“What the hell are you talking about?”
“Do you know who doesn’t have an ID? Spies, that’s who.”
“I’m not a spy.”
“No shit. You’ll like, what, twelve?”
Sarah rolled her eyes, not bothering to correct him.
“Whereas Finn here, hell, we might as well be buddies already.” Switchblade moved quickly and threw a friendly arm around Finn’s shoulders, although with a bit more force than what was warranted.
“Get off me,” demanded Finn, shrugging his shoulders aggressively to dislodge Switchblade.
“Whoa, easy there bud,” said Switchblade, throwing his hands up in exaggerated submission. “Don’t you know, we’re on the same team now.”
Finn seemed to deflate a little at that.
“It didn’t really feel like that when you had a knife to my back,” said Sarah pointedly.
“Hey, sweetie, just doing my job. Your job too, now.”
“Where are we going?” asked Finn.
“To Buchey’s, weren’t you listening?”
“Who’s Buchey?”
“You’ll see soon enough. So,” said Switchblade to Sarah, returning to his previous topic, “what’s your name?”
“Sarah,” said Sarah, giving up. They would have to call her something eventually. She would choose a different last name, but it was just easier to keep her first name as it was.
“And why don’t you have an ID, Sarah?”
Sarah shrugged. “Search me.”
“But you have a barcode.”
“Oh, is that what this is?” she asked sarcastically, pointing to her burn.
Switchblade snorted. “Whatever. I’ll find out sooner or later. Always do.” He smirked.
They rounded the corner of a building and Switchblade ushered them in. There was no reception desk here. They passed down a hallway and Switchblade knocked on a door that was partially open.
“Come in.”
He pushed the door the full way open and stepped in, Sarah and Finn following behind him.
Buchey was a middle-aged, tired looking, heavy-set woman with dull brown hair sitting behind a desk.
“Who’s this?”
“New volunteers,” said Switchblade.
Buchey’s face cracked into an automatic smile. It was friendly, welcoming, and completely superficial.
“Welcome,” she said. “This is a bit unusual, getting volunteers all the way out here?” she said it like a question, directing a raised eyebrow at Switchblade.
“Found them on the side of the road,” he elaborated, “they escaped a prison or something. Chose to serve the good fight rather than go back to the boat.”
Buchey’s smile, which Sarah had expected to falter, seemed to grow in size instead.
“Alright. Let’s get you sorted then. What are your names?”
“Finn Simmons”
“Sarah Pratchett.” Sarah pulled the last name from an old novelist her mother used to love.
Buchey bought up a program on her laptop and plugged in their names.
“Date of birth?”
Finn gave his and Sarah made up hers. She changed the date and month by one number from her real birthday, so she would be able to remember it again if she had to.
“City of birth?”
Sarah gave her city of birth as the same as Finn’s.
“Well, Finn Simmons, you’re in here all right. Sarah Pratchett though seems to be a bit of a mystery.”
“She’s got a barcode,” added in Switchblade.
“Oh, well then I’ll just-” began Buchey as she reached for a similar scanner to Crewcut’s.
“Won’t work,” jutted in Switchblade happily. “She doesn’t register.”
Buchey looked nonplussed for half a second before the smile was back on her face. “But you are a volunteer, are you not?”
Finn opened his mouth but Sarah got in before him.
“Yes, I am.”
“Then we’ll just have to log you in from the beginning.”
After a few more minutes of typing Buchey bent down to retrieve a suitcase next to her desk. She clicked it open and bought out the same small DNA sampler device.
“Fingers please,” said Buchey.
They held out their hands.
“This is your official and legally binding agreement to serve the military for two years in exchange for your prison sentence.”
She pricked their fingers before they could say anything. The small device sucked up their blood and sent whatever information it obtained to the system.
Well, thought Sarah. That’s that, then.
Buchey returned the DNA sampler back into her case and bought out what looked like a squat fire-starter.
“Turn around,” said Buchey pleasantly.
