by Teo Xue Shen
“The two soldiers were strange too,” Raine continues. “They have Extensions but neither had anything close to a wolverine’s claws. And no matter how I pressed, they wouldn’t tell me anything concrete.”
Again, she’s right. We don’t have enough information to reach a conclusion, so we split up to get some rest. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Raine follow Rick out the door, her AK-47 assault rifle slung across her back. Rick’s lugging an M249, a machine gun suited for his large build. That’s amazing. Even after two weeks of intense training, they’re still going for more. Meanwhile, I just want to curl up and sleep. It’s no wonder Idphor thinks my attitude is rotten. Pushing my thoughts out of my head, I take a shower, throw myself onto my bed and try my best to get some rest before our training resumes the next day.
5
Idphor starts off the next morning with this hated thing called inspection. Basically, everything in the room has to be immaculate. Our weapons have to be disassembled, oiled and arranged perfectly. The same goes for our other belongings, the arranging part, that is. Each item has to be placed in a specific position in our cupboards. It’s a pain in the ass and my most hated activity in the military. Of course, nothing can satisfy Idphor. He enters our room and starts screaming right off the bat. Some bullshit about the air being musty. He should just go fix that nose of his. He walks past my cupboard, turns around abruptly and grabs me by the collar.
“What exactly do you think this is, you piece of shit?” he growls.
“Inspection, sir.”
“Then, why the hell is your knife not oiled?” he yells, jabbing a finger at my obviously well-oiled butterfly knife. “Gimme fifty for that.”
“Yes, sir.”
As I drop down to start the first of my fifty push-ups, something falls out of my pocket. Something shiny. Shit. I shouldn’t have left it there. Quick as a flash, I grab it, hiding it from view. But Idphor is no fool.
“Number ninety-three.”
“Yes, sir?”
“What, over the ashes of your dead body, was that?”
“What?”
I feign ignorance.
“I’ll ask you again,” Idphor snarls. “What the hell was that?”
“Nothing, sir.”
Idphor’s boot comes crashing down onto my closed fist. There’s an audible crack. Rick winces, letting me know that he can hear it even from where he’s standing. It hurts like hell, but my fist remains closed. No way I’m giving in to this asshole. Idphor’s about to stomp on my hand again when someone speaks.
“Hey.”
It takes me a few seconds to realise it is Raine. No way. It takes her a few seconds to realise that too. The regret must be hitting her by now. Idphor isn’t amused. He’s glaring at her as if he’d like nothing better than to strangle her with her own intestines.
“It’s a coin,” she says. “I gave it to him for good luck.”
“Oh?” Idphor raises an eyebrow sceptically. “And why don’t you show us that coin?”
“Superstition, sir,” I answer quickly. “If it’s shown to others, the luck vanishes.”
“Are you an idiot?”
“No, sir.”
“The correct answer is yes,” Idphor roars. “Forget fifty. You’re at two hundred now.”
“Yes, sir.”
Relieved, I continue with the rest of my push-ups. Thank you, I mouth, turning my head towards her so Idphor will not notice. She rolls her eyes and looks away. Idphor continues screaming at us for a good hour or so, then pulls out a dog-eared piece of paper from his breast pocket. This can’t be good.
“The following people have been assigned to guard the campsite two days from now,” he announces. “Number fifteen and number seventy-eight.”
Oh. It’s Christmas two days from now. That’s when most of the soldiers are given a day off to visit their families. Well, not that it matters to me. Raine is glowering as though she’d like nothing better than to strangle Idphor with Sean’s intestines. Idphor exits, leaving no room for negotiation. Sean looks devastated. I know why. He has family. They’ll be dismayed too, when they hear about this. Well, I could change that, I guess. And since Raine did save me from Idphor’s wrath, I suppose accompanying her for guard duty won’t be such a bad thing after all. I go up to Sean.
“Hey.”
“Hey,” he replies, downcast.
