by Jason Letts
“But we have our own way of doing things,” Keran went on. “We’ve had a debate about what to do with you—too much debate, if you ask me—and we aren’t about to close our doors to a Youth Guard graduate yet. But that doesn’t mean you’re going to like what you’re going to get. You’ll go through the training and be free to move about here, as your rights afford you, but when it comes time for your assignment, you’ll wish you’d never come here.”
The dim light in the cell made it hard to gauge the captain’s impression, and his voice carried little emotion beyond what seemed a normal brusqueness, but Taylor imagined a thinly veiled disgust lurking beneath the surface.
“Your first mission will be to work as a ranger deep in the Cetaline Mountains, north near the Lyrian border. Around the start of winter, we’ll push you out of a helicopter into the middle of nowhere, hundreds of miles from anything. It’ll be up to you how long you drag it out, but you’ll die out there eventually. The Guard will have upheld our tradition, and the chancellor will be rid of an enemy.”
“No,” Taylor murmured, trying not to think of how much would be ruined if that came to pass.
“You don’t have a say in the matter. You belong to us now,” Keran said, getting up and carrying the stool out with him. The cell door was left open, but Taylor wasn’t ready to leave and face the overt wrath of every other Guard member.
Training proved to be a brutal affair, one far worse than Taylor could’ve ever imagined. When his father laid out the plan, Taylor saw himself overcoming obstacles and persevering against hostile peers, but the reality was so much less satisfying. He and a few dozen other trainees worked around the clock, punishing themselves in every possible way. But no matter what was going on, Taylor had the worst of it. No one helped him in the team obstacle course. He was never given pads for combat training. The overseers found excuses to make him run extra miles or keep him busy while everyone else was at the mess hall.
What none of them seemed to realize was that the extra work was making him stronger.
Word had gotten around immediately about who he was and where he was headed, and none of the other guards would so much as speak to him. That included some members of the Youth Guard he’d graduated with who had stayed on to make a career of the Guard. All Taylor could do was push until his body gave out, get up, and try again.
It took a week of training, but Taylor finally started to get a sense of the environment in the barracks—who was close to whom, and how people felt about Captain Keran and the other administrators. Eventually it reminded him of something his friend Kopler had said back in Lynxstra Academy about there being divisions in the Guard about its primary mission. Even Keran had said there’d been too much debate about what to do with him. Somebody around had to be thinking twice about if his plight was deserved.
Taylor sat up in his bunk and raised his head to get the attention of the guy in the next bunk over.
“What do you think’s going on at the front lines?” Taylor asked.
“People are dying,” the guy said, rolling over so his back was to Taylor.
Taylor set his head against the pillow. Few details about the actual fighting made it into the morning briefings. The Guard was entrusted to mediate the fighting in the south, west, and northeast but often joined one side or the other in order to influence the outcome, usually siding with the biggest family in the fight. Chancellor Aggart wanted the Guard to put an end to the fighting as soon as possible while picking a few winners who’d be loyal to him.
The next cycle, Taylor was in line at the mess hall when an argument broke out across the room. Captain Keran had his finger against the chest of a mechanic, finally grabbing him by the back of his overalls and dragging him into the hall. Taylor noticed that the guy next to him was wearing the same overalls and seemed aggravated by the situation.
“What was that about?” Taylor asked him. The guy set his teeth and nearly spat, finally whispering under the guise of wiping his nose on his sleeve.
“The captain thinks intimidating the mechanics will make them more loyal,” he said.
“What’s the problem?”
The mechanic glanced over his shoulder and grimaced.
“Not everybody thinks the Guard should be used as the chancellor’s pawns. I’m Landon.”
A gaunt, stringy guy, Landon looked like a stiff breeze would knock him over. Finding any muscle on him would’ve been a challenge, and his overalls hung on him the same as if they were still on the hanger.
Taylor nodded, grabbing his food and taking an empty seat along one of the long benches. He needed to find out more about who was in disagreement about the Guard’s position and find a way to exploit it, because training only lasted a few weeks, and if he didn’t act fast he’d be tossed out of a helicopter to his death.
By leaving notes in Landon’s bunk, Taylor learned a few more names that could be useful to him: a man in food service, a woman in personnel, and most of the mechanics, who had signed on to work with government technology and didn’t realize they’d be helping kill other Cumerians.
But time was running out and the end of training was rapidly approaching. Some trainees had already been yanked from their regiments and stationed at various posts, leaving empty bunks in the barracks. When Taylor saw a helicopter pilot looking him over during dinner one cycle, he knew he was next. Having no other choice, he went to the mechanics’ table and squatted down behind the guy he’d been corresponding with.
“Hey, can you arrange a meeting with that woman in personnel you mentioned?” Taylor asked, immediately eliciting whistles and calls from mechanics who thought he was proposing a date.
“You mean Sander? I can get a message to her,” Landon said to Taylor’s relief. Personnel was a big department, and asking the wrong person about who Sander was could raise uncomfortable questions.
“It needs to happen fast,” Taylor said, slinking away to more insinuations about his libido from the mechanics.
