18 Walls Read online

  Idiot hasn’t learnt his lesson. Raine glances at me, then sighs.

  “Piss off.”

  She strides towards her bed, sits down and begins cleaning her rifle. Rick beams at me as if we’ve become friends over it.

  “She’s a feisty one, ain’t she?”

  “Piss off,” I say.

  2

  On the first day of training, after an entire morning of static exercises, we’re herded to a hill, just a couple of kilometres away from the campsite. Of course, we’re made to run the entire distance. With ten kilograms of weight strapped to our backs. And a sadistic monk on our tails.

  The monk has a name. It’s Idphor, a synonym for sadistic asshole. He drills us daily. Team building, he calls it. Push-ups, sit-ups, obstacle courses and many others. And of course, to make sure we get to know one another as a team, our quotas are set as squad quotas. Meaning instead of a hundred push-ups per person, it’s a thousand push-ups per squad. If the quotas aren’t satisfied, then our hunger isn’t as well.

  Sean and April are weak. There’s no other way to put it. April’s strength lies in communications. She can operate a radio, a GPS or any other piece of mechanical equipment like no other. She’s just not suited for the battlefield. On the other hand, searching for Sean’s strength is like searching for warmth in Raine. Non-existent. He isn’t strong like Rick or good with communications equipment like April. Worst of all, he doesn’t have the guts to kill. Not even practice targets.

  That leaves Raine and me. The combat-oriented part of the squad. Also the most problematic. And the ones Idphor hates the most. Well, me, mostly. Raine’s got her killer looks. Meanwhile, I’ve got an attitude. To Idphor, we’re pieces of shit. Sacks of shit. Bottles, lumps, heaps of shit. That’s how he addresses us anyway. And by our numbers too.

  Within minutes, it becomes painfully apparent that April and Sean can’t keep up. Sean’s mop of hair is plastered to his face. It’s a wonder he can even see. We slow our pace slightly, much to Idphor’s annoyance. Even more to his annoyance, Rick begins talking to Raine. Apologising for yesterday. She shrugs him off.

  “Shut up, you bundles of shit! If you can talk, then you can jolly well run faster!” Idphor screams.

  “Screw you, Greenson,” Raine mutters under her breath.

  She looks like she could happily murder him. The torturous run ends at the foot of the hill. Our task is simple. Get up on this side and down from the other.

  “Pass me your load,” I hiss to Sean.

  Somehow, he’s faring even worse than April. That’s a healthy dose of mortal embarrassment to think about. He tries to argue, then looks at the hill, gulps and concedes. Rick offers to help April, but she refuses. We begin. The ascent is tougher than it looks. By the time we get to the top, sweat is cascading out of our pores. The descent is worse. Lengths of barbed wire have been set up at knee level, forcing us into a crawl. Within minutes, the rough ground skins my elbows and knees.

  “Ninety-three! Just what do you think you’re doing?” Idphor yells. “Trying to be a hero, aren’t you? Helping others? How many deaths do you want on your conscience?”

  He steps over and kicks me squarely in the ribs. My head jerks upwards, catching briefly on the barbed wire. Pain flares. Unsatisfied, he plants his foot savagely on my back, forcing me to the ground, which grinds at my skin with even greater force. Sean tugs urgently at my uniform. I shake my head, grit my teeth and crawl.

  “Being smart with me, aren’t you?” Idphor sneers. “You want another Street 51?”

  “No…sir!” I gasp.

  It’s almost become a threat. Another Street 51. Eventually, we make it down the hill. We being Idphor and I. The others have reached far ahead of us. Oh, and Sean, who remains faithfully beside me throughout the entire exercise, even though that means spending a longer time on his knees and elbows, dodging barbed wire.

  Mercifully, lunch comes next. Food goes down quickly and it’s back to Room 72 for a short rest with whatever remaining time we’ve got. April and Raine shower, which means no time for the rest of us to do the same. Not that I’m complaining. I don’t have the energy. I sit on the ground beside my bed, flipping my butterfly knife open and closed methodically. The shiny black casing catches under the light as it whirls about in my hand like the wings of a mantis in flight. I like that knife. It’s fun and deadly at the same time.

