I barely remembered the drive to the recruitment camp because the instant I sat down, my eyelids were so heavy I was fighting to keep them open. It had been impossible to sleep last night because of all the butterflies in my stomach and andreneline coursing through my veins.

The crowded seats and duffel bags piled on the aisle floor were comforting, though the majority of men on the bus were silent. They all appeared to be in their late teens and early twenties, some talking amongst each other, others listening to their music through their headphones. These guys were huge, some of them having the most ripped arms and legs that I’d ever seen.

Well, at least I know who not to mess with.

* * * * *

I must’ve dozed off because a loud bang echoed through the bus, causing me to jump. My neck and back felt sore from sitting in the same position for a long time, and dried saliva streaked my right cheek. The bus was still, and I realized that it had stopped raining outside. A tall man wearing a camaflouged uniform with the snake symbol on his sleeve stepped on board. His hazel eyes narrowed at the sight of us.

All conversation ceased.

“Gentlemen,” the man said. His voice was very raspy and deep. “You have arrived at our campus. Welcome to Fort Hill. You are about to embark on a very special journey, especially from the civilian life. Some of you will make it; some of you will not. It all depends on you. And if you won’t listen to me, your career will be very short. You can be a Red Mamba, with discipline and spirit. Here we treat each other with dignity and respect. My name is Sergeant Mitchell, but you address me as drill sergeant. All the time; every single day. Anyone who fails to do so owes me pushups. That’s the number one rule.”

There was a long silence.

“Is that clear?!”

“Yes, drill sergeant!” A chorus of deep voices rang in the air. The man folded his arms and took a step forward. In the light, I could make out a jagged scar on his chin.

“I want everyone to get off my bus in a single file line and stop right in front of the double doors in the building, where you will be told what to do next. You have two minutes, tops.”

“Yes, drill sergeant!”

“Now!” he screeched.

We all scrambled to our feet. It felt like static was going through mine because they were asleep. It wasn’t the best feeling. With my left hand I hoisted my bag over my shoulder as I followed the others outside. The sound of gravel crunching against our boots filled the air as we approached a large brick building. Above our heads, a giant flag with the red snake contrasting with the white background flew in the wind. It cast a shadow over us as we stood in front of the doors. They soon made us stand in stiff positions for ten minutes based on commands.

“Attention!” yelled the sergeant as we moved into another one. “Look down at your feet and spread them out. You should be able to place a slice of pizza between them.”

There were two other drill sergeants there, one of them being a woman. Her face was lined with wrinkles, and her dark hair was pulled back tightly in a bun. She and her fellow partner circled around us like hawks, scoping out those who had failed to reach the two minute mark. They dropped down on the ground and instantly began doing pushups.

I gulped. Davis had made me do those all the time, but my upper body strength was terrible. I couldn’t do past twenty before I felt like my arms were about to snap.

“Listen up!” Sergeant Mitchell’s voice broke through my thoughts. “When you get inside, remove any jewelry, alcohol, tobacco, cigarettes, drugs and cell phones, and put them in the plastic bins. If you have any on you, now is the chance to come clean. If you don’t, there will be serious consequences. You will then proceed to follow me.”

“Yes, drill sergeant,” we shouted.

My hands were shaking badly as I fumbled with the zipper of my duffle bag to get it open in time. These guys were so tall I could barely see over their heads. As we stepped through the double doors a cool gust of air blew in our face, it felt like a relief to get out of the hot sun. The clunking sound of heavy objects falling into the plastic bin dazzled me, and I stood there like an idiot, since I didn’t have any of those things. The new cell phone Baldwin had gotten for me was still back in my room.

“Hey, you.”

I spun around, my heart skipping a beat. The lady sergeant was coming over to me, one hand on her hip. Her dark brown eyes seemed to see through my soul. All around me, the guys began to continue down the hall.

“Why are you wasting time?!”

I just stared at her. She pointed at me with a crooked finger. Her neck muscles were bulging like crazy.

”Are you deaf? Answer the question!”

“N-no....”

“Don’t act like we haven’t heard about you and the disrespect you’ve been showing towards one of the bravest men who ever served this country. No wonder he sent you here to us, he got tired of your mouth! You think you a snowflake now, hmm? That you don’t have to do none of this?”