“About that duty, how about you give it to me?”
“Huh?”
“The guard duty. I’ll do it for you.”
“Why…what? Huh?” He’s trying to formulate a complete sentence, but the words won’t come out.
“I don’t have family. You do. Go visit them.”
“But I can’t just have you take over like that… Don’t you need a break from camp or something like that?”
“I’ve lived here since I was eight. I don’t have a home anywhere else.”
“But…”
“All right. It’s settled. Have a nice day.”
I turn and walk towards the shower.
“Hey!” he calls after me, his voice laced with unmistakable relief. “Hey! Wait! Thank you!”
Two days later, I turn up for guard duty in his place. Raine takes one look at me, snorts and rolls her eyes.
We’re both fully armed and given a route to patrol. The more I look at our route, the more I hate Idphor for this. The ugly red line winds its way around the entire campsite. In the hot and humid night, a cloak of sweat soon covers our bodies, making the patrol extremely uncomfortable. Honestly, this sucks. Aside from the clopping of our boots, the only other sound ringing through the lonely night is the shrilling of the cicadas.
“Thanks for that day,” I say. “I haven’t gotten the chance to thank you properly yet.”
“You could have taken over my guard duty,” she suggests.
“Sean has family,” I explain.
“And I don’t?”
“You don’t have a family name. Just like me.”
“Fair enough,” she shrugs. “Abandonment or death?”
“Death,” I reply without hesitation. “I don’t remember much though.”
“It was the former for me, though,” she says. “Me and my brother. They left us at an orphanage. I honestly don’t know which is worse.”
“You have a brother.”
I don’t know why, but I feel surprised. It’s not that it’s extraordinary to have a sibling or something. Just kinda…I don’t know, unexpected?
“Had,” she corrects me.
I do a double take. Had? I can’t help staring at her.
“Sorry.”
“Don’t be,” she smiles faintly. “It was an accident. Probably.”
“You know, you look a lot better when you smile,” I blurt out.
It’s Raine’s turn to stare at me.
“Uh…I mean…I wasn’t trying to…” I hastily try to correct myself, falter, then give up. “Fine, whatever. Hit me if you want.”
“I know what you mean,” she laughs. “But, you know, speak for yourself. You look like a stereotypical murderer most of the time.”
“I can’t help it,” I protest. “I was born with this face.”
“So was I.”
“You’re born with what most people would kill to have.”
“Was that a compliment?”
“Maybe.” I turn away. “It’s just too bad you’re stuck in here.”
“You know, with a face like this, I’d rather be in here than out there. There are too many people out there who want this. And being orphaned makes me an easier target.”
So that’s it. That’s the kind of life she’s been living? Getting hunted down, chased and preyed on by others because of her looks? Suddenly, I understand her demeanour. Her wild fearlessness overlaying her fear, her fierce, never-back-down disposition. My respect for her grows.
“That’s…”
“If you apologise, I swear, I’ll kill you.”
“Okay. Definitely not apologising. But is it r
eally better in here?”
My question seems to take her by surprise. She frowns and kicks a rock into the drain beside the path.
“Well, yeah. I mean, Rick’s an idiot, but even I can tell that he’s joking. And if anything like what happened in the training room happens again, I guess there’re people I can count on.”
“If you say so.”
Desperately, I search my mind for a suitable conversation topic. That’s what I hate about guard duty. That is, aside from the fact that everyone else is getting a break and we’re stuck in this bloody military base. At night, almost nothing ever happens. It’s so boring, you have to talk to someone, Raine, in my case, since the only person you’ve got is your partner. Fortunately, we turn a corner and I see our dorms come into view.
“Hold up a minute,” she tugs on my rifle sling. “I’m gonna get something.”
“We’re not supposed to…” I begin.