  “Hey.”

  I look up. It’s Sean, his hair swept clear of his eyes for the first time. With a start, I realise he has heterochromia. One eye is blue while the other is a startling shade of green.

  “What?”

  He eyes my knife warily so I stop flipping it and place it on the bed.

  “Uh…thanks for just now.”

  “Forget it,” I wave him off. “Wouldn’t be good to die on the first day.”

  “Mind if I take a look?”

  “At what?”

  He motions to my elbows. The blood flow has stopped, but they’re still feeling rather raw. I shrug in response. Pulling a sachet of saline solution and a crepe bandage from his pockets, he proceeds to dress the wounds.

  “What about yours?” I ask.

  “I’m fine, thanks to you.”

  He smiles a little. I’m beginning to get why he hides his eyes. They’re slightly unnerving, especially when he’s smiling.

  “I guess I should be thanking you this time,” I say.

  Sean shakes his head.

  “It’s only because of me that you’re like this.”

  “Whoa, what do we have here? Some nice guy talk going on?”

  Rick pops his head out from behind the door. Great, Prince Charming’s here. I thought I’d successfully ditched him in the dining hall. Still, he did offer to help April just now, so I guess he’s not a bad person. Probably just exceedingly irritating.

  “Any of you ever had a girlfriend?” he asks slyly.

  “Is that all you ever think about?” I shoot back.

  “Why not? What else is there anyway? We’re stuck here for, what, months? Years? Might as well think about the good stuff. Like Raine,” he adds.

  “You’re gonna get those balls fed to you one day,” I caution.

  “It ain’t worth it,” Sean agrees, nodding seriously.

  Rick howls with laughter.

  “You know, I was worried how you two’d turn out, but I can’t say I’m disappointed. I think we’ll make good friends.”

  I stare at him impassively. It’s hard not to return his radiant smile. Then, he claps me hard on the back and I feel like killing him all over again.

  After lunch comes hand-to-hand combat practice. We’re brought to a room with four padded walls, quite like an insane asylum, and told to pair up with someone of similar capabilities. The remaining person will square off with Idphor. Sean and April immediately pair up. That figures. Rick begins searching for Raine, who quickly grabs me by the arm and hauls me aside.

  “We’re pairing up,” she announces.

  I don’t remember having a say in the matter, but hey, she’s a hell of a lot better than Idphor. Raine looks happy. After all, it’s the only time she can legally beat me into a bloody pulp. My mind runs through the things I’ve done to offend her. First, not reply to her question. Second, stop her from crushing Rick’s balls.

  Idphor barks an order and we begin. Raine’s eyeing me like a hungry shark homing in on a dead seal. Without warning, she lunges, kicking my legs out from under me. I fall. She plants a knee into my stomach, driving the wind out of me. I bring my arms around my head, prepared for the flurry of blows, which does not come. Instead, she leans forward and hisses in my ear.

  “What do you know about Street 51?”

  I blink.

  “What?”

  “Street 51,” she prods, twisting her knee deeper into my abdomen.

  “What makes you think I know anything more than you do?”

  “Idphor asked you just now, didn’t he? Whether you wanted another one. Another. One.”
/>   She digs her elbow into my sternum for extra emphasis. In response, I buck wildly and throw her off. We get to our feet and glare at each other.

  “You’re overthinking it,” I say. “That piece of scum was just using it as a threat.”

  “Really?”

  She lunges again; this time the heel of her foot comes flying at my temple. The same move which took Rick down. I block it with my elbow and lash out with my other arm, hoping to catch her off balance. She seizes my arm, taking me out with a flying triangle choke.

  “What’s with you and Street 51 anyway?” I gasp, struggling out of the choke.

  “None of your damn business,” she replies. “You’ve been holding back on me, haven’t you?”

  “Kinda,” I shrug.

  “Don’t.”

  Her expression is hard. One of those don’t-look-down-on-me faces. Very slowly, she reaches into the pocket of her uniform and draws out a switchblade.

