One-Shot Short Stories

San Antagrina's Boot Camp for Potential Military Recruits.

I remember the couch. Sitting up right on the couch as I woke from a hazy sleep. My vision blurred at first but quickly adjusted to the dim lighting of the strange room I sat in. It wasn't strange in the sense that I've never seen it before, nor could I remember coming to it. Nor was it strange that my hands and feet were in chains attached to the coffee table inches from my feet. Even the three large cages, the left with a girl in her early twenties maybe, the right with a boy around 15 maybe, and the middle one empty. No, what I remember being strangest was the key that sat within my reach atop the coffee table.
It was early June when I awoke in that small, dark, room, my head pounding. My Mom and brother left for Argentina the week before to visit my brother's dad and family. I was going to be a senior, and didn't have any blood connection myself to his family, so I was given the option to go or to stay. I was home alone, finally old enough to be trusted, oh how wonderful it felt, like I was an adult. I left my house and I-, I- went to, I- was going to, what was I doing?
I was walking, it was a beautiful day. I think I hit the floor, there was this vague ringing of metal and flesh, the taste of blood and concrete. Then there was the room, the girl and the boy, and the aching at the back of my head. I remember grabbing the key, or maybe I talked to the other two first. I'm not entirely sure, I think some part of my mind has blocked the memory, or maybe the ringing in my head meant I had a concussion. In any case, the key unlocked my restraints, and the girl with long black hair in the cage in the back left corner begged me to let her out. My head was still groggy but I knew something didn't feel right. Someone had to have put us in these locks, why would they leave the key? It didn't make sense.
"I don't think-" My words tripped over themselves as I slowly tried to string together a sentence.
"Please, you have to let us out" she had these big round glasses with thin gold frames, but the glass was spider haired with cracks. Her eyes were so familiar. "Please, before he comes back" her voice was quivering, on the verge of tears. Before I even really knew what I was doing, I noticed the unlocked lock to her cage in my hand. She shoved me out of the way, took three steps along the wall to this circular indent where a ladder lay. Why didn't I notice the ladder before?
"Wait, I don't think you should-" I could feel the panic driving my words forward, but she didn't listen. She kept climbing and climbing, desperate to survive. The boy and I watched her in silence, we never saw her again. We had no way to know what happened to her, but there were these screams like a hyena's laughter, and gunshots. We didn't want to know what had happened. Footsteps overhead, and suddenly something told me I needed to go back to that couch and put my chains back on.
He was handsome, that's what made him even scarier. I can still see his face in my dreams sometimes. His dark combed hair, his square jaw and light stubble of a beard. In my first assessment I had guessed he was somewhere in his mid thirties, I later learned he was 48. His whole body was pure muscle, not a layer of fat anywhere. His body was dangerous and I knew it, even more dangerous was his mind. From the way his smile curved and his shoulders hunched and twitched ever so slightly, I knew somewhere deep down I shouldn't trust him. I wish I had listened to my instinct.
"Well hello my friends!" His voice, too loud for the small space, echoed off the concrete walls. "What are you doing in those chains?" He looked bewildered, like he was genuinely confused, "There's a key right there on the table, I left it so you could get comfortable". The boy and I exchanged uncertain glances, neither of us brave enough to speak let alone grab the key and free ourselves. "No? Well fine, guess I can do it myself," when he came to take off my chains I could see the yellow corrupting his smile, and smell the stench of rum all over his body, or maybe it was gasoline. If that wasn't enough to make me sick I remember the way he ran his hands the entire length of my arms down my stomach and thighs to unlock the chains on my feet. My face remained straight, and my body still, but I remember my skin crawling and itching, and my head, it was like my head was spinning, I felt so nauseous. Even worse when he winked at me and gave my thighs a final slap before walking over to the boy's cage.
"How about I make some hot coco?" He spoke like we were old friends, but the way the boy cowered at my side with me, I knew he wasn't. When no one answered I saw his mouth twitch in irritation "What's with the silent treatment? You act like you don't even want to be here"
"We don't." The boy interrupted him with a sudden burst of fierceness I hadn't expected. When he stood up I realized he was probably only thirteen or fourteen, the same age as my brother, maybe even in a few of his classes, he did look familiar thinking back now.
