Black Dove (Watty Awards 2012)

Chapter Four

I have to hurry to keep up with her. She breaks abruptly from thought to thought and I struggle to understand her: “That’s the other barracks. Don’t go in there. Last person to enter unannounced was shot. That’s the mess hall. Once the cook managed to get some strawberries, but mostly we have oatmeal or vegetables procured from local farms. First night I was here I was really sick from the moldy food, but after a while you learn to pick around the bad parts. I’m Corporal Willison, by the way, so you can say ‘Yes Corporal Willison’ after I say something. Understood?”

I nod again, but she isn’t paying attention anymore.

“That’s the mortuary. I don’t think I should have to tell you that that’s off limits, except if you’re dead.” She cracks a dry smile at that one. I try to smile past the lump in my throat. Moldy food? A mortuary on base? We round a corner and come upon several people doing jumping jacks in the mud. A white haired old man screams at them as they sweat buckets.

“Hold up.” The corporal says, “Might as well get you introduced.” The man, who I can see is a sergeant, walks over. I smile slowly, hoping that might earn me a few points with the stern Sergeant. It doesn’t.

“What do you have to smile about, boot?”

I whip out my pen and paper pad ‘Nothing. I just felt like smiling.’ Come on, really.

“Don’t. And why are you writing on a piece of paper? Speak!”

‘I can’t speak, sir.’ Although I’m not so sure after that song. But I push that to the back of my mind—I can think about that later.

“Sir!” someone calls from the group of recruits still doing jumping jacks. I do a double take when I see that someone is Kane. I hadn’t expected to see him so soon.

“What is it, Shorlen?”

“I was wondering whether we could be done doing jumping jacks, sir.” He said tightly.

“Come on…” Willison mutters, “Before Sarge starts lambasting that ignorant fool.”

I walk away with Willison, but I know Kane is no fool. He knew exactly what was going on. He was trying to protect me.

~ ~ ~

I shifted my boots slightly in the squishy mud. The rain had stopped, but the mud was still on the ground and trying to do exercises in them had been hell.

“Boots…attention!” I snapped to as fast as possible. The first day of my training, I had been slow, and Sarge had been down on me like a ton of bricks. “Put that hand up Recruit! Faster!” And all afternoon we’d stood at attention while Sarge ate peanuts. I had grown to hate the guy, even though I had only been here for three days.

“Southwood!” I snapped out of my reverie. “What is next on the schedule, Recruit?”

I fumble with the sheaf of papers in my blouse. We were issued a schedule each morning at breakfast, and according to Sarge it was some sort of Ten Commandments of the Battalion. I scan my muddy finger down the long list until…

I point my finger at the next session, ‘Political Science’. Sarge raises an eyebrow. “How about you tell us all what is next, Recruit Southwood?” He sneers. I grit my teeth and pull out my notepad.

“No notepads.” He grabs it and throws it in the mud. “You tell us, or we’re skipping the nice, cushy classroom and doing physical training again.

I’m not going to try in front of him. I square my shoulders, look Sarge in the eye, and shake my head. He raises an eyebrow. Of course he knew this was going to happen. He has read my file. He just likes to pick on people. I have met nobody in the UPP that I really like. Willison is quirky and too strange for my taste. Kane…well after that whole love business I’ve been glad to not be seeing him.