  “If you won’t get serious, I will,” she warns.

  She gives me approximately two seconds to decide before attacking me with the blade. I block her at every turn. Or rather, my body blocks her blows instinctively. Eight years of training has gotten me this far, where going against an armed attacker just doesn’t faze me any more. It seems to piss her off, though. Her attacks get faster and fiercer, until I begin to seriously hold a certain concern for my own safety. Fortunately, she runs out of steam and we break apart, panting heavily. It is then that I realise everyone else in the room is staring at us.

  “Number seventy-eight,” Idphor finally says.

  I can’t tell if he’s disgusted, proud or appalled. Or all three.

  “Yes, sir?”

  “You’re cleaning up the armoury after this as punishment for turning your weapon on number ninety-three.”

  “Yes, sir!”

  Raine looks as though she’s getting her teeth ripped out.

  “That’s it! You’re all dismissed! Get out!”

  We file out in silence. I turn to Raine. She’s furious.

  “Look, I’m sor…”

  She walks away. Damn unreasonable git.

  “She’s cold, huh?” Sean remarks.

  She’s cold all right. About as cold as a block of ice. Probably colder.

  “It might be something we’re not getting,” April disagrees. “A reason or something.”

  It’s the first time I’m hearing her speak since the introductions. She’s been getting along pretty well with Sean, since both of them are, you know, similar. Physically similar. I’ve seen her speaking to Raine, although not for long. Amongst us, she’s the one who’s had the most amount of contact with Raine.

  “Whatever,” I mutter, unwilling to discuss Raine any longer. “Let’s just go.”

  “Hey, but Raine aside, that was amazing!” Rick exclaims, barging in between Sean and me. “How did you…you know, those moves! Man, they were sick!”

  My willingness to discuss things drops even lower. I shake my head and remove his arm from my shoulder.

  “Practice.”

  “Teach me,” he presses.

  “They gave us an instructor for a reason.”

  “Idphor?” Rick grimaces. “He keeps going on about basic footwork and form.”

  “Then get those right.”

  April and Sean have fallen behind. They might have expected things to turn nasty and were giving us room to slug it out. Well, sorry to disappoint you both, but I’m not about to get Idphor on my case as well. Better lie low for as long as possible.

  “Come on,” he pleads.

  Then, seeing the expression on my face, he hastily comes to a compromise.

  “All right, if I get my footwork and form in order, will you teach me then?”

  That’s the best I’m going to get from him. And if that’s the best I’m going to get, then so be it. I don’t have the energy to argue any more. I accept.

  Raine’s not in our room by the time we return. Sighing, I grab a rag from my pile of belongings and head down to the armoury. I guess I feel guilty for what happened. She’s already there when I arrive, violently pushing a mop across the floor with considerable force. She glares at me when I enter, sending me into almost immediate regret over my decision to help her.

  “I don’t need your pity,” she snarls.

  “I’m not here to pity you,” I snap. “I’m here to help.”

  “Why?”

  I ignore her and begin to wipe down the shelves. The armoury is a large building containing an even larger amount of weapons. The weapons are well maintained, but the building itself is not. Idphor must be insane, expecting one person to clean the entire place.

  “Why?” she repeats like a broken tape recorder.

  “Because.”

  “That’s not an answer.”

  “Look, why don’t you just shut up and mop the damn floor or you won’t be getting out of this place anytime soon,” I suggest.

  “Because.”

  We stare at each other. Then, very slowly, she breaks into a smile. I laugh too. I can’t help myself.

  “All right, fine, have it your way,” I give in. “Call it guilt.”

  “You know, when shit goes down, you’re gonna be the first to die. Cause of that guilt.”

  I look her in the eye.

  “I sure hope so,” I reply seriously.

  She frowns, unsure whether to laugh or not. The silence drags and becomes too awkward for either of us to speak so we get back to cleaning. Even with two people, it soon becomes clear we won’t be finishing anytime soon, nor will we be having any dinner today. Idphor, that bastard, must’ve known this. We’re saved from imminent starvation when the door to the armoury bursts open and the rest of Squad 72 enters.