She doesn’t hear the rest as she sprints towards the dorms. The entire building is dark and silent, devoid of any commotion. It feels strange to be in the camp all alone. With the knowledge that everyone else is celebrating the festive season outside the military base, it just feels even weirder. Sort of lonely, empty and quiet. I sit on the pavement and press my boots against the wall of the little drain, waiting for her return. Minutes later, Raine runs back down the stairs, a bundle of clothes clutched under her arm.
“You aren’t supposed to…”
“Tell Idphor then,” she replies, with full knowledge that I won’t. “Maybe he’ll make me do some goddamn cleaning again.”
“The only thing here that needs cleaning is your mouth.”
“As if you don’t use any vulgarities.”
“Not as much as you do. And only when necessary.”
“Now seems pretty necessary.”
I give her a small smile.
“I guess,” I say. “Must be hard, missing Christmas and all, huh?”
“Not really.”
I don’t say anything, simply waiting for her to continue.
“Fine.” She waits until we’re in another dimly lit area before speaking. “Quite a bit, actually.”
“You celebrate?”
“Used to, at least. With my brother. Sing ourselves some songs, talk about what we’d like to do in the future, you know, stupid stuff like that.”
It should have been embarrassing to tell someone stuff like this, but somehow, on this lonely night, Raine seems to open up a little more than she usually does.
“Nah, it’s not stupid. I wish I could do that too.”
“What a coincidence,” she remarks sarcastically.
Shit. I shoot her an apologetic look.
“Shit. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t worry, I wasn’t blaming you or anything.”
“A joke?” I frown.
“Sort of.”
“So you can do that too, huh,” I smile.
The camp’s warehouse comes into view. The doors are closed but the lights inside are on. Even on Christmas, some sad soul has to stay in the warehouse in case some other sad souls like us come along.
“Go on,” I say, jerking my head towards the warehouse. “Pass me your rifle. I’ll wait here.”
Grinning, she unslings her rifle, hands it to me and sprints off, clutching her clothes under one arm. I sit by the pavement once more. Unconsciously, my hand travels to my pocket where I left the object two days ago during Idphor’s inspection. It’s a tiny silver locket. I can still hear it, feel it, see it as if it had all happened yesterday. The screams, the blood and the Savage. Someone’s coming. A heavy panting reaches my ears. I lift my head. It’s Raine. She’s about a metre away. Her eyes fall on the locket I’m tossing methodically from hand to hand. She freezes. My smile vanishes when she lunges, her dagger in hand. With a surprised yelp, I fall over. I bring my hands up, too late, as she drives her knees into my shoulders, pinning them down on the ground. Her forehead meets my nose with an audible crunch. Stars swim into my vision, adding to my confusion. Cold steel. The blade of her dagger rests on my Adam’s apple. I stop struggling.
“It’s you, isn’t it?” she hisses in my ear.
“What the hell are you going on about?” I reply, bewildered.
She presses her dagger down slightly, drawing a thin stream of blood. I make my peace, prepared to meet the Grim Reaper.
“Sole survivor from Street 51.”
6
Raine’s furious. I mean, if someone has you pinned to the ground and is holding a knife to your neck, they’re probably pretty damn furious. She knows, without a doubt, that she’s right. And she is. The only question remaining is how. Her next words answer my unspoken question.
“The locket. Give it to me.”
Her face is a mess of emotions, with anger, sadness, confusion and fear warring across her features. I unclench my right fist. Immediately, she snatches it from my hand, holding it tightly in hers. The pieces of the puzzle now fit nicely together. Why she was so fixated with Street 51. Why she was trying to find out more about the Elites. The cold steel of the knife remains at my throat, gradually growing warmer due to the trickle of blood running down my neck.
“Aracel,” I say. “Your brother.”
She winces. I know I’m right, but this isn’t the time to be thinking about stuff like that. I’ve got more important things to worry about. The knife at my throat, for example. Not to mention the pissed-off and dangerous girl wielding that knife.
“How did he die?”
“There was a Savage.”
