Lieutenant Hoods is beaming like a proud father as he addresses Group Thirteen in the center of the main conscript camp.
“When this war ends, each of you brave men will be sponsored for full Kalykan citizenship,” he booms to the gathered conscripts. In the twenty-four hours since the end of the battle, all knew that Group Thirteen was to get even more special privileges, but we didn’t expect that to be a sumptuous-looking feast. The smell is intoxicating, no doubt meant to inspire the rest of us conscripts to fight like Group Thirteen.
While the stunt with the chains didn’t necessarily cause the Cenecans to retreat into the city, it did birth a new tactic that has the potential to render cavalry charges all but obsolete. It was my idea, but none but Levi, Caleb, and I know that. It’s all right; I’d rather not be associated with such brutality. Then again, the scent of real food makes me doubt my assertions.
I sit at the edge of my tent, back resting against a support pole, and watch the commotion through open flaps. Most conscript groups are bedding down for the night and are far enough away that they can’t hear or see the festivities, but those closest to the Group Thirteen tent are forced to watch their triumph with a special hatred in their hearts. Our tent is close enough so that we can hear everything. Worse, we can smell it. My stomach growls louder with each passing moment.
“I hate those sisterfucks,” Peter mutters under his breath somewhere behind me as Levi smiles and motions Moses over to pick up a large pot of stew.
“Maybe if you didn’t run away each time they lined us up, we’d be getting the stew instead of them,” I answer bitterly. As usual, Group Eleven suffered the most casualties out of all the conscript groups. Only Peter, Caleb, and I remain.
“What did you say to me?” Peter steps past me and twists his body so that he stands over me like a tower, but I’m beyond caring. Hunger does that to a man. It is the great equalizer; whether a man is rich, poor, strong or weak, hunger affects him all the same. Right now, I am ruled more by my unfulfilled cravings, and I stand to meet his threat not caring about the consequences. Besides, Hoods hates Peter. He might welcome a change in leadership.
“Stop it, you two,” Caleb mutters weakly from the ground to my right. Ever since our stunt with chains, he hasn’t been able to walk right. It has something to do with his left ankle. It’s going to make my life exponentially more difficult; I’ll have to find a way to cover for him when they inevitably stick us back on trench duty in the morning. No doubt upon seeing him in the state he’s in, the Kalykans would execute him. They spend our lives like currency on the battlefield, but that currency has value only if it remains unbroken, and I fear Caleb has been altered beyond repair for the immediate future.
I exhale a long breath through my nose to calm myself, then turn away from Peter. I lie down and roll over to at least try and get some sleep. If I’m lucky, I’ll catch a few hours.
The muddy rags that I call a bed stink of rot, and I sink further into my misery. Forced to fight against my own country, to kill my fellow men to survive? Do I even deserve to find my wife and daughter? Will they recognize me at all? I recognize myself less and less each day of this forsaken war.
I cannot sleep, so I peer out the bottom of the tent at the boots marching past in the mud and wooden tracks. A particularly shiny pair of black officer’s boots march toward our tent.
“Peter, come with me.” It’s Guard Lieutenant Hoods. “We caught a few soldiers stealing from the officers’ mess yesterday. Normally we’d just execute them, but instead we’re giving them to your group since you’re so low.” Hoods must have finished handing out the reward to Group Thirteen; now onto the lowly Group Eleven.
Part of me wants to turn around and scream at the lieutenant, “Tripping the horses was my idea! Group Thirteen stole it! If it wasn’t for me and Caleb, Group Thirteen would be dead.” But whatever shred of logic still clings to my mind prevents me from doing it. Any attention drawn to Caleb or me would be bad. I try to keep my head down and my wits about me. My back cracks as I twist on the unkind ground, trying to get more comfortable, and take in Caleb, who is lying on the ground much like I am. He looks paler than usual.
I must give him a worried look because he says, “You shouldn’t worry about me so much. I’m going to be fine.” He stares into the back of our tent like a sailor searching for land that’s nowhere to be found. He doesn’t look right. I muster the strength to sit up and check him.
“Sorry, Caleb, your fault for saving my life. I’m gonna worry.” He smiles at this, just slightly.
“Did I ever tell you about my daughter?” he asks. “She’d be about your age now.” This is the first piece of personal information the man has ever divulged to me. I let him continue. “I loved that little girl. There’s not a day that goes by I don’t think about her.” He pauses, working the courage up to say something. “It’s funny, how cruel life can be sometimes. How it’s only after we’ve lost something that we truly value it.” Tears fall from his face to the dirt, staining it a darker brown.
“Did you lose her in the war?” My question feels hollow, a politeness born out of expectation and shared grief.
“Sadly, Nolan”—Caleb’s wipes his eyes with even dirtier hands—“I lost her long before. To an argument neither of us deems important enough to recall.”
“I’m sorry,” I say, not knowing what else to. Mercifully, Caleb continues.
