Chapter 10
Farra and I walk beside each other out to the courtyard in awkward silence the next morning.
A large group of fresh cadets wait with us, and I wonder what today is going to look like. I hope the physical training is first. I feel a desperate need to move my body and rid myself of some of the tension building beneath my skin.
We're all wearing the tan jumpsuits I found tucked away in the dresser. I had to roll the legs of mine up several times, but it otherwise fit okay. I'm thankful I'm not as small as Farra, who is swimming in hers.
The suits have adjustable sewn-in black belts cinching the middle that go up around our shoulders and back down. Huge pockets down the legs, two more on the breasts. The black belts have loops which I assume will hold weapons or water bottles or something. Whoever designed these is clever.
A curly blonde mop of hair pokes in between Farra and I abruptly.
"Whaaaaaaaat? Maple, is this your roommate?" Leo stumbles in between us with all the grace of a drunk toddler, cocking his head.
"It's not fair for you to be this good-looking, I'm just saying," he gapes at her, not the least bit ashamed. Farra stares at him, stone-faced, blinking.
"Leo, this is Farra," I offer him with a hint of warning because clearly, Farra is just going to continue pretending we don't exist. Leo holds his hand out to shake Farra's and she just looks at it.
"I wouldn't Leo, she bites," I whisper to him. Leo laughs.
"Yeah, I don't really care. She has permission to do what she wants with me." He shrugs his shoulders with a boyish grin on his face. I catch the slight uptick in Farra's mouth as she tries to suppress a smile.
So she isn't made of stone after all, I guess.
We're interrupted by a booming voice. The Captain from yesterday is standing in front of us on the step leading to the men's building, so he can look down over the new cadets with disinterest.
"Good morning. Glad to see all of you had the good sense to dress in the proper gear this morning.
If anyone has any issues with their uniforms, they can see Loretta in Tactile; she can help with adjustments.
Today is going to be busy, and I have no patience for people who choose not to listen.
I will not repeat myself. We're going to do a quick cardio assessment.
Everyone is going to run track, and then we'll start assessments: psych, general knowledge, and physical competencies.
After lunch, you'll be put into your unit crews for the foreseeable future.
Your unit crews will be the closest thing to family here while training.
Get used to relying on them and working as a team because I can promise you, things will go poorly for you out in the field if you don't. I'm sure you have questions.
I don't care. Let's get moving." He points towards the open area in the courtyard.
I notice the dirt circle with a white line around it.
Twenty minutes in and I feel like my lungs are about to collapse on me. Sweat is pooling on my back and neck in embarrassing amounts. The only good grace is that it seems like most people are struggling just as much as I am.
It's especially noticeable with the older crowd, who seem to all be dragging themselves.
I glimpse a woman old enough to be my mother.
As I pass her, she stumbles, face planting into the ground.
Indecision has my feet slowing to a stop; several people have already been screamed at for stopping.
But the look on the woman's face as she fell has my stunted conscience taking over.
I turn around, groaning as I bend to help her up.
One side of her face is scratched and dirty, she's holding back tears as she tries to catch her breath.
I give her a gentle smile as I help dust her off, both of us too out of breath to bother with words.
I see an officer coming our way and pull the woman gently, suggesting we keep going, and she nods for me to go ahead.
As I leave the woman, Farra passes me, a scrutinizing look on her face.
Minutes feel like years as I try to keep going. It has to end soon, right? I don't think my lungs can take any more. I pass a man, maybe in his thirties, vomiting on the side of the track. The smell hits me before I'm able to block it out and I have to force myself not to follow suit.
Seriously, is someone going to yell finish or do we just run until we die? We need to stop soon, or I won't be able to get up the stairs to bed tonight.
Somewhere along the shuffle, I lose sight of Leo and Farra, both of whom appear to be in better shape than me.
Finally, a whistle blows and everyone stops. I painfully make my way back to where the Captain and several other officials are standing waiting.
"Well, that was fucking pitiful," he snaps.
I don't even have the energy to be ashamed. I clamp my lips down as nausea rolls in my gut.
"If you want to survive outside of these walls, you're going to have to get up to an hour without even breaking a sweat.
Every morning before training begins, you'll come here for cardio.
Grab some water, clean up and head to the hallway Floor B, wait outside the classrooms. Dismissed," he barks, eyes roaming the tired group with disdain before he marches away.
I stand for a minute, breathing deeply while getting my bearings. I see Leo and Farra up ahead. I stagger up to them and croak out, "How did you two get through that so easily?"
Farra shrugs, "I've always been good on my feet."
I murmur under my breath something like "must be nice", annoyed that she barely attempted to answer my question.
"Young guys always have good stamina, I guess," Leo explains suggestively, wagging his eyebrows. What kind of charmed life has he lived that allows him to be this chipper?
"You're the worst," I sigh with a bit of a smile on my lips.
We walk together, grabbing our canteens, and following the crowd towards the doors that lead to the dimly lit hallways.
The halls are eerie, but immaculate; a cleanliness that leaves me feeling on edge.
Maybe it's that the facility seems massive for how many recruits are here.
I wonder where the graduated cadets are?
Or the cohorts above us? Surely we aren't the only one's training.
After I've caught my breath, my nerves hit me again. I'm not entirely sure what a psych evaluation entails, but I know I'd rather skip it.
Tests stress me out. My memory always blanks as my heart rate picks up. I seem to focus on all the wrong things; the professor's mood, the girl two rows behind me with puffy blood-shot eyes, the sound of the wind beating against the building.
I know I have a pretty decent general knowledge, but sometimes the words jumble up on the paper, and it always makes me panic. My internal clock is always ticking, counting the minutes I have left to finish. My brain never seems quiet enough, and I've always felt bad about it.
Falling short in the area where most of my family members thrive, sucks.
Especially as the oldest. When Linden started getting better grades than me, sometimes while doing the same work, I had all but given up on school.
People always thought me bright, just distracted.
They blamed my bad grades on a tough home life.
An eccentric dad, my mother's illness, then her absence.
Long nights of working and helping my family meant little time for studying.
In reality, I knew it was more than that.
My hands clench involuntarily as I start to spiral into my own shame. I silently try to give myself a pep talk. I would make up for it in other ways. I always did.
We all line up in the hallway. Wesley is there with his glasses falling down his face, calling cadets and pointing to rooms.
"Good morning, cadets. This part is going to be a lot of waiting. I'll call you all individually and direct you where to go. You are welcome to wait in the cafeteria and grab a bite in between sessions."
My stomach rumbles as if on cue. We haven't eaten yet this morning, and although I'm used to the familiar ache of hunger, getting some food in me will make my brain function better.
I wander alone into the cafeteria. Farra was called to one of the assessment rooms, and I'm not sure where Leo has wandered off to, harassing other people into being friends most likely.
I walk up to the window at the back of the room where a man is theatrically waving his arms at his kitchen mates.
Chef, I presume. He's a stocky man, with thick, dark hair, bushy eyebrows, and a mustache to match, all of which are peppered with grey.
Grabbing one of the metal trays, following the lead of the other cadets ahead of me, I watch as the other person around the chef scurries at his barking orders.
I wonder if he could hold his own against Marta, and the thought makes me smile.
The cadets in front of me show the chef their tags and get their meals. My eyes widen as I see what he places on their trays.
Was that a muffin?
I stand there staring blankly, brows furrowed as he places one on my own tray.
"Are you brain dead? Move along," he snaps.
"Have I died and gone to the underworld? Is this Aethur?" I mumble to myself, I hear a raspy chuckle and look up to see Chef's plump cheeks pulled up in a grin, which I return, as he shoos me away.