The Battle Ground Series: Books 1-3 Page 21

  I introduce the video. The commander and I were both surprised by the level of detail in the film. It seems to be much more than these kids need, and a waste of time that could be used to develop their public interaction skills. But I’m not making the decisions here.

  “Today the government has decided to educate you all about the various weapons that you’ll see in use when you’re on patrol. Some, you might get to handle. Others, they want you to know that you must not touch. Those toys are not yours. Those are for the real soldiers. But don’t worry, tiny fighters – you get some toys of your own.”

  They squirm at ‘tiny fighters’. Some of them still think they’re the big soldiers. Some of them really can’t get their heads round their role, as the distraction that lets the army get their hands dirty behind the scenes, while everyone’s watching the brave young people on patrol.

  “After the informative video, you’ll have five minutes to complete the questionnaires in front of you. Don’t screw this up. Identify the weapons, and identify whether they are for you to use, or for the grown-ups. This isn’t rocket science, recruits, but it is important, so pay attention.”

  I hope they can hear the sarcasm, and the boredom. I think this is a waste of time, but here I am – so they can shut up and get on with the learning experience.

  I play the video, switch out the lights, and grab an empty chair with the group of recruits who came in last. They look terrified to have me sitting at their table. Maybe they’ll actually pay attention.

  The video shows all the government-issued weapons and equipment that our tiny fighters need to know about. The kids I can see from my seat are all paying attention, drinking up this exciting grown-up knowledge.

  I let my attention drift. Dan Pearce is sitting opposite Ellman, staring intently at the screen. He’s rolled his shirt sleeves up to his elbows, as he always does when he’s not on the training field. He’s another of the posh kids, and he’s got that posh-shabby-gorgeous thing going on. He manages to be effortlessly good looking, even when his hair’s a mess and his clothes are crumpled. Unlike some of the other kids, it’s as if his clothes really fit. As if, subconsciously, he knows how to wear them.

  In another place, I’d be checking him out, even though he’s only – what? 16? 17? He seems older than the others, more sure of himself, but without the defensive attitude of someone like Jackson. It must be nice to feel so at home in the world, and so certain about your life.

  The video recaps the information they’ll need for the test, and I send the recruit sitting next to me to switch the lights on while I switch off the TV. I wait for everyone to move their chairs back to their tables, and then shout into the silence.

  “Grab a questionnaire. Grab an answer sheet. Grab a pen. Show me that you can watch a short video without falling asleep. No conferring. Five minutes. Go!”

  I pace up and down the room while the recruits scribble on their answer sheets. I keep an eye on the tables in the corners of the room, but I don’t see anyone conferring. I honestly don’t care what they do, but the commander cares, and I’ll be in trouble if he thinks I can’t control a briefing session.

  Dan and Ellman are intent on their questionnaires. Heads down, determined. Some of the other recruits are less focused, taking longer to think about their answers. I roll my eyes. There might have been plenty of new information, but it wasn’t hard to understand, and there was a recap, in case they missed something the first time.

  I check my watch, and the clock on the wall. I pace some more. I stop, and look over some shoulders, watch the kids panic when they realise I’m standing behind them.

  “Time’s up! Pens down.”

  I move round the room, collecting the answer sheets from the tables, and hand over to Jackson to run the rest of the session.

  *****

  I head to the Senior Dorm and claim a table where I can sit and mark the papers. I work my way through, and I’m genuinely amazed that most of them pass. Even Sleepy scrapes a passing mark, and most of the posh kids get every question right.

  I put the papers in a file for Commander Bracken to look at, and pull out a large sheet of paper. I’m drawing up a pass/fail list using the scores from the test, when Jackson walks in, ready for dinner. He sits at my table.

  “So – how many fails?”

  “Not many.”

  “Not even Sleepy?”

  “Nope. He passed.”

  “Huh. I guess he’s found something to be good at.”

  I finish writing up the list, and lean back in my chair.