"Well no one's making you stay, you're more than welcome to leave" The man looked hurt, and his voice was filled with a friendly tone. The boy and the man stood staring at each other for a minute. The boy seemed confused by this answer, frozen in his shock, until the man raised his eyebrows and nodded to the ladder, "go on, you know the way out." A moment of hesitation, then seemingly making up his mind he turned and climbed up the ladder. I wanted to scream "Don't", "Don't leave", "Stay", but every bone, muscle, tendent, remained glued to my seat. Then he was gone. His body, along with the girl, and a child around 6 years old were discovered a little over a year later, at the bottom of a ditch, cause of death, a shot through the heart for the girl, the child had a sliced throat, the boy's body had been burned to a crisp, the forensics team declared it a landmine presumably placed in wait for whoever chose to leave.
"It's okay, we didn't need them anyways," The man said, turning back to the small counter along the right wall. A makeshift kitchen with cabinets overhead and a sink in the corner, how had I not noticed it before? The room was only about 7ft by 12ft. What else hadn't I noticed? A ding signified the water was boiled, and so the two cups of hot chocolate were prepared. "I'm so glad you stayed," he said as handed me my cup and took a seat alarmingly close to me. With his free hand he moved my hair behind my ear and whispered into it.
"You were the one I liked most anyway", before kissing my ear.
"Why am I here?" I blurted out in fear, I was so scared, my body was my enemy at that moment. He pulled away with a smile, and stood atop the coffee table.
"I'm glad you asked, welcome to the heart of San Antagrina's boot camp for potential military recruits." He gestured widely with his arms.
"But I'm not in the military" My voice came out in a flat tone, but I don't remember thinking the words or moving my lips to make them.
"Not yet, but we have specifically chosen the four youths who have presented the most potential. You my friend, are the only one to have survived the trials," Survived, he slipped up and his cheek twitched out of its smile for a split second.. "You are the only one to have shown interest and determination, and that is what we are looking for."
"My mom-" will worry, but before I can finish the thought I'm interrupted.
"Has already been informed, and agreed to all conditions and dangers of the training. The trip to Argentina was a lie, in fact your brother and mother are home, watching the latest episode of Master Chef" as we speak. But you're free to leave at any time, ultimately this decision is up to you" His voice was so relaxed, so calm and friendly. I couldn't argue with what he was saying, or maybe I didn't want to think otherwise. No one ever wants to be a victim, maybe I made it make sense. Told myself he had to be telling the truth, why else was I free to go? How else could he have known they went to Argentina. Or how they watched Master Chef every Friday evening. To be honest I don't remember much of the day, the human brain has an interesting way of blocking out moments of high stress. I don't think I entirely believed him, but it was easier to accept my mother had left me for the summer, than the prospect that I had been taken.
***
No technology was allowed, and I didn't wear a watch, so keeping track of time and the days proved difficult. I wasn't even sure how long I was there, I thought it was weeks, maybe a few months, it all felt the same to me. The official police report dated me as a missing person on June 11th 2018, with no leads the case closed until my bloodied body was found September 25th 2019.
There was a routine, I fell into it quickly, I didn't have much choice if I wanted to survive. We were up early in the morning, early in the morning or late at night, I couldn't tell, it was always dark and cold when we left. Turns out the bunker I was staying in was dug out during the Cold War, in the middle of a forest miles from any town. At least that's what Andrew told me, said some paranoid old guizer decided to save his own skin and move out here, leaving his wife, kids, and grandkids to perish in the air strikes. Andrew told me a lot of things, little facts and stories, he was my drill Sergeant, strict and cruel, but he became so much more. He always said we had a special connection.
I remember one night in perfect detail, the night he became my friend, my confidant, the night I began loving him. We had just finished dinner, my foot slipped on the way down the ladder. I fell and hit my head on the corner of the coffee table. Sergeant Andrew was furious, when his feet hit the floor he came over screaming at me to get up. Telling me how weak I was, how I'd never be good enough. I felt the hard blows of his kicks to my gut until I wretched over the toilet hole, during which time he left the bunker once more. After some time he returned looking sorry with bandages. I remember flinching as he crawled into my bed with me, but also how gentle he was as he bandaged my bleeding head, how he lifted my shirt, I was so scared.
"Please don't" I pulled away from his hands, which only hardened his grip.
"Don't pull away from me" a flash of anger in his eyes froze me in place, but his face softened "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you. To scare you," and kissed each of the bruises he'd given me. Tenderly, the way my mother had when I fell as a child. Tears were sliding down my cheeks, I couldn't understand what was happening, I still don't.
