Ch. 7:
"Will you stop fidgeting?!" I snapped, trying to attach a gauze pad against the wound on Alec's shoulder.
"It hurts," he whined as he shifted in his seat once more.
"Oh, for pete's sake," I muttered. "I can't believe you can stand to have Manticore docs break your legs, re-indoctrinate you and who knows what other crap they've pulled on you that I don't know and you complain to me about a little rubbing alcohol."
"What can I say, Bobbie?" said Alec with a grin. "I'm always--,"
"Don't say it," I warned. "Alec, don't you dare say it!" He gave a low cackle, to which I said, "If you weren't so injured, I'd slap you."
"Aww, Bobbie, thanks. You're too kind."
"Shut up, 494."
"Make me."
"494, quit acting like an ass," said Jeremiah, limping into my living room. In his hands he carried two bottles of scotch and a couple of glasses. He set them on the coffee table in front of Alec and myself and limped back into my kitchen. He returned, bearing a bottle of Sprite for me. As soon as I was done tending to his wounds, Alec reached over and opened the scotch. His eyes looked desperate as he poured some into a glass and drank quickly. Jeremiah followed Alec and poured himself a hefty drink. I just poured myself a glass of Sprite and let the soda cool my parched lips. The two boys grinned at me.
"Bobbie, you not drinking?" asked Alec, his eyes bright and wild.
"Nope," I said. "I don't drink, you know that."
"Guess that leaves more for us," said Jeremiah, grabbing the scotch bottle from Alec and pouring himself another shot.
"Yep," said Alec, "Definitely more for us. Too bad you don't drink, Bob. I bet you're a lot of fun sloshed."
"No, I'm not," I snapped, watching him take another shot. "Don't you dare throw up all over my rug. I just cleaned it last week."
"Translation, she cleaned it yesterday and swept all the dirty stuff underneath the couch," Jeremiah gave me a smart-assed grin.
"I can clean things," I said defensively. "I just do it my way."
"My way," Alec warbled. "I did it all my way!"
"Oh, shut up, you're buzzed!"
He leaned against me and said, "Yeah, that's why you love me."
"Ass," I said in disgust, pouring myself another shot of Sprite.
"Guys, I've got something to tell you," said Jeremiah, uncorking the second bottle of Scotch. "Damn, this is fine stuff." I looked at him, waiting for him to finish what he was about to say, but Jeremiah was too busy gazing at the liquid shining in the bottle. Alec had finished the first one and held out his glass for another shot from the second Scotch bottle. Jeremiah poured Alec his shot of Scotch, and I winced as some of the amber-gold liquid spilled onto the living room floor.
"Jeremiah, Alec, I know you guys don't get drunk easily, so could you lay off making my living room smell like a distillery."
Jeremiah gave me a grin as he said, "Sure, Bobbie." Immediately, he took a swig of his glass and more amber liquid spilled onto the floor. Before I could berate my brother any further, the phone rang. Alec and Jeremiah looked up at me as I jumped up to answer it.
"Hello?" I said, pressing the phone to my ear.
"Bobbie?" Peter's deep voice came over the phone, making my insides melt.
"I'm here," I replied. "Where are you? I came back and you were gone."
"Yeah, well," Peter took a deep breath. "I figured you weren't going to come back when I saw the clock strike midnight, so I left."
"Peter, I'm really sorry. It's just that I had to deal with some…stuff." I twisted my fingers around the phone cord.
"I know, Bobbie." Peter's voice was tired. "I know. You've always got some stuff to do."
"It's not my fault, really," I said, rather desperately. " It's just that there's so much going on in my life right now that it's just crazy and well, I don't want you involved in any of that."
"Can you involve me in anything? Anything at all?" Peter's voice was rising in anger and I could hear his heart beating fast over the line. "Girl, I love you, but this is crazy. Last week, we were supposed to celebrate my friend's wedding and you get called out and I don't see you for two damn days!"
"I had family trouble."
"Must be some family."
"Peter, come on," I begged. "I'll make it up to you. I promise. We're still on for tomorrow night, right?"
"My mama's in town."
"Bring her," I said, making my voice cheerful. "The more the merrier."
