End Of Days

25: Training

Wilbur's new room was bigger than the last.

The walls were a soft grey, the lighting more warm and inviting. He had a queen bed now, and a second couch as well as a larger television. The bathroom was a bit nicer too-- he had a whole bathtub as well as a shower, and a new uniform of a black shirt over sweatpants as opposed to the white shirt he had worn prior. The door was still locked, and there was still a camera watching him at all times, but it was an upgrade nonetheless.

The few possessions he had were brought to his quarters, and he had to admit that it was a comfort to have his bag, notebook and pens back within arms reach. He hadn't written to Sally in quite some time, though. With the constant surveillance, he knew that he couldn't be truthful. He couldn't stand the thought of lying to her, so instead he chose not to write at all.

He was left alone for a day to get used to his new surroundings and rest up for the next stage of the induction. His muscles ached, both from the physical test and the kidnapping, and he wasn't complaining when he was given the day to waste away on the sofa.

He perused the library of movies and tv shows from before the world ended, took two showers just because he could, and ate three meals before he found himself falling asleep on the couch again, watching the night sky.

The first thing he noticed about the new testing was that the guards were different.

Rather than neat uniforms, these men wore combat gear, with guns and batons on their belts. They had visors that covered their eyes and shielded their faces, as though they needed protection from something. It hadn't escaped Wilbur's notice that they no longer put their hands on his shoulders to lead him places, but instead walked beside him in near silence.

The second thing he noticed about the new testing was that the tests all seemed to serve a purpose now. In fact, to call them tests seemed almost unfair. These were less about testing what abilities he already had and more about honing in his skills. Classes and training might be a more apt description.

Wilbur found himself spending more and more time in a biology lab, learning about cells and disease. He was brought to the shooting range often and given a pistol, challenged to hit every target. Occasionally he was brought to the gym and made to run laps or complete workouts. Once he was even given a basic hand to hand combat lesson.

He saw Landon, sometimes. His handler rarely showed up at the training, but Wilbur got the impression that he was still watching. Sometimes he would be brought to the empty cafeteria for meals, where he would spend thirty minutes talking with the man about how everything was going.

Out of everything, those meals were the hardest to get through. The food was delicious as always, and Wilbur knew that this wasn't supposed to be a test anymore. It was supposed to be a check in, reassurance that he was doing well, feedback about his concerns.

It was closer to a test of how well he could lie consistently.

Landon asked him about his life before the end of the world, and Wilbur gave him some truth to break up the lies. He told him that he was a middle ground student who enjoyed music and sunny days with the right company. He told him of the little cafe in the town near Montville with the chips and the gingerbread men that he frequented with his friends.

Wilbur enjoyed telling those stories. Landon seemed to enjoy hearing about them. It was nice, for a moment, to pretend as though Wilbur might just wake up and go home tomorrow. Find his way back to his little dorm room and change into the uniform that really wasn't all that bad before heading off to his classes. Seeing Sally on the weeknights or spending days with her on the weekends. Spending time in the common room watching garbage television or playing cards.