by N. W. Harris
The two smaller guys lifted their friend to his feet and walked into the shower stalls, laughing and speaking loudly in Russian to each other.
“Are you good?” Shane asked.
“Yeah, I’m good,” he replied. “But don’t look at me like that. I didn’t start it.”
“I didn’t say you did,” Shane replied. “I just want to make sure you’re alright, and you ain’t gonna kill anyone when I walk out.”
“I said I’m good,” he snapped, wiping his nose.
“What happened?” Shane asked, nodding toward the blood.
“I slipped when those bastards shut off the cold water and damn near cracked my skull open.”
“Well, looks like you gave them a good scare,” Shane replied, confident Steve could’ve destroyed all three of them if it turned into a brawl. He wondered if the aliens knew what was happening and would’ve come to the foreign boy’s rescue if he hadn’t. Would they have let Steve kill the Russian for training purposes? “I’m guessing they won’t mess with you again.”
“They damn well better not,” Steve shouted toward the other end of the bathroom, where the Russians were showering. He stepped into his shower stall, jerking the curtain closed.
Shane shook his head and walked out. Going from the excited bliss of being alone with Kelly to this scene of anger and violence was about the last thing he could take. He headed to the quad, looking forward to lying down and closing his eyes.
“Let the games begin,” he said exhaustedly once he got back to the quad.
“What happened?” Kelly asked.
“Let’s just say the Russians wanted to give Steve a warm welcome, and he wasn’t having it.”
“Was he hurt?”
“His nose got busted, but I’d say he won the fight. I’d have stayed in there if I were worried about him.” He decided to leave out the details.
“Shhh.” The sound came from the next set of cubicles, the Koreans trying to sleep.
“They sure go to bed early,” Kelly said in a quieter voice.
“I guess we should turn in as well,” Shane whispered. “I get the feeling the morning is going to come too soon.”
Kelly’s hand brushed his, and her eyes said she wanted to kiss him again. Too bad there was no privacy in the barracks. She gave a sweet smile that sent a passionate surge through him and turned toward her bunk.
Warmed by her hints of affection, he headed toward the boys’ side of the barracks, pausing in the middle of the aisle when he saw Steve come out of the bathroom. Steve glared into the Russians’ quad as he passed, challenging them to another tussle. But then his expression softened in an instant, like he didn’t want to offend one of the people he saw. When he faced forward, there was a slight grin on his lips. There was only one thing that could turn the ferocious linebacker from anger to sheepishness so fast—a girl.
Shane continued across the aisle and stopped in front of his rack. Steve entered and stepped next to him, reaching up and pulling back the blankets on his bunk. Deciding his friend had been picked on enough for one day, he didn’t ask about his mood-shifting encounter at the Russian quad.
“What do you suppose these’ll do?” He picked up the little paper cup.
“They’ll make you a badass,” Steve replied cheerfully. “Like me.” He did a couple of quick boxer’s hops and threw a punch at Shane.
“Yeah, right,” he replied.
“No really, man,” Steve continued. “They smell and look just like the supplements I take all the time, though they are probably a better version.”
Shane stared at him.
Steve laughed. “Not steroids, dumbass. It’s just amino acids and stuff to help your muscles recover. I get ‘em at the mall for crying out loud.”
Shane knew a lot of the guys on the football team took nutritional supplements. He couldn’t afford them or he might’ve too.
“The darn things are so big,” Shane said, swirling the cup. “How the hell do you get them down?”
“Come on, dude,” Steve teased. “We all know you’re a swallower.”
“Jackass.” Shane elbowed his friend.
“I already took mine, and I’m fine,” Steve said, shrugging his shoulders and leaping up onto his rack.
“Yeah, I saw how fine you were just a few minutes ago in the bathroom.”
“Night, man,” Steve said, laughing and rolling toward the wall.
“Goodnight,” Shane replied, looking down at the pills again.