At the end of the cycle, Taylor returned to his bunk to find a note about a meeting with Sander right after the next staff briefing. His high hopes for a way out of the mess the captain had dumped on him made it difficult to sleep. Training would officially end in another couple of cycles, and the thought of letting his family down by botching his part of the plan gnawed at his insides.
As usual at the briefings, the captain got up in front of the entire Guard corps and made a few statements about progress on various fronts, shipments, and meetings he needed to have with people that cycle. Taylor glanced around the gathered crowd, trying to catch a glimpse of Sander. He had to convince her to help him find a way out of this.
“And finally, the only meeting I need to call today is with Taylor Bracken, which will happen immediately,” Captain Keran said, stepping away from the microphone.
Taylor was mortified at the prospect of being immediately sent out to die of exposure. Others snickered around him while he mindlessly shuffled toward the front for the unavoidable meeting. Keran offered a cold smile as he guided him into a back room containing maps on the tables and walls. The captain put one foot on a chair and beckoned Taylor closer.
“Do you know why I called you in here?” the captain said, a sneer making his graying stubble look as prickly as porcupine quills. The man’s foul mood became increasingly pronounced.
“My training is over and you’re sending me out,” Taylor said, steeling himself. How long would it be before he boarded the helicopter for some inescapable patch of wilderness—an hour, two? He couldn’t get on, and thoughts of running for it began to percolate in his mind.
“Not exactly. There’s been a change of plans,” Captain Keran grumbled. “We won’t be taking you out and dropping you in the mountains. Instead we’ll be creating a special post just for you.”
“What?” Taylor asked, nonplussed. Although not dying in the mountains sounded good, a special post would prevent him from getting to the capitol and completing his part of the plan.
“I know you’re as disappointed as I am,” Keran went on. “But we don’t have any other choice. I’ve got my hands tied on this one.”
Taylor failed to formulate a response. He struggled to understand who was able to successfully wield this kind of influence with the captain of the Guard. Short of the chancellor, who could do something like this? More importantly, who would?
“I’m sure you’d like to be filled in on your new post. You’ve got a visitor who’ll make everything clear.”
Keran looked over his shoulder at a shabby door set into the back wall. It looked like the captain was urging him to walk into a closet, and Taylor had a bad feeling about what would happen to him if he went in there.
“Good luck,” the captain said, getting up and leaving the room. Taylor took a deep breath and started for the back door, apprehensive yet curious about this visitor who was waiting for him on the other side. He drew a blank when trying to guess who knew he was here and might’ve come. The only option was to go and find out.
Opening the door revealed a much larger room than Taylor had imagined. Filing cabinets lined its sides, and a tall, shapeless woman in a bright green dress and big sunglasses leaned against a table in the center. If there had been a good place to vomit nearby, Taylor would have done so.
“Mom, what are you doing here?” he gasped. Melody Hockley came forward, extending an arm in what Taylor thought was a hug until she slapped him in the face.
“You don’t think I know where my son is?” she scolded him. His mother carried a handbag over her other arm that she used to whack him several times. When she gritted her teeth, the red lipstick against some bluish dye she was using to bleach her teeth made for a ghastly combination. She managed to appear even more ruthless than the captain.
“What the fucking shit do you think this is, coming here and joining the Guard? They were going to kill you, you know. You know that, right?” she said. The walls were cement, but people in the hall on the other side might still have been able to hear.
“Yeah,” Taylor muttered.
“Really, tell me what you’re doing,” she demanded, setting her glasses on top of her head and putting her hands on her hips.
“I had to do something.” He shrugged. As long as she didn’t know, everything might still be OK.
“Well, now you have something to do. You’ll be coming back home with me to the Vault, and we can do what the Hockleys always do when there’s a conflict: wait until it blows over and then throw our chips in with the winner,” she said.
“No, I can’t do that…”
“You don’t have a choice.”
“I mean, I can’t go until my training is officially completed,” he said, hating how his voice was breaking into a whine. But she still had all of the power here, and if he couldn’t buy some breathing room from her she’d ruin everything he had to do. Melody rolled her eyes and raised her chin.
“Fine, whatever. A few cycles to finish your training and then you come right home so you can sit on the couch eating chips and getting fat.”
“How did you even manage to get me assigned there?” Taylor asked, receiving a chilly glare in return.
“Do you think your father is the only one who knows how to make deals? The difference is that the Hockleys still have power in Cumeria, and he’s probably living in a hole somewhere eating worms he picks out of the ground. And let me tell you, he’s better off there. If he ever comes back to Cumeria, I’ve personally heard from Velo Wozniak and Portia Illiam that they want to stuff him full of wood chips, make a human doll out of him, and cart him around the countryside so people can beat him.
“And that reminds me. You’re changing your name and disavowing any association with the Brackens. You’re Taylor Hockley now; the Brackens are a dead family that will never have a spoonful of influence again. I’ve already had it cleared with the proper people, so there’s nothing to discuss,” she explained.
Taylor was awestruck by the sudden decisions. The sensation rose in his throat to fight back, but he did see some advantage in going along with what his mother proposed.