  “Right! Your gun training. How was your extra lunchtime tutoring?”

  Jackson rolls his eyes.

  “I don’t know how Sleepy gets anything done. I don’t know how he gets dressed in the morning. I don’t know how he ties his own shoelaces.”

  “He doesn’t, usually.”

  “True. Well, he can’t fit his gun into the armour, either.”

  “A lot of them had trouble – it is their first day in their shiny new armour. I had to personally dress most of the girls in it today, like some sort of babysitter. They’re so distracted by how cool they look wearing it that they’re not paying attention to the things they need to learn. Attaching their helmets, or clipping and unclipping a gun from their backs when they need it. Things that could save their lives.”

  “Sleepy couldn’t find his back with a map.”

  “Did shouting at him for the whole of lunchtime help?” I can’t help smirking.

  “He managed it in the end. And then I made him repeat it, and repeat it. I think he was actually feeling proud of himself by the time I let him go.”

  “Wait – you’re not feeling sorry for him, are you? Whipping boy, remember?”

  “He tried really hard …”

  “And he’s still useless. And not yet in the hospital, I can’t help noticing.”

  “Also true.”

  “Iron fists, steel toe caps.”

  “Yeah.”

  But he looks as if I’ve just tried to shoot his favourite puppy.

  Come on, Jackson – I need you. We need to work together on these kids.

  *****

  It took three weeks to attract Commander Bracken’s attention. Three weeks of being the first in line for breakfast every morning, the first in line for every activity, and the first to volunteer at the briefings. Consistently being the fastest female recruit on the morning run and the assault course helped, too.

  He called me to his office after dinner, while everyone else was playing cards and chilling out. My file was open on his desk, and he invited me to sit down.

  “Katrina Smith,” he began, and I couldn’t help correcting him.

  “It’s Ketty, Sir.”

  He raised his eyebrows at the interruption.

  “Ketty?”

  “No one’s ever called me Katrina, Sir. It’s always been Ketty. Sir.”

  I knew that wasn’t true, but the commander didn’t need to know. Dad said that Mum used to call me Kat, before she left, but I don’t remember that. I don’t remember her. Dad said that Ketty is what I called myself, before I could say ‘Katrina’. As far as I could remember, I’d always been Ketty.

  He made a note on the file. I hoped I hadn’t messed up whatever good impression he had of me. I needed him to notice my abilities. I needed him to be my ticket out of here.

  “You’ve made an impression here, Ketty.”

  “I hope so, Sir.”

  He looked at me, inspecting my face, as if he hadn’t expected a reply. He paused, then consulted the file again.

  “Your fitness is excellent. Your enthusiasm is excellent. You’ve never been late, never unprepared. Your uniform is always neat and clean. You always take part in the briefings.” He looked up. “You are an excellent recruit.”

  I tried to hide my smile.

  “How do you see yourself progressing through our training programme? What do you want to achieve?”

  I paused, surprised by the ques
tion.

  “I want a career, Sir.” I said, eventually. “I want to be the best, and I want to be promoted. I’m willing to work hard, and do what I need to do.”

  “So do you want us to put you through some courses? Get you some qualifications?”

  I thought about it, and shook my head.

  “Only if I need the qualification to do my job. I’m not interested in certificates. I’m not interested in studying unless it’s something I need to know. I want to be out there, getting good at the job. Working hard.”

  He nodded, as if he’d been expecting me to say that, then picked up a pen and made a note in my file.

  “We’ll start with the Emergency Response course, and some vehicle training. Driving skills are always useful.”

  Then he put the pen down and leaned forward, elbows on the desk, hands clasped in front of him.

  “I have a proposal for you.

  “I need an assistant. Not an official assistant, like Woods. I need someone on the inside of camp life. Someone who can keep an eye on the other recruits for me. Solve problems before they reach my office. Keep everyone in line, without me having to bring rank into the equation.

