by Teo Xue Shen
“Whoa! Wait, wait!”
I hear a loud thunk. Peering over the tip of the pincer I was using as a shield, I see Rick with his arms raised defensively over his head, clad from head to toe in brownish plating. His Extension is a defensive one, making his skin almost impenetrable. Even Raine’s Extension has difficulty breaking Rick’s.
“Out of the way, Greenson,” Raine complains. “I was just getting to the good part.”
Good part meaning pummelling me into the sand.
“Now, now,” he says placatingly. “You’ll need your energy for later, won’t you?”
Raine thinks it over, then shrugs and retracts her clubs.
“By the way, aren’t you worried about April?”
“Of course I am,” Raine says. “But there’s nothing we can do about it now. We’ll have to wait till tomorrow.”
Idphor’s taken April for her second operation. It couldn’t have come at a more inconvenient time. We’ve got a whole week’s worth of cooperative training later on, which we’ll have to complete with just four members. And by cooperative training, I mean against the other squads. We’ll be learning how to assault and tackle targets. But it’s not the upcoming training I’m worried about. We can botch it for all I care. The main cause of concern is that this kind of training doesn’t occur often and when it does, it covers a number of important exercises.
When she gets back from the operation, success or not, April will have a lot of catching up to do.
“If it doesn’t work out,” Sean asks quietly, “what’ll happen to her?”
“She doesn’t have a choice,” Rick states firmly. “You should know, don’t you? The contract our families signed when they sold us out to the military. She can’t drop out unless something major happens to her.”
Rick’s voice is fringed with resentment. I know what it is he’s actually angry about. April’s situation is, no doubt, frustrating, but the way he worded his sentence makes me think there’s something else ruffling his feathers.
“That’s a harsh way to put it,” Sean says defensively. “We aren’t actually sold or anything like that.”
Looks like Sean’s on to something as well.
“Life’s harsh,” Raine interjects.
“Yep,” Rick is grinning again, “it was until I met you.”
Raine simply flips him off. By now, she’s gotten used to those corny lines of his. She doesn’t even bother to expend the energy to give a verbal reply. She does, however, trace a finger down the blade of her dagger, as if she’s pondering whether it’s worth the trouble to stick it in his neck. Aside from our melee weapons, our guns have been confiscated for fear that we might hurt ourselves if we went all out at this stage. Even though our Extensions may be bulletproof, our main bodies aren’t. They’re not knife-proof either. And most definitely not Extension-proof. I’m glad that we’ve been given the liberty to train without Idphor breathing down our necks, but I’m starting to wonder if it is such a good idea after all.
Having no choice but to follow whatever instructions we’ve been given, we proceed on with our training. We’re pitted against other squads, racing against each other to destroy straw targets for points. The Tournament, it’s called. There are 16 squads in all, and only one can be the winner. That winner receives a night out—in the city. Basically, the squad that wins can spend roughly five hours outside camp, doing whatever the hell they see fit. I don’t care for it. After all, I don’t have many places to visit.
Against all odds, our four-member squad makes it to the finals. By the end of the semifinals, I’m ready to call it a day. All that changes when the announcement for the finals is made.
“AND NOW, SQUAD SEVENTY-TWO VERSUS SQUAD THIRTY-FOUR!”
Okay. Now, where have I heard that before?
“I don’t know about you guys,” Raine says with a dangerous tilt of her chin. “But I really wanna win right now.”
“Yeah,” I agree, my eyes fixed on the group of five walking in our direction. “No way in hell we’re losing this.”
A boy whose jet-black hair is slicked back steps forward. Behind him is a giant, with a bigger build than Rick, two other guys and a girl. Squad 34. Also the ones who got us a cleaning trip to the armoury months ago.
“Well, looks like we meet again,” Sam grins. “Squad
Seventy-Two.”
“I’ve got no interest in having a night out from camp, but you know, somehow, I just can’t bring myself to lose this match,” Raine says coldly.
“About the last time…” Sam begins.