What did he have to lose? And why would the rebels go through so much trouble just to poison them with these chokers? Everyone else was crawling into their racks, so he assumed they’d all taken them. He walked over to the water fountain and forced the pills down, one at a time, and then returned and rolled into his bunk.
He lay awake, listening to the Russian boys whisper and laugh two sets of cubicles down. They were a jovial bunch; he had to give them that. But their merriment was of the mean sort, and he worried they were the types that got their kicks by hurting others. A stoic, female voice finally snapped something in Russian, and they fell instantly silent.
Shane reckoned it was around nine or ten o’clock when the lights were shut off. His eyes adjusted to the soft moonlight filtering in through the high windows, and he saw Tracy and Jules go into their quad and crawl into bed. They’d been watching the Anunnaki reel the entire time. Admirable. He’d have to pick their brains tomorrow. Maurice came in a short while later and climbed into his rack.
It was getting late, but Shane’s brain wouldn’t stop. Expectations of what lay ahead, horrible flashbacks of the last few days, and more pleasant thoughts of Kelly took turns whirling in his head. His team consisted of four girls and three boys. Granted, Steve was a tank and Shane was six feet tall, and both had been lifting weights for years for football, but he worried the girls might put them at a disadvantage if some of the other teams were all male. Then again, he knew better than to be sexist. After all, Tracy had proven to be tougher than any boy he’d ever met.
Maurice wasn’t as tall as Steve or Shane, but he was stocky and strong as an ox. And, the cheerful preacher’s son wasn’t easily intimidated. Shane saw Jules in action during the fight in Atlanta, and that she was still alive was a testament to her capabilities as well. The only person he was really worried about was Laura. She was definitely smart and compassionate to a fault, but could she fight?
Damn it, stop thinking and go to sleep!
He rolled onto his belly and tried to clear his mind, but it didn’t slow down or make any progress toward resolving his concerns. Time passed at a blistering rate, and the door to the barracks squeaked open just as he was about to drift off. The patter of footsteps made him look to the aisle. Seven Asian kids, five boys and two girls, walked quietly by his quad. Must be the Chinese. He listened to Jones whisper the same introduction to the barracks he’d given the Americans. It sounded like he spoke in English, but Shane knew it had to be Anunnaki. It was unlikely they’d understand him otherwise. Jones left, and they settled in their bunks. Soon, the sound of heavy breathing dominated the barracks once again.
Exhaustion made every part of Shane feel like he’d doubled in weight, though his mind refused to let go of consciousness. His eyes finally grew heavy, and soft emptiness crept through him.
“Wake up! On your feet!”
Startled, Shane tried to open his eyes, the lights blinding him. He squinted and rolled to his side, realizing he must have drifted off. Was it an hour ago? It felt like five minutes.
“Get out of your racks and put on the clothes and shoes provided in your locker. If you haven’t already, insert the translator bud into your ear. Do it, and do it now!” the gruff male voice coming from the front of the barracks yelled.
It was Jones, and he sounded like someone had pissed in his cereal.
“What the hell?” Steve grumbled, sliding out of the rack and hitting the floor with a heavy thud. “Did I fall asleep and wake up in the Army?”
Maurice laughed groggily.
Shane was jealous that the big guy had gotten sleep. Already wearing the black T-shirt and boxer briefs, he rolled out and put on his running shorts. He opened the small, plastic case holding the earbud. The inside of the lid contained a picture with instructions on holding and inserting it. It wasn’t much bigger than a broken-off pencil lead, and a wire was attached to the thicker end for a handle.
He ran his free hand down his face, tugging his eyelids further open to wake up. There was an allure to the tiny thing in a secret agent sort of way. He carefully pinched the wire, lifted the earbud, and stuck it in his ear. It slipped deep into his ear canal, poking his eardrum. Shane winced, jerking it out. Holding his other hand over the insulted ear, he studied the wire handle held between his fingertips. It had come loose, leaving the device well out of reach inside his ear.
“Your bud will translate so you can communicate with each other, and it’ll prevent the enemy from messing with your brain. Do not lose your earbud!”