“I saw everything, Nolan. I saw ’em beat you. Saw ’em take your girls. I don’t know why I helped you in the train. Maybe I admired how you fought for your girl, when I just pushed mine away and lost her forever. The regrets I’ve had in my life …” His jaw trembles as he tries to get the last part out. “But you’ve repaid your debt to me. You don’t owe me anything. My daughter was right, Nolan: I’m deadweight, only good at dragging down those around me. If you keep trying to save me or cover for me, you’ll lose any chance you have of seeing your family again. I’d give anything to see my daughter again one last time, but I know she wouldn’t look at me. Of the two of us, you still have that chance.”
I shake my head in dismay, but I don’t know what to say to the man in the face of his hopelessness. I’ve felt this before, when my mother died. For the last year of her life she was confined to her bed and always in a sour mood. I would try to be positive, try to give her hope that her condition would improve, but I could see that every time I delivered words of hope, they would fall on deaf ears. It’s a harrowing experience to know someone you love so much is in so much pain and there’s no way to pull them out of it. In the end, all I could do was be there at her side as her life slowly faded. She was so pale at the end.
Be good Nolan … Be good. I think of her cold, shaking hand caressing my face.
Wait, Caleb is pale. I put the back of my hand to his forehead, and my hand feels as though I’m placing it on steel during a hot summer day.
“How long have you had the fever, Caleb?” I look around, seeking help I know won’t come. Why do we do that? Why do we hope a savior will descend from the heavens and solve all of our problems? But there is no savior, no William Atlee like the Kalykans believe. There is simply us, living in accordance with nature, with the Seasons, as they come and go.
“What did I just say? Don’t you worry about ol’ Caleb,” he mutters as his eyes close.
What am I going to do?
We sit in silence for about half an hour until Peter returns with three newcomers, all former Kalykan soldiers. How quickly their fortunes have changed; a day ago they were safe behind a wall of conscripts, but now they are meat for the butcher. Peter introduces them by name one by one, but I make a point to immediately forget them. As the tall one recounts his story of how the three were caught stealing liquor, I see Levi stalking toward our tent. Walter trails behind him and goes to grab the capa’s arm to stop him. Levi doesn’t like that. He whips back around, and the two begin arguing in hushed tones. Levi, clearly fed up with the man, points back toward the Group Thirteen tent, and after a moment, Walter treks back with his arms dug into his pockets like a grumpy teenager.
“What are we going to do? Maybe we can earn our way back,” the tall newcomer muses to his two cohorts.
Peter perks up, happy to slide the knife in an already downed enemy. “Did they brand you with the gammadon?” All three raise their palms. “Well, then you’re as good as fu—”
Levi marches into our tent and sights me immediately, ignoring the rest of the men. His aquiline features add a certain confidence to his movement. His eyes rove over the crowd, like an eagle’s looking down on us from a perch high in a tree.
“Levi, what in the blazes? You can’t just march into my tent without permission,” barks Peter. Levi ignores the man and speaks to me.
“You’re probably mad at me for taking credit for your tactic. But you should understand that there are two types of people in this world, Nolan: the predators and the prey. Are you a predator?”
This feels like a test, like my future depends on my answer to this one question. He looks at me intently, awaiting an answer.
“What is this, Levi?” Peter interjects. “Get out of he—”
I step forward, cutting Peter off. “To get back to my family, I’m willing to do anything. If that means being a predator, so be it.”
Levi studies my face, searching for any expression that might prove I’m lying. He’ll find none. Without breaking eye contact with me, he says to Peter, “I propose a trade for this man. I’ll give you two of mine for him.”
“No,” says Peter. A smile creeps onto his lips.
Levi’s hawk eyes swing to their new target. “There are only five men in this group. My proposition will bring your numbers up to six, which is more than generous.”
“You really think the world revolves around you?” Peter says with disdain. “I’ve been watching you ever since you got here. You have some sort of deal with Hoods, don’t you? That’s the only explanation for why you always get the best positions on the battlefield while the rest of us are sent to die.”
“Three men,” Levi offers, unaffected by Peter’s accusations. “Three men for this one.”
“Boots here is worth ten men if he is worth anything. Get up to eight, and maybe we’ll talk.” Peter closes his eyes and smiles, thinking he’s won the verbal joust. “I want in on the deal with Hoods too. Whatever Group Thirteen gets, so, too, will Group Eleven. It’s only fair.”
A quiet hatred builds behind Levi’s eyes. Peter finds himself with a modicum of power. It goes to his head.
“I’ll offer you four, but that’s as high as I’m willing to go,” Levi says with finality.
Peter considers for a moment and then a slow smile begins to sprout. “You’re not used to being told no, are you? I’m going to make this easy for you. No. Now get the fuck out of my tent.”
Levi sighs, then looks at me and back to Peter. “I want you to know that I did give you a chance. It didn’t have to be this way.” His hand is like an adder as it wraps around Peter’s throat. He lifts the sniveling coward off the ground. The move reminds me of the way the horsewoman snatched up the disobeying soldier back at the sorting camp. Except this snake isn’t letting go of its prey. As Peter struggles for air, none of the members of Group Eleven know what to do. The tall, newly minted conscript looks to me like I’m supposed to break it up and is a little shocked at how little Peter’s life means to me.