“WILL THE CONTESTANTS PLEASE GATHER AT THE ARENA! THE MATCH WILL BEGIN IN TEN MINUTES!”
“Okay. I have a proposal for you.”
“What proposal?” Raine demands suspiciously. “Does it involve your surrender?”
“Hand-to-hand combat only,” the girl speaks for the first time. “Just like that time in the training room.”
Her voice is soft and lyrical.
“We’ve already demonstrated our competency in handling our Extensions in the previous rounds so I don’t think the judges will have any issue with this,” Sam says. “Actually, I think they’ll be thrilled.”
“Sounds good,” Raine nods. “Ren?”
“I’m fine with that.”
“Rick? Sean?”
“We’re both okay too.”
Sam smiles like he’s just won the lottery and walks off, waving sardonically over his shoulder. The rest of his squad follow. The girl gives us an almost imperceptible nod, then leaves.
“Something’s different,” Rick frowns. “His manner has changed.”
“Really?”
For someone who spends most of his life grinning away, he sure is more perceptive than I thought. And he’s right. I can sort of feel it too. A subtle shift in the way our opponents are acting.
“Whatever,” Raine shrugs. “Let’s go.”
We’re ushered to the doors of an oval building. Its sides are terraced into seats for the spectators while the bottom is an oval space on which we’ll fight. A couple of soldiers pat us down and issue us rubber knives, their blades dipped in red paint. Behind the doors, I can hear the excited chatter of the spectators, made up of mostly soldiers and trainers. We’re ready. Idphor’s standing by the door. As we draw closer, he steps right up to my face and stares me in the eye.
“Destroy them,” he growls.
For once, we’re in agreement. “Yes, sir.”
The heavy oak double-doors swing open. The excited chatter of the crowd rises to a deafening holler. From the opposite side of the arena, Squad 34 enters. That’s the problem. I can see them. In all our previous matches, we’ve fought in all sorts of terrains, from mock urban landscapes to jungle environments. But this arena is totally bare. Eleven target boards line the centre of the arena, surrounded by sand and dust. By the side of the arena is a round brass gong, hanging from a sturdy wooden scaffold. The referee begins reading out the rules. None of us are listening. We’re simply waiting for one thing. The striking of the gong. The soldier in front of it raises his stick. I hold my breath. His hand falls. We’re off.
“Ihndran! Charmaine! Take the one on the left! John, the big guy’s all yours! And Syafiq, get the guy with the long hair!” Sam roars his orders as they charge.
I guess I’m the one on the left they’re talking about. The audience goes wild. It’s probably because they’ve yet to see a match where the participants completely ignore the targets and go for each others’ throats instead. My position as “the one on the left” is cemented when two members from Squad 34 veer off from the rest and head in my direction. No prizes guessing which is Charmaine and which is Ihndran. A glance around tells me that the giant is John and the last guy is Syafiq. Both Rick and Raine are up against their old nemeses. My opponents draw close, then stop abruptly.
“Hold up.”
“Huh?” I blink, stunned.
“I’m Ihndran,” the guy says. “She’s Charmaine.”
“Ah…I
’m Ren. Nice to meet you…or not…”
“I’ll go first,” he announces. “Rest assured, she won’t touch you while we’re fighting. I give you my word.”
“Uh…thanks?”
“Prepare yourself.”
He lunges. He’s faster then he was before, but with my enhanced senses from the operation, he’s still horribly open. I draw my knife. Two slashes to the throat, three stabs to the stomach and one behind the knee. By the time he turns around, the shrilling of the referee’s whistle rings through the arena. He’s out. First blood. The girl steps forward.
“Charmaine, was it? All the best.”
To my surprise, she shyly sticks out her hand, avoiding my eyes. I take it.
“All the best,” she says softly.