I could hear Peter give a heavy sigh. "All right, girl."
I grinned as I replied, "Peter, thank you! I promise I'll be there in that outfit you like so much."
"The silky black skirt and the black rose print shirt?"
"That's the one," I said with a smile. "When you send your mama back to your place. We can celebrate in other…more interesting ways."
Peter gave a lusty groan. "Damn, Bobbie. I can just see you all dressed up and looking fine."
"Mmm-h," I murmured. "So, tomorrow night, it's just you and me. No worries. No distractions. Just us."
"All right," said Peter sounding a little happier. "I'll see you tomorrow night at eight. I'm taking you and mama to that little Italian restaurant in Sector 4."
"The one with the garlic bread and the shrimp alfredo?"
"That's the one."
I gave a little squeal as Peter said, "Bye, girl. See you tomorrow. I love you."
"I love you too," I replied. "Bye." As soon as I heard the click, I hung up the phone and turned to my brothers. Alec and Jeremiah were busy staring at my thirty-inch television.
"Bobbie, I could cut you a deal…" Alec began, his fingers touching the cell phone in his back jeans pocket.
"Don't," I said, cutting him off. "I don't want the Harbor Lights people coming after me."
"Come on, it was just that one time," Alec gave me a puppy dog expression, which I did my best to ignore. "I needed some boob tube after all that stuff about my twin."
"49-," I began, but stopped when I remembered the escapee's name. "Ben?" Alec's eyes darkened at the name. Jeremiah swore under his breath and poured out more Scotch into his glass.
"Damned niners," he muttered, drinking deeply and wiping the liquid from his mouth with the back of his hand. "Always screwing up your life one way or another."
"Ain't that the truth," said Alec, sprawling himself on my couch. "If it isn't Manticore spending all their goddamned time torturing us while chasing them, it's them torturing us with their stupid notions of how they know so much more than us pathetic souls who didn't have the sense to break out when they did."
"Amen brother," said Jeremiah. "I mean, damn! They ran! They freaking ran!"
"And we had to deal with the crap they left behind," finished Alec who was reaching for the nearly empty scotch bottle. Jeremiah grabbed the bottle first causing Alec to shoot daggers at him.
"Remember what they did after the escape?" Jeremiah drank the rest of the Scotch straight from the bottle. Alec nodded, blearily. I was quiet. They went over this subject every time they decided to get drunk.
"Yeah, they pulled us out of our beds that morning and shoved us to the examination room," Alec's eyes turned glassy as his mind went back to that horrible day. "Showing us the dead X5s who didn't escape."
"Remember the Colonel who taught us?"
"Davenport."
"Yeah, that guy made us dig the graves of those X5s and then sent us to solitary. We were punished for what those twelve brats did." I closed my eyes, but I regretted it. Images of the past came flooding back to me, each vision a painful assault against the life I had so precariously made for myself.
I was twelve when the niners escaped.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
"Class X5! Unit A, get up!" The TAC Officer with the grey eyes screamed as he pulled each of us out of our beds. Those of us who saw that the officers were in no mood for games, jumped out of our beds immediately and stood at attention.
"What's going on, sir?" 609 asked, his pale blue eyes widening with worry as one of the officers dragged 463, the youngest of our group out of her bed. The grey-eyed TAC Officer glowered down at 609, the tight veins in his neck already bulging with fury. Quick as lightening, he cuffed 609, knocking him to the floor. 609 crashed with a resounding thud, his left cheek smashing against the cold metal floor. As he glanced upwards, I could see the blood seeping from his shattered cheekbone.
"Don't ask questions!" We stood stock still as 609 pulled himself up from the ground. My eyes darted towards him, wondering if he was okay. The officers were overturning the mattresses and searching the walls. For what, I didn't know. When one officer stepped over to 494's bunk, we all hitched our breaths. Maybe they found out. Maybe they were going to send us to solitary for bringing in contraband. 494's face remained impassive, even though I knew he was as terrified as the rest of us.
"Nothing's here, Jim," said the officer who was searching the walls around 494's bunk. The officer he was speaking to was looking under 463's bed.
