ELA Draft :o

Shariful Khan

I.S.230

12/19/10

801

Historical Fiction

Draft One (Completed)

–

Untitled

Note: The premise of this story has been completely changed from the first [incomplete] draft. The only things that remain the same will be his name.

–

The room was large, able to fit a few hundred people quite easily. A large podium was up in the front, and everyone looked about the same, with buzz-cuts and loose, white shirts. I stood in the middle, trying to look as professional as I could, not involving myself in the mini-brawls that were going on between my fellow recruits.

The door opened.

Suddenly, everything was silent – I was almost impressed, how a room full of three-hundred something men could become so quiet after hearing the near silent creak of a wooden door. An older man stepped in, with graying hair and a beard that looked like it badly needed a shave.

The man stepped onto the podium, and we could now see his uniform – a proud, camouflage color, with numerous medals and ribbons lining it. I hid a smile – this was a man I could respect, one I could trust to lead me through battles and steer me on the right path.

“Welcome,” the man said, and his voice boomed, even though he was not using a microphone, nor was he talking loudly. “You have been chosen, the ones who are apart from the rest. You have proven yourself to be great tactical thinkers, soldiers that will think first of their country and then themselves. You have shown yourselves to be worthy of the name 'soldier.' However, I am not here to feed you compliments so you will grow arrogant.” The man's eyes suddenly sharpened, and I took a step back despite myself. “I am here to break your mind. I am here to introduce you to war, to prepare you the best I can, and you better hope I do my job right, or else...” the man made a cutting motion against his neck. “...Death.”

The room was silent, and the man smiled.

“I can see that you men can control yourself, unlike many others. Good. Respect is one thing that the army requires from all it's members. The army is not for weak, snot-nosed girls – we ARE the backbone of America, and we are the people that they look to when they need help. WE are heroes, and we need to uphold that image. If any of you cannot handle that, I suggest you leave now.”

Not a single person moved, though I felt my legs trying to force themselves to move – I stared at the neon red lights that said Exit – so close, yet so far...

“Now, I will assign all of you your cabins and bunk mates for the following year. You better learn to get along, or your time here is going to be hell. First – Arias, David. You'll be assigned to Cabin A. Angel, Matthias, Cabin A...”

I tuned the man out, though I kept a careful eye on his lips so I would know when he called my name. I reached into my pocket and clutched the locket that was kept there, reminding myself why I was here, and why I couldn't be a coward and leave. The picture in the locket... I began tracing the image in my mind, the face of...

“Harris, Nicholas!” the man's voice suddenly barked, and I blinked, snapping out of my daze. Apparently, I had forgotten to watch the man's lips, and now he was angry with me. “A strike on the first day? Not a good start. You are assigned to Cabin D.”

I nodded my head, trying not to let my embarrassment show, and left the room, my heart thumping wildly – I hated attention. To be the focus of everyone's sight... damn. I shook my head, ridding myself of the past few minutes, and paused at the entrance of the resting cabins – they were lined in order, going horizontally. So A was on the closest row, and to the far right. Each row contained around five columns, so D should be four from the farthest left.

I entered Cabin D and was unpleasantly surprised – the room stank of blood and sweat, and cockroaches ran for their lives as soon as the light from outside hit the floor. Clothes were on the floor, probably from previous occupants of this same room, and there were four bunks, with two beds each, so eight people could sleep here at a time. I climbed the ladder to one of the upper beds, wanting to keep myself as far away from the roaches as possible, and laid down my few possessions: a bag with a few extra clothes, cookies and cupcakes from mom, the locket and a golden watch that I had never been able to fix (it was three hours behind).

“Home sweet home,” I muttered, and sighed, wondering if I should write my first letter to home now. But no – I didn't want my family to think I was already yearning to go home, even if I actually was. They would march into the camp – forget the guards, they'd take care of them in a second – and pull me out of here in a second if they knew I was feeling homesick. I smiled a little at the thought, knowing how overprotective my parents were.

The door slammed open, and I sat up straight, surprised, even though I shouldn't be. One of my new cabin mates entered the room, grinning and looking like a fool. His buzz cut had somehow been styled to shoot backwards, almost like those Japanese characters. His white shirt was unbuttoned, revealing some of his chest, and he crushed a cockroach with his foot, not even bothering to look at it. He had blonde hair and was of Caucasian color.

“Yo!” the other man grinned. “I'm Barry, nice to meet you. I s'pose we should get to know each other if we're going to be together for the next year.”

“Let's wait for the others?” I asked, trying to sound calm and cool. I always liked being that 'relaxed and confident' guy, even if I wasn't feeling that way inside. It's not that I was a leader-type or anything – it's just that... well, even if I was acting, it made me feel like I was really that way. Does that make sense?