“I’m going to ask you again, Peter. Would you be willing to accept my offer of three men for Nolan here?”
“Four!” A gargled voice is all Peter can manage. “You said … four!”
Levi squeezes tighter. “Peter, will you accept my offer of two men in exchange for this one?” I’m not even sure how, but Peter manages to nod. “Wonderful,” Levi says, dropping his menacing tone just as he lets go of Peter’s throat. He claps his hands together. It’s punctuated by a deep gasp of air from Peter as life flows back into his body. Levi looks to me.
“Nolan, come on.” His gaze swings back over to Peter, who backs away warily. “I’ll send the two men over, Pete. You should cheer up. The men you’re going to get will be some of my most reliable.”
I ruin the moment. I can see it in Levi’s face as I utter the words: “I can’t go without Caleb.”
Levi’s eyebrows furrow in frustration as he closes his eyes and shakes his head in disappointment.
“Which one is Caleb?”
I point to my friend who has grown so weak that he looks like he’ll expire at any moment. Levi crouches down and places his hand Caleb’s forehead. “A brave man, to be sure. But this fellow is feverish and has seen a fair share of winters. He brings no value to Group Thirteen. I don’t feel comfortable trading for him.”
“Without him, I never would have been able to trip the horses,” I argue.
“You just told me you would be willing to do anything to see your family again. What if one of those things is leaving him behind?” Levi points to Caleb, illustrating his point. “You’re already making me wary of trading for you. Maybe I misread you.”
“He saved my life. Without him I wouldn’t be here,” I say. “You are a man who values loyalty, clearly. Surely you can understand me here?”
“Shut your mouth, lad. I’ll be fine. Go,” Caleb musters weakly, but I’m arguing for his life. It’s like he wants to give up, but I won’t let him.
Levi shakes his head in disappointment. “Loyalty, yes. But sentimentality will get you killed.” He thinks for a moment more before letting loose an annoyed groan. He calls at the top of his lungs, back toward his tent, “Warrick, get over here.” He turns to me. “If my man says he’s too far gone, then that’s it. He used to be a doctor before the Kalykans rounded him up, and I doubt there’s better care that a conscript can find than his.” He shifts toward Peter, who still looks at him in the way a frightened child would after being disciplined. “If we deem …” Levi looks toward me and gestures his hand in a circular motion, indicating I need to supply him with a name.
“Caleb,” I say.
Levi nods his head. “If we deem Caleb here fit enough to trade for, I’ll give you one extra. Three men for two, and one of those two is in rough shape. Consider it ‘addition by subtraction.’ Are we good here, Pete?”
Peter nods. He may be a pathetically craven pile of wet socks, but he’s not stupid.
Warrick, the wiry man with glasses from Group Thirteen, jogs over, and when he speaks, I’m shocked at how high pitched his voice sounds. I try to hide that surprise, lest I offend him. This man is here to help. Levi quickly explains the situation, and after Warrick places the back of his hand on Caleb’s forehead, poking and prodding him a bit, he turns to me.
“How long has he had the fever?”
“I just noticed it today. He has had a pretty pronounced limp ever since the battle.” Warrick examines the injured ankle, producing a hissing sound from its owner. After another poke and a subsequent grunt of pain, Warrick seizes Caleb’s heel, and in one sudden, fluid motion, he twists and pulls it with a surprising pop. Caleb goes to scream, but is shocked to find it doesn’t hurt him anymore. He rotates his foot, astonished at the lack of pain.
“Just dislocated. Not life threatening, and it wouldn’t cause a fever. Sanitation leaves a lot to be desired, so he could have gotten sick from the conditions, but something tells me …” He starts checking the other areas of Caleb’s body. When he rolls up Caleb’s sleeve and I’m greeted with a festering wound shaped like an arrow, I grow angry.
“Why didn’t you tell me, Caleb?” I ask, but the old man doesn’t say a word. Pain is probably the dominant force in his world right now. I can’t break through that.
Warrick lets out a sound like the buzzing of a bee. He’s clearly formulating an idea. “Levi,” he says with a breathy tone. “Do you think you can get Oly to steal some fruit for me?”
The capa of Group Thirteen looks thoughtfully toward his tent. “Should be easy enough.”
“Ah, but I haven’t stipulated the exact condition of the fruit,” says Warrick playfully.
“Just spit it out. Can you save the man or not?” Levi is clearly growing frustrated.
“As long as the fruit is rotting, I might be able to. The infection hasn’t reached devastating stages quite yet, and the research I was doing on the bacteria from rotting fruits back home had some interesting results. Since he’s not too far gone, I think I might be able to save him.”
Levi, having heard enough, turns back to the capa of Group Eleven.
“Well, Peter, you’ve got three of my men for two of yours. Pleasure doing business with you.”