"Nothing's here, either," said the second officer. They both turned to the grey –eyed TAC Officer whose lips were compressed into a thin line. His eyes stared directly at 494, then swept over the rest of us. His lips then twisted into a sneer.
"Class X5, assemble into your lines and follow me." Obediently, we formed into two straight lines. One line was for boys. The other was for girls. As the second shortest girl in the unit, I was the second person on the girls' line. 463, being the youngest, was the first. If it weren't for the hostile looks the officers threw at us as we marched, I would have thought this was a normal marching session. The TAC Officer opened the large metal doors that led to the examination room. A hefty man wearing fatigues and a black beret stood before the examination table, drinking from a coffee cup. A small scar extended from his right eye, often turning purple when he was upset. Today, the scar was bright purple.
"Officer Petty, they're all accounted for?" he asked.
The grey-eyed TAC Officer glanced over us and nodded. "Yes, sir, Colonel Davenport. None have attempted to abscond."
Colonel Davenport gave us a tight frown and then stepped away from examination table, where there was a pale X5 female. Her green eyes, much like 494's, were wide open, sightless.
"X5-Unit A, what you see is a traitor," Colonel Davenport began. "You are going to see what happens to traitors." The men in the white coats came to the X5 on the table, knives glinting in the light from the overhead lamps. The head doctor, a man with thick glasses and a receding hairline was the first to make the cut into the X5 traitor's chest. The officers who had led us into the examination room pushed us forward so we could see the dissection. We remained silent as the doctors slowly removed the X5's heart and other organs. More men in white suits carted in another dead X5, this one male, with deep brown skin. This time, the doctor with the receding hairline handed his knife to 609.
"X5-609, make an incision around the patient's heart," he said. 609 glanced up at Colonel Davenport who had gone back to drinking from his coffee cup. 609's features hardened as he made the incision, his eyes slightly widening as bright red blood bubbled forth. 463 trembled in front of me, finally throwing up. Yellow-white lumps of what must have been her dinner from the previous night mixed in with vomit spilled onto the smooth white floor. One of the officers walked up to her and grabbed her head and forced her to face the dissection. 463's body was rigid as 609 pulled out the heart and kidneys. Once he was done, the doctor who had given 609 a knife handed one to me as another X5 was placed on the table.
Once the dissections were done, Colonel Davenport turned to the grey-eyed TAC Officer. In a gruff voice, he ordered, "Take them to solitary for one month, but first, let them bury the traitors." The two officers under the TAC Officer's command ordered us to fall into double lines again and march out into the cold February snow. It had begun to snow that cold morning as we were led out to a section of Manticore we had never been shown before. Several bodies were strewn across the ground. Some were as old as I. Others were younger, no more than nine. As the officers led us to the bodies, we were handed shovels.
The grey-eyed TAC Officer stood before us, hands on hips. He wore a thick coat and a warm hat to cover his head. "X5-Unit A, your orders are to bury the traitors. Look at them carefully. They betrayed you. They betrayed Manticore. They left you, their fellow soldiers for their own mission." The grey-eyed TAC Officer spat out the words in disgust. He looked at us coldly. "You are loyal. You are Manticore's finest. Remember that." He gave us a salute and we proceeded to bury the dead escapees in the harsh winter cold.
When we were done, hands gripped my shoulders as one of the officers dragged me to the basement where I was to be locked in a cold, damp cell. The grey-eyed TAC Officer said it was to be a month. For me, it felt like a century.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
"They took you away after that," said Jeremiah, his voice soft. Alec looked away and seemed to shrink into himself. "I remember the colonel telling me that they just wanted to examine you, make sure that you weren't going to escape."
"They did that to all of us, Jeremiah," I said, my voice ragged. In my mind, stark gray images of posters declaring Duty, Discipline, Mission and pictures of the Manticore Twelve flashing before my young pubescent eyes.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
RAT
X5-452
PLAGUE
X5-599
TRAITOR
X5-656
RAT
X5-210
PLAGUE
X5-734
TRAITOR
X5-493
"No!" My inner voice cried, but I remained silent. My eyes were wide-open, refusing to close in fear that the officers walking up and down the aisle would raise their rifles and slam the butt end against my head.