“Alright, sure,” Barry threw himself in the bed under me. “What's your name?”

“Nicholas, I prefer to be called Nick,” I replied, and Barry continued grinning like a fool. “I don't see what's so funny.”

“Oh, it's nothing, Nicky,” Barry winked and sent him two thumbs up. “It's just that my mom used to say if you ever met someone named Nicholas, you better keep him damn close because he'll be a great friend.”

I was touched for a second before I realized two things – one, he had just called me Nicky, and two, he had just made that story up.

“You're lying to me, aren't you?” I said flatly, trying to make myself sound indifferent. “And don't call me Nicky.”

“Yep, doesn't mean it can't happen though, and sure... Nicky.”

I sighed, deciding to let it go for now, and the next thing I knew, six other men... no, boys, I realized, entered the cabin, each making a face of disgust when they realized how terrible it looked, though Barry just kept grinning, even flicking a cockroach that had began crawling up his shirt.

“Alright, let's introduce ourselves, shall we?” I tried to grin, but failed miserably. “I'll go first.”

The others stared at me, and I took a deep breath. “My name's Nicholas, I prefer to be called Nick. I'm nineteen years old, and I'm from New York. I'm in a relationship, so don't try to hook up with me, guys,” I tried to make a joke, but everyone just stared blankly, except for Barry, who laughed so hard that the cabin began shaking. I stared at him oddly, but inwardly thanked him for taking the attention off myself. “How about you, Barry?”

“Well, if you insist,” Barry gave a fake, long sigh, grinning all the while. “I'm Barry, and I prefer to be called Barry. I'm nineteen like jolly ol' Nicky here. I'm from Texas, and I don't have a girlfriend, unfortunately. I'm too attractive for all the ladies back at home. Who wants to go next?”

For Barry's speech, many of the members of our new cabin actually cracked a smile, as did I – Barry just seemed to be a happy dude, and it made us all feel pretty good too.

“My name's Richard,” one of the other cabin members began. He had black hair, and serious, green eyes. “I'm eighteen years old, and I'm from Florida. I don't see why everyone is making comments about relationships, but for the record, yes, I am in one.”

The others took turns introducing themselves – Lucas, from California. Roger, from New York. Dennis, from Minnesota. Jason, from New Orleans, and Mark, from North Carolina.

We all sat in awkward silence for a second, none of us knowing what to say next, but our silence was broken by the ringing of a bell that we had been taught to recognize in Remedial Training (that had gone on for two weeks) – it meant that all soldiers should report to the Central Base for something – in our case, it was probably our schedules.

Stepping out, we made our way to the Central Base, where we met up with some of the other cabins, who were complaining about their cabins – so apparently, it wasn't only our group that had a crappy cabin. We stood outside of the Central Base for a few minutes, waiting for someone to come and tell us what we had to do.

Ten minutes later, most of us were growing very impatient, though I was amusing myself by playing a game of 30x30 Tic-Tac-Toe in my mind, though even I became impatient thirty minutes after the bell rang. Sighing, I leaned against a wall, continuing my game, though it had suddenly become very boring. I was wondering if this was how the army was going to be like – telling us to go somewhere and then arriving maybe an hour or two later.

One hour later, one of the guys in Cabin A growled angrily and stomped away, apparently fed up with waiting. Many of us tried to stop him, but he said that he wasn't going to wait for some guy who had probably never fought a day in his life and was living in the lap of luxury to come and rub it in our faces that we had to work whereas he didn't.

I really had no idea where his argument came from, but some of the others seemed to agree with him, and left as well.

Two hours.

By now, more than half the original group had left, and most of the people who were left (including me) were considering leaving now – it had become uncomfortably cold, and my fingers were began to tremble.

Suddenly, the doors to the Central Base opened, and the same man who had given us the Introduction Speech and assigned us our bunks entered. He looked over us with a critical eye and stared at me a second longer than he stared at anyone else.

“I applaud you all,” the man began, and I, along with everyone else, stared at the man – had he gone nuts? “My training methods are very... out of the ordinary. As a soldier, you will need to spend hours, and possibly even days standing somewhere in the cold. You will not be given the chance to leave, as many of your comrades did, because if you do leave, you will endangering the lives of everyone, not just yourself. Once again, congratulations. The others will do do one hundred push ups and cleaning the kitchens for misconduct, and you have all earned your schedules and a night's worth of rest. Congratulations.”

I let myself smile – we were the only cabin that not one person had left, and I had a feeling that the man had noticed that. I puffed up my chest, suddenly feeling proud of the dull badge on my breast that said “Cabin D.”

I took my schedule from the man, and he gave me a pat on the shoulder, nodding his head. I grinned and took the schedule with me back to my cabin, where I read it with some apprehension:

5:00 AM – Breakfast.

