September 30th, a day Felix had wished would never come. If only there were a way to go back in time and stop that plane from bombing the Dynasty Tower. Then he wouldn't be in this position. His hands trembled as he packed his few belongings into a suitcase. He couldn't stop the military truck from arriving at his house to take him to the army base. His family didn't own a car. They weren't alone. Sixty percent of Intermarium population couldn't afford a car. Felix grabbed his suitcase and left the house.
He couldn't look back at his house; too many happy memories. Anna followed him out, her arms crossed tight as she could physically hold him back. Kacy trailed behind, silent and wide-eyed.
"You don't have to go—" Anna started, voice cracking.
"It's prison if I don't," Felix muttered, wiping his face with his forearm. Tears didn't suit him, but they came.
Anna rubbed his back in slow, helpless circles. Kacy sat beside him on the dirt, pulling her knees to her chest.
The truck roared up, groaning like a beast burdened by guilt. An officer jumped out, with stiff posture and no humanity.
"Grab your stuff. Get in."
Anna stepped forward, defiant. "He shouldn't be forced—"
"If he refuses, I'll call the cops. Then it's bars instead of barracks." The officer sneered.
Felix stood. Hugged Anna. Her sobs soaked through his worn grey t-shirt.
Anna sobbed, "Please, take care of yourself. I'm going to miss you."
Felix let go and hugged Kacy. "I love you, big sister." He cried.
Kacy's blue eyes glistened, and her lip corners pulled down. "I love you, too."
Felix clenched her plain dress. Her brown French braid ended at her waist. Grudgingly, he let go of her. He grabbed his suitcase. The officer yanked open the rusty back door, revealing fifty scrawny men packed onto benches lining both sides. Felix squeezed between two men who didn't glance up. The door slammed shut. Stared at his black shoes, sadness flooding his chest.
An hour later, Felix's t-shirt clung to his skin with sweat. The truck lurched over a pothole, nearly throwing him off the bench.
The truck stopped at a swing gate. A security guard in a booth pressed a button, and the metal gate creaked open. The truck parked in the lot. Then, the officer flung open the back door.
"Get out!" the officer yelled, his voice echoing across the lot. "Grab a map and report to the medical centre for your physical exams. Move it!"
The officer held a folder of papers. All the recruits disembarked, snatching a base map from his hands as they passed. Felix blended into the crowd and approached the medical centre, joining the long, sluggish line of recruits waiting for their turn to enter.
Up close, the building looked like a concrete tomb; its grey paint peeled away in large flakes, and the black metallic roof panels above were heavily rusted. Grim and uninviting.
Once inside, a guard in a grey long-sleeve shirt marched up to Felix, pointing a blunt finger at a high-stacked pile of suitcases on a nearby table.
He said, "Leave your suitcase on the table."
Felix was puzzled. "I can't take it with me?"
"No personal items inside the bunkers," the guard replied flatly. "It goes to storage."
Felix sighed and grudgingly left his suitcase behind. At least, his suitcase had his name tag.
Felix approached the guard posted by the door.
The guard said coldly, "Comrade, report to the examination room. Vitals check before clearance. Down the hallway—turn right."
Felix nodded and walked to the room. Inside, he stepped onto the scale while an elderly nurse in green scrubs adjusted the weights and measured his height.
The nurse said, "Five-seven, 122 pounds. Congratulations, you're officially healthy enough to be cannon fodder. I'll tell the clothing organizer what size uniform to bring for you. Head to the changing room labelled Five and undress. The doctor will examine you."
Felix stared at him. "I have to… undress? In front of the doctor?"
The nurse snapped his clipboard down. "Did you not hear me? You need to be thoroughly examined. Move it."
Felix hurried off to the room with the red number five painted on the door. The door slammed behind him, and he stripped down, shivering in the unheated air. He jumped onto the examination table against the white wall. His butt was cold on the stainless steel. Crossed his legs and used his hands to shield his groin.
As the doctor entered, the door swung back and clicked shut.
The doctor said, "I need to examine you. Get off the table." Felix jumped off the examination table and stood in front of the doctor, shaking nervously.
"You've no abnormalities. That's good." He'd put a stethoscope on his chest. "Your heartbeat is normal."
Turning away, the doctor slid open a drawer in the steel cabinet. He snatched a heavy metallic band from the pile and snapped it onto Felix's wrist. A small red light began to blink on the display.
"You have to wear a Tracker," the doctor said. He pulled a key from the pocket of his black pants, clicked it into the slot, and locked the cuff into place.
"Why do I have to wear this?"
"Trackers are mandatory. If you go AWOL, the alarm on your band will sound. The search team will track you down and shoot you for escaping military grounds."
Click.
Felix turned toward the sound of the opening door. A nurse had entered carrying a stack of folded clothes.
"This is for you to wear," She said, placing the baby-blue tunic and pants on the table.
Felix gasped. "I can't put my old clothes on—"
"You're a soldier now, Sixteen," the nurse cut in. "You wear what you're issued."
