Chapter 2 – Goldfish Bowl
"This is Kerris Island – a branch post of the Marine Corps Training Division for East Blue. Get a good look at it because this is all you will know until your training is completed. We will be taking you" – the Marine spat out the word like it was a bug in his mouth – "and teaching you what it takes to survive in the Marines."
On the side, watching the proceedings, an old veteran of the 'new recruit molding process' watched the proceedings with a shark's concentration. Her eyes scanned the rag tag lines that had been formed hastily and without care.
Soon she would discover why these boys and girls had taken this step. Some were running from their previous life, some were here to prove something, others truly believed in the Marine mission.
These were the unformed, the untried, and the insolent.
And at the end of these fifteen weeks, they would be Marines.
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Bellemere rocked back and forth on her heels, the stub of her surreptitiously lit cigarette hanging out of the corner of her mouth. She wondered when dinner was; she'd heard on the ship that had brought her here that all the meals the Marines had were huge.
She ignored the Marine at the front and took stock of her surroundings. Kerris Island was a shadeless sandy place, devoid of anything but scrub, driftwood, and rock. From where she was, the beach did not stop until it hit a rocky outcrop in the distance. The administration buildings near the docks, where she had just got off the ship, were built on top of concrete, which had been poured over the land in a haphazard way.
If she extended the 'Goldfish Theory of Land Creation,' she would have to say that the goldfish in question had been ill with a gastrointestinal disease when he'd created this particular island.
She slapped at the sand flies that were biting her arms and wondered when the guy in front was going to stop blabbing. She'd gotten the point that this wasn't going to be a picnic. Maybe having to listen to him was part of the training process. If you could listen to him without dying of boredom, you passed your first test.
She almost cheered when he wrapped it up. "Females, line up on the left. Males on the right," ordered one of the Marines standing off to the side. When the group began to slowly sort itself out, the instructor barked again. "You are wasting precious Marine time. Move it, move it, move it!"
Bellemere picked up her small pack and dropped her cigarette, grinding the butt out into the sand before heading towards the line.
A hand clamped on her shoulder and she was tossed onto her butt. She sat up and glared at her assailant, ready to say a few choice words, but the look on the Marine's face encouraged her to keep her mouth shut.
The woman was tall and dressed in standard Marine whites like most of the folks going in and out of the gates. Her brilliant red hair was pulled back into a serviceable ponytail, but the thing that really stuck out was the scar that started at the corner of the left side of her face. It extended her smile unnaturally to a point halfway up her cheek, giving the impression that she constantly amused – an amusement that did not show in her eyes.
"Pick that up, newby," the woman ordered. Bellemere did as she was told, but every move she made was a study in impertinence. This woman looked tough, but Bellemere had seen scarier scars on the men and women working at the docks around her island. Bellemere held up the cigarette butt. "Now what? Do I have to eat it or something?"
"So this newby is a funny one," the woman said harshly, spitting out each syllable. She held out her hand and Bellemere deposited the stub into the open palm. "Get over to that line and stop wasting my time."
Bellemere loped over to the line forming on the left side of the loading dock. If that was as bad as the instructors got, Bellemere knew she had it made. The new recruits fell into something resembling a line and followed a Marine sergeant into one of the buildings where they were quickly and efficiently issued their equipment, their uniforms, and their rucksacks. Then they were ushered into the hot sun again.
The sergeant held up a rucksack. "Pack it in, newbies. Time to go to your new home." He turned to another Marine woman. "You ready to take them, Private?"
The woman nodded and stepped forward. She was short and had blonde hair.
"I'm Private First Class Nyuta," the Marine said. Her eyes flitted from face to face, registering nothing more than irritated boredom. "I intend on getting back in time for dinner, so if you can't keep up, follow the path. You'll get to the barracks eventually."
With that, she strode off, leaving the recruits scrambling to shove their newly issued items any which way into their rucksacks. Bellemere jammed the last of her supplies in the ruck and chased after the figure that was already stalking away.
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Author's notes: Not very action packed is it? But as the saying goes, the service consists of long periods of boredom punctuated with short bursts of pants-wetting excitement.