RATPLAGUETRAITOR
RATPLAGUETRAITOR
RATPLAGUETRAITORRATPLAGUETRAITORRATPLAGUETRAITOR
The words ran together until they were one long sentence. I could understand each word as they pounded into my head, scorching my eyes until I felt I could not see anymore. I had to see, though. It was my duty. My mission. I had the discipline to take whatever Manticore threw at me. I was a soldier.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
"They did it to us all right," Jeremiah conceded. "But they wanted him." He looked towards Alec who had his eyes closed. "They wanted him because of his twin. A niner." Jeremiah's face twisted into a sneer and Alec's eyes flew open. Without warning, his hand shot out and grabbed Jeremiah by the throat.
"Shut. The. Hell. Up," he spat, squeezing his fingers ever so tightly against Jeremiah's neck. I reached up to pull Alec's hand away.
"Stop it!" I said. "Please stop it!" Alec's hand was strong. God, he had always been strong. I used all of my strength to pry his hand loose, but it was no use. To my horror, I saw Jeremiah's face turning a ghastly shade of purple. I punched Alec's wounded shoulder. Hard.
"Ow!" he shouted, pulling his hand away from Jeremiah's throat. "What did you do that for, Bobbie?"
"So you won't get hauled in for homicide," I said, jumping up and grabbing a bucket from the broom closet in the kitchen. I turned on the sink and watched water stream into the bucket. Once it was full, I walked over to the boys and poured ice-cold water over them.
"Bobbie!" they shouted, sputtering as water dripped from their faces.
"Serves you right," I said, placing the bucket back in my cleaning closet. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to bed. Can you guys try not to kill each other out here?"
"We'll try, Bobbie," said Alec, looking rather sheepish.
"You better. I can't stand to get X5 out of the carpet."
As I walked off to bed, I heard Alec mutter, "She's been watching the Buffy season 2 DVDs again?"
"I checked her DVD player," said Jeremiah. "She's got Becoming part 2 on pause."
"Aw, damn," said Alec. "Now we'll never stop hearing Buffy quotes."
"Think she ever stopped?"
"Nah."
"Will you stop fidgeting?!" I snapped, trying to attach a gauze pad against the wound on Alec's shoulder.
"It hurts," he whined as he shifted in his seat once more.
"Oh, for pete's sake," I muttered. "I can't believe you can stand to have Manticore docs break your legs, re-indoctrinate you and who knows what other crap they've pulled on you that I don't know and you complain to me about a little rubbing alcohol."
"What can I say, Bobbie?" said Alec with a grin. "I'm always--,"
"Don't say it," I warned. "Alec, don't you dare say it!" He gave a low cackle, to which I said, "If you weren't so injured, I'd slap you."
"Aww, Bobbie, thanks. You're too kind."
"Shut up, 494."
"Make me."
"494, quit acting like an ass," said Jeremiah, limping into my living room. In his hands he carried two bottles of scotch and a couple of glasses. He set them on the coffee table in front of Alec and myself and limped back into my kitchen. He returned, bearing a bottle of Sprite for me. As soon as I was done tending to his wounds, Alec reached over and opened the scotch. His eyes looked desperate as he poured some into a glass and drank quickly. Jeremiah followed Alec and poured himself a hefty drink. I just poured myself a glass of Sprite and let the soda cool my parched lips. The two boys grinned at me.
"Bobbie, you not drinking?" asked Alec, his eyes bright and wild.
"Nope," I said. "I don't drink, you know that."
"Guess that leaves more for us," said Jeremiah, grabbing the scotch bottle from Alec and pouring himself another shot.
"Yep," said Alec, "Definitely more for us. Too bad you don't drink, Bob. I bet you're a lot of fun sloshed."
"No, I'm not," I snapped, watching him take another shot. "Don't you dare throw up all over my rug. I just cleaned it last week."
"Translation, she cleaned it yesterday and swept all the dirty stuff underneath the couch," Jeremiah gave me a smart-assed grin.
"I can clean things," I said defensively. "I just do it my way."
"My way," Alec warbled. "I did it all my way!"
"Oh, shut up, you're buzzed!"
He leaned against me and said, "Yeah, that's why you love me."
