by Lee Stephen
Scott almost groaned. Anyone who knew anything about sports was familiar with suicide drills. They were physical nightmares. They were the worst. His peripherals shifted to Donald. The large black man’s frame sunk.
“Allow me to explain them to everyone else,” Tacker said. “There are four officers waiting for you, right now, in the training field. They marked off ten yards for every minute you were late. One hundred and thirty yards.”
One hundred and thirty yards? Scott had never run that before.
“Your instructions are simple. You have one hundred and thirty yards to run. You sprint ten, then you sprint back to the starting line. You sprint twenty, then you sprint back to the starting line. You sprint thirty, then you sprint back to the starting line, until you’ve returned from the one-hundred-thirty-yard mark. You do not stop running. You do not pause for a break. If you fall on your face because you can’t stand, then you crawl. If anyone stops, everyone starts over. The four officers waiting for you will make sure of that.
“Furthermore, since you have collectively failed to protect humanity tonight, you will each have a chance to save humanity. In the corner of the hangar, you will find ten duffle bags. They have each been filled with the appropriate amount of sand to mimic the weight of your average citizen. During the course of this run, you will each have a ‘citizen’ strapped to you. The large bags are for the men to carry, and the small bags are for the women. They will be with you from the first step to the last step that you take.”
Scott’s mouth fell open. One hundred and thirty yards worth of suicide was enough. But carrying someone? That was insane.
Tacker’s attention shifted to Vulture-7. “This, as I’m sure you remember, is our transport. I noticed tonight it’s in need of a cleaning, and so that is exactly what you will do once your run is over. When the last runner finishes, not before, you will all come straight back to the hangar to clean and polish Vulture-7, inside and out. You’ll find buckets and sponges in the maintenance closet. Only once this has been completed will the officers dismiss you to your quarters.”
No one made a sound, and Tacker drew a remorseless breath.
“Let this show you the price of being careless. It will be worse if you fail a second time.” The operatives’ gazes sunk. “Now get to work.”
There were no grumbles of disdain. There were no whispers of remorse. As the operatives shuffled across the hangar to claim their sandbag citizens, not a word was spoken. The bags were strapped on, and they filed toward the field, where they began the sprints.
Tacker watched them for several minutes as he stood in the doorway of the hangar, his hands in his pockets. It was a cool night—the operatives were fortunate for that. He stepped back from the doorway and filed back to the main building of Richmond. There was nothing more he wished to see.
4
Sunday, April 3rd, 0011 NE
1030 hours
the next morning
Scott’s eyes cracked open, and he squinted through the darkness of his room. It was morning. His body ached, and an attempt to lift his head sent shockwaves through his shoulders and stomach. His muscles burned like fire.
He could barely remember the run. Aside from the pain, it felt like a dream. Several people had vomited, but he couldn’t remember who. The one thing he knew was that no one had spoken. Not one word. They ran and they polished the Vulture, but not once had anyone opened their mouths.
He glanced at the clock and groaned. It was 1030. He had overslept for church. The congregations were already singing, and he was still in bed due to irresponsibility. Last night was stupid. He knew it was stupid then, but he had gone along with it anyway. Wisdom fell to peer pressure.
He slipped out of bed and stumbled to the sink, where he wet his face with a touch of cold water. He padded to the closet and glanced to the bunk. David was still asleep.
Nicole. He needed to call her. Two full days had passed since he’d heard her voice. He needed her words. Her oxygen. She was probably worried. His stupidity suddenly went beyond the scope of the Black Cherry. He’d been stupid for not calling her instead. He needed to call her.
But not now.
Scott tugged up the zipper of his jersey and gave a silent glance around the room. He crept to the door, opened it, and stepped into the hall.
While Scott had trained in Philadelphia, Nicole stayed at Michigan to finalize her medical degree. It would take her a little more than a month to finish now, at which point she would begin her residency with a local hospital. If everything panned out, she would then move to Richmond, they would get married and live happily ever after. That was the plan.
The hallways were empty, normal for typically lazy Sundays. Scott found a hall directory, where he searched for Tacker’s office. He found it and began walking in that direction.
The problem came with the unknown. EDEN was a calling, he believed that with all of his heart. But was it a calling that left room for him and her? It was a question he asked himself often. He loved her, and she loved him. That was enough…wasn’t it? Love could overcome anything, and love would win in the end. That was how it worked. That was how it was supposed to work. But was that how reality worked? What if she couldn’t move to Richmond? What if it took her longer to finish school? What if one of them gave up? The answers were in the Hands of God. It still failed to bring him comfort.
It was only a matter of minutes until he stood before Tacker’s office. The golden letters—Major John Tacker—glared imposingly at him from the woodwork of the door. What was he doing? This wasn’t like football. An apology and a victory next week wouldn’t erase a mistake. This was EDEN. This was Earth. An errant throw could be rectified. The loss of lives could not.
His fist reached for the door, where it hovered against the wood. What would he say? That he was sorry? That it wouldn’t happen again? That it was a rookie mistake? It was only a drill, but it was a telling one. Had it been real, citizens would have died. Graves would have been dug. They would have failed.
