Learn to Conquer

Chapter 2: Day 1

"I. Hate. You." I grunted pushing up and down from the ground. We've been out here doing push ups for hours. The sun is in the middle of the sky, each of us sweating profusely, and the more we drop on the ground the more sand sticks to our bodies and orange jumpsuits. A fifth of us are either passed out in their own vomit, or suffering in a pool of blood. They've made their point, if you want to keep breathing keep your mouth shut.

As we continued with our torturous work out, a plane flew over head. It landed about a yard away from us, but if we were distracted we'd get shocked. I pushed up again on my shaking arms, only to drop my face back into the sand. Out of my one good eye, I saw people unload from the plane. They weren't dressed as guards, but had sunglasses and bulletproof vests in replace of riot gear. 

As they approached us criminals everyone began making an effort into their push ups again, in fear of being electrocuted or worse. Every muscle in my body ached, and it wasn't only me who was in pain. Damien, who is in very good shape, was drenched in his own sweat. I didn't dare look up, not even when a pair of leather boots showed up in my view. 

"Blondie, stand up." He ordered, which took me longer than usual. I was expecting some gruff, veteran looking type. But it was just a boy, not much older than us. He lifted his sunglasses from his face, revealing his deep brown eyes. Which matched his short brown hair. He stood wearing cargo pants and a black wife beater. He was in shape, but less muscular than Damien. 

"Yes sir?" I asked, a little nervous why he called on me, and only me. 

He looked my face up and down, something I didn't want anybody to do when I was panting like a dog in heat. "What happened to your glasses? Did the guards do that?" 

I shook my head. "No, the police officer who escorted me before." 

He removed them from my face and began examining the one working lens. "Are these prescription or reading glasses?" 

"Prescription." 

He nodded, understanding well before placing them on my face. "You," he gestured over to a guard, "go back to base and access her medical records. Get her new glasses, I won't have an inadequate soldier because you want to treat these people like garbage. Her name is Carmen Vincent. Inmate number," he checked a notebook from his pocket, "455607, Squad 8."

As the guard left I blurted, "What's your name?" 

I could feel the others flinch from beneath me. The boy smiled and said, "Zero." After a long silent moment between us, he finally said, "the rest of you can stand up now." 

Instead of standing up immediately, the group dropped onto the ground in relief. They slowly made their way up onto their feet. They stretched their sore muscles and I felt inclined to do the same. Too many cracking sounds sent a chill down my spine but I did feel much better afterwards. 

"Do you know all our names?" Damien asked, skipping the formalities. 

He pointed in his direction. "Damien Yamamoto, age nineteen, apprehended with," he directed his head towards Theresa, "Theresa Chambers, age eighteen. And our little arsonist Amber Dawson. But I've been instructed to call you Holly." 

"Because that's my name dumb ass." Holly snapped, which forced our shocked faces in her direction. 

Zero chuckled. "I apologize. I'm gonna be your squad leader, you can call me Zero." He took a good look at each of us, then his amused look shifted to a questioning one. "Have none of you had anything to drink?" 

We all shook our heads, and Theresa responded for the rest of us. "Those jack offs haven't had us do anything except push ups since the moon was high."