The Armor of God

by Diego Valenzuela

  “Now, do you understand what’s happening here, or rather, what’s going to happen?” Ezra shook his head and looked at the nametag on her breast: Cpl. Higgins. “Whether you like it or not, your blood is extremely rare and puts you in a position to make an enormous difference for Roue’s future.”

  “If you’re talking about my family’s wealth, don’t count on any of it; I left my family when I turned eighteen, so I’m broke. I’m living on saved credit.”

  “I am aware of your family’s wealth—the entire city is, and we in the army are particularly grateful for how generous they’ve been for generations. I’m also aware of your emancipation. I’m talking about your actual blood.”

  “What about it?” he asked.

  “It possesses a very unique property. Something very few people have. And it’s something we can use. No wait, let me rephrase: something we need to use.”

  “I don’t suppose I can just give you a few pints of it and get out of here.”

  She shook her head. “Sorry. Sounds like I misspoke. It’s not the blood itself—it’s what your blood lets you do. The power it gives you.”

  Now he was becoming interested. He had never really known power of any sort (wealth, yes, but not power; that had always belonged to his parents), and the notion was intriguing, even promising. “I don’t know about that,” he said.

  “Your blood is what we call ‘C-Compatible,’ and it makes you eligible to join a very special branch within the army, one that many would kill to be a part of: Zenith,” she said. The emphasis she gave to that last word made him think it was something he should react to, but she might as well have been speaking in another language. “You’re going to be part of Zenith, and of the army, for a good while, Blanchard. Maybe for life.”

  Insects clawed at his stomach. She was joking or maybe exaggerating for dramatic effect; the army couldn’t enlist someone for life, certainly not against his will, no matter how precious his blood apparently was. Zenith, whatever it was, had to have the same rules.

  “Do you understand?” she asked after another brief silence.

  “Not even a little,” he grumbled. “What if I refuse all of this?”

  Corporal Higgins chuckled. “You know the answer to that. If you want to become an adult citizen, you need your White Card. If you want your White Card, you need to do your service. If you don’t, you cannot be part of ‘The Great City State of Roue’.”

  “So I would be exiled?” he asked.

  “Or executed, depending on the judge—the martial court can be very nasty if you don’t act the way they expect you to. You have to know you wouldn’t last an hour outside Roue—the monsters outside would rip you to pieces the instant you set foot on their turf. Either way, you’d be very much screwed.”

  “Seems to me like I’m already screwed. I have no business being in the army for such a long time.”

  Maybe for life.

  “They say life is what you make of it. I would’ve done anything to be where you are when I started my service; you have so much to look forward to: new friends, new knowledge, abilities, a lifetime of adventure. And yet for some reason you seem to think it’s the end of the line. What exactly are you doing with your life right now that’s so much better than this?”

  He wanted to answer just so she didn’t have the last word.

  But he couldn’t. He didn’t have an answer. What was he doing that was better than whatever the army and Zenith had in store for him? He was living a lonely, aimless, and pointless existence—why did he care so much if that was taken for him in exchange for what some would call a purpose?

  “This was just . . . not part of my plans,” he finally said, his voice cracking.

  “Well. Welcome to adulthood.”

  After another hour of talking, mostly about the last year of his life and not this precious ‘C-Compatible blood,’ Corporal Susan Higgins walked him to another office, where the seemingly endless succession of interviews and tests would continue.

  At least she had apparently grown to like Ezra a little bit more, maybe out of sympathy. Some of her words in the office sounded like something she had wanted to say—not to him specifically, but to anyone. Maybe her own life plans had at some point seen an equally sudden reroute. Maybe she could relate. He still didn’t know what would happen to him, but if he did end up stuck in the army for years, it would be good to have at least one friend inside.

  “Nothing of what comes next is going to be easy, Ezra,” she said, calling him that for the first time. “But you’ll get through it because you don’t have a choice.”

  “What exactly comes next?”

  “Your life as a soldier,” she said sagely.