"Ass," I said in disgust, pouring myself another shot of Sprite.
"Guys, I've got something to tell you," said Jeremiah, uncorking the second bottle of Scotch. "Damn, this is fine stuff." I looked at him, waiting for him to finish what he was about to say, but Jeremiah was too busy gazing at the liquid shining in the bottle. Alec had finished the first one and held out his glass for another shot from the second Scotch bottle. Jeremiah poured Alec his shot of Scotch, and I winced as some of the amber-gold liquid spilled onto the living room floor.
"Jeremiah, Alec, I know you guys don't get drunk easily, so could you lay off making my living room smell like a distillery."
Jeremiah gave me a grin as he said, "Sure, Bobbie." Immediately, he took a swig of his glass and more amber liquid spilled onto the floor. Before I could berate my brother any further, the phone rang. Alec and Jeremiah looked up at me as I jumped up to answer it.
"Hello?" I said, pressing the phone to my ear.
"Bobbie?" Peter's deep voice came over the phone, making my insides melt.
"I'm here," I replied. "Where are you? I came back and you were gone."
"Yeah, well," Peter took a deep breath. "I figured you weren't going to come back when I saw the clock strike midnight, so I left."
"Peter, I'm really sorry. It's just that I had to deal with some…stuff." I twisted my fingers around the phone cord.
"I know, Bobbie." Peter's voice was tired. "I know. You've always got some stuff to do."
"It's not my fault, really," I said, rather desperately. " It's just that there's so much going on in my life right now that it's just crazy and well, I don't want you involved in any of that."
"Can you involve me in anything? Anything at all?" Peter's voice was rising in anger and I could hear his heart beating fast over the line. "Girl, I love you, but this is crazy. Last week, we were supposed to celebrate my friend's wedding and you get called out and I don't see you for two damn days!"
"I had family trouble."
"Must be some family."
"Peter, come on," I begged. "I'll make it up to you. I promise. We're still on for tomorrow night, right?"
"My mama's in town."
"Bring her," I said, making my voice cheerful. "The more the merrier."
I could hear Peter give a heavy sigh. "All right, girl."
I grinned as I replied, "Peter, thank you! I promise I'll be there in that outfit you like so much."
"The silky black skirt and the black rose print shirt?"
"That's the one," I said with a smile. "When you send your mama back to your place. We can celebrate in other…more interesting ways."
Peter gave a lusty groan. "Damn, Bobbie. I can just see you all dressed up and looking fine."
"Mmm-h," I murmured. "So, tomorrow night, it's just you and me. No worries. No distractions. Just us."
"All right," said Peter sounding a little happier. "I'll see you tomorrow night at eight. I'm taking you and mama to that little Italian restaurant in Sector 4."
"The one with the garlic bread and the shrimp alfredo?"
"That's the one."
I gave a little squeal as Peter said, "Bye, girl. See you tomorrow. I love you."
"I love you too," I replied. "Bye." As soon as I heard the click, I hung up the phone and turned to my brothers. Alec and Jeremiah were busy staring at my thirty-inch television.
"Bobbie, I could cut you a deal…" Alec began, his fingers touching the cell phone in his back jeans pocket.
"Don't," I said, cutting him off. "I don't want the Harbor Lights people coming after me."
"Come on, it was just that one time," Alec gave me a puppy dog expression, which I did my best to ignore. "I needed some boob tube after all that stuff about my twin."
"49-," I began, but stopped when I remembered the escapee's name. "Ben?" Alec's eyes darkened at the name. Jeremiah swore under his breath and poured out more Scotch into his glass.
"Damned niners," he muttered, drinking deeply and wiping the liquid from his mouth with the back of his hand. "Always screwing up your life one way or another."
"Ain't that the truth," said Alec, sprawling himself on my couch. "If it isn't Manticore spending all their goddamned time torturing us while chasing them, it's them torturing us with their stupid notions of how they know so much more than us pathetic souls who didn't have the sense to break out when they did."
"Amen brother," said Jeremiah. "I mean, damn! They ran! They freaking ran!"
