Hadrian's Rage

by Patricia-Marie Budd

  A communal groan ensues, and one youth steps out of the ranks to venture an opinion. “Why don’t we attack now? We’ve all been through basic training. We’re ready. Why make us live out here when we shouldn’t have to?”

  Frank smiles. He anticipated this sort of response. “All right then,” he says in an encouraging manner, “attack.” He turns to look in the direction of the Wall and motions for the young man to begin his assault.

  Stunned, the young man mutters, “Alone?”

  When the youth makes no effort to move, Frank grabs him by the collar and half-drags, half-pulls the boy through the trees towards no man’s land, that two-mile stretch of wasteland where no life grows between the trees and the Wall. Behind them is a scuttling and muttering of troops wanting to see the outcome of this clash between ranks.

  Once at the edge of the decimated tree line, Frank takes his gun and shoots twice in the air in rapid succession, followed by two shots with a two-second pause between each. As soon as the signal shots ring out, Frank turns, grabs the recruit, and shoves the boy forward. When Frank issues one curt command, “Run!” the boy races off in a mad dash towards the Wall. Frank begins to count down from five. When he reaches one, a shot rings out and the youth stumbles before falling.

  One recruit screams, and another yells out, “Hadrian’s Lover, they killed him!”

  Frank snorts. He turns to the screamer and directs him, “You, go fetch our wayward recruit.”

  Mid turns to the troops to alleviate their fears. “He’s not dead, just stunned slightly. He was shot with a paint bullet. It broke open on impact, splashing red paint like a blood-letting wound. Although it hurt, it is nothing compared to the feel of a real bullet.”

  When the screamer, Koman Samoei, finally reaches the downed recruit, he helps him to stand. When he offers an arm for the young man to hold, it is swatted away. Gripping his chest, the youth staggers back to the tree line.

  Once the youth is back inside the tree line with the rest of the troops, Frank stops him. His eyes are immediately drawn to the red stain. Had it been a real bullet, it would have pierced the young man’s heart. Frank’s smile suggests pride. “Nice shooting, Devon!”

  “Who’s Devon?” the injured youth inquires.

  “Your shooter,” Frank answers. “What’s your name?”

  “Private Recruit Atherton.”

  “Your first name, recruit,” Frank clarifies.

  “Brian.”

  “Well, Brian, do you still want to attack the Wall right away?” Mid laughs, as do the other recruits.

  “No, sir! We will attack when we are ready and no sooner.”

  “When do you think we’ll be ready, sir?” Private Samoei asks.

  “When I say we’re ready. In the meantime, we have a camp to establish.”

  With that, Frank turns and marches back to the copse they will begin preparing for base camp.

  *****

  Salve!

  Hadrian Needs You!

  HNN—Danny Duggin Reporting

  Citizens of Hadrian, our military is calling out to you to join forces with us to help stem the tide of barbarian heterosexual hordes. We need a strong show of strength to keep these desperate marauders from executing an attack that would lead to the end of everything we hold dear. All we have worked so hard to build and create within the walls of our fine country is at risk. We cannot allow close to fifty-five years of toil and dedication to humanity and the planet to be suddenly ripped away and stolen from us. Our very lives are at risk, our children’s lives are at risk, our ideals are at risk, and the very cornerstones upon which we built this good country are at risk of being torn out from under us. Hadrian, our military needs you.

  Yes, it is true that our military has seen a marked growth with Hadrian’s new penal system diverting exile for many of our citizens who have committed three minor offenses, but the military still needs to grow. Citizens between the ages of twenty-two and forty are asked to find their inner patriots and pledge at least one tour of duty at the Wall. And, if being a part of the military full-time is beyond your personal scope, consider joining the militia. Your weekends will be best served retraining your body for combat so you can answer the call when Hadrian’s Wall suffers from another brutal attack. According to General Birtwistle, numbers for Hadrian’s militia are down since most who heeded the first call to arms were in fact members of the militia. So, if you can’t commit yourself full-time to Hadrian’s National Army, you can at least step up and answer the call for our reserves.

  Remember, Hadrian is our country and we are all responsible for its safety!

  Vale!

  Two-Mile Dash

  Frank is horny. He’s been this way for over a week. Slapping the monkey isn’t doing it for him. He needs to feel his cock inside Devon. He desperately wants to feel Devon inside him. The problem is that he is out here, in the tree line of the neutral zone, and Devon is back inside the Wall.

  Both men are strategically trying to outwit the other. Thus far, Devon’s team has successfully been able to repel all of Frank’s renegade attempts to infiltrate the Wall. Frank is not worried. He has been using all of the strategies previously utilized by outsiders since the beginning of Hadrian’s existence. One advantage to being off voc and restricted to the historical library and wall screen is that Frank has a lot of time for reading. He has studied and restudied every attack made against his country since its inception. Frank isn’t even going to try to exhaust reenacting all of the various attacks made against Hadrian since its inception. The attacks all have had one thing in common: they have been en masse, whether it be broad daylight or in the darkest hour of night. Very few of these attacks have been skill-driven. Only the few who succeeded in breaching the Wall were of that caliber; even then, the damage wrought by the enemy was contained to the Wall itself. Never once has the enemy penetrated the Wall and made its way inland.