  Ezra shook his head. “No, I mean like—right now. Where are you taking me?”

  “Oh,” she said and blushed. “The military hospital for some physical tests.”

  “Can I go home after that?”

  “Probably not,” said Susan as she opened a large double door for him. Ezra stepped into the military hospital. It smelled like alcohol and medicine—an unpleasant smell. Though he could only see a small hall, it was completely empty except for a nurse sitting behind the front desk. Governor Heath always reminded the city that humanity was at war with the things outside the dome, the ones that had brought humanity to the brink of extinction; Ezra had expected the military hospital to be busier.

  “There’s a chance you’re gonna sleep in the barracks tonight, but you might go home tomorrow. It will depend on your test results.”

  Susan put her hand on Ezra’s shoulder. “Don’t look so glum, big guy. At least your work is going to be helpful. Don’t tell anyone I said this, but unlike the others doing the regular military service you’re going to have a purpose. Almost every other kid you saw in the lines outside is going to waste a lot of their time for the next year. Not one would be combat ready anytime soon—at least not to be worth the army’s money to send them outside the dome to battle. They’re basically going to come here every week to exercise, get barked at, and maybe sometimes go plant some trees. At least your training is going to have meaning.”

  They took an elevator that, at Susan’s vocal command, brought them to the fourth floor.

  “Sus—Corporal—why aren’t you telling me anything helpful about my blood?”

  “It’s not my place to explain,” she said and then stopped in front of a door. “I am just a psychologist, and it’s my job to ease you in. Don’t worry—behind this door you’ll find your answers.”

  She opened the door to an office: nothing but an empty desk and boxes.

  “There’s no one in here,” he said.

  Susan looked in and blushed again, cursing. Why was she trying so hard to be dramatic? She wasn’t good at it. She apologized. “Dr. Mizrahi should be here. I was just told she’d be in her office.”

  “If you’re looking for Dr. Mizrahi,” someone behind him said, “she’s changed offices; she’s in here.”

  Ezra turned around to face the speaker: it was Biggun, who was peeking out of the office closest to the elevator. Was Biggun in the same position as him, and that was why he had seemed so happy before? That would certainly explain why the soldier with the nose ring said there had been ‘two that year.’

  “Why can’t she ever stay in the same damn office?” Susan cursed and walked towards Biggun, who was at least a head taller than her—and she was a few inches taller than Ezra. He was small, and this place had a way of reminding him.

  Biggun laughed. “She said something about the way the air conditioning hit her hair. It made her look bald, I think.”

  “It makes my eyelashes flutter!” said a fourth voice, and soon the owner revealed herself. Dr. Mizrahi stepped out of her office. She was small and looked too skinny beneath her lab coat. “How would you like feeling your eyelashes pushed into your eyeballs. You can’t work that way!”

  There was a jittery and awkward quality to the way she talked, and it made Ezra think that Dr. Mizrahi
wasn’t entirely there, like her mind was in another place, or maybe in too many places at once.

  As though she could read his thoughts, Dr. Mizrahi’s eyes suddenly focused on Ezra. She walked towards him and didn’t stop until she was just two inches away from his face. It was an uncomfortable position, but it was worse to notice that they were of a height.

  “Blanchard.” Her breath smelled like she was addicted to chewing mint herbs—not truly unpleasant but definitely overwhelming. “I know your mother. Has she ever talked about me? We met in graduate school. She was a teacher, even though we’re the same age. We’re forty-nine—we were twenty-nine at the time—and she was my teacher.”

  “Everyone knows my mother,” Ezra said and took a step away from her. “Everyone knows my mother and my father and my sister and my baby sister and my uncle and probably their dog and his fleas if they’re also Blanchards. I don’t know if she remembers you.”

  “Maybe she does,” Dr. Mizrahi insisted. “I saw her in a charity event just last year. She gave us money to keep our affairs going strong. It made us grateful she is generous with her money. Smart people are smart about finances. Everyone likes your family.”