“Why?” asked Finn, slightly alarmed. “What are you going to do with that?”
Buchey laughed. “Don’t worry, it won’t hurt you! We’ve all had it done, and we’re just fine.”
She spun Finn around with surprising strength and with a quick decisiveness pressed the device against the back of his neck and pulled the trigger. Finn yelped. She withdrew it. A small bead of blood escaped but that was all Sarah could see.
“What was that?” demanded Sarah.
“Just a tracker so we can keep an eye on you. It’ll allow us to find you if you’re ever captured by the enemy.” Sarah looked less than convinced and Buchey added. “It’s mandatory.”
She swivelled Sarah around and pushed the device into her neck. Even knowing it was coming Sarah gave a small yell. It felt like she had just been electrocuted. She reached up and gently probed the area once Buchey withdrew her tracker gun. She thought she could feel something under the skin there, but she wasn’t sure.
“Of course,” added in Buchey, “I’ve since had mine removed, but that’s the perks of seniority. And don’t think you’ll be able to remove it yourself. I just inserted a dozen tiny, tiny tracking devices. You’ll never get them all and you’ll do a lot of damage messing around in your neck.”
Sarah stared at her. What Buchey was saying basically equated to ‘you’re mine now.’
“Now,” said Buchey, pulling out a camera and snapping a picture of each of them that they weren’t prepared for. “You have those scars on your wrists,” she said, making a note. “Anything else?”
They shook their heads.
Buchey gave them a look. “Fine.” She came over and quickly and efficiently checked under their clothing without actually removing anything. “Scar, right shoulder,” she said, pointing to Sarah. “And you have a birth mark on your right thigh. Really people, it’s not that scandalous.” She made a few more notes and turned back to face them. “Although this timing is a bit irregular,” continued Buchey, “we should be able to fit you into one of the training programs we’ve just started. They’ve been going for a week already, but I’m sure you’ll be able to catch up. Training usually lasts for three months and then we put you to work.”
Three months!? thought Sarah. That didn’t seem like a lot of time at all. And that meant twenty-one months, minimum, in the field. She hoped she wouldn’t die.
“The Private will escort you to your bunks where you’ll meet your team. You start training tomorrow.”
“Right.” The word came out of Finn as heavy as a tombstone.
They followed Switchblade out of the building. Sarah and Finn walked in silence as Switchblade blathered on about their surroundings and how they were going to suffer in training. Sarah barely heard him. She couldn’t believe it. After everything they’ve been through, escaping the Queen, the prison ship, hell, even the Hourglass Group, and only a few days later they were serving the military. Maybe she was bad luck. She certainly felt like it. She glanced at Finn. His eyes were on the ground. She found herself frowning. He hadn’t been himself in the past few days. Of course, he had reason not to be, but still, it unsettled her. He felt her gaze and glanced up. Sarah looked back down at the ground. He probably blamed h
er for getting caught. He was probably right. She felt a well of shame build up and nearly knocked into Switchblade as he came to a halt in front of a low-set, wide building. She stopped herself just in time.
“Whoa, I know you’re eagre, ghost girl, but all in good time.”
Sarah really did want to punch him.
He opened the door and walked in. There was a central isle spanning the whole length of the building. Open doorways lining both sides revealed long, dorm-like rooms. The further away they travelled from the door, the messier and more personalised the rooms got.
“Girls on the right, boys on the left. You’re newbies, so you’re as far away from the entrance as possible. If there’s a fire, you guys are the last to leave, you get it?” They arrived at the very last set of doors. Sarah peered in. It was a mess inside. There had been an attempt at making the beds but it was nothing next to the hospital-grade perfection of the other rooms. There were pictures and personal items strewn everywhere. “What a mess,” said Switchblade gleefully, “you guys are going to get it.” He slapped them cheerfully on their shoulders and turned around and marched away.
They watched him go. Once he disappeared out the door Sarah looked at their surroundings again. Suddenly she felt uncomfortable looking at Finn.
