Sunday, October 28, 2012

I am Immortal

It’s been two weeks. I’m still at camp. There were days when I had convinced myself they were just organizing my release. That was until today. I watched Zeno leave camp today. The general called him to the battlefield. He would have graduated in six months, but they needed soldiers, some mission. I don’t get it. The general barely paid attention to him.

I guess he is good. I try to remember that he is human. It’s funny to think that way. I’ve been labeled. I’m Immortal. Therefore I am not human? I feel human. I think human. Sometimes I wonder if they label us so they can justify treating us different. After all, if I were “human” I would not be here at such a young age. If I were “human,” they would never try to label me as the curse of the country. Then again, if I were “human” I would not hold an ability that justifies such a claim. If I were human, I couldn’t run under a four minute mile. If I were human, I couldn’t knock a grown man off his feet. If I were human, I couldn’t transform into a wolf. I like not being human. I like showing off at camp. I can propel myself up the exercise walls without increasing my heart rate. I can laugh at the boys I pass as they struggle not to vomit during our ten mile run once a week. I like feeling stronger than them.

Zeno really was the only one who was any match for me. He’s seven years older than I am, but our strength was becoming almost evenly matched. I hate him. But he challenged me. He was my drive to improve. My stupid war with him kept my mind off the obvious. I am here, training to enter into a war. I am here, training to be a killing machine. I feel sick every time I think of it. I hate him, but what am I without him? He was the only one who could see me for what I am. He didn’t see the wolf. He didn’t see the little girl whose family was murdered. He saw me for who I am and he hated me. But I hated him, too.

I can’t say I was too sad to see him go. Who knows? Maybe camp will be better with him gone. He was grinning as he rode toward the port. But I don’t think he will be grinning on the battlefield. Maybe he will be. He seems more of a natural killer than I will ever be. Maybe he should be their killing machine. I’ll stay here. It’ll be different. I can prove my worth here. But I won’t stay forever. If the general can’t get me out, then I can just get myself out. I am Immortal after all. I am above the human race. I can do it. It’s just going to take some time…and no more distractions.

Sunday, October 21, 2012

The General

Today was such a good day! In the twilight of the morning, we prepped the camp; sidewalks were swept, windows were washed, barracks were cleaned, crisp flags were raised. The camp looked almost new by the time we had finished. After breakfast, the captain ordered distribution of our new uniforms. Blue wool. They had been ironed, edges sharp. It felt different, wearing clothes that fit, not feeling the cool breeze drift through worn holes. They felt heavier on my shoulders. But I was warm for the first time since fall had crept into the pines. I did notice my lack of buttons compared to the others. It’s the first time I cared. But I’m different. They don’t have a four paws button. Zeno had six. By far the most. But who cares? I’ll be gone soon, anyway.

We stood in rows. I tried to stand straight, my shoulder back and head held high, listening to the whipping of the flag high above. The grinding of carriage wheels quickened my pulse. I was moments from earning my freedom. Following the black carriage were twenty black horses, marching in unison. The carriage continued, a black hawk flying low under the pines. I could barely keep from bouncing with joy as they stopped. We waited forever, while the soldiers set up the perimeter. I could see their training as they moved. They had graduated from this camp, no doubt. And now they were out. Just like me.

He stood tall, a giant even compared to Captain. His shoulders were so broad; I bet he could pick up a house without much trouble. But his eyes, dark brown, they cut through us. He saw us in our best uniforms, standing without a sway…unimpressed. In fact, the same frown cut his face for the entire time…with one exception. Captain first had me run an obstacle course. I jumped over walls and weaved through debris at record breaking speed, all while the boys threw things at me. They volunteered happily, but no one hit me. I was too quick. I looked at him, wanting to impress, but he remained stone.

Then, came the battlefield. We divided into two colors, except for me. Everyone knew I was on team red. Their swords were wood sticks with sponges dipped in their team’s color. I had to forget about him for a time, focusing on “killing” as many as I could. I stalked the outskirts, watching them. I knew these boys. I knew their movements. When the opportunity presented itself, I attacked. I threw them to the ground, pushing a painted paw against their necks. I wasn’t with a victim for more a few seconds. I cut threw them, driven to take them out, to prove my worth. It was thrilling. When the whistle blew and I turned around I saw it. It was ever so slight, but when we met gazes the corners of his lips turned. He left, but I know I’m getting out of here. Soon.

Sunday, October 14, 2012

A Break in Routine

Six months have passed. The days blur into one long routine. I still think my father will walk through the bunkhouse door, his broad shoulders filling the space. He was my protector, my defender. I knew, when I wrapped my fingers around his hand, that nothing could hurt me. Last I saw him, I stood just past his waist. I wonder how tall I’ve gotten here. I wonder, if I stood next to him, if I would stand closer to his shoulders. I want to see him at my door, proclaiming with his big grin that today we will throw out our plans.

I remember one day he announced we were going to a farmer’s market. A wagon train had come in from Amphitrite to sell goods. I remember the wagons. They were taller than my father. I had to strain my neck to see. Makeshift tables lined the streets, the colors of their produce bright against the wood buildings. I only remember bits and pieces, but I remember the colors the most; green apples and orange vegetables, red tomatoes bigger than my fist and corn practically sparkled against the sun. The entire town was out. At some point, someone decided to play their fiddle. I clapped my hands amongst the crowd building.

I remember being disappointed when we left early. My father was mad at something. I don’t remember, but maybe I had wandered off for a time? Anyway, I wish he would come through the door. His smile would take away the gloom, I know. I hope on many nights that he survived, that he’ll come to save me. Then I remember the heat of the flames. He couldn’t save me that night. He was big and tough but couldn’t stop them.

