, which means they get to stay with us in the Silo instead of being transferred to a med lab in the Eta Cube. Karmine says the gel cast on his arm actually feels pretty comfortable. “Doesn’t itch or anything,” he announces with a glint in his eye. “Besides, it’s just a fracture. Nothing I can’t handle.”

  Kella doesn’t exhibit the same bravado, but she gets through the next two days without too much trouble. The day after the accident, one of the medical guys gives her a shot of something in her arm. I don’t know what it is, but it seems effective. The swelling in her eye goes down right away and is nearly completely gone by the next day. She and Karmine are still excused from the training, of course. Still, they insist on watching and cheering us on.

  We get through our last day of Close-Quarters training in a simulated real-world environment without any more incidents.
Brohn and Rain both do especially well, which is only reinforced when Trench and Granden commend them for it. Terk lumbers through the sparring but manages to get a few good shots in to Trench before Trench redoubles his efforts and takes him down.

  When my turn comes, I get taken down in about two seconds flat and am rewarded with disappointed stares from the two Trainers. Even Amaranthine manages to last longer than me, although she kind of cheats by running away over and over until Trench is finally able to drag her back to the simulation set-up and forces her to defend herself. She dodges his first strike, but then he hits her with a lightning-fast leg sweep, and that’s it for Manthy.

  “Hey,” Brohn says after the day’s events. I give him a look that says I don’t feel like receiving any tips on how not to be a weakling, but he just smiles and says, “You okay?”

  I nod, but there are tears in my eyes. I want to tell him it’s frustrating to feel so helpless, but something holds me back. “I’m fine,” I say. “Just fine.”

  After a solid night’s sleep, we step out of our Capsule Pads to be greeted by Granden, who announces that it’s time to move on to the Gamma Cube.

  Grateful to know I won’t get thrown to the ground this morning, I turn to look back at Karmine and Kella, who are usually up front but are now lagging behind.

  “Do you think they’ll be okay?” I ask Brohn as we follow Granden over to the third of the eight black buildings.

  “Physically?” he says. “Definitely.”

  “And Emotionally? Psychologically?”

  “Sure,” he says without looking at me. “Absolutely.”

  “You don’t sound so sure.”

  “Well, that’s because I’m not.”

  As I stare at him, I realize his jaw is clenching so hard that I can see the tension in his face.

  “Why not?” I ask. “Karmine and Kella are tough. They’ve been talking about fighting the Order forever. Why would you think they’d back down now?”