  “No kidding,” Ezra said and looked up at Biggun.

  “I’m sorry,” he said after finally making eye contact, and offered a huge hand for Ezra to shake. “I’m Akiva. Akiva Davenport. Most people call me Kiv, but you can call me whatever you want.”

  “Yeah? What about ‘Biggun VanderHuge?” Ezra said, shaking Akiva’s hand and noticing the cords of muscle on his forearm.

  Akiva laughed, the kind of loud roar that made Ezra wonder if there was an angle to his own joke he hadn’t understood, and was then silenced by a sharp and disapproving look from Susan.

  “Akiva is here for the same reasons you are; he’s also C-Compatible,” Susan confirmed. “Try to be friends, because you’re going to be working closely together from now on. You and the others.”

  “What others?” Ezra asked, but this question would also go unanswered.

  “Van-There-Hooge—it doesn’t sound like a real name,” the doctor muttered, and walked into her office. Ezra didn’t know if she expected him to follow, so he stood there like a lost child, waiting for a cue.

  Susan put her hand on his shoulder again and looked at him with her deep brown eyes. “You know the way to my office if you need anything. Dr. Mizrahi will perform the tests on you and the others, then she’ll give you further instructions. This is the beginning of something very big, Ezra. You will be big, and we’ll be proud of you for it.”

  After this speech that made her sound like an old friend, Susan finally said good-bye and wished him good luck. He was left alone with Akiva.

  “After you,” the big kid said. “And congratulations to the three of us.”

  Three? Ezra thought, and walked into Mizrahi’s office to find the third one waiting inside.

  Chapter 2

  Looking Up

  The third one was about his size as well.

  Also, she was a girl.

  She had been sitting on a huge and ugly green couch, waiting for the conversation outside to end, entirely uninterested in it. From the moment Ezra walked into the room and noticed her, he couldn’t take his eyes away—she was beautiful in a way Ezra had never seen before. He took a seat next to the girl and confidently said hello.

  “Hello,” she replied. Her voice was raspy, almost a whisper caused by a degradation of the voice. “How come I got here before you did? I saw you in line—you were ways ahead of me.”

  “I really don’t know; everything after Private Bullring has been a bit of a haze,” Ezra said, taking a better look at her face as she smiled at his joke. There was something wild and untamed about her, like she hadn’t been raised in the civilized world. Her hair was reddish-dark, messy. Her skin was naturally fair, her eyes green and made greener by a pair of tiny jade earrings that hung from her left ear.

  She smelled of something amazing, but it wasn’t perfume. It might just be her.

  “Well, I’m glad you find my face so interesting, guy, but shouldn’t you be paying attention to Dr. Mizrahi?” she said. It took Ezra entirely too long to realize he had been staring without saying a word.

  Akiva laughed and Ezra apologized. There was silence as Dr. Mizrahi took her time to read through a series of documents on her desk. The way she seemed completely unaware of the three other people in her office made Ezra wonder again if Dr. Mizrahi was a few marbles short of a set.

  He wouldn’t call her attention to hurry the process, even if he wanted to. In fact, Ezra decided he wouldn’t do anything Akiva or the girl didn’t do first—they seemed to be more comfortable in this position and would probably be good beacons to follow.

  “My name is Jena, by the way,” the girl said to fill in the silence Dr. Mizrahi was unknowingly creating. “Jena Crescent.”

  “I’m Ezra Blanchard.”

  “Blanchard, eh?” she said with a smirk. “Your bloodline sure is lucky—a long chain of legendary scholars and now one in a Creux? Very unlikely, if you ask me.”

  “Yeah—no, wait . . . I’m sorry, a what-ux?”

  “Creux,” Dr. Mizrahi said, eyes still on the documents; what the hell was she reading that was so interesting? “And you’re not in a Creux; you commune with a Creux. They’re not cars.”

  “I apologize, ma’am,” Jena said.

  “What the hell is a Creux?” Ezra asked Dr. Mizrahi, but it was as though she couldn’t hear him. She looked at Jena. “Am I supposed to know?”

