EDIT
Mm, ice cream…
The Files of Kazdan Kalinkas
Book One: Not By Choice
Chapter Five: Denied
UnderWorld Rule #5: Trust no one other than yourself. And even then, be wary.
With Soulna gone, the responsibility of training the newbies fell upon Faltin. I could add a lot of words in front of his name: the unhappy Faltin, the irritated Faltin, or the ill-tempered Faltin. But that would all be describing how he probably felt about training us.
How we—or at least I—felt about him was a completely different story. The list of words I want to use would probably get me in trouble.
I don't hate a lot of people; I'm just that kind of guy. Sure, Klay and Krystella make me angry but hate is an awfully powerful word and I just disliked them a great deal. But the list of people I did hate was slowly growing: Ulamr, Brakin, Soulna, Ulmar, Chaor, Faltin, President George Bush, Ulmar…well, you get the picture.
And even if you don't I think I've made it perfectly clear that even though I wasn't as scared as I had been, I was still royally pissed. The UnderWorlders would pay; some way, some how. They would pay.
But at the moment, I had to focus all my energy on surviving. Soulna's method of "training" had been torture. Faltin's method was on the complete other end of the spectrum. We were all in a building specifically designed to withstand minor attacks (little fire balls and stuff, things that wouldn't even register as a Scan and were just part of the Creature's natural flow of energy), dodging about and trying to get hit by the—and I had no other word for them—paintballs Faltin was launching at us.
He'd stood at one end of the gym-like building with two turret guns on either side of him, had us all line up in ranks on the other end, and then said, "Hit once, run a lap around the marching grounds. Hit twice, clean up this building. Hit three times, no supper and you stand outside until dawn tomorrow. No sleeping." He eyed me with a solid gold orb, plume of feathers bristling on his head. He fully expected me to be the loser. Well, I'd show him. If there was one thing I was good at in P.E. it was Dodgeball. That is to say, I'd always dodge and never grab a ball. Balls made you targets.
Mull that one over in your head for a while.
So there we were, scattered around the building, running for our dinner. Already several of the "Storm Trooper" had been hit more than three times. Myself, Varris, and a few others hadn't even been touched yet. I was determined to show them that I could survive just as well as any Creature. And I wasn't about to lose my supper.
It was all going great until one trainee grabbed me and tried to use me as a shield against an oncoming paintball. Bad choice. I elbowed him in the side so hard, he gasped and dropped me. I ducked to the floor just in time and the Creature got a faceful of whatever it is Creatures use for paint. He started screaming and clawing at the stuff, sputtering and trying to get it out of his eyes. He should have just moved because about ten seconds later he was covered in about five more hits of the stuff.
Not my fault.
I stood in a far corner, catching my breath, watching for anything flying at me, and taking stock of the situation. There weren't many trainees left who were willing to even stand up and move anymore, making the rest of us bigger targets.
Then Varris did something looked really stupid and really gutsy.
He bolted across the gym at inhuman speed (not as fast as, say, Gespedan, but he was still moving), summoned a flickering ball of flames in each hand, and launched them at the turrets. There was a wild explosion that knocked those remaining upright off their feet. I landed with a clang on the hard floor and winced. When the smoke cleared, there was multi-colored splatters across the far wall.
Varris turned to face us, shouting in triumph. I couldn't help but snigger. His whole front was a dazzling display of spectrum colors. Faltin looked like he could blend into the wall if he stood next to it. He stalked up to Varris and grabbed one of those dangling dog ears, yanking the trainee's head to the side. Varris growled.
"That was a reckless move!" Faltin clicked his beak inches from Varris' face, "But it also proved your worth. Anyone who got hit, you know the rules!" He watched the trainees filing out of the building, still holding onto Varris. I watched his sharp eyes counting the paint splatters and registering the faces of the trainees. When he didn't see me, he glanced around. I was still sitting in a corner.
Faltin let go of Varris, who hurried out after his fellows, and walked over to me. I didn't move. He crouched down and glared at me, "You're more skilled than I gave you credit for."