  “Think you can do that?”

  I tried to bring the excitement in my voice under control.

  “What exactly are you expecting me to do, Sir?”

  He waved his hand.

  “Whatever you think will work. You know these recruits. You’ve been training with them from day one. Just keep them in line. Make sure they know it’s in their interests to do as they’re told. Stop issues from turning into problems that I’ll need to deal with.”

  I nodded. “I think I can do that, Sir.”

  He smiled.

  “I think you can, too. I gather you taught Jackson a lesson on your first night here. That’s the sort of situation management we need.”

  I stared at him, wondering how he knew about my encounter with Jackson. I almost forgot to nod.

  “Just – not so many black eyes from now on. Okay? Keep it subtle, keep it low-key, and keep teenage antics out of my office.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  I waited to be dismissed, but he looked at me, appraisingly, for an uncomfortable moment.

  “You’ve got discipline, Ketty. You’ve got determination. I think you understand what we’re doing here. Show me that you can do this, and I’ll make sure it is worth the trouble.”

  “Thank you, Sir.”

  “Dismissed.”

  And I walked out of his office, glowing with pride. Of all the recruits, he’d chosen me. He’d noticed me. I wasn’t going to let him down.

  JULY

  Lessons

  We’ve been training the hopeless puppies in their armour for weeks. They can run in armour now, and most of them can get their guns in and out of their clips when they need to.

  It’s my week to lead the morning run, so we set out across the bypass and the railway, and take the route through town to show off the kids to the citizens of Leominster. Hopefully they’re telling their friends about the wonderful, brave young people stationed in their town.

  It’s a gorgeous morning, sunshine with the occasional bright cloud, and we’re making good time. I stop the traffic when we cross the bypass again to come back to camp, and I’m catching up with the group when I notice Sleepy, running at the back with some of Ellman’s little fan club. He’s still clumsy in his armour, and he’s obviously exhausted and dragging his feet. As usual, his boot laces are untied. I should probably tell him, but looking ahead I can see an opportunity to break up Ellman’s happy family, and maybe teach them to run with the others. They’re not the only kids on site, and they need to work with everyone.

  Good luck, Whipping boy. Learn the hard way that your laces won’t tie themselves.

  I run past Sleepy to where Ellman and Pearce are running together. Inseparable, these two. I push between them, and challenge Pearce to a sprint. He’s up for it, and we sprint together along the path through the woods. Mummy Ellman can learn to run by herself, without Dan to hold her hand.

  We run past the other recruits, and make it back to the gate ahead of the group. I thank Dan for the sprint, send him on to Jackson’s gun training session, and wait for the others to arrive. It’s clouding over as I wait for the runners. It looks as if it might rain.

  One by one, group by group, they run through the gate, following my shouted orders to line up on the field with Jackson. There’s a pause, when there’s no one in sight along the path. I’ve counted everyone in, and we’re missing four recruits.

  And then Brown and Taylor are running round the final corner, out of breath. I shout to them to get to the field, but they stop, pointing back along the path.

  “It’s Saunders! He’s busted his ankle!”

  Saunders. Mr Sleepy. That’ll teach him to tie his shoelaces.

  “Bex is helping him. They’ll be here as quickly as they can.”

  “Thank you, recruits. Get yourselves to Jackson’s session. I’ll deal with this.”

  They walk away towards the field, glancing back at the gate. I wait until they’re out of sight round the corner of the closest dorm, and then tell the gate guards to close the gates. One of them clips his gun and runs to pull the gates closed. The other wants to know why we can’t wait for the recruits.

  “They’re late, and they know that we close the gates after the run. If they can’t get themselves back here on time, let them wait until I’m ready to let them in.”

  “So you want us to keep them here.”

  I smile. “Yes, I do. I’m ordering you not to let anyone else in. I need to be somewhere else. I can’t verify their identities. Who knows what might have happened on the run? We lost sight of the recruits. They could be terrorists in stolen uniforms.”