“Can I at least have my old room?” he asked, although the room that was known as his hadn’t had an occupant for over ten years.
“Of course,” Melody agreed, softening her tone. “Look, I know this is hard, but we’re in a chaotic time right now, not just for the family but for our country. I need you to trust me that this is for the best. You’re my only child, my dear, sweet, strong son, and I love you with all my heart.”
When Melody extended her arm again, this time it was for a hug. Taylor confirmed the plan for returning to the Hockley Vault in a few cycles, shared an unsentimental goodbye, and left the way he’d come in. Out in the common area where the briefing had been, a few people walked through going about their normal business, but there was no sign of Sander, or any woman for that matter. Taylor needed her more than ever, because being locked up with his mother would be just as bad as some gruesome death in the wooded Cetaline Mountains.
The cycle passed without any convenient opportunity to meet with Landon or Sander. Training was as exhausting as ever, especially so this time, because it was always worse in the darkness. When the cycle finally ended, Taylor waited for everyone to fall asleep before exiting the trainee bunks and heading to the barracks and the bed he’d left notes on for the mechanic. Kneeling down in the dark, Taylor lightly touched the shoulder of the mechanic, whose eyes opened instantly.
“If I don’t meet her now, the Guard will never change,” he said. Landon nodded, keeping quiet as he got up. To Taylor’s surprise, he was fully dressed. The two of them slipped out of the barracks into the open night, traversing a well-worn path over to the women’s bunks. The darkness made it impossible to see if anyone was around, or if anyone was watching them.
Landon stopped Taylor when they got to the door and went in alone. Taylor thought it was for the best. If Landon got caught, there’d be much less suspicion than if Taylor were in there huddling next to somebody’s bed. The door swung open, and Sander walked through with Landon.
“This is him?” she asked. The darkness made it difficult to see more than the outline of her figure, which seemed pear-shaped, and her very round face.
“Yeah,” Landon said, and Sander led them down another path toward the enclave’s main structure.
Taylor had thought everyone in the Guard knew who he was, but he realized a good portion of them might only know his name and not his face.
“If there’s anything you can do to help get me—”
Sander shushed him before turning a corner and approaching the entrance to the concrete fortress. They opened the door and entered as normally as if they were reporting for duty. Someone walked by along the well-lit hallway without giving them a single look. There was always someone working round the clock at the Guard.
They traversed the mostly empty halls on the way to the personnel department offices. When Sander silently opened the door and peeked in to find the place empty, she released an audible sigh, locked the door behind them, flipped on a single lamp, and pushed straight on through to her desk near the back beside some filing cabinets. Taylor and Landon pulled over some chairs as she set down behind the desk.
“Now we can talk,” Sander said, leaning forward over her desk with her elbows against the edge. Taylor had no choice but to trust a complete stranger.
“Look, I know how upset you and Landon are about what the Guard is doing around the country. We’re supposed to be keeping the peace and upholding the law, but instead most of what the Guard’s doing now amounts to bullying and carrying out favors for the chancellor. I want to help.”
Sander narrowed her eyes at him. She had an unusually puffy face, reddish cheeks, and a chin that made her eyes appear deep-set. Twiddling a pen in one hand, she reached out to touch Landon’s arm. Taylor blinked when he realized they might be together, even though she was probably ten or more years older than him.
“And wh
at can you do to help, Taylor Bracken? As far as everybody in the country is concerned, you’re the enemy. If you’re around, nobody’s going to trust you with anything.”
“Is that what you believe, that I’m the enemy?” Taylor asked, eyes looking unflinchingly upon her. Sander sat back in her chair.
“I don’t know what to believe anymore.”
“Let me tell you,” Taylor began, “when the government stands idly by and watches as an entire region of the country is wiped off the map, we should all be its enemy. Nobody likes the direction Cumeria is going or what it’s becoming. The chancellor has been stoking the flames and waiting for them to die down enough so that he can sweep up the pieces and take control. What happened to the place I grew up and the things I wanted to be? I never got to find my own path, and that makes me the enemy of those who took it away from me.”
“You’re getting upset,” Landon noted, and Taylor became aware that he was breathing heavily. The impulse to lash out was rising, and he hid his hands under the table to make sure none of his energy was showing. But that got Landon’s attention.
“They say there’s something strange about you, that you’re not normal.”
“I’ve got it under control,” Taylor said, taking a deep breath and gathering his thoughts. “What’s important to recognize is that someone has got to do something about the situation, and to do that we need someone on the inside. You’ve got to help me get into the unit in Toine, and I can figure it out from there.”
Sander didn’t appear to be fully convinced, but she exhaled a stilted breath and slowly nodded her head.
“Yeah, I can get you moved there, but it’s not going to do any good if they know who you are. A Bracken showing up at the Spiral is likely to end with a body on the ground and a red streak against a wall. Aggart would probably enjoy doing it himself.”
Taylor bit the inside of his cheek and bent over, straining inside his mind to find an answer. His mother was right. He couldn’t be a Bracken anymore.