31. TRAINING
Lawson—
The pale canvas walls of the training yurt let in sunlight. A breeze blows through the open door, cooling my sweat and carrying the occasional crash or shouted whoop from the half-empty military compound. I stand with ten other teenagers, facing Captain Mom. My feet shift on a makeshift floor of torn mats and plywood. The black boots on my feet weigh me down. Despite wearing them every day from sunup to rack out, I still can’t get used to them.
“Circle up,” the Captain says. “Tanner in the middle.”
Tanner’s thick shoulders hunch as he steps into the center. The rest of us form a ring around him, fists up, ready to prepare him for his job in D-town. He’s going to study the pacifist gang from the inside.
A pacifist gang. Imagine that.
Well, better him than me. No way am I going to lie down and let assholes beat on me, even if they were all as adorable as Kitty.
Kitty, across the circle in blond pigtails and coveralls, is perfectly suited to undercover work—tiny, fast, good with every weapon. She’s my favorite knife-sparring partner, and a military brat like Darthanial, Chadwick, and me.
“Free-sparring,” says Captain Mom. “Half-power. I don’t want anyone in the hospital but I don’t want to see any dancing around either. Tanner, no violence. Ready?”
“I have a question.”
Mama hasn’t asked if there are any questions, and Laura doesn’t raise her hand.
“What are we fighting for?” She looks purposefully into Mama’s eyes, like an equal. Along with me, Laura will be co-leading the integration of the D-town kids, but that doesn’t mean she’s in command.
Mama’s lip curls. “Does it matter? You might be fighting for any number of reasons in D-town. You’re all soldiers now. Believing in every battle is a luxury that belongs to teenagers and terrorists.”
Those words make it clear the Captain’s not like other people, not like us. Sleeping in the pulse-free room has affected her. Some of the other kids draw back but Laura only shakes her head.
“No, Sally, that’s not why I asked.”
She doesn’t call Mama “Captain.” She’s the only one who doesn’t, the only one who’s not expected to. Even I’m expected to, ever since training started. But before the GEM became the GG, Laura’s parents were heavy-hitting anti-GMO activists. Now her mom and dad are both in the Inner Circle of the government. Rumor has it the real reason they’re letting her go to D-town is to groom her to follow in their footsteps as a world leader.
Another rumor says Laura and her bodyguard, Chad, are in love. That, at least, is the truth. Today at lunch she smeared pudding all over his face, claiming it was to prepare him for the sticky-factor of D-town, and he did nothing to stop her. There’s still some pudding in his dreadlocks.
He, Laura, and the thin girl beside them look like Love Childs already, complete with medusa hair. That girl—what name is she going by this week?—is practically invisible beside charismatic Laura. Good thing, because she’s supposed to pretend to be an in-between so she can study gender, and anyone can see she’s just a femme in pants.
I said that to Dart once, and he looked at me funny.
But Laura is explaining. “I ask because I want to know how I’ll be fighting. I’ll fight differently if it’s for my life than if it’s, say, for the last chocolate bar.”
Gina laughs, then blinks as if startled by the sound. It’s strange seeing her without her nose in the Christian Bible; she studies it the way the rest of us practice martial arts. Sometimes a smile takes over her placid face, and she says, The Romans used this religion to take over the world. We need to show respect. She’ll be using propaganda to prep the religion-based tribes for integration.
Mama gives Gina a smile then looks over Laura’s head, straight into my eyes.
“If you’re fighting for your life, I expect you to kill anyone in your way. Any other time, fight like you’re fighting for the survival of this society, for peace, and for the lives of your friends. Look to your left or right. If you mess up, if you blow your cover, these are the people you endanger.” Her voice drops, and even Laura leans in to listen. “Always protect yourselves and each other and remember that what we’re fighting for is bigger than any individual life. Saving many lives is worth hurting a few, killing a few even. If you have to use violence, for your safety or the greatest good, don’t hold back. That’s what being a soldier means, and you’re all soldiers now.” She glares at Laura. “Every single one of you are under my command. Until this job is done.
“It’s going to be rough out there. You’ll have to make hard choices. I won’t always be there to guide you. You won’t always have access to your handlers or even each other. Just ask yourself what I would do. And remember that if you make a mistake, if you do something you regret, well, that’s what your earbuds are for.”
We nod along, relaxing. No ones stops to ask, When she says the big picture is worth more than a few lives, does she mean only the lost kids or us, too?
Tanner squares his broad shoulders. “So the ends justify the means?”
“Yes,” she says. “Except for you.”
She has us crowd close and fight each other. No one has to tell Laura and her posse to work as a team. Laura barely has to defend herself at all with the other two looking after her, which is a shame because she’s an elegant fighter, a pleasure to watch. While I’m distracted, Dart lands a ringing blow to the side of my head.
“Wake up, yo.”
I pull a punch to his kidney, and we both dive back into the fray.
“Lawson,” the Captain calls. “Go for Tanner!”
But I can’t hit someone who won’t fight back. I pretend not to hear the command and go after Laura instead. I manage to get under Chad’s guard just as Mama shouts, “Alex!”
Alex is a scientist’s kid and the only actual in-between we have. I have to seriously stare to tell what’s going on under Alex’s clothes, and no one would know from the back or with a quick sideways glance. That one will be joining the Logic and studying gang politics, probably not fighting at all, but that doesn’t stop Alex from attacking now.