"No," I replied hotly, "I just know how to save my skin."
He grabbed a fistful of my hair and I winced slightly. He grinned and that looked creepy when his mouth was a beak, "But you have no tolerance for pain and you don't know how to fight. Some assassin you are."
"I'm not!" I shouted, losing my temper, "Let go!" I pushed at his arm put he only stood up, taking me with him, "Ow! Leggo of me! OW!" He dragged me across the floor by my hair, leaving me scrambling on my back as he went along.
"I don't like humans!" Flatin snarled as he headed for the pile of paint. I suddenly knew what he was planning, "You're nosy! You're loud! You're intrusive! You think Perim is your play world well I've got news for you, scum!" He hefted me up and I shouted in pain, "We all hate you!"
He would have thrown me into the paint and I would have been out of supper right then and there but I knew enough about surviving in Perim to fight back. I raised a fist and slammed it into his elbow. His arm went limp and I dropped to the floor with a painful hiss. Before he could grab me again, I bolted. His shouts and insults followed me out the door.
I slowed down as I neared the trainee living quarters and the marching ground they surrounded. I was tired and getting hungry fast. What could I say, I had a high metabolism. Voices shouting at one another drew my attention away from my thoughts of nachos covered in hot, melted cheese and a double chocolate shake.
Ignoring the feeling that curiously had already gotten me into trouble once, I slunk around the edge of a building, watching the two figures hassling each other at the front gate. One of them was a soldier who patrolled the barracks and the other…
"H'earring!" I shouted and ran forward. The two Creatures turned to look at me, "H'earring! You gotta help me, H'earring!"
Someone tackled me from behind and I hit the ground with a grunt. Another soldier. I squirmed under his weight as the soldier at the gate started pushing H'earring out of the barracks.
"H'earring!" I called, "H'earring, find To—mmppphh!" The soldier on top of me clamped a hand over my mouth. I stared pleadingly after the little Creature, wishing I could speak with my mind, hoping and praying he got the message.
The gate slammed shut and he was gone.
The soldier let me up and I spat, dusting myself off as I got to my feet. When I turned to glare at him, he stared blankly back at me, "You are not to have visitors while in the training barracks. Chaor's orders."
As the soldier walked away, I snarled out some words telling the guard and Chaor where they could shove their orders. And not in a nice way. Frustrated and angry, I stomped across the marching grounds, wove through the trainee living quarter buildings, and kicked open the door to the cafeteria with an almighty shout of rage.
There was a slight pause in conversation as the Creatures inside all looked up to see who had kicked the door open but when they saw it was just the scrawny human, they all went back to their meals. Fine by me. Just as long as they left me alone.
I snatched a tray of food (if you could take the liberty of calling it that) and was moving towards a dark corner when a shadow fell over me. I looked around and caught the flaming gaze of a rather large Creature who was obviously headed for somewhere other than the "Storm Trooper" ranks.
"Out of the way, tiny." Oh my gosh, it was a girl. My eyes widened and then narrowed. I was in no mood for this.
"Shove off." I snapped and walked off. Man-girl looked a little shocked at being told what to do by a human but he-she-it quickly made up for it by tripping a couple of "Storm Trooper" trainees.
I sank into the corner and proceeded to tear at the slightly hard bread with my bare hands. UnderWorlders didn't believe in cutlery. Of course sitting by myself left me alone with my thoughts and my thoughts tend to run away on me.
I wasn't allowed to see H'earring which meant I could only hope he got the message or I'd have to wait to get out of here in order to speak with him.
For the moment, I was alone in the place.
Alone.
No one was coming so save me.
I pushed the food away.
I wanted my home. I wanted my parents. I wanted my room. I wanted the comfort of familiar surroundings in the world I belonged to. I wanted to wake up in the morning and smell the eggs cooking on the stove. I wanted to have my dad tell me to hurry up or I'd be late for school. I wanted to meet Tom on the corner of his street and hear him make a snide comment about homework or a match he'd had in Chaotic last night. I wanted the daily routine that came with high school.
