Boxed In
It was early September, and our company was marching the usual route through the woods. The commanders drove their motorcycles along the path beside us while we jogged along in perfect formation. The sky had an overcast glow and it had a kind of dreary effect on us. This was one of the few times a day that we could talk freely with one another though, so we made sure to make good use of the time.
“How hard did that training kick your ass yesterday, kid?” asked a commander to one of the boys. “It was harder than usual, we’re getting closer to graduation though, sir. Figured they’re gonna be harder on us now than ever, right?” They call that kid Grillz. He’s one of the few who’s earned a name outside of his number. Grillz was also one of the few who had somewhat earned the respect of the commanders. This was everyone’s goal for some reason, gain recognition and appreciation from their higher ups. They spent all day sucking up. It seems like a stupid way to go about life to me, honestly, but I have no control over it.
All commanders were in our shoes once, just mercenaries in training with no future outside of murder. The only goals we’re allowed to have are: GROW UP, FIGHT, KILL YOUR WAY IN TO HIGH COMMAND. I was never into that though. It confuses me, every other person I’ve ever known has dreamt of it. It makes no sense, I start thinking I’m a glitch in the system or something. They laugh along when I make fun of the commanders and The Warden, yet they’re afraid to talk about leaving or any other life outside of the war.
“The commander doesn’t care about you Grillz, he just wants something to laugh about with the other officers later. He’s making a joke out of you.” I told him. He turned around and spat on me. “You’re bottom of the class, you’re weak, you’re stupid, you’ll probably die first mission kid, so shut up and show me some respect.” I kind of had it coming honestly, but it’s whatever. We kept on marching and I just ignored Grillz, he kept talking non stop to the commanders anyway. He wasn’t hurting me.
I marched towards the front to link up with my only two friends, 056 and 057. 056 was my best friend since I met him. We had been through everything together, the preaching, the non sensible speeches from The Warden, the beatings. He’d been by my side through it all. His sister, 057, is pretty cool too. She’s not as close with me as 056 is, but from what I know she’s really smart and has a unique way of getting out of bad situations. She calls me “8” a lot too, instead of 827. It’s a nice change, but I don’t know if it’s because I’m special or because she’s just too lazy to say the whole number. For the most part, she’s braver than 056, if I have to be honest, and way more likely to piss people off. I think it’s kind of cute actually.
Anyways though, they were both brought here around the same time I was, we were all about five. The only thing I remember was the confusion and fear. We had no way of knowing what was ahead of us and we had no chance of saving ourselves. We might as well have been dead to our families and anyone we knew in our past lives. In fact, rumor is it’s in the contract of sale that they must come up with a decently believable reason for our “deaths”. Many parents just put that we died of starvation or of disease given the environment we lived in anyway, not like police are even there to check if it’s true in the first place. They just need it for the books so that none of those humanitarians start coming through trying to implement government and what not.
“I hear The Warden is marching nearby”, 056 whispered. He is always afraid of being caught or punished, I feel like he has no stomach sometimes. “Yea, he’s riding a horse for some reason. He’s trying to act like he’s important or something, like we don’t already know what he’s here for.” said 057. “He’s not even that important though, all he does is beat people up and tell them they’re not good enough for his company or whatever that means. To me, The Warden is a sad nobody who picks on everyone else because he’s an ugly, angry, empty man with the same chances of getting out of this bullshit program as we do.” I was a bit hyped up, I can’t remember why. I just wanted to get that out, it was pretty bad timing though I’ll have to say.
“WHAT WAS THAT SOLDIER?”, yelled the Warden from, somehow, directly behind me. “YOU THINK YOU’RE SMARTER THAN ME?, MORE EXPERIENCED THAN ME? MORE FIT TO BE A LEADER, PERHAPS?”. “No sir” I replied. He looked at me, calmly, professionally, but it was still the scariest thing I’ve seen in my entire life. “I just feel like, ya know, some changes could be made around here, with the program.” I thought I was being smart, being a revolutionary, something like that. “WHAT CHANGES?” he yelled sternly. “More freedom, maybe let us walk around without chains on all the time, maybe not look over our shoulders when we’re privately talking”. I can’t remember for the life of me what made me say that to The Warden but his eyes sank. I couldn’t tell if he was terrified, surprised, worried, mad, or all of the above but he definitely never heard someone say that before, at least not without being hung a few seconds later. All he did was look me deep in my eyes one last time, as if to let me know this conversation wasn’t over, and won’t be over until someone bleeds. Then he just rode his horse past us and up to the other commanders. Nothing happened the rest of that day. I was absolutely terrified.