His hand returned to his side. The hallway remained silent, as he continued to stare at the door. Finally, he pivoted his feet away from the door and walked slowly back down the hall. An apology would be useless. Tacker wouldn’t want to hear it anyway.
David was still asleep when Scott returned to his room. It was easier to slide out of uniform than to climb in it, so Scott stripped to his boxers and hung his jersey with little disturbance. He brushed back the sheets of his bed and slipped under the covers. His eyes closed, and he fell asleep.
* * *
When Scott opened his eyes again, the lights were still off. The upper bunk was still silent. The room was still idle. He glanced to the clock. Almost 1400.
He remembered finding Tacker’s door only hours earlier. He remembered failing to knock on it. It was unlike him to hide from confrontation, even when it meant that he’d be the one issuing the apology. He was a leader—he was always a leader. He was a quarterback for the Michigan Bobcats. He was correct in his earlier judgment—EDEN wasn’t like football. But leadership was the same across the board.
He wrenched himself out of bed, stretched, and looked into David’s bunk, though David wasn’t there. The room had been abandoned. With little else to do, Scott donned his jersey and stepped out into the hall.
He decided not to visit Tacker’s door again. Not this time. He wanted to remember the guilt of not following through. He wanted to remember the guilt of not owning up when he knew he should have. He wanted to remember it, so that when the next opportunity to step up presented itself, there would be no hesitation.
For now, he would search for his roommate.
The search did not last long. The nearest point of interest was the soldiers’ lounge, and it was there that Scott found David, along with Becan, Henry, and red-haired Natasha. There were about a dozen people in the room, and the four from Charlie Squad sat together at a table in the back corner. Scott weaved through the tables toward them.
David saw him first. “What’s up, Scott?”
Scott stifled a yawn. He still felt tired, despite his second round of sleep. “Not much…what are you guys talking about?”
“Last night.”
“Oh…where’s Jay?”
“At the range,” Becan answered. “Left there early this mornin’. Been there ever since, he has.”
“He went by himself?”
“He did. Never said much o’ nothin’, just went.”
“Did he take his hat?” asked Scott.
“He did, I’m bloody serious. He walked out o’ the room with his hat on his head.”
“Amazing.” Scott glanced at Natasha. “How long you guys been here?”
“About an hour,” she answered. “We’ve just been talking about other things. God, we must’ve talked about food for forty-five minutes.” She laughed.
“Food?”
“Yeah, we ate together earlier. It was bad.”
“What’d they have?”
“It’s still up for debate.”
“Wow,” Scott said. “That’s bad.”
Henry blew out a breath, wincing as he did so. “You hurting as bad as we are?”
Scott nodded. “My legs are killing me. The fact that we screwed up feels just as bad, though.”
Natasha smiled. “I don’t know about that, this pain is pretty bad. I’m tired, too. I woke up completely out of it, I haven’t felt this bad since the first month of Philadelphia.”
Scott laughed.
“What?”
“I loved my first month in Philadelphia.”
“Ugh. Not me. The early morning inspections killed me.”
“We got up real early in the force,” David said. “Real early. When I was new it was hard to get used to, but after the first week or so, I loved it. Even on my off days, I’d get up before sunrise. It’s just better in the morning.”
Natasha smiled. “I guess the Academy was a cakewalk for you then, right?”
“It wasn’t a problem for me at all. I was used to it before I got there. As long as there’s a pot of coffee ready to go in the morning, I’m wide awake.”
Scott smiled. “I love coffee.” There was nothing like the aroma of fresh brew to perk the nostrils. It alone could lure him out of bed on even the worst of mornings. “Speaking of which,” he said as he stood up to fix himself a cup.
“I don’t like it,” Becan said. “Breakfast tea, now tha’s grand.”
“So what do you guys think about last night?” Scott asked.
“I agree with what you said before,” David said. “Knowing it was our fault feels worse than being sore. It’s especially bad because they preach to us from day one about responsibility. I for one feel like I should have said something. I think that’s what was the worst for me, that I just went along with it. Frequenting bars and pubs isn’t even my lifestyle.”
Becan gave him a penetrating stare. “Yeah, but do yeh really think you’d have said somethin’ even if yeh did realize it was wrong last night? I know for me, I wouldn’t have. Everyone was havin’ a grand time, an’ it was our first nigh’ together. I think it was bollocks tha’ he gave a test at all. I mean…tha’ was day-bloody-one. Let us live a little bit, righ’?”
“I have no problem with him doing it,” David said. “We got careless, and we got what we deserved. What if it were real? If it were real, the people who died would’ve been on us.”
“I think they should let people have the first nigh’ to themselves,” Becan answered. “Go out, get steamed, get it out o’ your system.”
“As an operative you can’t do that, though. We’re on call twenty-four, seven—”
“Righ’, righ’, I know tha’. I know yeh got a point, I know it was a mistake. I just…veck, I wish we wouldn’t have fell for it. Tha’s so cliched, drillin’ us on our first nigh’.”
David looked across the table. “What do you think, Henry? You’re quiet over there.”
