Chapter 3 - Grit
They had been walking up the western cliffs for hours. The incessant wind blew spray and dirt against the rock wall that loomed on their right, constantly showering the group with grit. Bellemere amended her theory - the giant goldfish in question had been eating a lot of fiber before it made this island.
Bellemere's rucksack bit into her shoulders and she could feel a piece of her equipment poking into the small of her back. She wished she had time to stop and adjust the contents. To make matters worse, she was dying for a smoke, but the pace the guide was setting didn't leave time for her to get out a match.
She didn't know how long it would take to get to wherever they were going. When someone in the group had asked, the guide had snapped that they should pay attention to their footing. Then she'd picked up the walking pace. The group of women following her, which numbered around sixty or seventy, had quickly fallen into silence that was only punctuated by labored breathing. Bellemere was at the back of the group, partly because that was where she felt most comfortable and partly because her lungs were on fire.
The guide wasn't kidding about keeping an eye on their footing. The path was narrow, forcing the group to walk single file. The edge was only a foot away and it was a straight drop off to the water below, a good three stories down. Not fatal – but definitely not a fall Bellemere wanted to take, especially while weighed down with a huge rucksack. That water looked cold.
Suddenly the path had opened up, leaving a pocket in the cliff face. The guide stopped so quickly that the newbies who weren't paying close attention found themselves getting very friendly with the rucksack in front of them. "All of you get in here close!" The guide shouted to be heard over the wind.
The group pulled together and discovered that the pocket was actually a small opening that led into larger hollow in the cliffs. It was open to the sky, but protected from the wind. Boulders were scattered around the sandy ground.
"Lunch time," the guide called out. "There're water casks behind those rocks over there. Drink your fill while you can."
Bellemere sighed with relief and let her rucksack slip off her shoulders. Many around her did the same.
"So what's for lunch?" someone asked.
Hear, hear, said Bellemere's stomach. What is for lunch?
The guide shrugged. "I don't know. What'd you bring?"
What's this? Is this some kind of joke? cried Bellemere's stomach loudly. A few of the women standing close to her gave her strange looks.
Someone else had the same thoughts. "What we brought? No one said anything about bringing our own lunch!"
"I thought the Marines were supposed to provide for us?" another one asked. A low rumbling of complaints washed through the group, like the first tremor of an earthquake or rather like the sound of Bellemere's stomach.
"Did you sign any papers?" Nyuta fired back. "No, so you aren't Marines. You're not even recruits. And the Marines don't feed civilians." The venom in that one word brought the angry muttering to a halt.
"How much time do we have?" another girl called out.
"More, if you all stop moaning." The guide hefted herself up on a boulder and leaned against the craggy face. She pulled her cap over her eyes and ignored them.
Bellemere went to the water barrel behind the rocks and waited her turn. She drank until she felt she would burst and then she went back to her rucksack and began digging around for the flashlight that had been poking her in the ribs for the past five hundred miles or so. She also listened to the talk that flowed around her. Some of the women had met on the same boat, others were from the same town or island. Bellemere realized that she was one of the few to just pick up and leave. Apparently some of them knew enough to bring food – they were sharing it with their friends. The rest talked about preparation and training and studying.
Bellemere wondered what there was to study for – killing people seemed simple enough. Point and shoot; stab and slash. Presto: one dead pirate.
Once everything was arranged to her satisfaction, Bellemere decided to award herself with a cigarette. Then she felt the uncomfortable sensation of eyes drilling into her.
"Hey, you got another one?" Nyuta's cap was askew on her head as she peered at Bellemere from her rock perch.
"Sure do." Bellemere held one out. The guide jumped down and covered the space between them in a flash. She took it gratefully and cupped her hand around the end to protect the flame as Bellemere lit it for her. The woman inhaled deeply which deepened the fine crow's feet at the corner of her mouth. It was the only thing that betrayed the Marine's age; she looked like she could go at this pace all day.
A corkscrew curl escaped from its bun and Nyuta pushed it back. "Thanks."
"Name's Bellemere," she replied, tossing the spent match over the side of the cliff.