I wanted something that I could understand.
I'd thought I'd know a lot about Perim but the truth was I—and every other Chaotic player out there—had hardly scratched the surface of Perim's mysteries.
The human mind is a complex and amazing thing. There's so much about it that modern science can't explain and yet we have drugs for every kind of mental disorder imaginable. There's probably a drug for imagining new drugs too. Wouldn't put it past the guys.
But those kind of things didn't exist in Perim. Their drug was their adrenaline rushes that kept them going until either they or the battle they were in burned out.
So that stupid voice in my head I've been telling you about? Yeah, I figured out why it was there: to reprimand every single move I made. It was own conscious trying to reason with what was happening and what was going to happen. My mind logically thought I had done something bad because bad things were happening to me so it reprimanded me for it.
Kind of crazy but then, that makes me crazy, doesn't it?
Still, I learned to keep the voice at bay. If I kept moving, kept working, kept myself exhausted, so exhausted I couldn't think straight, then there'd be no voice to keep me awake at night.
Faltin worked us ragged anyway.
Fighting, fighting, always fighting.
The days started to mold into one another. I had no idea how long I'd been in the training barracks.
In the end, I stopped caring.
Getting out wasn't a priority anymore. Surviving was. I hardly spoke to anyone, except maybe Varris and his little group and even then it was only to discuss training. Anything else seemed a waste of time.
Every so often we'd catch glimpses of other Creatures stopping in to train themselves or look over the new recruits. They always did a double take when they saw me. I ignored them. Let them think what they want.
Chaor didn't show up anymore, for which I was grateful. If he ever showed up again, Ulmar would probably be in tow and I didn't want to be anywhere near that little freak if I could help it. But there were times I spotted Takinom perched on a roof or a wall, watching me with cold, angry eyes. So, she hated me too. Well, fine, I hated her right back. When she did show up and the other trainees noticed, they went out of their way to avoid me. Her presence was a reminder of who I belonged to.
And I hated her for that.
As the training grew harsher, I found that my stamina and strength had increased. I could withstand as much torment as the other trainees, if not more so. Humans adept quickly to new and harsher conditions. Creatures did not. I was faster, stronger, and could last longer than almost all of the other trainees now. Except for Varris and some of the others like him; those destined for a position outside the ranks of Battalion (those were the "Storm Trooper" Creatures, I learned).
And I learned to fight.
With or without weapons, I learned to take down Creatures. Whether it was up close, hand-to-hand combat, or from a distance, I was trained to do it all.
And I loathed every moment of it.
They were training me to kill.
I'd heard a saying once, somewhere, but I couldn't remember where. Something like "Why train a boy to fight and kill and then condemn him for being a murderer as a man?"
Was it wrong that I didn't fight back?
Was it wrong that I didn't try to escape?
Was it wrong that I just went along with it? Did as I was told?
Was it wrong that I rested all my hopes on friends who might not have known where I was at all?
Was it wrong to pretend I didn't care?
Was it wrong to act like one of them? Like a Creature?
Should I have done something back then?
And even if I had, would it have made any difference?
For a while, I hated myself. I thought I should have tried harder to get away. I realized later that I had no chance. Nothing I would have done could have stopped Chaor and his men tearing apart Perim trying to find me.
And where would I go?
The OverWorlders? Not in a million years would they trust me. The Danians? They hated humans anyway. The Mipedians? I'd never survive the desert.
Face it Kalinkas, I thought to myself as I lay on the verge of sleep after a weary day of training, You're stuck here.
I closed my eyes. It was better not to dwell on things I no longer had.
"You're quiet today." Varris commented, sitting down next to me on the well trampled earth of the marching grounds. I wished he wouldn't. He was starting to annoy me; everything he said was somehow sarcastic or demeaning.