Henry’s mouth fell open. “Uhh…I don’t know. I just…for me…I guess it was kind of a reality check.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s just when the comms started going off it hit me. When it was all over, I wasn’t even worried about what Tacker was saying. That didn’t matter to me much. It’s just when the comms started going off, that’s what I remember. I remember thinking, oh veck, I really have to do it now.”
“You mean fight?”
“Well…yeah.”
“And that got you scared?”
“Of course. I remember the first thing that popped in my head was I could die tonight.”
Becan said kindly enough, “Henry, tha’s a baaad way to go abou’ lookin’ at it. Yeh can’t be thinkin’ like tha’…I mean, yeh start thinkin’ like tha’ in the middle of a war, an’—”
“Yeah, I know that. That’s what made me start to really think about this.”
David shook his head. “Wait…you mean think about EDEN?”
“Yeah. I hope this was the right thing for me to do.”
“Henry…bud, you shouldn’t be thinking about that now. That’s something you think about before you sign the paper to come on.”
“I know, I know.”
“Wha’ made yeh decide to sign on then?” Becan asked.
Henry reflected. “It’s like…I just wanted to do it. I don’t want to just do nothing. Everyone has their thing, but nobody likes a talk-seller. So I think it was just—”
David’s gaze bore into Henry’s eyes. “Henry, did you do this to be liked?”
“No! I didn’t do it to be liked. That’s not it exactly, but I can see how you got there. I hated being a talk-seller. It’s probably one of the worst jobs on the planet, because everybody hates you. Everywhere I’d go, for any job I applied for, I was always ‘the talk-seller.’ It’s like a tag for life. The only place I could go where it didn’t matter was here.” He sighed. “Here nobody cares what you did. You’re alive and you can shoot, that’s all that matters. Here, I’m not a talk-seller. I’m a soldier defending Earth.”
“But wha’ if yeh die or get blown to bits? Is tha’ better than talk-sellin’?”
“Yeah,” Henry answered. “I thought it was, anyway. That’s why I don’t know now. It’s like…that’s how I came into it. I thought I wouldn’t care. Then last night came and it was like bam, this is real.”
David folded his arms. “Well, Henry, you’ve got to ask yourself now…do you think you’re ready for EDEN?”
“I want to be,” he answered. “I’m trying.”
Silence fell over the table. David leaned back and broke it. “All right. I guess that’s the best you can do. You got good marks at the Academy, anyway.”
Becan glanced between them. “Well, I don’t want to be blown to bits! Someone’s got to keep the family genes alive!”
“And that’s you?” Natasha asked, a touch provocatively.
“It is. It has to be, I’m the only son me ma had.”
“Well you better find someone to help with that.”
Scott and David exchanged a sidelong look.
“Yeh offerin’?”
She shrugged and smiled enigmatically.
Henry coughed. “Anyway, I think I can do good in EDEN. All I need is a chance to prove myself.”
Henry was cut off as Natasha pushed up from her chair.
“You’re leaving?” asked Scott.
“Yes…” she said as her gaze lingered on Becan. “I feel like going for a swim.”
“Yeh want some company?” Becan asked.
Natasha curved up the corners of her lips. “Sure.”
“Class.” Becan rose from his chair and glanced at the other three men. “I’ll talk to yis later.” Before anyone could respond, the couple slipped through the tables and out of the room.
Scott watched as they disappeared out of view. “Is what just happened what I think just happened?”
“Amazing,” laughed David.
“Just like that, huh?”<
br />
Henry shook his head. “Why can’t I get women like that?”
“You don’t want women like that,” David said.
“So do you think they’re…?”
“What, you really think they’re swimming?”
“Man.”
David shifted his gaze to Scott. “Speaking of people getting up and leaving, I’ve been meaning to ask you. Where’d you go this morning?”
Scott’s eyes widened. “You heard me leave the room?”
“No, but I woke up and asked you what time it was, and you weren’t there.”
“Oh. I just went for a walk. It wasn’t anything important.”
“Where’d you go?”
Scott squirmed uncomfortably in his chair. “Just around, nowhere in particular. I needed to think.”
“All right. I was just curious.”
Silence fell over the table, and this time Henry eventually broke it. “I think I’m gonna head back to my room.”
“You all right?” David asked.
“Yeah, I’m just tired.”
“I think we’re all pretty whipped up today,” Scott said.
Henry stood up. “I’ll talk to you guys later on.”
“Later, bud.”
“Take it easy, man.”
The two men watched as Henry slipped out of the room. As soon as he was gone, David sighed. “I feel bad for him. He shouldn’t be here.”
Scott chuckled as he stared into his now-empty coffee cup. “You know who I feel bad for? Every person who leaves the table, because as soon as they’re gone we start talking about them.”
“Yeah. That’s why I’m leaving with you. I’m afraid you’ll talk about me once I’m gone.”
“Right, ‘cause you know, I love to have conversations with myself.”
“Right,” David answered.
“I know what you mean, though. I thought about death before I signed up—I think everyone does. That’s when you’ve got to come to grips with reality, not after you’ve gone through Philadelphia.”