Ch 8: Q&A

Dinner was uneventful, but when they arrived back at their bunks, there were large packs on each bed as well as storage trunks at the foot of each bunk. They were told that they’d be wearing uniforms from this point on and they would be expected to take care of them. Each one was the same gray color as the other recruit’s uniforms and Michael could tell that they were well used, and probably too big for all of them. His assumption was that they were recycled for each new group of takers and once they grew out of them they were taken back for repairs and made ready for the next one. The packs were adult sized and each of them contained a change of uniform, a waterskin, a small knife, a metal bowl, and a canvas of some kind, also gray, that felt as if it had been weatherproofed. Michael had not been impressed with the aesthetic of Stent, but he hadn’t had his brains bashed in with a rock the second he was born, so he supposed that was a minor complaint in the grand scheme of things. He moved the spare outfit into the trunk at the base of his bunk and put the rest of the pack into it with everything else inside.

He was excited to wear pants again. He hadn’t worn them since he was admitted to the hospital. He imagined his body was wearing them back home, along with a suit. He wondered which one his wife had picked for him to wear into the grave. His favorite had been the light gray with the peak lapels, but she’d always favored him in the black one. She said she liked how severe it made him look, like a fire and brimstone preacher. She had an odd sense of aesthetics, and he missed it very much.

His funeral should’ve been held by now. Though that assumed that time passed the same between the worlds, which he had no idea of knowing. His coffin could just now be going into the ground, or it could be long since rotted away, or his body could still be in a hospital bed with Sara holding its hand. Well, if he had had his funeral, he hoped that Sara had picked whichever suit she wanted him to be wearing and that his kids were helping her. She was strong, but he didn’t want her to have to be. He sighed as he thumbed the fabric of the uniform on his bed before he transferred it to sit on top of his trunk.

Ollie looked at him sympathetically. “Makes you feel like you’re fighting to keep slaves, eh?”

Michael chuckled. “Confederate uniforms were a lighter shade, and these actually have a more modern cut to them. Modern for our world, I mean. Despite the fact that they’re training with swords, riding horses, and don’t have electricity.”

Ollie shrugged. “I blame a wizard.”

“Oh?” asked Michael.

“I could spend all damn day and night wondering why something is one way or another, or… a wizard did it, and I can get some sleep.” He did a little hop-climb to get onto his bunk as if to emphasize his point.

“I suppose a wizard could’ve been responsible for a number of these changes, but I think I’ll just have the fun of trying to figure out what actually happened. It’s not like I have any TV to watch, or any books to read.”

“Oh fuck!” said Ollie, sitting up suddenly.

“What?”

“I’m gonna miss the end of Survivor.”

That prompted a laugh from all of the little English speaking clique, with even Davi who’d apparently been feigning sleep.

The lights were shut off, likely by a ‘wizard’ shortly after. Michael had little difficulty falling asleep with how busy the day had been and how harsh it had been on his currently small body. On top of that, the growing pains that night were far worse than any he’d experienced up until this point. With his shins in particular burning all throughout the night. He was used to sleeping through bad pain, but he was awoken a few times to the whimpering or soft sobs of the others in the barracks.

The next day started differently from the last. When the lights went on, they all took the time to bathe and put on their uniforms. Kline walked the rows in front of each of them. Making small corrections to how the uniforms were meant to be worn, or even how they stood to present it. He had them hold out their hands, and he gave them a quick whack across them with the thin stick he carried. When he reached Michael he looked him up and down.

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“You missed the bottom button.”

Michael nodded, and held out his hand. Kline gave it a quick smack that made him grimace, and moved on. When he reached the taker that had been crying, who Michael had heard was named Xiu, he hit him once for a uniform infraction, and a second time for crying.

After the inspection, the injection from Crim, and breakfast everyone was shuffled into the mage teacher’s room before he arrived.

Kline stood in the other teacher’s place leaned relaxed against the blackboard.

“As promised, I will now answer any questions you have about this world, this country, this military, or anything else you’re curious about. Raise hands, and I’ll call upon each of you as they come up, but don’t get greedy and cut anyone else off or I’ll shut this down.”

Several hands bolted up immediately, including Michael’s.

Kline pointed at a boy in the far corner, Adebisi Michael thought his name was.