Perish • Ben Parish

08

"I'll only be teaching you this once, so pay close attention," Ringer said, sliding her protective goggles up her nose.

I rolled my eyes as I lifted the rifle to the side of my face.

Ringer was just so full of it because she was better than the rest of us at everything. Hand to hand combat. Shooting. And apparently even P&D (which I had found out earlier today was the processing and disposal of bodies). There didn't seem to be a single thing she wasn't good at.

I didn't know for sure what made me dislike Ringer, but I just knew that some cog was not turning up there in her head of hot air.

"Canary, put your goggles on. The last thing I need is for you to shoot your eye out and put the rest of the squad in jeopardy of graduating."

I narrowed my eyes and slid my goggles on without much protest.
She just loved to tell people what to do.

"Canary, I don't think I can carry this," Nugget said softly, nudging me with his elbow.

I looked down at Nugget, who, by the quivering of his arms and pained look on his face, proved he could barely even lift the rifle Ringer had given to him.

"Ringer, is there a smaller rifle for Nugget?" I asked.

"They only give us one size," she said, her voice hard and unforgiving.

"Nugget can't carry the rifle," I said, biting my tongue. I was one straw away from going off on her. I hadn't had my chance to beat her up during hand to hand combat, so I was just itching to give her a piece of my mind.

Ringer approached me, bearing her dark eyes into mine. "Listen, either he deals with it, or he leaves the squad. I'm not letting anyone, anyone, screw up my chances at graduating."

I grit my teeth, tensing my body, ready to throw a punch at her ridiculously pale face.

"It's fine, Canary," Nugget said, tugging at my sleeve.

"Let's just start shooting, alright?" Zombie asked, coming to step in between the two of us.

I pursed my lips and turned away from her and Zombie, defeated.

"Fine. Let's just do this," I said.

Ringer smiled smugly and continued barking out orders. "Load. Aim. Fire. Start again. Make sure to look down the barrel of the rifle when aiming. Know that your target will be moving when you're out in the field. So plan accordingly."

Dumbo nodded. "Sounds easy enough. I'm ready," he said, fidgeting with his rifle.

I glanced over at Dumbo, realizing without much trouble at all, that Dumbo was anything but ready.
In a ways, he looked in even much worse shape than Nugget (which was saying a lot, considering Nugget couldn't even hold the rifle). A few beads of sweat dripped down the side of his face and his finger fumbled with the rifle, holding it awkwardly.
I tore my eyes away from him, unable to look at him longer. It only made me feel bad for him...for all of us.