"My name is Felix—"
"Your name here is Sixteen. Once your hearing and vision are tested, you're either sent home or processed. Leave your old clothes on the table; we'll store them."
The doctor pulled a plastic container from his white lab coat's left pocket and smacked it onto the table. "I need a urine sample from you. Drop it in the cooler labelled 'specimen collection' in the urinalysis room. I've to go examine other patients."
The doctor left, the nurse following close behind in her pink scrubs. The door shut behind them with a sharp click.
Felix sighed. There was no escape route; he was stuck like a fly in glue. They'd taken away his belongings and robbed him of his name. His identity was stripped away like ugly wallpaper from the walls. As if he were already dead, and he wasn't even on the battlefield. This place made hell look like a fun vacation.
Quickly, he got dressed and stuck the container in the pocket of his pants. He examination room and walked down the hallway, reaching the end.
The security guard stood beside the door with the exit sign. "Go down the hallway and turn left. You need to go to the door that says hearing examination."
Felix nodded, and he left to use the washroom. He'd entered the urinalysis room and dropped off his sample inside the cooler. Left to get his hearing checked. The doctor said his hearing was fine.
He entered the eye examination room to get his vision tested. After the optometrist finished using the phoropter on Felix, he said, "You're nearsighted. " I'll make a note in your file."
"So, I'm disqualified from the army?" Felix grinned.
"No." The optometrist's tone was emotionless. Felix's mouth dropped open.
The optometrist continued, "Your eyesight isn't bad enough to exempt you from the army. You'll need corrective lenses—and a haircut before you report to duty."
Felix groaned. "I don't want my head shaved!"
The optometrist chuckled, "You don't have a choice. Your hair needs to be short. It's to prevent lice."
Felix cried, "Please, can't you lie? I don't want to join the military-"
"I'm not falsifying a medical exam," the optometrist said flatly. "That's unethical. I could lose my job." He pointed to the door.
Felix rose from his chair and left the medical centre. His whims were ignored. He drifted around the camp like a lost dog, then pulled the map from his pocket and studied it. A black-and-white sketch of a tent was marked Barbershop.
He approached the green tent and entered. The barber gestured toward the black padded stool, instructing Felix to take a seat. With a heavy heart, Felix complied, tears streaming down his face as the barber wielded his electric clippers, shearing away his beloved brown locks.
His stomach filled with dread after he patted his head. He'd been given a buzz cut; it was not a flattering look on him. His wavy shoulder-length hair was gone. He jumped off the chair, looking pitifully at the pile of hair on the dirt.
"Move along. Chow hall's serving until thirteen hundred," The barber said.
Felix left to go to the main building and entered the cafeteria. Stood in line and grabbed a tray off the sheet pan rack. The room buzzed with conversation.
He grabbed a carton of milk, a soft biscuit full of cranberry sauce and a bun off the counter. The cook wore a brown-stained white apron over her grey dress. Felix gave his tray to the cook. The cook dipped her ladle in the rusted tin pot on the table. Lazily, she dumped the brown beans onto Felix's plate, splattering his biscuit. She returned Felix's tray to him. Felix cringed; the soggy beans had soaked his biscuit, the only thing that looked appetizing on his tray. If the cook weren't so careless, his dessert wouldn't be ruined.
Three people on the bench sat in front of a white table, and Felix joined them.
"I recognized you from the grocery store. You used to have shoulder-length hair." Felix said as he sat down beside the woman with short, faded hair. Across from her were two men with crew haircuts, the same hairstyle the sergeants had. "You can have my bread."
"Thank you." She accepted the bread from Felix.
"I like your haircut," Felix said.
"Thanks. My brothers cut my hair before we got here." She pointed at the man with freckles. "His name is Kip." Then she pointed at the man with the mole on his eyebrow. "His name is Fox, and my name is Nova. We're triplets."
They did look alike: fair skin, wide lips, oval-shaped faces, and thin frames.
"Why're you here? The conscription isn't mandatory for you." Felix scratches his head.
"My family struggles with food," Nova replied quietly. "The army helps with that. Keeps us fed, keeps us ready. They can't afford having soldiers dropping in the middle of a fight."
"How old are you?" Felix said.
"We're eighteen."
Kip said, "I don't agree with these uniforms. When the sun hits the white spots, they sparkle—we're easy targets. Soldiers should blend into their environment, not stand out."
"What are Technations wearing as a uniform?" Felix asked.
"What are the Technations wearing?" Felix asked.
"Grey and black camo," Kip replied. "And the war is scheduled to be on Grey Island—Technate territory."
"I don't agree with why we have to fight in a war. The tower was old. It needed to be demolished. No one was injured during the explosion," Felix said, grinding his teeth.
"That could have been just dumb luck, that nobody was in the tower during the explosion. Technations are not smart enough to know the time differences in Intermarium. I think the plane arrived at the tower at the wrong time!" Fox smirked.
"Technations are not dumb people," Felix replied.
"Oh, come with that!" Fox replied. "Do you know the difference between Technation women and goats?"
