Chapter 6: Checkpoint
After some time, a high military officer arrives at the clearing. The military officer bore the marks of his long life through his hell: one arm lost, multiple scars, and jet-black hair. He is wearing the same uniform Rashid was wearing, but with a badge on his left shoulder that is marked with a big ‘T’ shining in golden color.
“Gather around me,” the officer ordered, his voice firm.
We began moving into place, though a few dragged their feet at the back. His brow tightened with irritation.
Then his voice cracked through the air.
“FASTER! FASTER! I SWEAR TO GOD, IF YOU DON’T MOVE, NONE OF YOU ARE EATING TONIGHT!”
We immediately picked up the pace, stumbling forward as we rushed into formation. Within seconds, the scattered group tightened into order.
Well, the formation is just us finding any line and moving behind it.
“My name is Captain Diego Ramirez. You will address me as Captain Ramirez. Do I make myself clear?”
“YES SIR!” I shouted, where those military protocols were drilled into my bones. The only thing different about this one is the language used.
“You with the black hair and green eyes, what is your name?”
“Ivan Petrovich, Sir.”
"Good, you can find outside this clearing a box. The box contains a sleeping bag, a clean uniform, food for the night, soap, shampoo, a pencil, notebook, curtains, and other essentials."
“Go make your bed, wash yourself and do whatever you want.” He continued
“The girl at the back, what is your name?”
“Victoria Schmidt, sir.”
Victoria Schmidt possesses a classic beauty, with hazel eyes and chestnut hair cascades in loose waves around her shoulders. There's a quiet strength in the set of her jaw, softened by the gentle curve of her lips.
She would have looked beautiful if not for her indifferent look. Despite her classic features and poised stance, there's a lack of engagement in her expression, as if she's merely going through the motions of existence.
“Same thing as the guy before you. Take your box and move to the other side of the tunnel.” Captain Ramirez said. He continued with an evil smirk: “As for the rest of you. You will not be eating tonight, nor will you be dreaming of resting until you finish the exercises I have prepared specifically for disobedient cadets.”
“Finally, it looks all good.” I said with a hint of triumph.
That was to be expected. I had finished setting up my bed, and honestly, it looked better than I thought it would. The sleeping area was lined with bunks attached directly into the walls, each one carved out like a narrow compartment meant for rest and privacy.
All I had to do was make mine a little more comfortable by spreading my sleeping bag over it. Above the bunks, metal rods ran along the ceiling, meant for hanging curtains. Once I pulled it shut, it gave the small space a surprisingly cozy feeling, almost enough to make me forget that we were sleeping inside a bunker.
I was told that at the end of the hall, there's a bathroom equipped with running water and a bathing area.
As I reached the end of the dimly lit hallway, a faint scent of soap and steam filled the air, signaling the presence of the bathroom. Entering, I was greeted by the comforting sound of running water echoing off the tiled walls. The room was plain, but practical, a modest sink, a sturdy shower stall, and a separate bathing area. It lacked comfort, but after everything I had been through, even something this simple felt like a luxury.
Taking a moment to gather my thoughts, I stepped into the warmth of the shower, feeling the tension melt away with each cascade of water. The sensation was almost therapeutic, washing away the grime of the day and leaving me feeling revitalized.
After stepping out of the shower, I wrapped a towel around myself.. For the first time in what felt like days, my body felt lighter, the warmth of the water washing away some of the fear and exhaustion clinging to me.
Once I had dried off, I changed into the cadet uniform they had given me. The fabric felt unfamiliar, but wearing it made my situation feel a little more real.
Not knowing where to go next, I stopped one of the passing recruits and asked where food was served. He gave me a quick look, then pointed down the corridor before deciding to guide me there himself.
“New recruits get the basic portion,” he explained as we walked. “Nothing special. Enough to keep you standing, but don’t expect to feel full. Once you’re assigned duties and start contributing, your rations will improve.”
I nodded quietly while following him toward the kitchen as he grew stronger.
When we reached the serving area, a tired-looking woman stood behind a metal counter, ladling soup into dented bowls. She glanced at me once, then at my uniform.
“New recruit?” she asked.
“Yes,” I replied.
She gave a faint nod and placed a tray in front of me.
I looked down at the tray, then back at her. “Is this all?”
Her expression did not change.
The meal was plain but practical: a small portion of boiled grains, a few pieces of dried meat, and a thin vegetable soup that tasted more of salt than anything else. It was the kind of food made to keep people alive, not satisfied. Still, the warmth of the soup helped settle my stomach. Either way I ate all of it.