"And we had to deal with the crap they left behind," finished Alec who was reaching for the nearly empty scotch bottle. Jeremiah grabbed the bottle first causing Alec to shoot daggers at him.
"Remember what they did after the escape?" Jeremiah drank the rest of the Scotch straight from the bottle. Alec nodded, blearily. I was quiet. They went over this subject every time they decided to get drunk.
"Yeah, they pulled us out of our beds that morning and shoved us to the examination room," Alec's eyes turned glassy as his mind went back to that horrible day. "Showing us the dead X5s who didn't escape."
"Remember the Colonel who taught us?"
"Davenport."
"Yeah, that guy made us dig the graves of those X5s and then sent us to solitary. We were punished for what those twelve brats did." I closed my eyes, but I regretted it. Images of the past came flooding back to me, each vision a painful assault against the life I had so precariously made for myself.
I was twelve when the niners escaped.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
"Class X5! Unit A, get up!" The TAC Officer with the grey eyes screamed as he pulled each of us out of our beds. Those of us who saw that the officers were in no mood for games, jumped out of our beds immediately and stood at attention.
"What's going on, sir?" 609 asked, his pale blue eyes widening with worry as one of the officers dragged 463, the youngest of our group out of her bed. The grey-eyed TAC Officer glowered down at 609, the tight veins in his neck already bulging with fury. Quick as lightening, he cuffed 609, knocking him to the floor. 609 crashed with a resounding thud, his left cheek smashing against the cold metal floor. As he glanced upwards, I could see the blood seeping from his shattered cheekbone.
"Don't ask questions!" We stood stock still as 609 pulled himself up from the ground. My eyes darted towards him, wondering if he was okay. The officers were overturning the mattresses and searching the walls. For what, I didn't know. When one officer stepped over to 494's bunk, we all hitched our breaths. Maybe they found out. Maybe they were going to send us to solitary for bringing in contraband. 494's face remained impassive, even though I knew he was as terrified as the rest of us.
"Nothing's here, Jim," said the officer who was searching the walls around 494's bunk. The officer he was speaking to was looking under 463's bed.
"Nothing's here, either," said the second officer. They both turned to the grey –eyed TAC Officer whose lips were compressed into a thin line. His eyes stared directly at 494, then swept over the rest of us. His lips then twisted into a sneer.
"Class X5, assemble into your lines and follow me." Obediently, we formed into two straight lines. One line was for boys. The other was for girls. As the second shortest girl in the unit, I was the second person on the girls' line. 463, being the youngest, was the first. If it weren't for the hostile looks the officers threw at us as we marched, I would have thought this was a normal marching session. The TAC Officer opened the large metal doors that led to the examination room. A hefty man wearing fatigues and a black beret stood before the examination table, drinking from a coffee cup. A small scar extended from his right eye, often turning purple when he was upset. Today, the scar was bright purple.
"Officer Petty, they're all accounted for?" he asked.
The grey-eyed TAC Officer glanced over us and nodded. "Yes, sir, Colonel Davenport. None have attempted to abscond."
Colonel Davenport gave us a tight frown and then stepped away from examination table, where there was a pale X5 female. Her green eyes, much like 494's, were wide open, sightless.
"X5-Unit A, what you see is a traitor," Colonel Davenport began. "You are going to see what happens to traitors." The men in the white coats came to the X5 on the table, knives glinting in the light from the overhead lamps. The head doctor, a man with thick glasses and a receding hairline was the first to make the cut into the X5 traitor's chest. The officers who had led us into the examination room pushed us forward so we could see the dissection. We remained silent as the doctors slowly removed the X5's heart and other organs. More men in white suits carted in another dead X5, this one male, with deep brown skin. This time, the doctor with the receding hairline handed his knife to 609.
"X5-609, make an incision around the patient's heart," he said. 609 glanced up at Colonel Davenport who had gone back to drinking from his coffee cup. 609's features hardened as he made the incision, his eyes slightly widening as bright red blood bubbled forth. 463 trembled in front of me, finally throwing up. Yellow-white lumps of what must have been her dinner from the previous night mixed in with vomit spilled onto the smooth white floor. One of the officers walked up to her and grabbed her head and forced her to face the dissection. 463's body was rigid as 609 pulled out the heart and kidneys. Once he was done, the doctor who had given 609 a knife handed one to me as another X5 was placed on the table.