“You shouldn’t have done it.” Finn’s voice, coming from behind her, cut through her like glass. Reluctantly she turned around to look at him.
“Done what?”
“Volunteer.”
“Excuse me? I didn’t have a choice.”
“They had nothing on you! You were clean, Sarah!”
“There was this!” she said, thrusting her barcode towards him.
“It didn’t register!”
“They would have found something.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Yeah, I do.”
“Why didn’t you go?” asked Finn again. He seemed genuinely confused.
“I told you.”
“It’s not good enough.”
On an impulse Sarah leaned in and kissed him. He kissed her back. He groaned.
“You should have gone. Glad you didn’t. But you should have.”
She just grinned at him and then glanced around.
“I can’t believe this is happening.”
“I know.”
“It’s like a bad dream or something. I keep expecting to wake up.”
Finn gave a wistful sigh. “Remember when we were only sentenced to a few months? Bliss.”
Sarah punched him playfully on the arm, but it made her feel better.
“C’mon, let’s go check out our new digs.”
They ambled into one of the dorms. It was the boy’s side, Sarah remembered. Rough blankets had been thrown over most of the beds, but it was the closest they got to looking made. There were loose items of clothes scattered around the place. Here and there pictures of family members and girlfriends were plastered. There was more than one picture of scantily-clad ladies, which Sarah pretended not to see.
“I hope the girl side doesn’t smell so much like dirty socks,” commented Sarah.
Finn inhaled deeply. “Smells like the boy’s quarters on the ship.”
“Eugh. No wonder you were so keen to escape.”
“Yeah, well, that and not being experimented on, or beaten to death, you know, but mostly the funk.”
Sarah snorted, trying not to laugh. The sounds of feet and voices drew their attention to the doorway.
“You have got to be kidding me.”
“You have got to be kidding me.”
Finn said it at the same time as the boy at the door.
It was Boulder.
Chapter Eleven
“Boulder?” exclaimed Sarah, stunned.
Boulder only hesitated for a moment, and then any surprise he might have felt was carefully swept away from his face as he strolled into the room.
“Girl’s dorm is that way,” he said, throwing a thumb over his shoulder.
“We thought the Hourglass Group caught you along with the others,” said Finn.
“You let the others out?” Boulder asked, eyebrows raised. “Why? I told you losers not to.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” said Sarah sarcastically, “just something about leaving them to be experimented on with war weapons.”
Boulder rolled his eyes. “Whatever.”
By now about three more boys had joined them.
“New recruits?” asked one of them to Boulder.
“Yeah,” said Boulder. He didn’t need to ask. He was there, and they were there. It was pretty obvious what had happened. He turned back to Sarah and Finn. “Where’s the crazy one?”
“Marland,” said Sarah.
“Yeah, whatever. Marland. The crazy one with all the conspiracy theories. Did she get caught? Is she dead?”
“No she’s fine. She found people like her.”
“Crazy people,” insisted Boulder.
“What? No, well…yeah.” Sarah sighed. He had a point.
“Do we have new people?” called a different voice, a girl’s this time. Two girls, upon hearing new voices, had followed the boys into the dorm.
“Looks like it,” said the other boy who had spoken before. He was tall with blond hair. He was a bit older than the rest of them. Possibly seventeen, thought Sarah. He looked comfortable in his surroundings, like it was where he was meant to be. “What’re your names?” he asked.
“Finn,” said Finn, “this is Sarah.”
The blond guy nodded at them in greeting. “My name’s Hutch. So, are you lot volunteers, or volunteers?” He stressed the last ‘volunteers’ in a sarcastic way.
“They’re the same as me,” said Boulder, “only more stupid.”
Sarah sighed. “Thanks, Boulder.”
“No military pride, then?” It wasn’t really a question, Hutch was just affirming his suspicion.
“Got it in one,” said Finn, completely unabashed.