We were cleaning a bunch of Pyroblasters, basic Battle Gear and easy favorites of every tribe in Perim. I had trained with almost every Battle Gear in the past month (at least I calculated it to be a month) I had spent in the training barracks but I hadn't forgotten about the no-named gun and the Destiny Claw. They would have their time.
"Hey, hey! What's goin' on?" He nudged me in the side but I ignored the gesture.
"I think it's my birthday..." I murmured, twisting the gas chamber of the Pyroblaster out and turning it over in my hands. It reeked of sulphur and gasoline (or whatever it was that Creatures used for fuel).
"Birthday?" Varris' third eye swiveled crazily and his ears twitched, "Was' that?"
"Nothing. Never mind. It doesn't matter." I turned my back to him, continuing to clean the Battle Gear on my lap. I heard Varris' disgruntled snort from behind me but acted as thought I didn't. Presently, he got up and left.
I wiped the sweat away from my forehead with my arm, ignoring the sear of the hot metal armor against my skin. I still wasn't quite used to the heat in the UnderWorld. It was unbearable for me to sit in the light most of the time but sitting in the shade would get me into trouble.
I watched Faltin stomp his way through the little clusters of trainees through my bangs. My hair was filthy—I was filthy—no longer the redish color it had been it was more like a dirty brown. My once polished armor was scraped and dusty (not that I cared) and I probably stank too. Trainees were not allowed any luxuries. At all. Faltin's fault. He enjoyed watching us suffer.
It looked like the majority of the UnderWorld population was a bunch of sadists.
I looked back down at the Pyroblaster in my hands. I'd taken it apart, cleaned it, and put it together again without even thinking about it. That's how many times I'd done it. Muscle memory and all that.
"You know, all the kids on Earth get special privileges on their birthdays." Oh no. The voice was back, "They get presents, Kaz. And what do you get? Hm? Tell me that? Come on, I wanna hear you say the words..."
"I..." Would it hurt less if I said it? It probably would, "I learn to...kill."
"See. You admitted it to yourself. Doesn't that feel better?"
"No." I growled, fingers tightening around one of the Pyroblaster's barrels. I shook my head and looked down at the Battle Gear. I was finished. I could leave. I stood up and walked over to Faltin.
"What?" His tone was as sharp as ever. I held out the Battle Gear with blank expression, "You're finished?"
"Yessir."
"Hmph." Faltin snatched the gun away from me and looked it over. Then he shoved it back into my arms, snarling, "Get out of my sight."
I turned on my heel and set the Pyroblaster on its rack inside the tiny excuse for an arsenal located in the training barracks. It had a pathetic amount of weapons, ones used only for the training and nothing else. I slammed the door shut with as much force as I could muster and walked off to get myself something to eat.
You're probably wondering why I didn't just take as much Battle Gear as I could handle and bust my way out with that, right?
Not a chance.
I'd seen more than one trainee try to sneak off with some Battle Gear. That was the end of them. Even when you thought the guards patrolling the edge of the wall weren't looking...they were.
The day was fading. I could tell because the air was getting humid instead of just hot. I knew I was being whiny about the heat, the Mipedian Desert was a lot hotter than the UnderWorld, but at the moment I was really hating my life.
As I sat down in my usual corner, I wiped my mind blank and focused on eating. Thinking could be done later.
Thinking could be done at night when I was promised solitude and no interruptions.
I lay on my back with my hands behind my head, staring without seeing at the low wooden ceiling. I'd thought of plan after plan, over and over again, getting rid of all of them in the end. It was stupid to think I could get out of the UnderWorld and get home on my own. I'd need help.
Tom...
Sarah...
Peyton...
My friends...my closest friends...
I closed my eyes. I acted like I was indifferent to the fact that I was forever trapped in a world I'd once loved but the truth was I was breaking apart inside. I was homesick, however much I tried to fight it.
Something came crashing through the roof of the trainee living quarters and sent splinters of wood sailing through the air as it smashed into the floor.
And there's the first cliffie of the series. (grins) Mwaha.
I bet you're all getting mad at me for that. Review please!
