by C. L. Stone
Evie knew the camp mentors were angered at her repeated refusal to join their coveted ranks. Annoyed at her unwavering resolve to not repeat the cycle of abuse so many had to endure. The mentors considered this training, but reality proved their desire for a deliberate assault driven by resentment and hatred against her refusal to bend.
Another tap on her shoulder. Two minutes in, one minute to go.
Without any warning, a fist connected with Evie's chin, knocking her to the ground. Disbelief flooded her as she laid there in shock. A face shot broke the rules. Evidence of the monthly training sessions needed to be easily concealed under clothing; otherwise, camp members who were new to the cause or had joined in the last few years, would ask too many questions. Discipline training was a closely guarded camp secret.
Camp members were zealots. They lived and breathed the cause. They turned a blind eye to what really happened within the camp borders. Instead, they convinced themselves it was combat training. A needed skill to help young adolescents prepare for future campaigns against the enemy. All parents of fledglings had been indoctrinated by the current leader, her father, to believe the lies. If a concerned parent spoke up, fear and intimidation tactics silenced them. If that failed to work, their loyalty became bought and paid for with cold hard cash.
Agony erupted from her abdomen as a booted foot made contact with her stomach. Nausea rose, and Evie's insides rebelled, threatening to spill its meager contents. Another hit to her side flamed her anger. Its burning heat roared, begging for release, demanding her to fight back. She resisted its command. Instead, she used it to push the pain back. Survival for this round required her to hold out for less than a minute. She would not lose.
Curling into a ball, she stayed huddled close to the ground, trying to protect her head. They were not playing by the rules anymore. She wouldn't put it past them to try for another head shot.
After four years, taking a beating was second nature to Evie. She learned long ago it was worse to fight back. She couldn't change the mindset of the camp elders. They believed that discipline training was necessary. Her goal to endure the malice with dignity set an example to the younger members who looked up to her. Maybe one day, they would follow her lead, fight back against the injustice in their own way.
At the age of thirteen, camp teenagers were given the rank of fledgling and were forced to start attending combat training. CT, as the camp members liked to call it, lasted for three hours each day. It included self-defense, hand to hand combat, and weapons training. Attendance was mandatory, rain or shine. As you aged and proved your competencies in the skills taught, you advanced into more advanced training. At thirteen, you began in the beginners CT class. At fifteen, you graduated into the intermediate class. Sixteen and seventeen year olds were in the advanced class, and those over eighteen were in the elite class. As you advanced, the days required to partake in CT decreased.
Even though Evie was only seventeen, she’d been moved to the elite class during her sixteenth year. No one informed her of the reason, but she suspected it had something to do with Dominick being the class instructor. What Dominick wanted, he got, and he wanted Evie in his class.
On top of CT, fledglings attended discipline training once a month. This specialized training was touted as mental conditioning, but Evie knew the truth. It was a barbaric ritual used by her father to subvert future recruits. It gave mentors permission to beat a fledgling bloody for three minutes. Three minutes wasn't a long time, but when a person was on the receiving end of five pairs of fists and feet, three minutes seemed like a lifetime. If a fledgling raised a hand in defense during those three minutes, their training time extended by two minutes.
If a fledgling raised them again, then the seasoned soldiers stepped in. When they were done, the fledgling ended up lying unconscious. This cruel practice continued on until fledglings reached the age of sixteen. Then the fledgling was granted the rank of mentor and expected to help train, perpetuating the barbaric tradition. If a fledgling refused the new promotion, well, the consequences were severe. Evie knew from first-hand experience. Today was her seventeenth birthday, and she was still ranked as a fledgling.
Her father's most trusted lieutenants oversaw Fledglings Day, the nickname the soldiers gave discipline training. These men and women stood stock still, arms crossed against their chests, their dead eyes watching the proceedings with little emotion. Most of the lieutenants enjoyed their duties, some a little too well. They reveled in their power when a fledgling failed, and they were able to step in.
Evie struggled every month on Fledgling Day during the first year. She had a natural inclination to raise her hands, to defend herself against the attacks. Her pride—or maybe it was anger—didn't allow her to go down easy. It took over a dozen times of being knocked unconscious for the lesson to sink it. Now at seventeen, she rarely raised her hands.
On her sixteenth birthday, when she was expected to graduate from fledgling to mentor, she refused. She wasn’t about to beat up on the younger, new fledglings. She didn't agree with the training, and she would not help propagate the belief that it was necessary to the cause. Her defiance spoke louder than words. To say her father wasn't happy was an understatement. He’d ordered her beaten for double the amount of time. When it was over, they hid her away for almost two weeks while she recovered. Her father spun a story about her appendix rupturing so other camp members wouldn't question it.
After that, Evie’s father left her alone. Not out of any sense of fatherly affection. No, it was more out of fear that the bruises would be questioned by members of the camp who were still unaware of the practice as well as visitors from other camps. As a seventeen-year-old fledgling, she managed to be the only one over the age of sixteen who refused to become a mentor since her father implemented the additional training requirement five years ago.