“My family is military, so is Jaz’s,” he gestured to a girl of average height with dark, thick, shiny hair and dark brown eyes. “We take it seriously. Our lives might depend on you guys doing the same, so don’t piss around.”
Finn and Sarah nodded. Fair enough.
A shrill whistle pierced the room. Hutch turned to them.
“That means lights out in ten. You need to go to your dorm,” he said to Sarah. “Jaz will explain things.” He faced Finn. “You’re with us.”
Sarah glanced at Finn before following Jaz and the other girl back to their dorm across the hallway. Much to her relief, it smelt a lot better than the boys’ room. It held four beds, two of them currently unmade. It was a lot cleaner, although there were a few brushes and hair things strewn around one of the girl’s beds. Sarah guessed they belonged to the smaller girl.
“So, Sarah,” said Jaz, as they walked inside, “I’m Jaz, this is Bettina.” Sarah smiled at them. Bettina winked back at her. Jaz walked to the far side of the room where there was a closet. Inside were clothes, neatly separated into two sections. On the very top shelf was bedding linen. She reached up and grabbed two sheets, a pillowcase and a blanket. As she returned and handed the bedding to Sarah she kept on talking. “You’re probably wondering how things work here?” she asked it more as a question than a statement. Sarah nodded. “Good, ‘cause I was going to give you a rundown whether you liked it or not.”
“Jeez, Jaz, give her a break. She’s probably tired out from murdering people or whatever it is she did.”
“I haven’t murdered anyone!” Sarah spluttered. At the same time an image of Mr Wall plummeting to his death flashed in front of her eyes. She shook it away and realised that Bettina was still grinning at her.
“So what then?” prompted Bettina.
Sarah just stared at her blankly.
“What was it that you did to get sent here?” spelled out Bettina for her after a pause.
“Oh, right.” The two girls were looking at her intently. It was obvious they we
ren’t going to let this one go. Sarah shrugged. “I was accused of stealing food.” There was no way she was going to go through the whole story with them. She doubted that Boulder had been very forthcoming either.
Bettina let out a little incredulous shriek. “That’s it? Surely they would have sent you to the farms for what? A few months, tops? What the hell did you volunteer to come here for instead? You know you’re here for years, right?”
Sarah was saved from answering by Jaz interrupting. To Sarah’s surprise Jaz had an understanding smile on her face. “Not everyone thinks this is hell,” said Jaz, giving Bettina a playful punch on the arm. She dropped the bedding onto one of the spare beds. “Here, I’ll give you a hand making it,” she said to Sarah.
“Uh, thanks.” Sarah felt relieved. Obviously Jaz thought she had joined out of patriotic pride or something that closely mirrored her own version for joining. Sarah was fine with that, especially if it made the other girl like her. From what she had learned on the boat, it was best not to make enemies.
“So, the rules,” continued Jaz as they made Sarah’s bed together. “We wake at six every morning. Clean the room. Go have breakfast. Then there’s training for most of the day. We haven’t been here long, so you’ll catch up quickly. We break for lunch at twelve. Dinner at six-thirty. We have an hour recreation and then lights out. We’re team thirty-two.”
“The lowest of the low,” injected Bettina.
“For the moment,” replied Jaz sharply. Then she softened. “But it does mean that we basically have to do whatever the other guys tell us or we get in trouble.”
“Yeah did you see the state of the boys’ rooms?” asked Bettina, incredulous. “Sarg is going to blow his top.”
“Who’s Sarg?”
“The guy who yells at you until you do something. Actually even then he tends to keep on yelling. You know what? I don’t think I’ve ever heard him speak in a normal voice.”
“I’m pretty sure he’s had his voice box surgically enhanced,” added Jaz with a guilty giggle. It was the first time Sarah saw her not being serious. Apparently it was a surprise for Bettina too, because her draw dropped open in wonder.
“Jaz, did you just tell a joke?”
Jaz blushed and Bettina grinned. Bettina turned to Sarah.
The Weapon (The Hourglass Series Book 2) Page 4