Escaping Boredom

Twelve

After a tedious train ride, Franky and Sid arrived at their training centre.  They exchanged no words only sour looks. Stumbling across the ground, they grabbed their heads to study their minds from the bumping, and wobbling of the violent train. 

They got off with a plethora of other boys, around their age and a few years their senior. Each boy carried a sack over their shoulders and beaming expressions on their face.

Sid took in the sight of green grass, brick buildings and soldiers strutting about with glee. This was where his search for excitement began. “So, how that ride?” Sid asked, elbowing Franky in the side with a dizzy grin on his face.  His face was of a sallow shade from the train.  Taking deep breaths, he tried to ease his mind away from the long journey.  

Franky ignored him, jerking his body away from Sid. He tossed Sid a dirty look. The wound was still deep in his heart.  “Scum,” he muttered below his breath as he walked far away from Sid. He tumbled over his feet with the first few steps; he wasn’t used to walking on firm ground; his body was still bouncing with the train. He had hardly been away from New York for half a day, yet he missed it all. His heart squirmed and ached for the cool streets of New York. He longed to feel the cobblestones under his tattered shoes.

Quickly after Sid and Franky arrived, they were handed their uniforms and told were to change. After they slipped into their new apparel, Franky decided to check out the grounds while Sid took more interest in the other men.

“I is Sid,” he introduced himself to a tall, lanky boy with light hair and freckled skin.

“Tommy,” the boy answered back. “First time here, you?”

Sid nodded, casting a glance towards Franky who was on the other side of the grounds. Franky ran his hands across the brick, felt the space in between and examined each square for faults. Sid couldn’t help but to snort at Franky’s odd behaviour. A ping of regret shot through his heart thinking back to what he had done and how much pain he had caused Franky just for one scrap of excitement.

 “Recruits!” a sprawling voice called across the green. The boys snapped their attention to the man speaking.  “Line up!” he demanded. The recruits did as they were told as quickly as they could along the grass. With stiff backs, they formed a straight line.

The man started pacing back and forth along the line of young men, inspecting each and every one. Occasionally, he could pause in front of one and take a closer examination of their physique. “My name is Captain Horace Bennett. You shall address me by Captain and nothing else unless you wish to be hung by the neck or personally shot by me. ” He shot them a vicious smile as his boots clunked against the stone pathway.

Captain Horace Bennett was a lean man in his late thirties. He tucked his helmet under his arm. He towered over all the young recruits, casting a fearful shadow. All recruits, except for Sid trembled, who donned a bright, eager smile.  “You.” He stopped in front of Sid.

“Sir?” Sid questioned not sure of how to respond. He was not one hour old at the training centre and had not been taught how to respond.

Bennett took a step so close to Sid that Sid looked away. “You look at me when I’m speaking to you, is that clear?”

“Yes, Sir,” Sid snapped back, standing up straighter and looking the Captain right in the eye. He was determined to impress the Captain and work his way up the ranks.

In a softer tone, Bennett inquired, “What’s your name?”

“Sidney Reed, Sir.”

The Captain didn’t say a word but walked away with a smug look on his clean-shaven face. “Here at Hamilton, you will learn how to fight, how to survive and how to kill.”