A whistle sounded, signaling the end of Evie's three minutes in the circle. Another month completed, only eleven more to go before she was out of this hellhole. She was counting the days until her eighteenth birthday, and she could leave
Her face throbbed, and her limbs shook from the pain. Evie knew it was useless to try to move from the ground. She wasn’t going anywhere just yet. Instead, she lay there, her cheek against the dirt, and contemplated her next steps. Thankfully Max wasn't due back until later in the week so she had a few days of reprieve.
Each Fledgling Day proved it harder to hide her injuries from him. He started to become suspicious over the last year, but Evie convinced him that they just battled hard in combat training. She made sure her arms and legs were covered at all times. He never witnessed the bruises she carried on her skin, but as soon as they faded, the month would be over with a new fledgling day upon her. It would only be a matter of time before he found out.
*****
The sun was high in the sky the following morning when Evie dragged herself out of bed. Making her way slowly to the small bathroom attached to her room, she searched her medicine cabinet for the small box of pain pills hidden there. She popped a couple of the little, white pills in her mouth and swallowed them without water. Pain wracked her body. Her torso, tender to the touch, and her skin felt tight from swelling. She hesitated before slipping off her clothes to climb into the shower. As always, she didn't want to see the violence that had been inflicted upon her body. She knew her bruises would be in full bloom, most bright red darkening into blue, some of the more serious ones turning a deep purple.
She did examine her jaw, pissed at whoever hit her in the face. It was hard enough keeping Fledgling Day a secret from Max. Hiding the bruising under her clothes worked well, but she couldn’t help walking around like a sloth for a few days after. Her body just wasn’t able to move at a normal pace. Plus, it helped with the pain management. But, the bruise on her cheek was going to be hard to explain away. She iced it the night before so it wasn't swollen, but the skin was discolored. She hoped that the bruising would disappear before Max arrived back at the camp.
If not, she would be forced to lie to him once again.
It didn't take her long to shower and dress for the day. She avoided looking in the mirror when she stripped down and forewent washing her hair. She couldn't lift her arms up high enough to deal with her hair, the pain becoming too much if she stretched the muscles in her sides.
Knowing she couldn’t put it off any longer, Evie made her way down the stairs located off the kitchen with the intention of making herself a light breakfast before slipping quietly outside.
The cabin was compact but spacious. A kitchen, living room, office, and a master bedroom were all located on the first floor. Evie's room was the only area upstairs. It was a converted attic space; she liked to think of it as her own personal sanctuary.
Entering the kitchen, she searched the cupboards for her cereal. As she grabbed the box, heavy footsteps sounded behind her.
"I have people coming over this morning. Make a fresh pot of coffee, then get out. Make yourself useful around the camp." Her father's command was clear. He didn't care if she missed a meal.
Keeping her head down, she nodded. "Yes, Father."
“And find Dominick for me. Tell him I need him to attend this meeting.”
Evie nodded again without looking up. She didn’t want her father to see the spark of anger in her eyes. Keeping her feelings in check became more difficult because her patience with her situation worn thin. She was his flesh and blood, but he treated her like a servant. She needed to be careful, though, and keep those feelings hidden. If she showed her resentment, he would get creative with a new punishment for her. Her biggest fear would be for him to restrict her access to come and go. She needed to be able to leave camp and make her way into the town of Holden. It was the only thing that broke up the monotony of camp life.
Focusing on making the coffee, Evie wondered what happened to the father she’d once known. Once upon a time, Evie was a normal little girl, with a normal family. The dutiful daughter who hung on the shirttails of her beautiful mother with a fun-loving father who read her stories and played dolls with her when she asked.
But, that all changed when she was five. Her mother was murdered, and overnight, her father changed from a doting dad to a man filled with hatred and revenge.
The day she died, her father told her that the Surmata were responsible for her mother's death. Her mother was in Heaven, and Evie would never see her again. In her naivety, she asked how they were responsible, and her father slapped her. His next words, cold and harsh, would dictate how he viewed her from that day forward. "Children should be seen and not heard. Never question me again."
After that, Evie learned to hold her tongue. But as she grew older, her natural curiosity kicked in, and she researched the attack. At ten, she discovered the truth. It was not the Surmata who inflicted her mother's mortal wounds. All evidence suggested it to be a crime committed by a Kosketti, a human corrupted by a demon's influence. Once a human’s soul was fully darkened, the soul could not be redeemed, even in death.
Evie's father joined the Resistance long before she was born, but he held a lower position. After her mother’s death, he started working his way up the ranks. Five years ago, he attained the rank of Captain, the rebel leader for the entire southern region of the United States.
This camp became his home base. Within his first month, he instituted the practice of discipline training. He had one purpose when he accepted the new position in the resistance movement against the Surmata: destroy anything supernatural. He preached his views to his followers and any others who happened to come into contact with him. People flocked to his side, believing every sugar-coated word that sprang from his lips.
Now Evie's father was one of the strongest leaders in the whole country, but he was also one of the cruelest. He believed every word he spouted about the supernatural species he’d come to hate. He viewed the Surmata as the greatest enemy mankind ever faced. If he ever got wind that his own daughter didn’t believe in his cause, Evie wasn’t sure what he would do.