  Frank, however, knows that penetrating the Wall is possible, and all it will take is for one daring individual to do exactly what he has planned. Frank’s first goal was to get Devon and his team complacent. That, he believes, has been accomplished. Frank staged these easily anticipated strikes, some close together, some sporadic, but all found within the training book outlining previously known attacks to give Devon the idea that his team is winning this war. But Frank knows it doesn’t matter how many battles an army wins before he makes his final strike: the one he believes will lead to a revamping of Hadrian’s military and rethinking of how they go about defending the border lands.

  Tonight’s the night, Frank decides. He has been keeping cover at the edge of the tree line, camouflaged and just beyond the extension of light from the Wall’s search beams. Frank has been timing the lights—where they flash, how long they take to crisscross over the neutral zone, and how long empty spots of land remain in pitch black. Knowing how fast he can run, and having added two-mile dashes to his and his troops’ training, Frank is confident he can make it to the Wall between the passing of the lights. Tonight is perfect. There is no moon, no stars, no “husbandry in heaven,” as the Bard would have put it. Frank smirks at this knowledge. Go figure, I’d remember a line from Macbeth. I hated the play when I was in high school. Hadrian’s Lover, I hated Shakespeare when I was in high school. Not anymore, though. Frank has acquired so much knowledge since being in the army—no years of schooling, uni or higher, could compete with the extent of reading Frank has accomplished. The best thing that ever happened to me was the loss of my voc, he reasons.

  But he does worry about the heaviness of the cloud cover. Rain would slow him down since mud is slippery and harder to run through than hard dry earth. And lightning—lightning would expose him. Hopefully, not for too long, Frank muses. It’s a risk, one worth taking. The last thing anyone at the Wall is expecting is one lone figure making its way towards the Wall—that only happens during the day when the individual is looking for assisted suicide.

  Having made his decision, Frank gets up and c
rosses over to Lieutenant Westgate. “Mid.”

  Lieutenant Westgate turns to face Frank. He offers her the requisite salute, and she returns it. “Have you decided?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Tonight?”

  “Tonight.”

  “When?”

  “Within the hour.”

  “How soon before you signal the team to advance?”

  “Not sure. First I have to get in. Kill off the tower guards, make my way down the Wall, killing everyone as quickly and as silently as I can, and then…” Here Frank trails off.

  “Then?” Mid suspects Frank has plans beyond just overtaking the Wall. She keeps her smirk well-hidden. She’d do the same in his place. And, why not? He’s the one taking all the risks. What I wouldn’t give for a quickie with Lillian. She arrests that thought quickly as she begins to feel the beginnings of a smile creeping over her lips.

  Frank returns to the moment. “And, then, when the Midwest Gate is secured, I’ll return to the center gate guard post and flash the signal. Does the team know what is expected?”

  “Of course they do, Frank. You’ve drilled it into them a hundred times.”

  “I just hope it’s enough,” Frank mutters.

  Mid, sensing trepidation on Frank’s part, reassures him with a punch to his shoulder. “It’ll work. It’s a brilliant plan. We’re just damn lucky an outsider hasn’t thought of it first.”

  “Yeah, it’ll work.” Looking back to the Wall, Frank walks towards the edge.

  Mid follows, feeling the need to reassure Frank of his upcoming success. “You can make the time. I’ve timed you over and over. You can make it to the Wall before the lights come back.” Frank frowns. He knows she’s right. He can do the two-mile stretch in under eight minutes; seven minute and fifty-five seconds in fact; five seconds faster than the lights take from dispersal to return. But running against a clock in trails does not always equate to real time when up against the enemy. The nervous tingle is unavoidable. Frank takes a moment to breathe deeply, putting himself into that Zen-like moment that always comes before, and especially during, a run.

  Crouching down now, Frank prepares himself for the sudden sprint that will come when the lights veer away from each other. The very second the darkness opens up before him, Frank is off. Mid stares, amazed by how fast Frank dashes out of sight. And it seems too fast in her mind when the lights return and wave over the ground before her. There is no sign of Frank. “Yes,” she ejaculates. “He did it.” With an exuberant spin back towards the camp, Mid decides it is time to tell the others.

  *****

  Salve!

  War Games

  HNN—Danny Duggin Reporting

  We have some exciting news to share with you today, Hadrian. Our military has been working overtime to ensure our safety. When not encountering the real threat from the outside, a platoon of highly trained infantry men and women at the Midwest Gate have been simulating attacks against the Wall to keep our defenses finely tuned and razor-sharp. I know I feel a lot safer knowing our brave soldiers are on their toes and ready for whatever the enemy may throw at them. I am pleased to report that all, and simulated, attacks have thus far been successfully repelled by the finely tuned military men and women at the Midwest Gate.