We each take a step back. She lifts her eyes to meet mine. For a second, neither of us moves. Something flickers across her eyes. I duck. She lunges, her fist sailing over my head. I draw my knife and repeat what I did to Ihndran. After the last stroke, I turn, only to find her knife slicing towards my gut. I back up. She’s unhurt. Not a single scratch or drop of paint on her body. She’s managed to block me at every damn turn. It finally dawns on me that she’d been scrutinising my every move when I fought with Ihndran. Impressive. In that short amount of time, she was able to formulate a rough idea of my movements and acted to counter them. This girl is way more dangerous than I thought. Maybe even worse than Raine. She feints to the left, then lashes out with her right leg. Her boot crashes into my side and I fall. I slash upwards, forcing her back as she tries to advance. In the background, the whistle sounds again. Sean is out. His opponent, Syafiq, stands in the middle of the arena and waits.
Charmaine circles around, taking my attention off Syafiq for the time being. I have to settle this quickly. She runs towards me. I crouch low, bringing up my guard. At the last possible moment, she kicks off the ground, flips herself over my head and tries to stick her knife into the back of my head in mid-air. The blade is so close I swear I feel it on the tiny hairs along my neck. As she comes in for another go at my neck, I sidestep her thrust and kick upwards, sending the knife flying out of her hand. It skitters across the floor, adding a coat of dust to its painted edges. She looks at it regretfully, then squares up to face me. I drop my knife. It bounces once and lands at my feet. Her eyes widen with surprise.
“It’s only fair, right?” I jerk my head towards Syafiq, who’s still observing our fight.
“Thanks,” she smiles.
I press in. Her smile vanishes and she backs away quickly. She’s wary. I take a testy jab at her. She swats my hand aside, returning a boot to my stomach. Instead of dodging, I absorb the blow, grab her boot and twist. With a cry of pain, she’s forced to her other knee. I release her foot, wrapping an arm around her neck.
“I give.”
I let her go. The whistle sounds. Twice. Rick is done with his foe too. He glances at me, grins brightly and starts a fight with Syafiq. My gaze travels towards the grandstand where Sean catches my eye and shoots me an apologetic look. I smile to let him know it’s all right. Someone taps me on the shoulder.
“Congratulations,” Charmaine offers me her hand.
I shake it.
“Yeah. You did well too.”
“No, I mean, congratulations on winning the tournament.”
“What?” I scan the arena quickly. “They’re still fighting, aren’t they?”
“No,” she shakes her head firmly. “It’s over. Sam and Syafiq are no match for your teammates. Even if, on the off-chance, they do win, they have no chance of getting past you.”
Peeeeeeeep! Syafiq is down.
“There’s still…”
Raine dodges a punch from Sam, spins around, whips out her knife and flings it at him. The tip of the blade bounces off his throat, leaving behind a red splotch. I should’ve known. She can hit a moving monitor lizard’s head at ten metres. It’s over, exactly as Charmaine predicted. She’s got astonishing powers of assessment. The crowd goes crazy. People are yelling, cheering and generally revelling in the spectators’ seats. I’m pretty sure I saw money change hands. We gather at the centre of the arena.
“Hey, about the last time…” Sam waves us over to where he’s fallen, panting with exhaustion. “I’m sorry. We, no, I acted like a damn fool. I got you guys into trouble over something which was my fault in the first place.”
“Forget it,” Rick grins. “It’s over. I don’t like holding grudges.”
“I’m not one to bear grudges either,” I shrug.
“Yeah,” Raine mutters.
“Really?” Both Rick and I turn to her, surprised.
She scowls.
“Okay, maybe a little,” she admits. “But I’m fine now. And Ren? Shut up. You were just as fixated on winning as I was.”
The announcement for the winners to gather at a podium rings across the arena.
“A night out, huh?” Rick muses when we’re out of earshot, walking behind the others. “It doesn’t sound like a bad idea.”
“Don’t get excited just yet,” I mutter. “We still have a week of intensive training to slog through.”
“Don’t remind me,” he groans. “I’m already aching all over.”
“Well, what are you guys waiting for?” Raine says impatiently, turning her head. “Let’s get this over and done with.”
Rick sighs, resigned. “Let’s go.”