6:00 AM – Strategy.

9:00 AM – Defense.

12:00 PM – Offense.

4:00 PM – Strength Training.

8:00 PM – Weapon Use.

10:30 PM – Dinner.

The schedule was more or less the same for the entire week, and I swallowed – if it took me around an hour to eat dinner, that would mean I only had five and a half hours of sleep a day. Would I be able to deal with that? I stared at the locket on my bed and swallowed.

Yes.

I would be able to deal with that.

–

“Up, you sniveling pansies!”

I awoke blearily, my memory hazy – I felt fear pump through my veins for a second – I didn't recognize where I was, before it all came rushing back. The army, the old man, the Central Base – and I felt my nerves relax.

“UP!”

I dressed quickly, my other cabin mates already up and running, though everyone except Barry looked like they were running on autopilot. Barry looked completely refreshed, awake and alive, whereas the rest of us were nothing more than walking zombies.

It's gonna be a long day...

I was proven correct. Breakfast was nothing more than sludge, and even though I wanted to throw it all away, I knew I would need the food to survive for the rest of the day. Strategy was simple – days with my father had taught me most of what we were learning, and I breezed through that class, the teacher paying me multiple compliments. Defense and Offense were pretty simple too – mostly how to avoid enemy spotlights, poison gas attacks, et cetera.

Weapon Use was where it got fun – we weren't allowed to use weapons yet, though we did get to test out some with fake bullets at a shooting range. We were taught the proper procedure on how to hold the weapons, how to clean them, and yeah...

Strength training was hell – literally. The drill sergeant was a cruel guy, forcing us to do ten more push-ups every time we couldn't complete the amount he wanted, and yelled at us every time we couldn't do it. He made us run fifty laps around the training camp, and called us “wastes of momma's uterus” - I was never an athletic guy in the first place, and he had a special place in his heart for weaklings like me, apparently.

“GET UP, HARRIS!” the drill sergeant – Tom – screamed. “DO YOU THINK YOU CAN SURVIVE ONE SECOND OF REAL WAR WITH YOUR PATHETIC STRENGTH? HOW CAN YOU EVEN THINK OF HOLDING A GUN WITH YOUR !@#$%^& RETARDED SKILLS? GET UP, SOLDIER!”

Dinner was crap, as usual.

I was in no mood to deal with Barry's happiness back in the cabin – he had been assigned to a nice drill sergeant for strength, but it didn't matter much, seeing as how Barry was the strongest in our cabin (we had an arm wrestling competition the previous day) even with his long, spindly arms that looked like they would fall apart if someone pushed him too hard.

But at the end of the day, while I was on my bed, hearing the cockroaches skitter around, I couldn't be happier – there was no place I'd rather be than here. I could feel adrenaline rushing through me, and I could only imagine how I would feel when a real battle took place.

I held the badge on my chest with two fingers, and held my locket with my other hand – my two prized possessions.

I'll be back, mom, dad, Anna...

–

Skip a year and a couple of months.

Where am I now?

I'd like to say, but I can't. It's against the rules, and it'd likely get me a few years in prison for endangering the safety of my troop. The only person who's stayed with me from my cabin is Barry, though we see each other only once in a while now.

But today, that will change. Barry and I have been assigned to a scouting mission, to find out where the German soldiers have been hiding – they've raided us a few times now, but we only barely managed to chase them back, mostly due to the barbed wire that's helping us out.

We need to find out where they are, though, so we can chase them out. Our trench is full of the weak and injured, most of them probably won't survive another attack.

“Ready, Barry?” I asked quietly, my gun holstered and my eyes set firmly forward.

“Always have been, always will be,” his voice replied.

Barry and I have become close over the past few months – with no one else to turn to, we've talked a lot more than we used to. I even told him the secret behind the locket, that it was originally my grandfather's, who was in the American Revolution, and it had been passed through the generations of my family who had been in war. Barry admitted to me that his father had left his mother a couple of years ago, and then his mother had killed herself. With no education, Barry had gone to the army to support himself, and it had worked...

Kind of.

But enough of flashbacks, let's return to the present.

Barry crouched and moved forwards, his night-vision glasses already on, and I followed him without hesitation, my faith in him completely unconditional – the same as his trust in me.

We moved stealthily, yet quickly – there was no time to lose, we had to be back by dawn. We had no time for chit-chat, and we kept our hands on our guns, allowing ourselves to pull out the weapon at a moment's notice.

As we reached our first checkpoint, Barry faced me, and then stared for a few seconds.

“Nicky...” Barry began. He had never given up my nickname, no matter how much I protested, and it had become almost familiar to me now. “Where's your gas mask?”

“I broke my previous one, and the new shipment hasn't arrived yet,” I replied easily, not seeing where this was going.