  “There’s really no need…” Raine begins.

  “Just let us help,” April says softly. “The faster we get this over with, the more time we have to relax, no?”

  Raine doesn’t argue any further. That’s a first.

  3

  Idphor’s boot presses harder into the back of my head. I gasp as my mud-caked face is shoved even further into the suffocating sludge.

  “Keep your head down! You wanna get shot?” Idphor roars.

  “No, sir!” I yell in reply. My eyes say, Go take a shit, asshole.

  We’re all in a field, sprawled face first in the mud, crawling forward towards a set of targets. I chance a look at my rifle and grimace in disgust. It’s caked in mud. I’m barely even keeping it from jamming. Idphor takes his time to scream at the lot of us, particularly me, before he finally disappears somewhere to take a shit or something, leaving us with twenty targets to blow straight to hell. We wriggle forward until we’re within thirty metres from the target. And then we fire. There are four targets per person on average. I clear mine, then lower my rifle and observe the rest.

  The four targets in front of Raine are down. Rick is the next to clear his. April has two down, but is struggling to hit the other two. Sean is, well, I don’t really wanna talk about it. But just to give you an idea, he’s emptying clip after clip of ammunition in the general direction of the targets, his eyes tightly shut. Raine catches my eye, her expression telling me that if I don’t do something about that real quick, she’ll happily stab him right then and there. I raise my rifle. I don’t even bother using the scope. There’s no point when we’re this close to the targets. I fire four times and that’s it. Sean’s targets are down. By the time Sean opens his eyes, all he sees are the pieces of his targets. I sneak a glance at Raine. She’s still glaring at me. Looks like that wasn’t what she wanted me to do. That girl probably wanted me to stab him instead.

  “What?” I sigh.

  “Nothing,” she tosses her head in the other direction. “This is stupid. This damn squad is headed for the depths of hell.”

  “Give him time. He’ll get better.”

  “I’m not about to get along with anyone I can’t trust. And that is the epitome of a person I can’t trust.”

>   Sean glances in our direction. For a moment, I think he’s heard us. Then, he smiles and waves at me, his expression clearly saying Look! I hit my targets! Raine snorts contemptuously.

  We return to our room after the exercise. We’ve been given three hours to eat lunch, wash up and take a short break before we’re expected to assemble at the hall for a lecture. A freaking lecture. That’s right, they have them in here as well. Most of them revolve around simple maths, English, geography, science and history. The stuff a normal high schooler living in the city would expect to learn. But this lecture is about the Savages. We’re finally gonna get some information on our enemies.

  Raine comes out of the shower in a shirt, shorts and slippers. They’re all about one size too small for her. I force my eyes away. It’s about time they realise that puberty strikes from the age of eight to 16, no? We can get our clothes exchanged, but the camp’s warehouse is two kilometres from here and I’m pretty sure she’s too lazy for that. She walks to the middle of the room, then hesitates, a fearsome frown furrowing her eyebrows. I follow her gaze down the room and realise why. Rick’s standing by her bed. He’s waiting. He smiles and her scowl deepens even further. She’s eyeing him as though she would like nothing better than to strangle him with the bath towel draped around her neck. Probably gonna get her on just water and bread for the week, plus another cleaning excursion to the armoury, especially after the previous swing-a-switchblade-at-Ren incident. I get to my feet, ready to stop her in case things get ugly. I don’t even know why I care so much. She isn’t my problem to begin with. But somehow, I can’t ignore her. As I’m tussling with myself, she arrives in front of Rick, who crosses his arms over his ample chest and opens his mouth to speak.

  “Get out of my face,” she says, throwing her towel onto the bed.

  “Come on, don’t be so cold,” he laughs. “I’m not trying to hit on you or anything. Really.”

  Not the most convincing, coming from him.

  “Then what do you want?”

  “Teach me to shoot.”

  “Go ask Ren or something,” she shoos him away like how she would a fly.

  “Ren’s rifle is a right-handed weapon. I’m left-handed.”