Tanner, forbidden to strike out to defend himself, can only turn, duck, block. The kids who plan to join the Witches, a brother and sister with activist parents like Laura, jump in on Alex’s side. Tanner goes down.
I disengage from Laura and Chad, starting in that direction, but someone grabs my arm. I spin, striking out with half-power, and Captain Mom easily catches my fist. She twists my arm and wrestles me to the sidelines, speaking so fierce and close that her spittle lands in my ear.
“Stay out of it. This kind of shit happens in D-town all the time. You’re going to have to get used to it.”
“I’m not going to have to watch,” I say, relaxing in her grip.
“You’re not going to be able to act like a civilized kid who can’t stand violence! You’re going to have to stand it.” She finally lets me go.
I rub at my arm, wondering if I’ll have bruises. “I guess you should have let me watch more violent movies,” I mutter.
She ignores that. “You understand why we’re doing this, right?” She lowers her voice. “Your dad died to make sure we got the pulses right. D-town is protected from the pulses. Do you see my problem? World peace only works if it’s the whole world.”
“I know. That’s why I volunteered.”
She claps me on the back, hard enough to knock me back in time.
“What do you think D-town girls are like?” The voice of my childhood friend, Darthanial, floats up from the bottom bunk.
We’re in our beds in the military compound, near the start of training.
“Dirty, I guess,” I whisper into the darkness.
“Sure, but we’ll be dirty, too.”
“We’re not supposed to date,” I say. “You know that.”
“Yeah, but it’s not like they can check.” He’s quiet for a while. “I bet the girls are, don’t take this the wr
ong way, more like your mom. No pulses, you know.”
I chuckle. “Bitchy, you mean? My mom’s a soldier. The girls aren’t going to be like soldiers. The boys either.”
“Guys, you mean,” Dart says. “Femmes.”
“Yeah, and in-betweens.” It’s my turn to lapse into silence. “Hey, want to look at the photos again?” I dig out the training manual with the poorly printed pictures.
Dart and I have one to share, but he always lets me keep it.
“Naw, you go ahead.”
“Why not?” When he doesn’t answer, I lean over the edge of my bunk to peer into the shadows between us. “Come on, dude. Why not?”
“Don’t take this the wrong way,” Dart mutters again. “But I only want to look at the femme pictures, and you—you always look at the in-betweens.”
“I don’t,” I snap, heat crawling up my neck.
If I don’t learn to lie better, I’m not gonna last a week in D-town. I can’t believe he noticed.
“Whatever, man.” He grins, a flash of white teeth in the dark. “More femmes for me.”
I throw the manual at him and lie back on my own bed. Our laughter drains the tension out of the moment. At least Dart will be with me in D-town. He always has my back.
I burrow into my blankets, the bed rocks under me, and the scene shifts again.
The Urban Center 63 military compound is too angular and monochrome. The wounds from the quake look even worse here than out in the city. Cracked walls and broken ground. But on one edge of the compound the dome of the rehabilitation center blooms out of the ground like a puff mushroom.
It’s still under construction, and Mama lifts the pink CAREFUL tape for me to duck under even though I could have stepped over it no problem. We stop outside to let some construction volunteers by. The crew sings together, with various degrees of talent, while hauling green building supplies.
“I’m a military commander, not a choir conductor,” Mama grumbles, but she almost smiles. Her spine goes from wood-pole-straight to metal-rod-straight when the doors swing open.
A loose huddle of adults exits the building. Their earth-toned clothes say they must be the thirteen members of the government’s Inner Circle, plus scientist advisors. If Dad was still alive, he’d be one of those, the most respected one.
Voices murmur as they approach us, nodding and gesturing and talking among themselves. A man and woman step out in front, holding hands. The couple is familiar from GEM Meetings; they always argued with Dad. Mama’s almost-smile melts away.
A crack opens in the man’s bushy facial hair, and words come out. “Very nice, Sally. We have a real opportunity here.”
“With the gangs,” his wife finishes, arranging her dress with long fingers.
“Opportunity?” Mama asks. “With all due respect—”
“What I want,” he says.
“What we want.” They are practically one person. “Is to show these FOLM kids that their parents were wrong. The Global Government doesn’t force people to submit to our sonic lifestyle. These…D-towners will choose us in the end.”
“And if they don’t?”
“They will,” he says.
“Your ideals,” Mama says, “are going to destroy everything we’ve worked for.”
“My ideals? Sally.” She steps closer, reaching out to touch Mama’s tense shoulder. “Are you thinking about your husband again, honey? I wish you’d take a leave of absence, spend some time in rehabilitation.”
“Is that an order?”
“Of course not. We told you. We don’t force the pulses on anyone.” He glances at someone else in the group. “Which is why we’re sending some teenagers into the gangs. We know these D-towners won’t listen to us.”
She smiles at me, warm. “But they’ll listen to our kids.”
“First we need to study them,” calls a voice from further back in the group.
The bearded man nods. “Yes, Carl, first we’re going to study them. Carl’s daughter, Gina, has already volunteered.”
“And your Laura?” Mama asks.
The woman turns away without answering and the others follow.
“Those two bother me,” Mama says, when we’re alone.
“Why?” My brows pinch together.
Bothered? It’s such a weird concept.
“Because they don’t understand.” It’s not clear if she means about Dad or, like, everything. “And they’re lying to themselves. We never gave people a choice. There is a price for peace, and I can pay most of it, but I can’t pay their share. We have to keep paying until we’re done or it will all be for nothing,” she says. “If even one person avoids the pulses, Zack will have died for nothing.”