  You may wonder why these simulations are occurring at the Midwest Gate and not at any of the other gates. Well, to begin, the Midwest Gate suffers the greatest degree of incursion, and the idea behind these games comes from Lieutenant Devon Rankin, who is currently stationed there. He has taken it upon himself to challenge the security forces we have in place, not because he mistrusts our military forces, but out of concern for military complacency. As the good lieutenant explained it to me, our military has become too used to the same strategies being used over and over by the enemy. Lieutenant Rankin is convinced that one of these days, our enemies will come up with a strategy no one has previously thought of, either on the inside for defense purposes, or from the outside in terms of aggressive offensive maneuvers. When asked to elaborate, Lieutenant Rankin became circumspect. He reminded me that our wave links are often monitored by outsiders, and the last thing he wants to do is to give our enemies new ideas. The purpose of these games is for our military to explore all possible forms of attack against our walls, both those that have been used in the past as well as consider new strategies the enemy might very well consider in the future. To that, I say, “Good on you, Lieutenant Rankin; you exhibit the finest traits of leadership and military prowess we like to see in the men and women who guard our country.”

  These war games will not remain restricted to the Midwest Gate, either. After a series of simulated attacks evidences the impenetrability of the Midwest Gate’s wall, these games will be shared with all the other gates. Lieutenant Rankin will be required, at that time, to travel from gate to gate, administering these games and ensuring equal success at each as well. And Lieutenant Rankin has been extremely successful. Thus far, his team has successfully repelled eight separate attempts by its counter team, under the charge of Lieutenant Mid—sorry, that appears to be the lieutenant’s call name—her real name is Kimberly Westgate, which explains why they call her “Mid.” Mid comes from Midwest Gate, and her last name is Westgate. I just love the sense of camaraderie and jocularity exhibited by our brothers and sisters in arms.

  Citizens of Hadrian, it does my heart good knowing that our national security, our very lives, are in the capable hands of military personnel like Lieutenant Rankin and Lieutenant Westgate. In fact, if you elect Cooper Johnston as your next president, I guarantee he will pursue these war games with the due diligence they deserve!

  Va—

  Breaking news! This is just in—Oh, dear!—Oh, no!—Oh, Hadrian, my production manager, Darien Dumas, just informed me via my voc transmitter of some truly dreadful news. As we all remember on that sad day when Angel Higgins and Grace Godoy were exiled, Angel Higgins, in what was very likely an overwhelming sense of fear and panic, turned and ran back towards the gate. She had been crying for her fathers. Well, sadly her life ended that day as the sniper on tower duty shot her. We then watched as the sniper shot warning shots at young Grace, who then ran for cover in the tree line. Oh, forgive me, Hadrian; this is heartbreaking. The soldiers currently deployed to participate in War Games, those stationed outside the Wall to create mock attacks against the Midwest Gate—it turns out they have discovered Miss Godoy’s body. She had barely made it into the forest before some wild animals attacked her. Hadrian’s top forensic anthropologist, Giselle Barre, was immediately called to the scene. According to her released statement “All evidence points to an attack by a pack of wolves.” And, yes, they consumed most of her flesh. Very little remained of the young woman’s body. She was initially identified by—by her backpack, the survival kit, her identity later being corroborated with DNA evidence. Hadrian still has Grace Godoy’s DNA on file. Her backpack, too, had been ripped apart by the wolves. No doubt to gain access to the dried food inside—six weeks’ worth of food rations. Oh, Hadrian, this is too horrible, too dreadful—too, too—Huh? Oh, yes, sorry, Hadrian,

  Vale!

  Hadrian’s Real News

  Hadrian Is All a Titter

  HRN—Melissa Eagleton Reporting

  Hadrian is all a titter with talk of these war games being played at the Midwest Gate. Contrary to popular belief, Lieutenant Rankin—and he willingly admits to this fact—is not the brainchild of these games. The idea was merely brought to General Birtwistle’s attention through Lieutenant Rankin because the individual who both conceived and planned nearly every detail of these games is nothing but a lowly private. And yet, he is not so lowly, as this “private” has been in the army for an even longer stretch of time than Lieutenant Rankin. The good lieutenant informed me that he was jostled awake, having been given quite the fright and delight, on the last night raid made by this “private” and the “enemy” team.

  One lone man scaled Hadrian’s Wall, took out the upper se
ntinels, changed the timing of the spotlights so the rest of his team could cross the divide between the tree line and the Wall, and successfully scaled it without impediment. This enemy team went on to “kill” General Birtwistle, whom I hear is still bristling from reports of this incident. As the story goes, and it comes direct from the horse’s mouth, the unnamed soldier woke the general so he could inform him he was dead. From all accounts, the general was not very impressed with having his “beauty sleep” disturbed or having been incorporated into the games. Yet his “death” is justifiable in that it really brings home the fact that there can be no complacency regardless of rank. If the real enemy ever does infiltrate any of our gates as deeply as these war games proved probable, the general may very well find himself killed in his sleep.

  The last stage in this well-executed coup of the Midwest Gate was for the “enemy” team to corral the remaining soldiers who were not “killed in battle” into the main compound while the “subordinate private” and his team claimed victory. This test, I assure you, proves this soldier right. We cannot rely on old tactics and stratagems to work forever as repellents to the enemy. We must start thinking like the enemy in order to curtail future potential advances.