"Why?" my question came out more as a whisper as I sobbed under my breath. I remember the feel of his big hands wiping away my tears.
"Because you remind me so much of her," he turned his back on me but the way his shoulders gave a slight shudder I could tell he was crying. I don't know when the shift from fear to pity happened exactly, but I reached my hand to his shoulder pulling slightly for him to turn back.
"Who?" I asked.
"My daughter."
***
Every morning a siren would go off signaling it time to get up for a morning run through the forest. At first it was a mile, and I tripped over all the roots I couldn't see wheezing for my breath, and for every time I fell, Andrew would deliver a blow to my stomach. But after a few weeks, months? One mile was a breeze, 2? A walk in the park, 5? Now that was a work out. Andrew loved a challenge, and he was always pushing me harder and further than I thought I could ever go. Slowly day by day I could see myself getting stronger. My stamina grew, my arms became defined, and promises of abs came into view. After our morning run we ate breakfast. Two eggs over easy, an apple, and grits, every morning. I hated it at first, yearned for a greasy hash brown, maybe a waffle, or a pancake, but over time it became comforting. Andrew's routine provided stability I hadn't realized I needed.
After breakfast it was what we called "up time". Two hours of push ups, pull ups, leg ups. As a break and a reward for our hard work Andrew allowed us an hour of free time to play cards. He always told me I should be grateful, if his higher ups ever found out about free time he would be out of a job for sure, and I was grateful, and happy. We played a lot of solitaire, occasionally war, if we were feeling really crazy we'd do away with the cards all together and talk through the hour. After free time came shooting practice. It was about a two mile hike, but there was this beautiful plateau free of trees, with a shallow lake laced with wildlife and water plants. Next to the lake Andrew would line up cans and bottles for me to practice my aim. I always felt bad when I scared the deer away from the water, or when I knocked a can into the water.
For lunch we had hot dogs and corn off the cob. I used to only eat the corn, this enraged Andrew. As if I offended him and his cooking by being a vegetarian. I tried to explain that I simply didn't eat meat but he would never listen. It didn't matter anyway, he served meat for dinner too, and after skipping one too many meals I passed out on a run. When I woke up Andrew looked so worried, he said I just dropped dead.
"Don't ever do that to me again" His voice was somewhere between anger and concern. I tried to brush it off like it was nothing.
I think I said something along the lines of "You don't have to worry about me", or "don't worry it won't happen again", whatever I said it earned me a slap across the face. My skin burned, and my eyes welled but I turned my head refusing to let him see me cry.
"I'm sorry, I- I just" fear crept into his voice and he looked down at his hand.
"Why do you care? Why do you care if I'm so weak? Maybe I'm just not built for the military" I said before I could bite my tongue.
"It's just my daughter. She was so much like you, she was weak" The word weak slapped me again, and I could feel myself boiling. I wanted to interject, to argue, but thought it wiser this time.
Instead I asked, "What happened to her?"
He took a moment before answering. With a heavy sigh he said "She was taken from me. They took her away, and she couldn't fight back." I didn't know what to say.
"I'm sor-" I began before he interrupted me.
"That's why I'm so hard on you," he gave me a warm smile "you remind me so much of her."
So I elected to eat every meal he served no matter what. At first my stomach, unaccustomed to meat, felt as if I had been poisoned. For weeks I would wither on the floor unable to get up, Andrew landing hard kicks into the gut yelling at me to get up. Eventually my stomach learned its tantrums would change nothing and accepted the meat silently. After lunch we would fight. And I don't mean lightly tussle with each other, we would have a full blown battle until one of us, me, could no longer fight. Afterwards we would roam the woods, sometimes fishing, but most of the time hunting for our dinner. It was Andrew's policy that if I didn't get anything myself I wouldn't eat dinner.
"You only get what you earn," he said countless times. It was his catch phrase, his version of Uncle Ben's "with great power comes great responsibility", that and "no one has to know" as he climbed into the bed.
***
There I stood, over Andrew's heaving body. Our evening battle had ended, and for the first time two things happened. One, I had won, I had beaten Andrew until he lay gasping for his breath, and two I saw fear in his eyes, like he knew he had created a beast. Or maybe just one thing happened because in an instant the fear was gone, I can't be truly sure it was ever there. He smiled and I reached down to help him up.
"You're getting quick there kid, and strong." He took my hand and stood up.