There are no farmer’s markets here. There are no reasons to break from the routine. Rise at dawn, run the camp’s perimeter, eat breakfast, conduct daily chores, attend education class, eat lunch, run the obstacle course, attend weaponry class, combat training, eat dinner, participate in competitions, honorary buttons awarded, go to bed, start again. Tomorrow it changes. General Scopas is visiting. I can feel the vibration from the officers. They are planning big showcases.

I know I will be part of the festivities. The general will want to see my progress. Zeno has spent the day sharpening his swords and polishing his shoes. He cares more about the visit than I. General Scopas is not the farmer’s market. I don’t think he is exciting at all. But, something inside makes me want to please him. Maybe I should polish my shoes and patch the holes in my uniform. Maybe he is the key to leaving. I don’t care if he takes me to the battlefield. I can easily go home from there. Yes. I will show him how great of a solider I am. I will show him that I deserve to leave. Goodnight for now, my friend. There is a lot to prepare.

Saturday, October 6, 2012

Who is Pandora?

I remember a meadow a few miles south of our house that occupied most of my afternoons. When my father was done with his morning teachings, I would always migrate there. The pine trees parted, revealing a clear blue sky…most days. Small yellow flowers danced with the green grass. I spent most of the time lost in thought. Looking back, it was silly. I thought about drama with the other children in the city…like who cast me a dirty glare on the street. I would daydream what it’d be like to live normal. Other times, I pretended I was a princess in some faraway land. 

Such time wasted on little thoughts. I have much bigger things to think about now. The biggest? Who am I? Others have their own opinion. King Menelaus, well, he thinks I am a monster. But he is more than willing to use this monster for his own advantage. To him, I am as Cerberus is to Hades, serving and yet untamed. Zeno also sees me as a monster, but maybe not as horrible. Yet, his opinion is shaped by the fact I am his competition. I can beat him in our kilometer sprints. I may not be stronger in hand-to-hand practices, but I am quicker. I stand in the way of him dominating daily tests. Therefore I hinder his pursuit of becoming general. He has never said it, but I know he sees an obstacle when he looks at me. And, worse, a girl. 

His view is annoying. I tire of the competition, especially as I nurse a sprained ankle from an “accident” he undoubtedly caused. That’s okay because he’s nursing a sprained wrist from the same “accident.” Like I said, he’s stronger, but I’m quicker. I still tire of the pursuit. It is not in me. Yet, even with the pain and torment, I would take that over the Captain. He sees an innocent child, which makes things worse. He treats me like a baby with his special privileges. There’s guilt in his eyes. He wants me to be a good warrior and I make him proud when I excel, but he hates training a girl so young. He thinks he is corrupting me. He thinks the boys torment is damaging to me, that I am a weakling he needs to protect. Doesn’t he see his “help” makes things worse? How am I supposed to fit in when he treats me different? 

I find it odd. They all have determined their opinions of me, but I haven’t figured it out. Am I a monster or a victim? A soldier or a child? Do I even like who I am? Do I want something different? Why can they make up their minds when they can’t read my thoughts? How do they know without a doubt who I am when it is a mystery to me? Who am I? Do you know? Can you tell me? Because I don’t think anyone has it right.

Tuesday, October 2, 2012

Friendship

I lost a friend today. Maybe I never had one in the first place. Her name is Solona, transferred in a few weeks ago. Finally, another girl at the training camp. The Atlantis army doesn’t discriminate, but they certainly like their soldiers male and strong. I’ve come to discover many people doubt a girl’s ability to keep up with the boys. I not only keep up with them, but I am one of the top performers. I break the stereotype and I guess they boys don’t like that. At least that’s what Captain always says. 

Anyway, she came into camp and I immediately introduced myself to her and showed her around. It was so nice to have another person in the bunkhouse. We stayed up late swapping stories about our family back at home. She came from Amphitrite. When her youngest brother was killed by a Zeus scouting party, she felt compelled to fight. I had a running partner and a friend. I should have known it wouldn’t last. The boys wouldn’t allow it to. About four days in, someone soaked our beds in urine. I think it was from the horses. I told her it was nothing, that if she told Captain he would punish the entire group which was counterproductive. I told her I figured Zeno was involved and that I’d figure out a way to get back at him. She cried. I guess Zeno talked the boys into not shunning her. But I got back at Zeno good. I loosened his rope before he repelled down a wooden exercise wall. The perfect scenario because his buddy was blamed for not spotting him correctly. I would feel bad, but the boy had spit in my food a few days before, so it was twice the retribution.

She still stopped talking to me. I tried sitting with her for meal time, but she would inhale her food and leave without a word. I could already see the result, but I think I denied it. Who would want to admit solitude? I guess I thought she would eventually come around. I mean, we had shared stories, we liked the same things, we both wanted to serve our country. I had done nothing bad to her, in fact I often pulled double time to make her look good. I tried to continue this, but it resulted in her yelling at me. Then, during a drill in which we had to cross the river on a rope, she sabotaged me. She went in front of me, showing off her balance to cross without much effort. I was right behind, about halfway across, when she exited the rope. She claimed to have slipped, but every time it replays in my mind, I can see it clear as day. She bounced. The robe shifted and I found myself greeted by the current. The water rushed my lungs, grainy and tasting of fish. I barely swam to the shore before vomiting up what I had swallowed. The boys laughter serenated me.

When I looked up at her, she spat a sorry and left. I heard Captain mention District Two when referencing her to the lieutenant. I guess she would have left me eventually. I just wish she had never come, had never shown me what it was like to have a friend here, had never shown me what it is I am really lacking. Then again, maybe I am meant to be alone, just like the wolf. I thrive by myself. I don't need any of them.