"A goat watches its kids." Kip laughed. "You've told me that joke before!"
"I don't think the joke is funny, but offensive," Felix replied.
"You've got no sense of humour!" Fox replied. "There's nothing wrong with war. We can't have peace in our country until our enemies are destroyed. You gotta change your mindset."
A security guard approached their table when they finished eating.
"I'm going to show you your assigned barracks. Twenty-four, you have to stay here because you are not allowed in the men's barracks. Sixteen, one hundred, and three hundred, come follow me." The guard folded his arms across his grey T-shirt.
Nova nodded. Kip, Fox, and Felix followed the guard. They entered a room with two hundred triple-decker steel metal bunk beds. The white walls were plain and tasteless, like low-fat yogurt. They walked down the rows of beds, assigned numbers.
The guard said, "Follow me to the locker room." They followed the guard. The guard dug into his fanny pack and gave them their padlocks for their lockers.
The guard said, "All recruits have been assigned a locker. It's your responsibility to store your clothing and hygiene items inside."
Kip asked, "This is all we're issued?" As he opened his locker door, looking at three sets of folded clothes.
The guard nodded. "Additional clothing must be purchased through the military supply system. Standard issue is three uniforms and one set of pyjamas."
Fox raised an eyebrow. "How much is a uniform?"
The guard said, "Five hundred dollars."
Kip shook his head. "Ouch. That's steep."
The guard shrugged. "Then you make do with what you've got."
"What?" Felix's mouth dropped. "This isn't enough for seven days."
"Laundry machines are provided," the guard said. "Follow."
They left the locker room and returned to the hallway. The guard opened a door, revealing two washing machines and two dryers.
Felix gasped. "This is it? We have to share this with six hundred trainees?"
"Laundry is restricted to once a week, sheets included," The guard ordered. He dug into his black duffel bag and gave them a sheet of paper.
The guard said, "This is your schedule. Follow it or face disciplinary action. There is a guard outside your door at all hours. Washrooms have fifty stalls—use them quickly."
"The phones," Felix blurted out. "Can I use them to talk to my family?"
"All contact outside of the military base is forbidden," the guard said coldly. "The phones are for the sergeants' use only."
Felix's chest tightened. "Why can't I call my family to come visit me?"
"No visitors are allowed on the base," the guard barked, already turning toward the corridor.
"Now move it. You're expected at the training centre to undergo a fitness exam."
Felix let out a frustrated groan, feeling as though the military was determined to make his existence unbearable. If the Devil were to witness this ordeal, he would undoubtedly applaud the military's efforts.
Felix followed Fox and Kip to the gym. In the gym, Felix had to undergo fitness tests. On the treadmill, he had to run at his fastest speed. Afterwards, he had to lift weights to show how strong he was. He was timed on how many push-ups he could do in under a minute. The trainer's face was disappointed when he looked at the time on his pocket watch. Felix's limbs felt like jelly from spending hours on the fitness tests with the trainer. He'd stopped doing jumping-jacks; his time was up.
His trainer said, "Sixteen, you did poorly on all the tests. You'll need a lot of training before you are ready to fight in the war. Now, you have to go to the theatre."
Felix smiled. "Do we get to watch comedy movies?"
"No. Only government-sanctioned movies are allowed to be played in the theatre. You'll be watching a film called The Battle of Technate. Every night you will spend one hour in the theatre."
Entering the musty theatre, Felix settled into a worn red seat next to Fox and Kip. The two-hour film depicted Jacob Kennedy's chilling plan for the genocide of Intermarriams in Technate, showcasing the Technations' intent to trap them inside a room and gas them to death.
Felix's mind pounded. He didn't know if the film was factual or propagandist bullshit.
Felix asked. "Fox, what do you think of the film?"
Fox smiled. "It reminds me why I need to fight in this war. We can't let them start a genocide."
Felix raised an eyebrow. "But why? Why do the Technations hate us so much? It's not like we've done anything to them, to make them hate us."
Kip shook his head. "Weren't you paying attention to the movie? Technations want to kill Intermarriams because we eat rabbits! Technations are scared that the Technate Blue rabbit is going to go extinct!"
"Intermairium hardly has any Technate Blue rabbits! We eat Marium Blue rabbits, which are a different breed of rabbit!" Felix flew his arms in the air.
Kip said. "Yes, but the rabbits look very similar. The Technate Blue rabbit is a critically endangered animal!"
Fox said, "Technations are against eating rabbits. They believe rabbits are companion animals."
Felix said, "Intermarriams are too poor to raise pigs or cows. Marium Blue rabbit is the main staple of an Intermarriam's diet. Are you scared of the war, Fox?"
"I'm not scared because I'm courageous. Let's return to the cafeteria before the food gets cold." Fox answered.
Felix nodded and followed his friends to the cafeteria. It'd only been a couple of hours. Already, he was homesick. He wished he could teleport himself out of this hellhole.
He'd realize that war wasn't about him. It was about politics—a pawn to be played in a game. The government didn't care if he lived or died.