Chapter 2

My alarm goes off the next morning as usual, but I am already awake. I didn't sleep at all last night, my mind racing through the possibilities. Jonah was made for this. Physically, he's strong. He can run for miles without breaking a sweat and I know from his boasts that he lifts heavy in the gym. Mentally, Jonah is not only ready for this, but craves it. From the moment this war broke out, Jonah has done nothing but fantasise about the day he could join the forces. Jonah is not easily intimidated, nor scared.

Me, on the other hand? Physically, I am average at best. At school, I found myself to be naturally athletic, but never took much of an interest in sports after leaving. With the decrease in food each week, whatever muscle I did have is sure to have diminished. Mentally though? I like to think of my morals as a strength. I'm clear on what I consider right and wrong and I hold myself to the same standards of which I hold others. Violence however, is a different story. Growing up Jonah used to make me watch horror movies, because he knew I scared easy. I wouldn't sleep for days after, and would crawl into my parent's bed to feel safety. I avoid conflict and confrontation at all costs. Not an attribute that makes you stand out as a particularly great soldier.

I hear the shuffle of my mother downstairs in the kitchen already. I'm sure she experienced the same night of insomnia I did. I can smell the sweet scent of pancakes wafting upstairs. We don't normally eat breakfast since the rations were introduced, but today is not normal. I reluctantly get out of bed and head to the shower. The water is cold, as normal. I soak my hair and wash my body. I waste no time in getting out of the icy water and wrapping a towel around me. I look in the mirror at the face staring back at me. Tired. Weak. Not a soldier.

I tie my long, blonde hair into a French-Plait, that rests on my right shoulder. I get dressed and begin to head downstairs. I pause halfway as I hear my mother outside, talking to the neighbour. Wendy, our neighbour, was an older lady. Her partner died 8 years ago and she has no children. Since the war began, we've tried to keep an eye on her, but she insists she does not need our help.

"Conscription day then?" I strain my ears to hear the faint, frail voice of Wendy.

"Yes, I-I can't believe it" my mother replies. I can hear the numbness in her voice. I think she may be in shock.

"Jonah's a hardy boy, he'll be fine. I see the way he walks about this town. I wouldn't want to get on the wrong side of him" Wendy says.

"Yes, Jonah is his father's son. I've always known he could hold his own, even as a little boy. I remember the boys down the road tried to pick a fight with him when they were 8. I cried myself to sleep that night, worried sick. His dad though? Slept like a baby. Told me not to worry, that Jonah was going to sort it tomorrow. And he did. The next day, Jonah came back from school happy as anything. I chose to ignore it at the time, but I noticed the scuffing on Jonah's knuckles and I knew exactly how he had 'sorted it." My mother laughs.

"Well then, sounds like you have nothing worry about it" Wendy says softly.

"Not with Jonah, no. But..." my mothers voice trails off even quieter. I take a few steps further down the stairs in an effort to hear. "But Mollie is a different story. Mollie has always been quiet and timid. Wouldn't hurt a fly as her father would say. She won't be the only gentle soul there today. I don't know what the government are thinking sending all these young people off to war. They're barely adults, they don't know what they're doing" I can hear my mother start to cry.

"Oh, don't cry dear. With all these extra soldiers, this war will be over before you know it. She'll be back home and you'll be waiting there for her with open arms" Wendy says, trying to console her.

"No, that's just it" my mother sniffles. "That's what I'm worried about. Sending girls like Mollie off to war is like.. is like sending pigs to slaughter." I gasp and drop to sit down on the stairs. "When I hug Mollie goodbye today, I fear it may be our last." And with those words out of my mothers mouth, I feel a weight crashing down on top of me. The reality of what's truly happening finally sinking in. I am going to war, and I don't stand a chance.

I hear Jonah's footsteps at the top of the landing. I wipe the tears that had been falling down my face and stand up.

"Time for breakfast Mollie, then we need to go. Don't want to be late, first impressions and all that" Jonah shoulders past me on the stairs and he takes a seat at the table. Numb, I follow behind.

_______

Breakfast passes by in an instant, and before I know it, it's time to say goodbye. Jonah goes first and my mother is already crying.

"Bye darling boy, be safe." She says as she wraps her arms around him. Jonah keeps his arms by his side for a moment, before reluctantly reciprocating the embrace.

"Goodbye mum" he says before walking out the door. He takes a step and then turns his head back to look at her. "See you soon" he says with a wink before making his way down the path, and this time, he doesn't look back.

My mum lets out a sob before she turns to me. "There are no words" she starts.

"It's okay mum, I don't need words. I already know. I love you." I say as my voice breaks and the tears begin to roll again. We grab each other in a hug.

As we break away, my mother stands up straight and appears to, all of a sudden, find some strength. She wipes the tears from our faces and clears her throat. "Now, I expect to see you both very soon" she begins. "So, you keep your head down, you follow orders, and you use your skills to your advantage. And... if you see your father, tell him I love him."

"I will mum" is all I can seem to utter, and I accept this is the last time that I will see her.

I turn to face the door and begin to walk down the path.

"I love you!" she calls from the door, and I can hear that she's crying again. I take Jonah's lead and I don't look back. I don't look back because I don't want to the last time I see my mother to be in tears.

"I love you" I whisper silently to myself, and jog slightly to catch up with Jonah.