How could he? He wondered if he’d ever be able to get it out again. From across the aisle, Shane’s and Tracy’s eyes connected. She held just the wire in her fingers too. Her expression was all seriousness, but he detected a little gleam in her eye, the same one that was there when she found the Stryker and rode in the Black Hawk.
“There is a line on either side of the barracks in front of your bunks. When you are dressed, stand on it. The last team on the line loses two points.”
“Get up, Laura!” Tracy snapped.
Her aggression was unnecessary, but they couldn’t afford to lose any points, of that he was certain. Shane slipped into the running shoes and stepped to the line at the same time as Maurice and Steve. Across the way, Kelly, Tracy, and Jules were already on their line, but Laura was still tying her shoes.
To the left, Shane saw the other six teams spilling out. The Koreans, Russians, and who he guessed were the Chinese, all stood at a position of attention, like they’d been doing this for years. Between them, a group of kids with a mix of ethnicities stood looking up and down the barracks, their eyes half open and disgruntled expressions on their tired faces. They blocked his view of the last two squads, those closest to the bathroom.
To his right, Jones strode into the aisle, unmistakable from his cloned counterparts because of his broad shoulders and the scar on his face.
“Stand tall and stiff, eyes straight forward, hands at your sides,” he bellowed, and Shane thought he heard the high windows rattle. “From now until you save this planet, you are all soldiers destined to die.”
Shane kept his eyes forward, but he could feel Jones glaring at them.
“We have chosen some of you because you are the best of the surviving humans on this planet. The rest were chosen because of your association with these few. We will train you and make you all the best of the best. We will teach you how to stop the enemy, and we will teach you how to stay alive. Do I make myself clear? Say, sir, yes sir!”
A chorus of scrambled responses came from up and down the aisles.
“Now louder and all together!” came the order.
“Sir, yes sir!”
“On your faces. Push-up position.”
Shane and Steve dropped, Maurice following.
“So much for getting up and exercising on our own,” Steve whispered.
“This works too,” Shane replied, grinning.
“No talking,” Jones yelled.
Shane realized the rude way the alien spoke to them yesterday was the nicest he’d probably be for their entire training.
“Most of you know by now—my name is Captain Jones,” the man continued. “I earned the title by working with the U.S. Navy Seals. I’ll be in charge of your training while you are here. Straighten your backs and stay off your knees!”
Shane glanced across the aisle and down the barracks. Laura and several others struggled to keep good push-up form.
“I am your drill sergeant, your asshole father, and that coach who kicked your butt every day after school. I’m here to break you down and rebuild you into a stronger person than you ever imagined you could become. I am not here to listen to your problems. I am not your shoulder to cry on. If you don’t want to be here, you can be replaced at any time. The survival of your species depends upon you, and there is no room for weakness, no time for sniveling or complaining. Do I make myself clear?”
“Sir, yes sir!” everyone shouted.
“Now, push-ups. One, two, three, four, keep your bellies off the floor,” the alien drill sergeant sang. “Five, six, seven, eight, keep your backs and legs straight.”
It felt good to do the push-ups, and Jones’ military-cadence style of counting forced a smile onto Shane’s face. Getting his blood pumping took the edge off the exhaustion. He never minded a good workout, but he could see Laura and Maurice weren’t as enthusiastic. After ten push-ups, Laura dropped to her chest and laid there, her arms trembling with a futile effort to lift her body once more. Her surrender contagious, Maurice collapsed next.
“What is your problem?” Jones stepped between them, rage in his voice. He squatted down, glaring at them. “You give up like that on the mission, and we are all goners. Push-up or get out!” He pointed toward the door.
Shane feared he was about to lose two teammates, and the first day had barely started. To his surprise, Laura growled angrily and, under the gun of scrutiny, they both shakily lifted themselves off the floor. Jones moved down the line, yelling the entire way.