  The guard nods, and the second guard returns my smile.

  “No problem. We can keep them here. No sense in taking any risks, eh?”

  “None. I can trust you on this, right? No one comes through without my permission.”

  They’re both grinning now.

  “No one. We’ll make sure of it.”

  So I leave them to do their jobs. I have better things to do than wait for Mummy Ellman and her invalid.

  *****

  Jackson is busy on the field with the gun training, and I have paperwork to do for the commander. I sit at my usual table in the senior dining room, and get to work – glancing out of the window every so often to see what happens at the gate.

  And it is glorious.

  She’s practically carrying him. He’s leaning on her, hopping his pathetic way beside her in painful slow motion. She leads him up to the gates, and shouts something at the guards, who don’t let me down.

  One of them stares straight ahead, as if these two sad recruits are invisible. The other lifts his gun to a combat-ready position.

  But does she back off? Does she put her hands up and wait? This is Ellman, and Ellman with a wounded buddy. Of course she doesn’t. She shouts back at them, guns or no guns. This kid really needs to learn some self-preservation skills.

  The guards ignore her, and she stands there, disbelief on her face. The guards continue to ignore her. I’m laughing under my breath.

  Life isn’t fair, Ellman. Just because you’ve been a nice person today, that doesn’t let you get round the rules.

  Eventually, she gets the message, and walks Sleepy over to the grass verge, swings him down so he’s sitting on the ground. I wait for her to sit down as well, but instead she walks back to the gate. I’ve forgotten my paperwork now. This is all about Ellman.

  She walks right up to the gate, grabs the chicken wire with both hands, and starts shouting at the guards.

  And the guards raise their guns.

  I punch the air. I owe these guys a drink. This is perfect.

  How’s that mother complex treating you now, Ellman? Should have left him on the path.

  But she doesn’t back down. Not until the guards step tow
ards her, guns pointing at her head. She lifts her hands and steps away from the gate – but she’s still talking!

  I’m standing at the window now, in the shadows. I can’t believe she’s picking a fight with armed guards. One of them heads back to the guard hut, and my radio crackles to life.

  “Gatehouse to Ketty? We could use some backup here.”

  “On my way.”

  How the hell is one little girl freaking out my guards? This shouldn’t be a challenge, leaving two late, slow, unarmed recruits outside the gate until I say they can come in. I hurry to the gate, before the commander notices what’s going on. I’m authorised to solve my own problems, but if one of the guards gets twitchy and calls the commander, I’ll have some inconvenient explaining to do.

  Don’t you dare get me into trouble, kid. I’ve got more invested here than you know, and I need the commander on my side. Sit down, and shut up, until I decide you’re coming back in.

  Sleepy looks utterly pathetic, sitting on the ground, trying not to cry. Ellman is still on her feet, so I ignore her pleas and head directly for the guards.

  “They’re late.” I say, loudly, for Ellman’s benefit. “Leave them out there.”

  I’m walking away, when one of the guards asks how long they should wait.

  “I’ll let you know.”

  When I’ve had enough of teaching these kids a lesson about authority, and rules, and looking after themselves.

  I walk quickly back to the dining room, and go back to my paperwork.

  *****

  I’d been at the camp for nearly a year before Commander Bracken named me Lead Recruit. For eleven months I‘d been his in-camp enforcer. I kept the other recruits in line, reporting back any matters of concern to the commander, and dealing with everything else myself. Breaking up fights. Breaking up couples (no favourites allowed, here). Keeping dorms tidy and training running smoothly. It helped that there were witnesses to my first night encounter with Jackson, and that he had become one of my most loyal helpers.

  After a year of intense training, we were ready to train new recruits ourselves. Most of the volunteers who joined with me were sent to other camps to train the growing numbers of young recruits. They had started advertising for more 16-year-olds to sign up, so there were plenty of kids fresh out of school to shape and train.