The anger on her face is replaced by shock. Her eyes widen slightly, then narrow suspiciously. I don’t think she trusts anything I say at this point. Regardless, I don’t have much of a choice. I tell her everything, from start to end. If she truly is his sister, then I think I can trust her.
When I finish, she’s trembling. She looks like she wants to say something, but doesn’t know where to start. I’m sure there are thousands of questions floating around in her head.
“Why?” she finally asks. “Aren’t you supposed to be the Elites? Why did you fail so miserably? There were five of you. Five! And you were wiped out? And why the hell was your target a Savage? And what the hell happened to security? What kind of…”
Her voice trails off when she realises that these are questions I don’t have answers for. I shake my head.
“Nothing could have prepared us for that. It was an impossible task.”
“So you’re saying they tried to silence the lot of you?”
“Maybe.”
“Then how the hell are you still alive?” she challenges.
“Amnesia. After I called for extraction, I acted like I didn’t remember a single thing. No matter what sort of therapy they put me through, I pretended not to know anything about what happened that night. In the end, I guess they believed my little act.”
Raine’s shoulders slump and her dagger falls away from my throat. I can’t even begin to imagine how hard it must be for her, hearing all that stuff about her brother. Slowly, she gets to her feet. Thinks for a moment before offering me a hand. I take it.
My nose is throbbing, a trail of dried blood leading from my right nostril to my mouth. The blood flowing from my throat has also dried.
“Sorry about that.” She looks away.
“Don’t worry about it,” I say. “I’m glad to be alive.”
“Why didn’t you tell me when I asked about Street 51?”
“I knew nothing about you,” I explain. “For all I knew, you could have been sent to monitor me.”
“How insulting.” She rolls her eyes. “And you trust me now?”
“You recognised the locket.”
She holds it up and depresses a lever I didn’t even know existed. The locket springs open, revealing a little photograph. A girl and a boy, smiling back at the camera. It hurts to look knowing that one died and the other is right beside me.
“Trust me now? This was the only photograph we ever
took. We…”
“Keep it close.” I fold her fingers over the locket. “Till the very end, he was thinking only of you.”
“Yeah,” she whispers, clenching her fist so tightly that her knuckles turn white. “You know, it’s always been the two of us. Since we were found by soldiers, huddling together outside as our orphanage burned down, each time we met, he would swear to protect me. Those words meant less and less as I grew up. And when I finally passed the final assessment of the individual training stage, they never meant less. But they came crashing back down on me like sledgehammers when I heard of his death.”
She takes a deep breath, then exhales slowly.
“So, yeah, words can hurt. A lot. Like knives, they seared themselves into my soul, ensuring I would never forget the times I coldly brushed him off, the times I found his concern embarrassing and, of course, the times we fought over the pettiest of things,” she continues. “I’m sorry, I know I’m ranting here. But I just want to get it all out, okay? It’s been pent up for the longest of times.”
“Mmhmm. I won’t tell anyone either,” I assure her.
She snorts.
“Tell anyone and you’re dead.” She bares her teeth at me. “So, was that an attempt to kill us too?”
“What?”
“The jungle. The strange creature we saw,” she reminds me.
“Oh. I don’t think so. Too many ways a plan like that could go wrong. Besides, they don’t know that I remember. There’s no reason to eliminate me. Not yet, anyway.”
“Yet,” she repeats, eyebrows raised. “That means you’re a walking time bomb. I should just…”
“If you were going to kill me, you would have done so just now,” I interrupt. “Am I wrong?”
She shakes her head.
“Fine. Whatever. Let’s just get on with the patrol.”
“I’m sorry,” I say.
Another shake of the head.
“It’s closure. For me, at least.”
There are tears welling up at the corner of her eyes. She’s trying to blink them away so I pretend not to notice. The rest of our patrol proceeds in silence. Idphor’s already waiting for us at the appointed rendezvous point, impatiently tapping his boots on the pavement.