"Or maybe you're just getting slow, I bet I could take you in a real battle no" I said. I remember hearing the confidence and fearless strength in my voice. I was proud, I felt powerful, unstoppable.
"I think you're ready" He had a smile, but his look was something dangerous, like a child doing something they know they're not supposed to, or a hunter finally spotting its prey.
"For what?" I put my hands on my hips and looked out to the sun setting behind the trees. Dusk was coming quickly, if we wanted to eat we would need to start the nightly hunt.
"For you to go home. Tomorrow I'll take you home to your mother and you'll get to show her all the progress you've made" His voice conveyed a joy his eyes seemed to lack. "But tonight we celebrate. We'll go camp by the lake, it truly is beautiful by moonlight, you can't leave without seeing it,". I don't know what I was expecting him to say, but that was not it. I hadn't really imagined life after, I think part of me assumed this was my life now.
The night was magical, the weather warm, and the stars bright. We went skinny dipping in the lake, Andrew's idea of course, and he wouldn't take no for an answer, he never did. We slept side by side in a little green tent. It was truly a night to remember, one I'll never forget. Trust me I've tried. It was that night, as we lay naked beside each other that my life changed utterly. I remember feeling like my mind was gonna explode, I couldn't believe I was going home. The tent felt hot and stuffy so I walked out into the cold night. I was going to miss the forest, the quiet, the routine. I wondered if I could stay, I entertained this idea as I looked into the lake, and the moon reflecting over it when I noticed the glinting of a blade behind me. My body flooded with adrenaline and I jumped to the side. When I turned to face my attacker I found Andrew with a wild look in his eyes,
"What are you doing?" I asked, afraid and confused.
"You can't leave. I won't let you leave, that bitch can't take you from me again" His eyes wouldn't focus and he was shouting, but I couldn't make sense of it. Who was a bitch taking me from him? What does he mean again? He was clearly unhinged as he lunged at me with a knife in hand once more. His movements were more erratic than his usual calculated attacks. It made identifying his pattern of attack more difficult, at times I wasn't able to fully dodge and he would glaze by bare side slicing open the delicate skin.
"What are you talking about? We don't have to fight, I'll stay. Andrew please" I was hysterical now. Desperate to live. Hurt to be betrayed. Reliving the realization and fear of my first day in the bunker. Even more unnerving was Andrew's laugh, and the way his shoulders caved into it.
"Oh but we do. We do have to fight. To the death. That's the whole reason you're here isn't it? The whole reason I trained you?" His voice curled in sick ways.
"What good does training me do" I asked with tears streaming down my face as I avoided a fatal blow by directing the blade to my shoulder blade.
"Don't you remember, I love a good challenge." He said before charging head on, faking a left swing but swinging right. His usual finishing blow in training. I stepped just out of range of his swing before grabbing his arm with the knife and redirecting it into his own chest. He looked down at the knife before falling onto his knees and then his back.
"I'm sorry, I-" I choked on my words and fell to the ground pulling his body onto mine..
"I should've killed you years ago" he quite literally choked on his words, or more specifically the blood welling in his mouth. "You'd be better off dead you and your mother." he spit out his final words before falling limp.
I don't know how long I stayed there, covered in my blood and his, unwilling to let go of his cold body. I don't remember leaving him really, nor the days I spent wandering the forest in search of what? I'm not sure. Eventually I stumbled onto a road, and soon enough a car drove by and called the cops on the small naked bloodied girl on the side of the road. It didn't take long for them to figure out who I was. They had me divulge any information I could. I told them where I was, where to find the dugout, about the boy, about the girl. In turn they told me about Andrew, about his dishonorable discharge from the military, about his allegations of rape and sexual assault. About his two divorced wives, and lost custody. About the child they found in the ditch with the boy and the girl. His child. All of them were. I wondered why they told me this, why they would impose such a burden on a child. But I was the only one who had survived, the only one who could confirm Andrew's identity and actions. The only one who could identify the deteriorating bodies of the boy and girl who left their cages.
After I had served my purpose, and they had cleared my attack as self defense, I was returned to my mother who dared not let me out of her sight. My mother, who had flown home early from her trip to Argentina when her teenage daughter stopped answering her phone calls. My mother, who had no idea what had happened to her little girl, blamed herself for leaving her alone. My mother, who even after a year of nothing still believed her little angel would still come home, but never did she think that her return to society would be covered in the blood of her father.