"First name, last name, age, place of residence," demanded a tall, stout young man in a uniform with corporal stripes.
"Emmett McCarthy, nineteen, Gatlinburg, Tennessee," said the broad-shouldered, tall, dark-haired fellow standing in front of Bella, whose biceps were the size of two or even three of Bella's biceps in girth.
"Table number forty-two," the corporal said after checking the lists. - "Next".
"Isabella Swan, eighteen years old, Forks, Washington," said Bella.
The corporal looked at her puny girlish figure with some surprise, but still reported:
"Table number forty-three".
"Where's the damn table?" - Emmett McCarthy mumbled to himself with a furrowed brow, adjusting his baseball jacket.
"There," said Bella, who was quickly able to get her bearings in the noisy MEPS auditorium filled with future Marines.
McCarthy turned, searching for the source of the sound with his eyes, and saw Bella, only tilting his head:
"There - where is that?"
Bella waved her hand to the right:
"I have the table next door."
"Okay," McCarthy perked up and followed her. - "Are you here to support your brother or your boyfriend?"
"I'm a recruit," Bella said.
"You?" Emmett laughed heartily. - He laughed. "That's a good joke."
Bella didn't say anything back, knowing that there was no point in proving anything to a football player or a baseball player, and walked to her desk.
"Name, surname, age, place of residence", - again demanded a man in uniform - this time a man of forty-five with a stern non-smiling face.
"Isabella Swan, eighteen years old, Forks, Washington," repeated Bella, glancing over at Emmett, who was sprawled confidently in his chair, waiting for his recruiter.
The recruiter looked at Bella, and she tried to look as confident as possible, the same way Emmett did.
"You passed the ASVAB test, psychological tests and medical examination, Miss Swan. The result of your ASVAB test is fifty-six with a passing score of thirty-one," - said the recruiter, clicking the mouse. - "That makes you eligible for a contract with the U.S. Marine Corps. Congratulations, Ms. Swan."
"Thank you, sir," Bella said, pondering how well that score matched her goal, and suddenly she heard Emmett yell loudly.
"I have twenty-eight points?" - he roared like a wounded bear. - "I couldn't have gotten that low. I could kill a grizzly with my bare hands. I've been hunting in the Appalachian Mountains with my father since I was a kid. I can shoot better than any sniper".
"You have shown a low level of general knowledge and political culture," said the recruiter.
"How's that?" - surprised Emmett.
"For instance, you wrote that Iraq is in South America, and al-Qaeda is the name of a Taliban leader."
"And this is not true?" - He was genuinely surprised by Emmett, and Bella laughed out loud.
"Don't get distracted, Ms. Swan", - said the recruiter. - "Your test results and medical examination show a high level of intelligence, psychological stability, high level of theoretical knowledge, general and political culture, but at the same time low level of physical training.
Bella sighed. It was expected, but still unpleasant. She was, after all, smarter and weaker than necessary.
"So, Ms. Swan, we can offer you service in the logistics unit as an ammunition accountant with the necessary training," the recruiter said. - "The contract is for five years and includes health insurance..."
"No, no, no," Bella exclaimed in a panic. - "I don't want to do the ammunition accounting!"
She shuddered as she imagined spending five straight years counting and inventorying boxes of ammunition and sleeping at her computer in a stuffy little room. This was not at all how she envisioned her service in the Marine Corps! Yes, she could move out from her parents right away, and she'd probably get paid enough. But that would be deadly boring! And it won't help her to change!
"If Iraq isn't in South America, then it's in Africa," Emmett desperately deduced in the next chair, and, seeing the mockery on the recruiter's face, said, "Who cares where Iraq is? The main thing is that Emmett McCarthy will beat the enemies of America wherever Uncle Sam sends him! I can walk forty miles without a break with a backpack; I'm the best tracker in my town!"
Bella looked at him and thought that a hybrid of her and Emmett would be the perfect Marine, but separately they were both perfect losers.
"Miss Swan, I suggest you read all the terms of the contract first and then make your decision..." - began the recruiter, when suddenly his speech was interrupted by the sound of gunshots from the corridor.
"What was that?" - Bella jumped up from her chair and ran to the glass door. Emmett leaned against the glass next to her.
"You can't take my dream away from me!" - they heard the disruptive voice of a boy standing with his back to them with a gun in his right hand. - "If you don't take me in the Marines, I'll shoot her in the head!"
The guy turned, and Bella saw that he was holding a gun to the head of a woman crying in fear.
Bella's heart dropped into her stomach and her eyes went black.
In the corridor of the recruitment depot, the crazy guy held her mother at gunpoint.
"Hey, what's the matter?" - Emmett picked Bella up as she swayed to his side due to dizziness. - "Do you know this guy?"
"No," Bella said quietly. - "That woman... is my mom."
"Oh, shit!" - Emmett exclaimed.
There was an empty space around the guy with the gun.
Bella saw, as if in a fog, the other recruits being swiftly led outside. Only they-behind the glass partition-were isolated: the guy with the gun stood just across from them, blocking the exit to everyone else in the cubicle with Emmett and Bella.
One of the recruiters uttered:
"Hey, guy! What's your problem? Why are you doing that?"
"What's my problem?" - The guy shrieked as he jabbed the muzzle of his gun into the temple of the hostage. - "You turned me down, you goddamn bastards!"
Renee sobbed hysterically, shaking her whole body.
"You take all kinds of trash! And you turned me down, even though I've always, always been the best at everything," the guy's eyes darkened with anger. - "That's what I always dreamed of. I was cut out to be a Marine. And you ruined it. See, I didn't pass your fucking psychological test!"
Emmett hummed, leaning toward Bella:
"No surprise there. This guy is a real psycho."
Bella looked at him, and suddenly the fog in front of her eyes dissipated.
"McCarthy," she poked Emmett in the side.
"Yeah, what?" - Emmett turned to her. - 'Take it easy. The good guys will be here now, and they'll save everyone."
"Let me go, please," Renee pleaded. - "I'm pregnant! Don't kill me, I beg you!"
Bella's ears immediately began to ring. What had she just said?
"Hey, what did you want from me?" - Emmett pulled her out of her comatose state, and at the same moment the crazy recruit punched Renee in the back of the head and screamed:
"Shut up, bitch! I'm sick of your shrieking!"
Bella realized that Rene's yelling had only made the boy more furious, and he was starting to lose what self-control he had left. The negotiators might simply not make it in time. If the Marines tried to shoot him, they might hurt Renee too. Something had to be done.
"Emmett, they turned you down, too, didn't they?" - Bella asked.
"Well... Kind of," Emmett sighed. - "And what?"
"He won't listen to the military. They turned him down. He hates them," Bella said.
"Then who's he going to listen to?" - Emmett didn't understand, and Bella tilted his big head toward her and whispered in the baseball player's ear:
"He'll listen to you."