Foster

Chapter 5

Calvin awoke with a start, sitting bolt upright in his cot. The rest of the bodies that lied around the room were sound asleep. He felt stuffed. The tent was dark, hot, and unbearably humid. Hints of dim light filtered through the holes in the fabric of their makeshift roof, illuminating the bugs that danced in the beam of the moon. He knew that it would at least be another couple of hours before the rest of the men woke up as well, so he decided he would make the most of his free time. He swung his legs over the side of the cot, then popped up on his toes and stretched out.

Today marked the six-hundred and twelth day that the strange hostage had arrived at their camp. Since then, they had moved a total of seventy-eight times, and not once had the man they kept alive said more than a sentence or two at a time. No one was allowed to see him, or be near him- not even know his name. General Abrams was the only soldier who knew much of anything. Then again, maybe he knew nothing at all. If he did know something, he sure did have one incredible pokerface. No one spoke of the matter anymore, even though they all knew about it. Calvin figured that if anyone ever did learn anything more of the hostage situation, word would spread like wildfire. The only problem with that- he was impatient.

He didn't bother to put on his boots as he walked out of the tent, the soft dirt and mud beneath his feet felt cool and soothing between his toes. Other than the slight squishing coming from the ground as he walked, the entire camp was completely silent. It was almost eerie. Or rather, would have been for anyone else. However, he felt attracted to the silence. The darkness. He found his thoughts much more easily in it all. His feet carried him to the tent of the hostage, stopping him right outside. There were no gaurds, no precautionary measures to ensure the strange man stayed within the camp. Yet another factor that set Calvin on edge.

Reaching out, he grabbed the curtain of the tent and slid it to the side, he stepped in and pushed it closed once more. The first thing he noticed was the fact that there was no light. No lanterns or candles. Only pitch black. Cautiously, he stepped forward. Then again, and again. More often than not, he would expect to bump into something and instead trip over himself. He was suddenly stopped when his toe was jammed into the foot of what looked like a small desk. He couldn't exactly tell.

Apparently Calvin didn't clear it, though, and fell right on top of it. The sharp corners dug deep into his hip and stomach as both he and the desk hit the ground. Unfortunately, he let out a yelp of surprise when he fell, causing whoever was asleep in the room with him to stir. Slowly, he collected himself, fearful of losing his only chance to learn the mysteries behind the isolated stranger. Once he was upright again, he noticed that he was standing on several loose pieces of paper. He raised one foot off of the papers and then the other, creasing the corners of them as they curled under his toes and crumpled. Now he could see that they weren't full sheets. Well, they were, but they had been ripped and torn down the edges and through the middle. Rather than "papers" it was a single, worn piece that had been ripped apart. Either by the person who wrote it or the one who read it. He couldn't decide what would be worse- or for which of them.

Calvin knelt down and began to gather up the pieces of his newfound puzzle. He had to admit, he was excited. Something like this for a soldier like him? It didn't happen. In fact, the discovery surprised him. He felt throughout his whole body that it wasn't meant to be here. Yet, it was somehow supposed to be in his hands. In a different world, a different time even. He knew he wouldn't be able to piece it together before morning. Much less in the dark. However, his hesitation to leave doomed him when he heard the cot a few feet to his right creak. A dark figure had sat up, facing directly at him. Shakily, he started to back away, his eyes unblinking and unmoving from the figure.

"Who's there?" The figure spoke tiredly.

The voice startled him, and he jumped. Something about it chilled him to his core, and he didn't like it one bit. He spun on his heels and ran, stuffing the remains of the paper he had found into his pocket. Once outside, he realized dawn had almost arrived. It wouldn't be kong now before the rest of the men awoke as well. He raced back to his tent, bits of dirt and grace flew off his feet as more and more stuck to him. Finally, he reached the tent and skidded to a stop inside. His breath was heavy and shaking, and it only got worse as he tried to make it quiet. He let out a long sigh and made his way back to his cot, flopping down on it and settling in for however much time he had left. His fingers turned the torn pieces if paper in his pocket, weaving them between each one. After a long moment, he had finally calmed himself down. Hesitantly, he pulled a corner of the paper from his pocket, reading the the one word scribbled across it in big letters.

C A L V I N