“You all have strengths that set you apart from the rest of the kids we could have chosen, but you also each have weaknesses.” Spittle flew from Jones’ mouth. He shouted in such a guttural way, Shane thought for sure Jones’ voice would give out. “I intend to flush out those weaknesses, and together, we will crush them. Do I make myself clear?”
“Sir, yes sir!”
Laura dropped every few minutes, seeming done. Then, after a quick rest, she’d press on. Probably not wanting to be beaten by the girl, Maurice kept pace with her. Shane guessed there was more to Laura than he or anyone else realized, and now she’d have a chance to show it. Underneath her ghostly pale skin and jet-black hair, the same determined spirit everyone else on his team had simmered.
“On your backs! Crunches—begin!”
Jones had them do crunches and flutter kicks until Shane’s tailbone was bruised. Then he made them plank until his stomach and arms were on fire, a puddle of sweat forming on the floor under him.
“Time to freshen up your pretty little faces, and then get out on the tarmac. If anyone is left in this building after exactly fifteen minutes, you will all have hell to pay. Go!”
The barracks erupted into chaos as everyone dove for their toothbrushes and charged to the end of the room. Shane expected an all-out brawl, making it to the bathroom with the surge of kids. To his surprise, people seemed respectful of each other. Guys and girls—people from different nations from around the world—lined up behind toilet doors and crowded around sinks. Jones’ threat temporarily unified them, or they were just too tired for conflict. Shane finished and rushed out of the bathroom, making room for the others.
Shouting and clapping his hands the entire time, Jones encouraged them to exit the building. It was still dark out, no sign of dawn anywhere in the starry sky. The air was warm and humid, and the night critters were singing at full volume. Shane found Steve sitting on the bench to the right of the door.
“Did you even pee?” Shane asked, shocked that Steve had beaten him.
“The bushes.” Steve pointed his thumb to the egress between the buildings.
Shane shook his head and plopped down next to his friend. Soon, the rest of the kids spilled out and coalesced into their squads.
“On your feet! Run!” Jones ordered as he burst out behind the last kid.
Shane took off with the rest of his squad on his heels. He reckoned the tarmac was about the size of four football fields, almost a mile around the perimeter. He glanced over
his shoulder and tried to set a pace that everyone could handle. But Maurice was already huffing.
“Come on, hang with me,” he said. “We have to stay together.”
The Koreans passed them within the first minute of the run, and then the Chinese. It drove Shane crazy to see them blow by. He’d been running all summer to train for football, and he was sure he could keep up with them, if not stay ahead, but he wouldn’t leave his team.
Laura let out a pained gasp, slowing to a jog.
“Keep going!” Shane ordered. “Whatever you do, don’t stop.”
She nodded, her face contorted like she might throw up.
The Russians flew by next.
“Damn it,” Jules growled. Taking off after them, she pumped her arms and legs like an experienced sprinter. He suspected she was on the track team at her school.
“Stay with us,” Shane shouted.
She waved her hand in the air dismissively, vanishing in the darkness ahead.
“Did you see the tattoo on that Russian’s arm?” Tracy asked, running on Shane’s right side. Like Shane, she didn’t seem winded, Laura and Maurice’s pace too slow to wear her out.
“No, why?”
“It was the symbol for the Spetsnaz—Russian special forces,” she replied.
Shane had seen a TV show about the Spetsnaz. Their training was brutal—some even died during it. He never imagined they were recruiting teenagers as well, unless these kids were some kind of Spetsnaz wannabes or groupies.
“They might not take lightly to Jules running past them alone,” Tracy said with a worried tone.
With what they did to Steve last night, Shane feared they’d hurt Jules.
“Damn it,” he grumbled. “Go after her, and tell her to hang back with us.”
She nodded and sped off into the darkness.
“I can’t make it any further,” Laura whimpered, pressing her fists into her sides. Her long, coal-black hair was soaked with sweat, sticking to her forehead and neck. In the dim light, Shane could see her usually pale face was flushed, eyes bulging as she gasped for air. “I’m cramping up.”