  “Well, now you do,” Akiva said. “I don’t know much either, but Creuxes—”

  “Creuxen is the correct plural,” Dr. Mizrahi interfered again, and then finally looked at the trio after filing the documents in a drawer. “Creuxen are your new life: everything you do now will relate to a Creux. This is a good thing. You were told your blood was C-Compatible; this is an abbreviation for ‘Creux-Compatible’—one I appreciate because alliteration bothers me.”

  Holy hell, thought Ezra. He could almost smell the crazy.

  “It means each of you is one in tens of thousands who can and must join the Creux Defense Program.”

  Ezra had never heard those words. “Is that going to be our military service?”

  “Oh, darling, no. No, sweet strawberries, you’re not going to do military service. You’re enlisting.”

  “What does that mean?” Jena asked.

  “We are going to test your blood again to make sure none of you is a false positive, then you’re going to sign a contract, and you’ll become part of Zenith and the Roue Army.”

  “How long does this contract last?” Akiva asked, too calmly. Unlike him, Ezra was beginning to sweat, grinding his teeth and trying to hide overwhelming anxieties.

  “Ten years,” she replied.

  Ezra wanted to scream. The army couldn’t take away ten years of his life! He wanted his freedom, he wanted to—

  “After that, you’ll sign another contract for another ten years,” she continued. “And so on, until you’re either discharged or you do the other thing—the one where you’re not alive anymore.”

  “You can’t do that!” Ezra yelled. “I’m not a soldier—you can’t take a citizen’s freedom just like that. You can’t—,” A knot tightened in his throat. He couldn’t speak, could barely breathe. Why were the other two so calm?

  Could his family do something about this? The Blanchards were powerful and rich—maybe they could use that power and wealth to aid him.

  But then he remembered: he was no longer a Blanchard. He still loved most of his family, still wore the name because he had no choice, but he had renounced them to be independent and free from the responsibilities and expectations that came with the name. This was the first time he considered that grave mistake as such.

  “Blanchard,” she said with the first hints of warmth she had shown. “I can’t know how you feel, but freedom is not being taken away from you, not at all. You’re being
given freedom like you’ve never even dreamed of. Never.”

  Ezra couldn’t reply. He felt Jena’s hand as a comfort on his back.

  “You’re valuable to Roue, children. Far too valuable. This country and this organization will transform you. Change you. You’ll be trained and educated in ways no one else could ever hope to be. You’ll travel. You’ll travel and see things no one but you is ever going to see. You’re not going to live normal lives, no. You’ll live special lives. Unique lives.”

  Jena took her hand from Ezra’s back, which had grown sweaty (he saw her discreetly wipe her palm on her skirt). “What about our families? My father’s been sick for years. He needs me there for him,” she said.

  “Your families will be taken care of if care is needed,” she said and looked directly at Ezra.

  This crazy robot was good at convincingly making it sound like an opportunity, but Ezra had a difficult time sharing that lens. He hadn’t been able to argue with Susan when she asked him to explain the ways in which joining Zenith would ruin his life, but it was still impossible to see an entire future laid in front of him.

  His future had always been a blank canvas, and that sweet comfort had just been taken away from him with no mercy except swiftness.

  Dr. Mizrahi began talking again. Ezra looked at Jena, then at Akiva. They were listening, periodically glancing down at Ezra as if checking he was still there. What was it that they understood but Ezra couldn’t? What kind of lives were they leading that this didn’t faze them at all?

  Maybe they had been prepared for it in some capacity—they seemed to be aware of the Creux since before stepping into Mizrahi’s office. It was possible they had been previously briefed, and nothing being said here was much of a surprise.

  “Of course the details of the Creux Program can’t be divulged outside of Zenith, so I will not answer specific questions about it until your contracts have been signed. Any questions? Any other questions?”

  Jena and Akiva had none, but expected Ezra to; he could tell from the way they looked at him.