He didn’t send me, I wanted to be here.

”No...” I struggled to find my words. “No....no....sir.”

“Do I look like a man to you?”

The urge to smile was getting stronger as I clamped down on my lower jaw. I couldn’t remember the last time I wanted to laugh. I hadn’t realized my mistake until just now. But if I knew if I said anything else, it would’ve only made things worse, and that was the last thing I wanted to do, especially in this place. Unfortunately, it was impossible to hold back as I began to snort. The expression on the woman’s face made me lose it.

“Get down and give me thirty!” she hollered.

* * * * * *

They took us into another room, the soreness in my arms still lingering behind. The other sergeants were keeping a close eye on me, the woman recording my failure in a log she carried with her. I hadn’t been here for more than twenty minutes and they already had a vendetta against me. I sighed, cracking my knuckles.

Strike one.

“You’re all moving like snails!” Sergeant Mitchell yelled. At this point I was surprised that he even had a voice left. “This isn’t a spa, how are you all going to join the army if you can’t even walk down the hallway properly! You think this is some sort of stroll in the park?! March! We don’t have all day.”

Not too far in front of me, the recruits were quickly plopping themselves in four chairs lined up by each other. Three other men stood behind them, holding an electric razor in their hands and shaving their heads. Piles of hair gathered by their feet as they got up. When I sat down in that seat, I braced myself as huge clumps of my red hair fell on my lap, clinging to my jacket. I was grateful there wasn’t a mirror anywhere so I didn’t have to see what I looked like.

“Move it!”

My head felt cold and light as I piled into a classroom with everyone else, who looked worn out from all the yelling and carrying on from the sergeants. For a moment, I imagined that that I was in a high school setting, that I was in a real class. As the officers entered the room, I expected more hollering. But to my surprise, they handed out granola bars, fruit cups, and water bottles, which we devoured quickly as they made us watch a video. The voiceover sounded stiff and robotic, and the quality was trash, but everyone looked engaged because they had to be.

“For generations, Plod has been a country of freedom and prosperity, united by the forty cities located in the north, east, south, and west hemispheres of our beloved island. Each city has its own government and army, but they rely mainly on our troops for their safety, which we pride ourselves on. The Red Mamba strives to keep order and balance, and to protect and serve the life of each citizen. It is our sole responsibility to train our men to be able to do this kind of job. Our goal is to help every city with their government system, as certain issues such as poverty, riots, and hunger have been prevelant.”

I yawned and drained the last bit of juice from my fruit cup. The drill sergeants stood by the projector, their shadows illuminated in the against the cinderblock wall.

“Establishing order is a valued course of action that the Red Mamba prides itself on.”

A grotesque caricature of a Khonie, maybe a cartoon of some sort, flashed across the screen. Some people flinched at the sight, and then there were more photographs of strange, demented looking individuals standing in front of destroyed buildings and bombed streets. One of them held a bloodied machete in one hand, a decapitated head of a man in the other.

A chill ran down my spine.

“The Khonie, as you have all learned in high school, are non human. They are a large minority of dangerous creatures whose soul purpose is to cause nothing but destruction and fear to our citizens. They prey on the weak and the innocent, and eat human flesh. They believe that they are native Plodians, and they do not have a right to dwell on the island with us.”

“Exactly!” someone hollered.

To my surprise, none of the sergeants seemed to react by this outburst. The light from the film glowed from their eyes, which in some way made me think they agreed. The palms of my hands felt sweaty.

The voiceover continued. “To solve this problem, we have attempted to transport many of them to separate maximum security wards in the six cities that we are already serving, including Jova. They are an uncivilized group accustomed to a perverted way of life, living in shoddy villages in the wilderness. Millions of these creatures run freely around, causing more and more damage. It is about time that justice is served not to only them, but to their victims and families members as well.”

Several black and white photographs of honored officers appeared on the screen, but my thoughts were all over the place. I had never seen a Khonie in my life, not even at Nivea, let alone a village.

“Times are changing in the world, however. These creatures are starting to flee from their villages and reside in most cities in an attempt to blend in. With the lack of money or skills, they linger around in our society, putting our civilians more at risk. They are easy to spot. These cities refuse to the deal with the problem, but we, as the Red Mamba, will stand up and do the right thing. Our mission of the army remains constant: that we protect, serve, and maintain sustained dominance over the land.”