Retreating footsteps sounded behind her. Evie relaxed her tense body as she heard her father leaving the room. She was relieved he dismissed her so easily. It would have been harder to keep her expression neutral if he asked her more questions. Placing the cereal back in its place, she finished making the coffee, grabbed her stuff and set out to find Dominick.
2
DOMINICK
“Hey, Evie. What can I do for you?”
“Hi, Leon. Do you know where Dominick is?”
Evie made her way across the camp to the main barn that was situated centrally to ensure easy access from all positions. The barn had been converted into the main weapons room. All sort of weaponry hung from the walls or were enclosed in locked cases. To the right of the entranceway, a small staircase resided in a hidden corner that lead to the top of the barn. It used to be just one big, wide open space, but a few years ago, her father converted it to living quarters. Her father’s top advisors who were unmarried lived there. Dominick, in his official capacity as advisor to new recruits, bunked down here as well.
“I think he's filling in today on the training field. A new batch of soldiers arrived this week from West Virginia, and Dom wanted to be sure they were fit for duty.”
Leon looked at his watch. “The assessment should be over by now. I would suggest you go to the field. Dominick is probably still there.”
“Thanks, Leon. I’ll do that.” Evie turned to walk back out the way she came, but Leon grabbed her arm before she could take a step.
Looking around covertly, Leon made sure they were alone before he spoke. “Be careful, Evie. There’s whispers around camp. Something is stirring. You’re a good kid, and I don’t want to see you hurt. Just watch your back, okay?”
Leon was old enough to be her grandfather, and he’d always been nice to Evie. She trusted him almost as much as she trusted Max “I will, Leon. Thanks for the warning.”
Walking through the camp filled Evie with mixed feelings. On one hand, the small, thriving community they built brought a sense of pride to her. Over a hundred small cabins for families dotted the area. Most built by hand and were self- sufficient. Common areas constructed throughout the camp provided places where the residents ate and socialized together. Evie remembered so many moments of shared laughter or tears. But since her father took over the camp, those moments disappeared. Now, closed-door meetings and hushed whispers amongst the lieutenants surround us. New soldiers from the outside showed up daily on buses from other camps. More and more unfamiliar faces to Evie whose hard, cold stares followed everyone constantly observed and passed judgement on the camps inhabitants.
In the last few years, something dark replaced Evie’s cherished home, leaving ominous undertones. No one smiled anymore. Celebrations or parties thrown in the mess hall passed into distant memories. All activity pushed aside. Training for every member of the camp increased. People were run ragged from sun up to sun down, but the reasons why were never shared. It felt like the camp was gearing up for a long and drawn out war.
Evie arrived at the training field just as the evaluation session Dominick held ended. Soldiers, some shirtless with only a pair of shorts on and others with full workout gear, sauntered off the field. As the area used for CT became available, the camps’ children descended on it like a swarm of wild animals. If the field was clear, the children of the camp used it as their personal playground.
Dominick stood on the far side of the field talking to two men, both men familiar to Evie. They reported to Dominick for the past year. Evie decided to take her time and skirt the field, approaching the group from the North.
As she walked, she felt the eyes of someone on her. Looking around, she couldn’t see anyone who was paying her any attention. The kids on the field played without a care in the world. Dominick and the others were in a heated conversation. Their voices rose but not loud enough to be heard from a distance. Her approach went unnoticed by them. Evie stopped and turned in a full cir
cle but didn’t spot anyone else. Must be a guard watching from the heavily wooded forest that surrounded them. Shrugging it off, Evie made her way closer until she was just a few feet away from the three men.
Evie waited patiently until Dominick acknowledged her. His back stiffened when she got close, so she knew he was aware of her arrival. Interrupting meant punishment. Her father’s rule of not speaking before being spoken to became an official camp rule. It applied to anyone under the age of eighteen. If Evie were to speak first, she’d be subjected to another reminder of appropriate camp protocol, an embarrassing lesson held in front of the entire camp, meant to ridicule the offender. With pain still running rampant across her entire body, she needed to be being extra cautious not to break any camp rules. She didn't have the temperament to handle the derision from those believed to be her betters.
After a few minutes, Dominick dismissed his soldiers and turned toward her. "Hi, Doll. What brings you out to the training field? The elite class doesn’t meet until the day after tomorrow.”
He moved closer, smiling broadly. “I know you missed me. Is that why you’re here?"
Dominick, one of her father’s top lieutenants from a young age, made his way up the ranks in a very short time. At twenty-two years old, his sights honed in on Evie; the day she turned sixteen, he made his interest in her known. At first, the attention of such a handsome man flattered Evie, but the more she got to know him, the more she didn’t like him. He worshiped her father. Took everything her father said as gospel. So devoted to the cause, he lost his own voice as he transformed into something similar to a blind monkey that followed her father’s every order. No matter what that order entailed. Even worse, lately Evie begun to notice a carefully concealed cruel streak. Dominick liked to torment the fledglings, and he openly encouraged his soldiers to do the same.
Evie ignored his query and countered. "My father asked me to find you. He wants you at the meeting he is holding in his office."