_______

Shuttle buses were operating from the main road, picking up the thousands of young people lining the streets and dropping them at the district bases. I look out the window as we pull up to the gates. The place is crawling with soldiers, armed with guns bigger than anything I'd seen before. I glance over at Jonah who is sitting next to me. I know he can see me in his peripheral but he doesn't acknowledge me. I feel movement as we are allowed through the gates. We are hustled off the bus and guided towards the main parade square. I've never seen so many people in one place. I stay glued to Jonah's side as we find a space. There's a low noise echoing around the square as people chat quietly amongst themselves.

The noise fades before coming to a complete silence. I look up to see three soldiers entering the square. They walk up the stairs onto the podium in front of us all. The soldier in the middle steps forward taking his place at the mic. He is tall, well over 6 foot. He is broad and muscly and looks like he could pick me up with his pinky finger. His hair is jet black and swept up with gel. His skin is pale, at least what I can see of it under his tattoos. He is dressed all in black, sporting our emblem as a patch embroidered onto his left sleeve. His black combat boots are pristine, shining in the sunlight. His eyebrow is pierced and if I was to guess his age, I would say mid-30's. He taps the mic once before speaking into it.

"If you're expecting a welcome speech, I'm afraid this isn't it. My name is General Herman. You will address me as such. I am the highest-ranking officer of this district army. Time is of the essence and your training begins now. I won't address you as ladies and gentlemen because as of now, you are soldiers. I know this isn't what most of you would choose. To be frank, it's not our choice either" the man says as he gestures to the soldier on his left. His eyes scan the crowd with a look of distaste.

"We have created a condensed training course to best prepare you for the journey you are about to embark on. The skills my soldiers have spent months, even years developing, we need you to attain in two weeks. We're not miracle workers, these skills don't develop themselves. It's in your best interests to listen, train and put in the hours. If you don't... well... pay for it on the battlefield." General Herman's voice booms around the packed parade square. I catch a young girl two rows in front of me flinch at the harsh words.

"I'm going to pass you over to Lieutenant General Whitmore for your next instructions". General Herman quickly nods to the solider on his left before walking off down the stairs. He doesn't wait to finish the briefing.

"Okay everyone I'll make this quick. My name is Lieutenant General Whitmore. I am second in command around here. In a moment you will be processed into your training camps. These camps will be your family for the next two weeks. You will train with them, eat, sleep, shit with them, okay? This isn't college. Your camp is your camp, no swaps permitted. If you don't like someone, suck it up. You're not here to make friends, you're here to survive. We're not interested in your soap opera dramatics. Each camp will have a commanding officer in charge. They will oversee your training, programme, and determine where you will be best placed on the battlefield. Let me be clear. You worship the ground they walk on. They are not there to babysit you, coddle you or be a shoulder to cry on. They are there to keep you alive. Understand?"

I don't think the pit in my stomach could be any deeper. I was the child who cried when a teacher even looked in their direction. I'm going to be eaten alive.

"Understand?" General Whitmore repeats. A grumbling "yes" emits from the crowd.

"That's yes sir from now on" General Whitmore strikes back. "Make your way over to the desks to be assigned to a camp. Follow any and all instructions given to you be your commanding officers. Dismissed".

I turn around to talk to Jonah but he is already disappearing into the crowds. No emotional goodbyes here then. I make my way to the processing desks, looking for the shortest queue. I eventually reach the front and provide my name to the solider at the desk.

"Mollie Holton" I say.

"Age?" She replies.

"23".

"Camp 14" she says bluntly. She points me in a direction towards some buildings. "The very last block on the left. Good luck".

"Thanks" I mumble quietly, before heading off in that direction.

Being the furthest away block, the crowds are almost entirely gone by the time I reach the end. I arrive outside the block. It is a rectangular concrete building with a few small windows behind railings. Unsure of what to do, I gently knock the door. Before I can return my hand to my side, the door is opened and a solider stares back at me.

He is tall, similar to general Herman. His skin is much more tanned, though he clearly shares the same love of tattoos. His hair is brown, curly and slightly tousled. His eyes are piercing green and his muscles are defined. He looks the same age as me, maybe a little older. To be honest, I feel intimated by his appearance.

"Name?" he asks. His voice is deep.

"Mollie. Holton"

"Private Holton" he corrects me. The words sound strange coming out of his mouth. Me, a private?

I can't lie, I guess I was hoping for a female officer. Maybe stereotypical of me, but I had hoped they would have been kinder, more understanding maybe.

"My name is officer Styles. You can address me as such, or as sir. I am your God for the next two weeks". His tone is aggressive. God? What a prick.

"You listen to every word I say like it's the best fucking word you've ever heard. You speak when spoken to and only when spoken to. You give every fucking thing you have to your training and we'll get on just fine. If not, I'll make every second of your time here hell. Got it?" He says and his lips crack a smile for the first time. Not one ounce of it is genuine, it's a smile that makes my blood run cold.

"Got it" I manage to mutter out.

He takes a step forward until his shiny black boots are touching the top of my scuffed shoes. He towers over me and I can feel his breath hitting my face.

"Try that again Holton" He spits out, his voice venomous. I panic. What did I do wrong? He raises his eyebrows at me and I realise.

"Got it, sir".