INTERIM · BEN PARISH | ✓

Four

"Someone from another squad whispers, 'Who is that guy?' And someone else, a girl's voice, says, 'His name is Zombie.'" -pg. 215

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THREE AM AND there's another air raid drill. It's the second one just this month, and I'm mentally shooting myself in the head. We're a little less than three weeks away from Graduation day, so they're trying to throw us with as much shit to try to make us break.

"WAKE UP ASSHOLES!" I shriek at the others and push Stiletto off of her bed. Scarecrow is also a heavy sleeper, so I shove him out as well.

The seven of us stumble and scramble for our jumpsuits, necessities and guns and head out of the Barracks. I make it a point to block Squad 53 and stay behind so I can see all of my squad in front of me at all times. We run and run to the yard along with every single recruit, pitch black and running on adrenaline. God, air raid drills are THE worst. Okay, maybe second to Reznik pretending like he's one of the prison guards in the freaking Stanford Prison Experiment.

Everyone heads down the access tunnels that lead underground. I turn the safety mode off in the Ruger 10/22 and hold my dagger close to my hip, forgetting this is just a drill for a minute. All the stairs are pounding with the noise of hundreds of feet going down four flights while the emergency yellow lights blind everyone. After passing a few reinforced doors into our station, we slip in front of Zombie's group and continue through a dim passage. We crawl through a tight-ass tunnel (cue the whining Pluto and the angry Barrel telling him to shut up).

Even though I'm the last to reach the surface in our group, we make it a few seconds before the cutoff time on Reznik's stopwatch, with squad 53 making it right on time. Dammit.

"Good job," Ringer congratulates with a tight-lipped smile.

"Thanks," I mumble.

We enter Barracks 10 now, mentally exhausted but still doped on adrenaline to go to sleep. I turn back on the safety mode and slide my weapons under the bed. I check the small trunk I've got. To make sure my baby aloe vera is still alive, which it is. I sigh in relief and sit at the edge of my bunk bed.

Pluto jumps on my bed. He may be twelve, but his mind switches between age 45 and 5 every day. He tackles me down and I hoist him up so he stops messing up the sheets. He kicks and scratches (I think he bit me at one point) until I put him down. "Kid, stop jumping in my bed. You're gonna ruin the spring and mess up my sheets."

"You talk like a mother," he curls his lip in disgust.

"What the hell do you mean?"

"Only parents know about how a mattress works."

"Chill, bro. It's not rocket science. And I'm not your parents."

He rolls his eyes but climbs back up to his bed after giving a fistful of my hair a little tug. I'm too slow for him so I can't catch the little rascal right after he pulls my hair. He'll pay soon. But right now I need my members to get an extra hour of sleep.

To my right is Stiletto and above her is Musket. I kept telling them to switch weeks ago because it didn't make sense for someone heavier to be on top on the bunk bed but they never listened. Above me is Pluto, who weighs lighter than a slice of bread. (Oh Lord, speaking of bread..) Further down the right is Barrel on bottom and Dot on top. Scarecrow preferred to have his own beds, and nobody stopped him. Nobody wants to.

Even as I lie down, like I said, I'm doped on adrenaline. I've still got it pumping to every part of my body and I feel like I have to move.

So I walk over to Zombie's bunk bed and sit right at the end.