Barry's eyes turned fierce. “Are you stupid?! Why didn't you ask to borrow one? We're on a freaking scouting mission, Nick. War isn't all fun and games.”

I suddenly turned angry – who was Barry, of all people, to tell me that I was stupid? There might be a raid on the base while we were gone, and then one person would find himself defenseless because I had taken his mask.

“I know that, Barry,” I said forcefully. “Don't think you're smarter than me. I can't risk the fact that they might attempt a raid on our base while we're gone and then some innocent guy will be killed because of me.”

Barry looked incredulous. “Nick, this may sound selfish, but who do you think I consider more important – my best friend, or some poor prick who should have stayed home?”

“You're right, Barry,” I said angrily. “That is a selfish thing to say. I can't live with the guilt of killing someone.”

“How about dealing with the guilt of losing your best friend?” Barry yelled, his fists clenching.

We both panted heavily, though neither of us had raised a finger – this was one of our rare arguments. We had only had two, including this one. The previous one had occurred when someone had found out about Barry's parents and I had gone berserk on the guy. Barry told me later that he could handle himself in a fight, and it turned into an argument. In the end we had made up, though.

I hoped we could do the same in this situation.

“Let's go,” I said tightly, my teeth gritted.

“Let's,” Barry agreed.

The scouting mission continued, though now our silence was tense, instead of natural like it was before. I couldn't stop thinking about how Barry was being so stupid – we obviously weren't going to meet an enemy, none of the scouting missions before us had, yet Barry had seemed so adamant, so serious...

“Nick, I think you should check this out,” Barry said softly, his voice curious. I forgot my anger for a second and stepped forwards, wondering what held Barry enthralled.

It was a trench. It looked like a battle had taken place here recently, and there was blood still splattered against the dirt walls. I swallowed – this was the first actual battle I had seen the effects of, and it wasn't pretty.

“Damn...” I whistled.

“Holy...” Barry mumbled.

We stared in awe for a few seconds before Barry nudged me forwards.

“Wanna check it out?”

I stared at him.

He stared back.

“We're complete idiots aren't we?” I grinned. “Let's go.”

I jumped in first, but it was by a bare second – as soon as my feet touched the ground, Barry hit the floor alongside me, and we glanced around, checking to see if the enemies had left any evidence of where they were going next behind.

Barry squinted, and before I could ask him what he was looking at, he yelled, and then pushed his gas mask onto my face.

“What the fu-” I yelled, pushed down by Barry's superior strength, but I realized quickly what he was looking at – a yellowish gas was still in the air, and Barry grabbed his neck, his lungs gasping for air. His skin started turning raw, and I watched with horrified eyes as his skin slowly turned purple, and then blood began to escape his mouth.

“Barry!” I cried desperately, trying to take off the gas mask, but to no avail. “BARRY!” I shouted again, even though it was useless.

He turned to me, his eyes turning white, and I nearly pissed myself in fear – he looked terrifying, especially under the glow of the moonlight. But all he did was wink, and give me two thumbs up before he fell backwards, suffocating.

No... no!

I stood up, throwing Barry over my shoulder.

No...

I began climbing the trench, my legs feeling weak and heavy.

NO!

I ripped off my mask, reaching the top of the trench, and cried.

You might call me a girl, or not fit to be a soldier. I'm sorry if you think that, but that's what I did. I was on my knees and cried for hours upon hours. I'm not a whiner for doing that.

I'm just being honest with myself.

Wiping away the tears, I stood up, feeling furious with myself – why had I been so stupid?! Why hadn't I worn my goddamn gas mask like Barry had told me too? Barry's death was my fault, no doubt about it – and this wasn't one of those moments that characters in books had. This was my fault. If I had worn my !@#$%^& gas mask, Barry would be alive.

If I had been smarter, Barry would have been alive.

–

I threw myself into the war like I never had done before. I was obsessed – obsessed with killing every last single one of them. Barry's father hadn't attended his funeral, even though he had received a letter – I made a mental note. The first person outside of this war I would kill would be Barry's father, for causing so much pain in his life.

There was no remorse anymore. Every single German I saw – every single one of those mother!@#$%^& - I shot every single last one of those assholes down. Because each one of them, even if they didn't know, were responsible for Barry's death. If they hadn't existed, Barry wouldn't have gone to war.

Those son of a !@#$%.

Eventually, I was pulled out.

I expected it, actually. With the way I was disregarding my teammates and putting them in danger, it was obvious – I just expected it to come a lot later.

I couldn't help it. After Barry's death, I couldn't live with myself. Without the war to distract myself from the fact that it was my fault for his death...

Well.

I killed myself.

–

Note To The Reader: I know the ending sucks. Sorry, but it was past my bedtime and my mom was getting annoyed. It'll be better next time. I promise.

-Shariful