Nyuta shook her head. "Only for a few more hours. Then your name's 'Recruit.'" She exhaled with obvious enjoyment. "It's nice to have a smoke."
Bellemere cocked an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"
"What do I mean? Hang on." Nyuta ashed and stood up. "Oi! Newbies! Listen up. Until you finish your training, you will find that on Kerris Island, recruits do not drink! They do not smoke! And they do not have sex! Unless you swing a certain way," she added. Nyuta grinned at the shocked looks then took her seat next to Bellemere again. "Yeah, so if you don't finish your pack before we get to the barracks, I'll keep it. And I won't, you know, tell any of the instructors that you brought 'disallowable' materials onto the island."
"Gee, thanks." Bellemere rolled her eyes and Nyuta cracked her second smile for the day.
"Don't mention it, newbie."
A woman, her dark hair pulled into a low ponytail, looked at Bellemere and Nyuta with disdain. "Why are you two smoking anyway? It won't help your PT scores."
Nyuta shrugged and Bellemere wondered what the hell 'PT' was. She didn't like the tone in that woman's voice though. She took a long drag and blew smoke pointedly in her direction. The wind carried it right into her face, leaving her choking and coughing – over-dramatically in Bellemere's opinion.
"You two…" Nyuta cautioned.
"I wonder how much longer it's going to be," someone said wearily.
"Not much longer. See here?" A lanky brunette motioned for people to give her room. The newbies pulled back their feet and she began drawing a map in the dirt with her finger. "This is the island, right? Three leaf clover pattern. The main port is on the stem. New female recruits on this leaf" – she pointed at the one of the left - "male recruits on this leaf" – then at the one on the right. "At the top is the training grounds where we'll have our last few weeks of training. And in the middle, to keep everything and everyone separated; the rock hills. The only way around the island is the path we're taking, which follows the cliffs. And we're at the highest point now. We walk down the rest of the way, don't we, Guide Nyuta?"
All eyes turned to their guide. "Yeah," Nyuta said grudgingly. She'd wanted them to think they were climbing up for another couple of hours. The map-drawer was too clever for her own good.
Bellemere's stomach decided to join in on the conversation. The people talking around her paused.
"Impressive," Nyuta said. She rummaged in her pocket for a moment and tossed something to her. "It's not much."
Bellemere unwrapped the handkerchief and then tore into the smashed crackers she found. Crumbs flew out of her full mouth. "I'm not complaining."
Nyuta peered up at the sky, stood up, and bellowed, "Five minutes!"
Bellemere cringed and swallowed hastily.
"Mind if I have one for the road?" Nyuta stretched and brushed at the skin of dirt that had grown on her whites.
"And a match," Bellemere said, palming off the items.
"What about your pack?"
Bellemere grinned and pushed it into the recesses of her rucksack. "The instructors have to find it first."
"Oh ho! Someone likes to live dangerously." Nyuta put her arm around Bellemere and leaned in, making like a conspirator. "Let me give you a piece of advice, since you shared a cig with me. Cruces already has her eye on you. Take care."
"Cruces?" Bellemere had only met one Marine so far. "Is that the redhead? The one with the scar?"
"That would be her."
"But what did I do?"
"Someone has to be the example. It may be you. Or I could be wrong."
Bellemere shrugged and repeated a phrase her father had often said. "The only thing she can do is kill me."
"Wrong. Instructors aren't allowed to kill anyone, not anymore. But you'll see what they can do." A stream of smoke snaked out of the guide's nostrils. "And you'll think death is a blessing."
With that encouraging piece of advice, Nyuta walked towards the exit. "Moving out, newbies. Let's go!"
Bellemere picked up her rucksack and started after their guide. She fell behind a few of the other more motivated women. When she stepped out onto the path, the wind almost knocked her over. She hadn't realized how strong it had been. She remembered that they were halfway to the camp and it was all downhill from here. The woman in front of her seemed to be having some trouble and was struggling to get her arms through one of the straps.
"Here, let me help," Bellemere said.
"No, it's okay. I got it." The strap got stuck halfway up her arm and she hefted her pack up, trying to get it loose.
Then the woman stumbled and fell over the edge of the cliff.