The Weapon (The Hourglass Series Book 2) (5 page)

Sarah
woke up next morning to a bell ringing in her ears. She groaned and covered her
face with her pillow.

“Get
up sleepy,” said Jaz. “Trust me, you don’t want to keep the Sarg waiting.”

Sarah
groaned again and sat up. She realised she must have slept with her mouth open
because it felt as dry as the desert. She also felt filthy. As she sat up she
tried to remember the last time she actually had a shower. It was back at the
camp. She must look gross. She didn’t even want to know how she smelt.

“Up,
up, up!” prompted Jaz. She came over as Sarah rose to her feet and helped her
quickly make the bed. Sarah was envious. Jaz was super-efficient first thing in
the morning, with no wasted movement. And, Sarah noted with grudging
admiration, not a hair was out of place. She reached a hand up to smooth down
her own hair only to realise that the only thing that was going to help that
tangled mess was a lot of conditioner and a very strong comb.

“Shower?”
Sarah spoke the single word hopefully.

“Nope,
not ‘till after dinner.” Jaz’s eyes darted up and down Sarah’s figure. She
pulled a sympathetic face. “Sorry, looks like you need it.”

“Ah,
that makes me feel so much better.”

She
turned around and found Bettina had gotten up and made her bed, poorly, and was
now sitting on it with her head in her hands. At least she didn’t look like a
morning person either.

Someone
had opened the door to the room and they could now see the boys stumble out of
their room and head down the corridor. Bettina watched them go with sleepy
eyes.

“Hey,
Sarah, what’s with your friend’s hair? It’s white, and like, mega-weird.”

“Shut
up,” said Sarah, a bit more viciously than she had intended. “Leave him alone.”

Bettina
held her hands up in a placating gesture. “Ok, jeez, settle petal.” She gave
Sarah a bleary smirk. “What’s with you two anyway? Are you a couple?”

Sarah
found herself blushing. They had never actually talked about it. She didn’t
actually know where they sat. She shrugged and muttered something non-committal.

“Yeah,
right,” snorted Bettina. “Well, he is kind of hot, even with that hair.”

Sarah
didn’t know how to reply, so she pretended that she hadn’t heard. Bettina stood
up, stretching and yawning simultaneously.

“Let’s
not be late,
again,
” muttered Jaz, pushing Bettina forward from behind.
Bettina stumbled a little and then fell into place behind Jaz. Sarah followed
them both out of the door and into the corridor. There were a few stragglers
coming out of the dorms in front of them and heading outside, but they looked
like they were the last few. They exited the building and Jaz immediately
tugged Sarah’s arm, leading her to the left. Sarah blinked in surprise. It
looked like all the recruits in the building were lined up against the front of
the building in single file. They were yawning and chatting amongst themselves.
Most hardly spared Sarah a glance. They slid into position on the extremity of
the left arm of the line, apparently just in time. A large, solid looking man
with a bald head strode into view and suddenly everyone snapped to attention.
Sarah quickly imitated those around her. The man looked ferocious. There was no
way she wanted to stick out in a crowd with him watching. The man was wearing
military fatigues. He had a large nose and small ears, which might have been
comical except for his small, mean eyes, which changed the whole look of his face.
He looked deadly.

“The
Sarg?” Sarah murmured softly to Jaz out of the corner of her mouth.

Jaz’s
nod was barely perceptible, but it was there. Clearly she wasn’t willing to
risk a verbal reply. Sarah took that as a cue and didn’t say anything else. The
Sarg was walking down the line, heading towards them. He stopped in front of
Sarah.

“Who
are you?”

“Sarah,
um, Pratchett, Sir.” Sarah couldn’t believe it. She had nearly forgotten her
fake name. Unfortunately, the Sarg picked up on it.