When the video ended and the lights turned back on, the drill sergeants made us sort through our paperwork, yelling out our last names. There was deep murmuring in the room as the recruits rummaged through their folders. I glanced at my roster number at the top of my paper, which was three hundred and five. It wasn’t until they called out a really weird name did everyone stop talking.

“Mouse!” yelled Sergeant Mitchell.

Everyone looked confused. I squinted at the page before looking back at him. He clenched his jaw.

“Respond when I’m talking to you!”

How am I supposed to know? That’s not my name. I slowly pointed at my chest before rising to my feet.

“Yes, you. You know who the hell you are. What’s your platoon number?”

“Uh....” I tried to gain my composure. “S-sir....my last name is...it’s-“

“Did you just try to correct me?” His face was so red it matched the background of the flag in the corner of the room. “Like I don’t know what I’m talking about. How dare you disrespect me like this. For the last time, what is your platoon number?”

“It’s....” I quickly glanced down at the page. “It’s three hundred and five, sir!”

“What?!”

“Three hundred and five.”

“You are in platoon number three. Your color is blue. Remember that, Mouse. Now drop down and give me ten pushups. You don’t call me sir, you call me drill sergeant. And nobody told you stand up.”

* * * * * *

I thought that night would never arrive, but it did. I was assigned to a cot closest to the corner of the room. The cafeteria food wasn’t that bad, although the mashed potatoes that I had made my stomach feel queasy. We were supposed be in bed strictly at a certain time, but had an hour to ourselves. The guys were playing cards, joking or laughing with each other, or some just passed out on the beds already. The weapons, helmets, and uniforms wouldn’t come until tomorrow.

As I sat down on the small, thin mattress, I instinctively ran a hand over my scalp, but realized there wasn’t any hair to push back over my shaved head. Most of these guys were rocking the look anyways, although none of them paid me any mind. I wanted to say hello, but I realized I was hidden like a mouse. However, it felt good to be in a room buzzing with conversation and laughter, compared to the dreadful silence I usually dealt with every night.

It almost reminded me of home.

I reached into my pockets and pulled out a ballpoint pen that I stole from the classroom, along a few napkins I had grabbed from the cafeteria. There wasn’t any paper anywhere, and I wished that I had brought one of my books to pass the time. Usually this would be the time for me to talk to my mother, but I didn’t want to do it in front all of these people. Hopefully, she wouldn’t mind if I wrote to her instead. With my hand, I spread out the napkins as well as I could in front of me and began to scrawl on it.

Dear Mom,

It’s only day one and I’m worn out. I know they’re trying to make us strong, but right now these officers are just giving us a headache. They keep calling me Mouse just because I’m shorter than the other guys around here. Some of the eighteen and nineteen year olds look like they’re in their thirties. It’s terrifying.

I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you last night. I was kind of stressed. So I’m writing to you now. Hopefully your ghost can still read. It’s a lot better being here than at that government building, I can tell you that, although I hadn’t made any friends yet. There’s plenty of time for that, though.

I began to chew the end of my pen and glanced at the clock on the wall. We had less then thirty minutes before they would scream at us again. A small shout erupted from one of the cots on the other side of the room, where a few dudes were having an arm wrestling match.

Sergeant Mitchell said that we were going to receive three thousand rupees for the next two weeks for our services. They paying us good, even though we’re not real soldiers yet. I kind of have everything I want already, so I don’t know what to do with the money. It’s the training that I’m worried about. I still don’t know how to shoot.

Something wet dripped through my fingers. To my dismay, the ink had exploded all over my hands and got on my shirt because there was a crack in the pen. I nearly folded up the napkin and slid it underneath my pillow, leaving a few smudges on the surface. I didn’t want anyone else to read it or find it. A couple of guys had begun singing and laughing, the scent of marijuana lingering in the air.

Well, someone was going to get busted.

I rested my head on the pillow, watching them, wishing I had the courage to get up and say something. I never thought myself as a shy person, but these guys did look intimidating. Some were even wrestling with each other, pinning each other on the ground as the others roared with laughter. I turned over on my side, ignoring the familiar lump in my throat before closing my eyes. Their voices still leaked through, taunting me in the darkness.