After dinner, I made my way back to the sleeping area at the end of the hall. Exhaustion settled deep into my bones as I climbed into my bunk and lay back, the events of the day still circling in my mind.
No matter how hard I tried to push them away, they followed me into the silence.
I woke in my bed, drenched in sweat, my body trembling beneath the soaked fabric of my clothes. The scenes in the previous day was so devastating, keeping it to myself might result in more harm.
I stood up to find that the other cadets were sleeping. I moved to the bathroom to take a shower, the only bad thing about this shelter is that I don’t have much clothes to wear. Thus, after I took a shower, I had to wear the same sweaty outfit.
When I returned, many of the cadets were already beginning to wake up. From the way they moved, it was clear the instructor had ordered them to rise at a specific time.
What caught my attention most was the change in their behavior. Yesterday, they were confused, anxious, and scattered. Now, they moved with a strange sense of order.
Once everyone was ready, we formed up and headed toward the clearing where we had first gathered. It seemed that place had become our official meeting point with the instructor.
When we arrived, I noticed something new.
The clearing had been marked as a checkpoint. At its center stood a flag, its blue fabric hanging firmly from a metal pole. A single white line ran vertically down the middle, and across the center, the word “beacon” was written in black.
“Good morning everyone, hope you had a good night's sleep.” Captain Ramirez said.
The cadets didn’t dare to voice their disgruntlement or resentment to the instructor hoping to avoid another hellish night.
“Now I want each one of you to come forward when I call your name. I will give you your ID, and I will ask you a couple of questions so that I can better assess each one of you.”
So, he started calling each one by his name in alphabetical order.
“Aaron Smith”
A man that looks no older than 25-year-old walks to the instructor. This guy is tall with some muscles making it seem that he has worked out before coming to this world. An air of arrogance is following him as if he is above us in value. The instructor gave him his ID and started asking a series of questions
“Where do you used to live?”
“Houston, Texas”
“What is your occupation?”
“Sport Instructor”
Wow, one of the most useful occupations to have in this hell hole.
“What do you do in stressful situations?”
“I work out.”
“What if you couldn’t work out?”
“I start running”
Then came another series of questions.
…
…
“Alexander Schmidt”
Alexander is a tall man that looks quite similar to Victoria, which makes it obvious that they are a brother and sister pair.
“How unlucky.” I couldn’t help but say this. Getting teleported was one thing, but taking each sibling is another. What are the chances of that?
The instructor asked him some questions ranging from where he lived, occupation and some questions that are commonly asked in cooperation’s interview. It would seem that he is trying to access his character.
It would seem that Alexander, like me, is an Engineer. Well, engineer to be. He is currently in his senior year in college studying mechanical engineering and is meant to graduate this spring before he came here.
“You can actually work with some material engineers here in the shelter if you want. Every engineer is highly in demand and we wouldn’t want you risking your life.” The instructor said.
“I will decide based on what my sister decides. If she decides to go out and fight Ossarians, I will go out and fight Ossarians.” Alexander said with a voice full of conviction as if he does not need to think about it.
The instructor nodded his head and smirked, I guess he liked his answer. Then he continued with the names…
“Ivan Petrovich.”
“Yes sir.”
“Where do you used to live?”
“Saint Petersburg, Russia”
“What is your occupation?”
“Math teacher.”
I know what you are thinking. Math teacher? Why? Well, if I told him that I used to be a military engineer I would have most definitely taken a safe position at this base. This false sense of security would be my undoing. I don’t want to feel hopeless. I want to have control of my security and that would only be possible when I know how to fight.
Also, following along with what they said, this is the last human shelter. Which means there were multiple other human shelters that were wiped out. I am pretty sure those other shelters had engineers more competent than me. Thus, the only guarantee of my safety is my own abilities to protect myself when danger comes knocking. I do not have a grand goal to save humanity in this shithole. My only goal is to survive.
“Hmmm, interesting. I will give you a list of occupations to choos…”
“No need. I will fight the Ossarians as well.”
“…”
“…”
“Why?”
“Because if I’m going to survive here, I need to learn how to kill them.”
The instructor shrugged it off and contained other series of questions to assess my personality. Then he continued with the names.
“Victoria Schmidt.”
“Yes sir.”
“Where do you used to live?”
“Munich, Germany”
“What is your occupation?”
“I’m a chemistry student at the Technical University of Munich. I will fight the Ossarian. No need to think too much about my occupation.”
Captain Ramirez couldn’t help but smirk: “Well, in this batch we will have a lot of fun.”