Chapter Twenty-Eight
Knox
Thirty years ago
Nine, I think, is pretty young to know how to kill someone.
But I do.
Because I'm special.
They taught me five different ways to kill with just a knife. I haven't done them all yet, but stabbing is my favorite because it’s fast.
I can snap a neck too. It’s not difficult if you twist hard enough.
I think I’m supposed to like killing the enemy. That’s what they tell us when some of the others cry. They say that they hate us, and that means it’s okay to hurt them. The way my instructors talk about the Human enemy, I know that they're weak and easy to make bleed.
And I'm really good at making things bleed. Even with just my fists, feet, or teeth. I’ve got the best aim, and I’m stronger than the others. The instructors are always praising me for that.
I'm the best in my class. The best fighter. The best in weapons and hand-to-hand combat.
I'm going to be a Prime Alpha. One of the toughest and meanest and deadliest soldiers. The kind that wins all the time.
When I’m grown, I’ll get my own Beta battalion to command and we’ll never lose.
"Thorin," my Den Mother calls. She's a Beta woman who picks at her teeth and smells stale. She’s new here. "Come inside. It's time for bed."
She tends to the twelve other young Alphas in our den. Future soldiers like me, raised by the military to defend our great nation from those who want to take it from us.
Our last Den Mother was sent away because the boy with bright green eyes and body far bigger than the rest of us wanted to cuddle her. He’d hold her hand when he got hurt and push his face into her side.
That’s not allowed.
He was weak, and they punished him for it.
He came back weeks later different. He’s quiet now. He doesn’t cry at night like he used to and when we spar, he hits hard.
I know better than to want soft things. The Drill Instructors say soft soldiers get killed. So it's better to be cold, and strong, and mean.
This Den Mother is better because she doesn't treat us like kids.
We're soldiers. She gives us space, doesn’t tuck us in at night, and doesn't ask us questions about how we're feeling.
She lets us do as we please, as long as it doesn't interfere with our training schedule, or make too much of a mess.
She says that blood is hard to clean, and it stains, so we aren't allowed to fight inside.
The sun is going down, turning the fluffy clouds pink with streaks of orange. I like watching the colors change. I don’t tell anyone because Alphas don’t sit around looking at pretty things.
"Coming, ma'am," I say, rising to my feet. I brush the dirt off my pants and head inside the den. I climb the stairs to the front door, where the Den Mother is waiting.
“Hurry and wash up. Go on, Thorin.”
I hate when she uses my first name. I'm not Thorin anymore. I’m Knox.
Drill Instructor Sturgiss said names are for those with families, and we don’t need them. “No one will know you better than the battlefield and all it needs is your callsign and rank.”
When the boy with green eyes came back from his punishment, the instructors gave him a really cool callsign: Viper.
He doesn’t respond to it. Not yet. But we aren’t allowed to use his name from before.
At least I got to keep part of mine.
“Knox” was the callsign of the soldier who saved me from my birth parents. I was made by Humans, but they gave me up to the Fathim Military when they found out I had the Alpha mutation. I don’t remember them, and I don’t want to. I want nothing to do with them or any Human.
Knox is a good callsign. Strong. Easy to say over comms. Prime Alpha Knox has a powerful ring to it.
I wrinkle my nose in the mirror as I brush my teeth. I hate brushing. When I was little, the mint always burned when my lips were split. It made a broken nose hurt even more. The older recruits knew I had foul Human blood in my veins and tested daily whether I bled red like them.
I did. I still do. But no one messes with me anymore. I made sure of that.
Den Mother levels me with a stern stare when I linger too long, watching some of the others arm wrestle.
"Straight to bed with you. Tomorrow is your big day."
I nod my head and slip beneath the scratchy sheets of my bunk. I fought a boy two years older than me to get this bottom bunk, but the mattress is still as lumpy as all the others.
I close my eyes and try to follow orders. I really try. But sleep is hard these days.
My enhanced senses developed over the last few months.
Everything is too loud and stinks, and I don’t know how to turn it off yet.
I can hear the other boys tossing and turning, farting and snoring.
I can smell the rot in the floorboards and hear bugs in the walls chewing the old wood.
Nothing is ever dark anymore and I can see into the shadowy corners easily.
But that’s okay, because it means I’m a proper Alpha now.
Drill Instructor Sturgiss says I’m the youngest recruit picked for the Prime Alpha Program. Ever.
Today was my last day in the recruit den.
Tomorrow, I start real training.
Tomorrow, I start becoming the best Prime Alpha there’s ever been.
I can’t wait.