8
It’s one week before we see April again. One hell of a week. We’re put through an endless cycle of exercises, surviving on barely enough sleep. Our uniforms have also been altered based on the point of origin of our Extensions. Sean’s sleeves have been hacked off while Rick’s top has slits cut into the fabric covering his shoulder blades. As for Raine and me, since our Extensions originate from our lower backs, they simply slide under the hem of our shirts when they unfold, saving us the trouble of modifying our uniforms. Perhaps they were designed like that on purpose.
April looks no better than any of us. There are dark circles around her eyes, a testament that she’s been trying every night to bring out her Extensions despite the fact that she isn’t supposed to, not when she hasn’t had time to recover from the operation.
“Hey,” she smiles weakly.
“Has there been any…” Rick begins.
She shakes her head. Instant silence. No one knows what to say to her any more.
“Guess I am a Neutral after all.”
Given what we’ve heard about the Savages and the experiences we’ve had with our own Extensions, she might as well have been handed a death sentence. Yet she says it like she’s commenting on the weather.
“There’s really no way…”
Another shake of the head.
“I’ll keep on trying,” she promises. “I have to.”
“You do just that,” a voice rings out from behind us.
It’s Idphor.
“You have two months,” he continues. “After that, you’ll all be graduating from this place. In other words, you’ll be deployed to the frontlines. To fight. And die if you have to.”
He reaches for his breast pocket. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Raine glaring daggers at him. Well, I can’t blame her for it. The last time he did that, she ended up covering guard duty on Christmas night.
“Here.” He gives each of us a piece of paper. “Whatever last words you have for your families, write them down. I’ll collect them tomorrow.”
That’s not something you’d want to hear. Especially not after finding out that a member of your squad is most likely a Neutral. Sean, April and Rick are staring glumly at the slips of paper in their hands. I look at Raine and find her looking back at me. Slowly, she tilts her head in Idphor’s direction. On cue, we return the blank pieces of paper on the spot. Idphor turns to go.
“Oh, by the way, all of you will have to nominate a leader for this squad. The leader will be the main point of contact between us and the squad when you’re at the frontlines.”
As one, their eyes fall upon me. Neither bothering to give me any time to protest nor looking very interested in my opinion, Idphor nods quickly.
“Ren it is.”
Shit.
“Whoa, hold on,” I hold up my hands in protest. “Where’s my say in this?”
April and Rick gesture out the window, Sean points to the rubbish bin and Raine begins whistling loudly, twiddling her thumbs nonchalantly.
“Night out. Tonight. You can leave camp at eighteen hundred hours,” Idphor says, completely ignoring me. “Start planning.”
He leaves the room, slamming the door behind him. We exchange glances.
“I’m not going,” Raine yawns.
“Yes, you are.” Idphor sticks his head back into the room, giving us all a fright. “It’s compulsory.”
Raine waits until she’s sure Idphor’s left for good before casting a venomous look at the door.
“What kind of reward is compulsory?” she complains. “That bald bastard…”
“The city,” Rick interrupts, staring about surreptitiously as though Idphor might be the monster hiding under our beds. “I kind of want to see it.”
“In that case, I want to go too,” April pipes up. “I want to see the city. And the walls too, if we can.”
“The walls?”
“They’re always in the horizon, but I’ve never seen them up close. I’m curious.”
“Well, it looks like we’ve got some sort of itinerary, don’t you think?” Rick grins. “So…who’s in?”
“I’m in,” April says immediately.
“Me too.”
“And me, I guess.”
All that’s left is Raine. We look at her expectantly. She gives us her infamous scowl, then shrugs.
“All right, fine,” she mutters begrudgingly. “I’ll go. It’s not like I have a choice.”
We leave the camp at six in the evening. The spluttering rays of the setting sun dip beyond the rigid rims of the eighteen walls, the horizon I’ve come to know ever since I can remember. A horizon devoid of nature’s bumps or man’s boroughs, but instead platonically straight like the edges of a pie sliced by an obsidian knife.