Once the dissections were done, Colonel Davenport turned to the grey-eyed TAC Officer. In a gruff voice, he ordered, "Take them to solitary for one month, but first, let them bury the traitors." The two officers under the TAC Officer's command ordered us to fall into double lines again and march out into the cold February snow. It had begun to snow that cold morning as we were led out to a section of Manticore we had never been shown before. Several bodies were strewn across the ground. Some were as old as I. Others were younger, no more than nine. As the officers led us to the bodies, we were handed shovels.
The grey-eyed TAC Officer stood before us, hands on hips. He wore a thick coat and a warm hat to cover his head. "X5-Unit A, your orders are to bury the traitors. Look at them carefully. They betrayed you. They betrayed Manticore. They left you, their fellow soldiers for their own mission." The grey-eyed TAC Officer spat out the words in disgust. He looked at us coldly. "You are loyal. You are Manticore's finest. Remember that." He gave us a salute and we proceeded to bury the dead escapees in the harsh winter cold.
When we were done, hands gripped my shoulders as one of the officers dragged me to the basement where I was to be locked in a cold, damp cell. The grey-eyed TAC Officer said it was to be a month. For me, it felt like a century.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
"They took you away after that," said Jeremiah, his voice soft. Alec looked away and seemed to shrink into himself. "I remember the colonel telling me that they just wanted to examine you, make sure that you weren't going to escape."
"They did that to all of us, Jeremiah," I said, my voice ragged. In my mind, stark gray images of posters declaring Duty, Discipline, Mission and pictures of the Manticore Twelve flashing before my young pubescent eyes.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
RAT
X5-452
PLAGUE
X5-599
TRAITOR
X5-656
RAT
X5-210
PLAGUE
X5-734
TRAITOR
X5-493
"No!" My inner voice cried, but I remained silent. My eyes were wide-open, refusing to close in fear that the officers walking up and down the aisle would raise their rifles and slam the butt end against my head.
RATPLAGUETRAITOR
RATPLAGUETRAITOR
RATPLAGUETRAITORRATPLAGUETRAITORRATPLAGUETRAITOR
The words ran together until they were one long sentence. I could understand each word as they pounded into my head, scorching my eyes until I felt I could not see anymore. I had to see, though. It was my duty. My mission. I had the discipline to take whatever Manticore threw at me. I was a soldier.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
"They did it to us all right," Jeremiah conceded. "But they wanted him." He looked towards Alec who had his eyes closed. "They wanted him because of his twin. A niner." Jeremiah's face twisted into a sneer and Alec's eyes flew open. Without warning, his hand shot out and grabbed Jeremiah by the throat.
"Shut. The. Hell. Up," he spat, squeezing his fingers ever so tightly against Jeremiah's neck. I reached up to pull Alec's hand away.
"Stop it!" I said. "Please stop it!" Alec's hand was strong. God, he had always been strong. I used all of my strength to pry his hand loose, but it was no use. To my horror, I saw Jeremiah's face turning a ghastly shade of purple. I punched Alec's wounded shoulder. Hard.
"Ow!" he shouted, pulling his hand away from Jeremiah's throat. "What did you do that for, Bobbie?"
"So you won't get hauled in for homicide," I said, jumping up and grabbing a bucket from the broom closet in the kitchen. I turned on the sink and watched water stream into the bucket. Once it was full, I walked over to the boys and poured ice-cold water over them.
"Bobbie!" they shouted, sputtering as water dripped from their faces.
"Serves you right," I said, placing the bucket back in my cleaning closet. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to bed. Can you guys try not to kill each other out here?"
"We'll try, Bobbie," said Alec, looking rather sheepish.
"You better. I can't stand to get X5 out of the carpet."
As I walked off to bed, I heard Alec mutter, "She's been watching the Buffy season 2 DVDs again?"
"I checked her DVD player," said Jeremiah. "She's got Becoming part 2 on pause."
"Aw, damn," said Alec. "Now we'll never stop hearing Buffy quotes."
"Think she ever stopped?"
"Nah."