“Um?”
he practically bellowed at her in disbelief. “Um? Do you have problems
remembering your name, recruit? Are you so damn stupid that you had to think
twice about your name?” A small amount of spit landed on Sarah’s face. It took
all her willpower not to wipe it off. Sarah didn’t reply. She figured that any
attempt to apologise or try and excuse herself would just make it worse. “And
why are you so filthy?” he now bellowed, changing topic. Sarah blinked in
surprise at that one. She would have thought most of the recruits would be
getting dirty at some point. Her eyes flickered quickly over the man in front
of her. His clothes were obviously ironed to perfection. His badges were
probably pinned with the precision of a level, so that they were perfectly
horizontal. Great, she thought with an internal sigh. The man was a neat freak.
Sarah opened her mouth to reply but was thankfully cut off by the sound of
Buchey’s voice cutting through the air.

“She’s
a new recruit, Sarg,” said Buchey. The Sarg whirled around at the voice, allowing
Sarah to see behind him for the first time. Buchey was striding towards him.
She looked confident and collected, clearly not worried about having to deal
with the Sarg. “She only came in last night, along with the other one.”

The
Sarg raised his eyebrows at the mention of the ‘other one’ and quickly scanned
the line of people. It didn’t take him long to pick out Finn.

“Are
you kidding me?” he bellowed as he approached Finn like a bull intent on doing
some damage. “You think we allow people to dye their hair like that?”

Finn
flushed. “It’s not dye, Sir, my hair is like this naturally.”

“Bullshit.”
yelled Sarg. He reached Finn and grabbed a handful of white hair, pulling
Finn’s head in for a closer look. Finn had given a surprised grunt but
otherwise didn’t resist too much. Sarah just stared at them in surprise. What
was the Sarg doing? Looking for regrowth? The thought almost caused her to
giggle. Apparently the Sarg wasn’t able to see what he wanted to and so shoved
back Finn’s head violently.

“Get
it sorted, recruit!” he snarled at Finn.

“But
if we’re not allowed dye…” began Finn through gritted teeth, the question
obvious.

“I
said get it sorted!” bellowed the Sarg, inches away from Finn’s face.
Thankfully, this time Finn stayed silent.  The Sarg moved on and finished his
inspection of the line, now and then straightening the clothes or posture of
the recruits. He then disappeared into the building, his stride long.

“He’s
gone to check out the bunks,” whispered Jaz, hardly moving her mouth. “If it’s
messy, he ruins your life. The boys had to run for three hours straight
yesterday.”

“Pratchett,
Simmons,” commanded Buchey, “you’re with me.”

Sarah
and Finn stepped out of line and approached Buchey. She stalked off without
looking back, expecting them to follow, which they did. They didn’t have to
travel far. Buchey stopped at the next building. It was squat like the others,
only smaller. There were two doors. One had a female figure on the front, the
other a male.

“Sarg
was right. You two are filthy. You have,” she paused to look at her military
watch, “three minutes to shower and change. Clothes are in there. I’ll be
waiting outside. If you’re not here in three minutes I’ll come in and get you,
no matter what state of undress you’re in. Go.” They didn’t need to be told
twice. The women’s side had ten cubicles, each with its own shower and change
area. In the first cubicle military pants, top, socks and underwear were neatly
folded on a simple bench. A pair of military boots was neatly placed below.
Sarah stripped off and got into the shower. She turned it on, waited for the
cold water to turn hot and then stood it. It felt like bliss. She showered
quickly, keeping a mental count of how long she had. She was standing beside Buchey
again, dried and dressed, with, according to her count, ten seconds to spare.
Finn had already been waiting, his white hair still dripping all over his
clothes. As soon as Sarah arrived Buchey strode off again. Sarah and Finn
exchanged a look and followed.

“I
will not be giving you a tour. You can work that out for yourselves later,”
said Buchey. “There are, however, some things you need to know. Any alliance
you may have held in the past to any group or individual is void. You’re
allegiance is now with us. If we find any evidence of treachery you will be
punished, severely.” They arrived at a small open area where a lone figure was
trudging around in a circle. A guard was watching him run impassively. “He
shared information. He says he didn’t realise the importance of the information
he shared, but it doesn’t matter. He’s been running for three days straight.
Tomorrow we’re sending him to the front line, unarmed.” She looked at their
shocked faces. “It’s not completely hopeless, he can take a weapon off a dead
enemy or friendly,” she reassured them, “if he survives long enough.”

