1. #3
Every she woke them up before dawn to start drills, and from there she worked them endlessly until lights out.
She was a monster, a machine incapable of human feelings like pity or exhaustion.
At night before going to bed, Ian dreamed of subjecting her to the brutal training regiments she put them under.
During their laps, more than one recruit had passed out, but Cynthia kept pushing them.
“Why are you all getting worse, not better? This might be the sorriest bunch of recruits I’ve had yet.” She called as they passed her for another lap.
Ian tried to focus on how many laps he had left as a way of ignoring his hatred for her. He was counting the days until bootcamp was over and he didn’t have to hear her screaming at them all day, even though he would miss seeing her boobs.
Ther was a wheezing and gasping coming from someone, and Ian turned his head to see Fleetman’s head lulling to the side, the lenses of his glasses covered in sweat.
Sweat dripped down the other boy’s face, and as Ian watched, Fleetman fell face forward onto the track.
The other recruits ran around their fallen comrade, but Ian stopped and kneeled down next to Fleetman’s unconscious form.
No sooner had he shook his friend’s shoulder than he heard Cynthia’s deep voice from next to the track.
“Donnelly, leave him!”
Ian ignored her, turning Fleetman onto his side. The unconscious recruit was soaked in sweat.
“Donnelly, get up and get running!”
Ian saw red, and glared at Cynthia.
“He needs water!” He barked back at her.
“He’ll get it later, back to your laps.”
“What happened to leave no man behind, or does that not apply to you?” Ian snapped back, and he saw Cynthia’s eyes go dark with anger.
“20 more laps for you! And if you give me lip again, it will be 50!” She stood up, fists clenched to show that she meant business.
Ian glared back at her, and then stood and started running, extra fire in his step.
He was done with this.
***
“You can’t just leave.” Fleetman exclaimed, his glasses exaggerating his shocked expression even more than it normally would be.
“Shh!” Ian leaned forward, peering across the mess hall towards Cynthia’s table.
The staff sergeant sat alone at one of the large bench tables, eating away at her meal and ignoring the recruits. Typically meals and after lights out were the only times she let up on them.
“Yeah, you’ll be dishonorably discharged, or worse if she caught you.” Donovan, one of the other recruits, a thickly built man with a thick southern drawl, motioned with his hard blue eyes towards the staff sergeant’s table.
“Not if we all leave, they can’t do that to all of us.” Ian implored.
He had barely touched his food, and was spending most of their allotted half hour for lunch trying to convince his fellow recruits that they should desert, leave the base at night, sending a message to the upper brass about Cynthia Storm’s treatment of them.
“I don’t know man, a dishonorable discharge, that doesn’t look good.” Another recruit, Kent, chimed in.
Ian personally didn’t care about a dishonorable discharge on his record, or much of anything. True he didn’t know what his next step would be after deserting, but he would figure it out.
“Well do you guys want to stay here all summer while she tortures us? And this isn’t basic training, this is torture, plain and simple.” Ian added, watching the faces of those around the table. They were considering.
“Well… I knew it would be tough, but not this tough…” Donovan chewed his lip.
“I have nightmares every night.” Kent furrowed his brow.
“If we desert and they say something, we can point to her, they’ll have to listen to all of us.” Ian nodded to Cynthia, who again seemed oblivious to them.
“It’s not the discharge that I’m worried about,” Another recruit, Davis, chimed in. “It’s her.” He motioned to Cynthia with his eyes.
A murmur of agreement rippled across the table.
“Come on guys, we can’t be afraid of her.” Ian tried to rouse his fellow recruit.
Their eyes shifted, clearly they were losing their resolve.
“Fleetman,” Ian zeroed in on his most likely ally. “She left you there to bake in the sun, come on.”
“You know, I would…” Fleetman hesitated. “But she has my camera.”
“Your camera?” Ian raised his eyebrows.
“Yeah my camera. I can’t leave it.”
“So what if I get it back for you, will you come with me?” Ian decided to call Fleetman’s bluff.
“You can’t, she has it locked away in her quarters.” Fleetman squeaked.
“Yes, and if I get it back, will you desert with me?” Ian stood his ground.
“I… uh… yes…” Fleetman swallowed.
“Anyone else?” Ian scanned the table.
“Fine, if you can sneak into her quarters, get the camera, and get out, I’ll follow you too.” Davis added.
A murmur of agreement went around the table.
“Fine,” Ian crossed his arms and puffed out his chest. “I’ll get Fleetman’s camera, and then we meet at the gates. Spread the word to everyone.”
Everyone at the table nodded, but Ian saw how they were looking at him. Every one of his fellow recruits gave him a look like they were staring at a dead man.
He was about to prove them wrong.