It
didn’t reassure them at all. They walked on.

“That
being said, those who are loyal and fight well for the cause are rewarded
appropriately.” She grinned at them. “The perks can be quite good. So,” she summarised
as they came to a halt again, “remember where your loyalties lie, and remember
if you’re talking to someone who isn’t one of us, watch what you say. And if
you hear of anybody else talking to people they maybe shouldn’t, it is your
duty to report it. If you don’t, you’re just as liable and will receive the
same punishment. Understood?”

They
nodded. Buchey pointed at a group of recruits going through a series of
exercises fifty metres away. Sarah could make out Jaz and Boulder doing star
jumps at the back of a large group of other recruits.

“Go
join your team,” she said. They did as she said.

“Well
that sounded bloody terrifying,” mumbled Finn as they walked over.

“I
know, right? Although seriously, when are we going to get an opportunity to
talk to other people? Do they let us out on the town or something?”

Finn
shrugged, unable to say anything more as the Sarg zeroed in on them while they
were still twenty metres away. Sarah saw his face change to malicious glee and
sighed. She had been hoping that they could just quietly join the others at the
back of the group without anyone noticing them.

 “New
recruits, here now!” he bellowed.

Awkwardly,
not quite knowing what was expected of them, they increased their gate to a
half-trot.

“What
they hell is that, you brainless degenerates?” screamed the Sarg when they
finally arrived in front of him. “When I say now, I mean NOW. YOU WILL USE YOUR
SPINDLY PATHETIC LIMBS TO GET TO ME AS FAST AS HUMANLY POSSIBLY, AND THEN SOME.
DO YOU UNDERSTAND?” The spit was flying thick and fast and it was taking all of
Sarah’s control to keep the disgust off of her face.

“Yes,
sir,” they said simultaneously.

“Good.
NOW GET IN LINE.”

They
jumped a little involuntarily but quickly joined the back of the group, more
than glad to get away from the Sarg. Team 32 had been assigned to the back of
the group. There were four other teams in front of them, looking a bit more
coordinated than theirs. At the very front an older recruit was standing alone,
facing them and leading them in all their exercise. They were doing star jumps
at the moment. Sarah and Finn joined in, keeping the pace. The star jumps
changes to push-ups, then crunches, then burpies. The push-ups were the worse.
Sarg, who apparently spends his time insulting people on their techniques until
they get it right or cry, had spent nearly the whole push up session by Sarah’s
side, criticising her incessantly. When the lead recruit finally changed to
crunches, Sarah could have cried in relief. She didn’t she think she was capable
of doing a single further push up. By the time they finished Sarah was hurting
in ways she didn’t know was possible.  

“Form-up!”
yelled the older recruit who had led the exercises. Sarah looked at him through
the gap of bodies suddenly at attention. He had a light sheen of moisture
coating his forehead, whereas everyone else around her looked like they had nearly
drowned in their own sweat. “First four groups to the gym. Final group to the
firing range.”

Grins
broke out amongst the other members of Group 32. Bettina turned a happy smile
towards Sarah. She noted her confusion with a raised eyebrow.

“They
haven’t let us near a firearm the whole time we’ve been here,” said Bettina.
“Looks like we’ll finally get to do something fun.”

“So
what have you been doing instead?” asked Sarah as their group trotted away from
the others, and thankfully, away from the Sarg.

“Push-ups.
Climbing ropes. Cleaning boots. You know, shit-kicker stuff.”

The
firing range, as it turned out, was on the far side of the compound. A range of
targets were visible at the side closest to the surrounding forest. A large,
solid building made of concrete and metal, that looked like it could have held
off a bomb, sat to one side. It was guarded by a bored looking soldier carrying
a rifle. He eyed them without much interest as they gathered around, full of
nervous excitement. Sarah didn’t like guns as a rule, but she couldn’t help it,
the feeling of nervous excitement was infective. She glanced at Finn. He had a
funny look on his face that she couldn’t quite make out.