Chapter 6: Dawn

They did bring them dinner, and showed them the facilities which proved that they had at least some form of running water, and assigned them to bunks. There was a heavy emphasis on making sure the bunks were neat, with the hint of severe punishment if they didn’t. The majority of the evening was spent talking to the others that could speak English about what all they had encountered and learned while being there. Some of the other groups pushed to stay awake as well, and Michael could hear chattering in Mandarin and other languages he didn’t recognize on and off for the entire night. Unfortunately, his new body was so worn down from travel that their chatting was just a blip in the deep and persistent blackness of pure sleep. Everyone was awoken the next morning by the stomping of feet and the arrival of the man who’d escorted each of them to their small barracks. Bleary eyed toddlers rubbed their eyes to stare the kind of venom at him that could usually only be summoned up by a forty year old woken by a neighbor mowing their lawn at six in the morning. The man had the same relaxed expression in spite of the formality of his garb and was flanked by two young soldiers on either side of him. “Rise and shine men. Come feel the sun of a new world on your fresh faces.” There was some mumbled cursing in several languages in voices high enough to only be heard by certain breeds of dog as all of them began crawling out of their beds. Michael nearly fell as he landed roughly off the side of it. He was still misjudging his size. He had it better than Ollie though, who did fall with a cry of ‘cunt’. Michael moved over and helped him to stand. “Thanks Mike,” he said as he steadied himself. He slapped the bed. “I suppose I’ll grow into it.” Pyotr chuckled. “You hope so at least. You may not make it past a meter.” Ollie shrugged. “Being ugly and short is what made me funny in my old life. Doubling up in a second life will only make me more charming.” Davi shook his head, lining up and standing formally with his hands behind his back as he awaited additional orders. It looked almost cute, seeing a toddler playing soldier, but it was clear he was taking himself very seriously. Marcus was standing leaning against his bed with his eyes still half lidded, as if he may fall asleep at any moment. “I am Kline. While you are here, I will be in charge of you. In charge of your growth, your training, your survival, and your failures,” said the man who’d awoken them. “Today, I will be guiding you through what will be your typical day. In general, things will be quite simple. When I, or someone else, tells you to do something, do it. If you do not you will be punished. No one here will go easy on you, we know that there are adults behind those children's eyes that you’ve stolen. Do not leave the group and go where we tell you to. You will not make friends here. Penitents that have gotten separated have been found dead many times.” One of them, the one that had been crying, stepped forward. “Please. I don’t know what’s going on. I want my mom.” He shook his head, his relaxed look changing to one of disgust. “Save it. Try that again, and I’ll have you thrown in a tomb for the night.” The crying one stepped back with tears welling in his eyes again. “Any day without infractions or problems I will grant a very special reward.” He looked around to make sure that everyone was listening. “I will allow questions of any kind for an hour, questions I will do my best to answer.” Michael looked at Davi who gave him a simple nod. That was a very enticing reward at this point. “Alright. Let’s get the day started. The first thing, I will from this day forward expect your beds to be made and uniforms on. If they are not, your hands will be hit with this,” he gestured to a guard behind him who handed him a long thin piece of wood. “Now follow close and pay attention.” Kline turned around sharply and opened the door to the barracks. Everyone fell in behind him and behind them were the two soldiers he’d brought with him. As they walked along one of the paths Michael imagined they all looked like kids being escorted across the street by a crossing guard. They could see some of the other soldiers across the complex and passed by a man with a single stripe on his shoulder who gave a quick salute to Kline as he passed by, and took the time to scowl at them with open hatred. Eventually they reached a large building with the space above the front doors marked with a green circle with a single vertical line through its center. Inside of it were rows of beds, much like their barracks, but next to those were tubs of water, towels, metal tools, and privacy curtains between them. On one of the beds was a young man grimacing and holding back tears as a middle aged woman sewed up a gruesome cut on his forearm. Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. It was an infirmary, Michael surmised, and they were escorted to the far end of it. There it opened into a smaller room with its doors already propped open. Inside were hundreds of bottles filled with powders, leaves, liquids, and even some live insects. There were beakers, scales, mortars and pestles, and two chairs, each with straps on them that gave Michael pause. Next to one of those chairs was a woman holding a syringe with a large needle, flicking it gently. She was young, maybe thirty, with dark brown hair and dark circles hanging under wide hazel eyes. She was pretty, in a gloomy sort of way, and regarded them with a small smile that didn’t meet her eyes as they entered. Kline turned to look at them. “This is Crim, our alchemist. Your day will start with an injection from her to continue your increased growth. Form a line.” They all did so, and Michael found himself a little bit behind Marcus, whose dark complexion had paled a bit. They watched as the first of them went over and held out his arm. He winced as the needle was pressed into his arm, but she found his vein without trouble and when he was done she quickly cleaned the site of the injection and placed a green leaf over the site of it. He moved to a new line on the other side and waited. Marcus paled more, and clenched his hands as they got closer to the front of the line. “You alright?” asked Michael in English. “Fucking hate needles is all. I used to pass out every time I’d get a shot or need my blood drawn.” “Well, I’m not gonna offer you a bunch of platitudes about how it’s going to be okay, but I will say the woman seems to know what she’s doing at least. She’s stuck six of us so far and has yet to miss a vein or take more than a second.” Marcus didn’t answer, but when it was his turn he forced himself to move forward, shaking a bit and doing his best to hide it. Crim noticed and leaned down, whispering something in his ear. He looked at her with an eyebrow raised and while he was surprised she quickly stuck him, and placed a green leaf on his arm. On Michael’s turn he approached and held out his arm. Crim grabbed it and stuck him. Unlike the others, he didn’t wince or flinch at all, and actually watched as the needle went in. Crim looked at him squinting a bit, but said nothing as she placed a leaf on him and he went to join the others. He’d dealt with a lot of needles in a very short time before he’d died, this was nothing. He looked more closely at the leaf on his arm. It felt tight, stopping the bleeding quickly, and he could feel a slight numbing coming from it. He looked at Marcus. “What did she say to you?” he whispered. Marcus looked up from examining his own arm. “She told me an absolutely filthy joke.” Michael smiled. “Wow, even more of a pro than I’d realized.” After that they were escorted to a small mess hall. It was clearly meant only for forty people or less, and given the number of other recruits he’d already seen, Michael assumed that it was meant specifically for special cases like Lifetakers. They were served a breakfast of starch, meat, and fruit, none of which he could quite place. “It tastes a bit like pineapple,” said Davi, chewing thoughtfully. “But less acidic.” “Whatever it is, it’s honestly better than I was expecting,” said Ollie. Marcus shrugged. “Wouldn’t make sense to starve soldiers, even ones meant as fodder.” Pyotr closed his eyes for a moment and bowed his head for a moment before opening them to eat. Michael was curious, but decided not to pry. They had all only just met, and while they could have a bit of comradery, it didn’t seem wise to force any conversation. “So, how did all of you die?” asked Ollie, clearly following a much different line of thought than Michael had been. “I was parked in my car and two men stopped next to me in a motorcycle and blew my head off with a shotgun,” said Davi, scooping up another spoonful of mystery starch as if he’d been discussing the weather. “Shit,” replied Ollie. “Why’d they do that?” Davi forced the food in his throat down. “Not sure. Could’ve been a lot of reasons. I didn’t see their faces. I’d always expected to go that way. It’s hard to be a cop in Rio.” No one quite knew how to respond to that sensitively, but Pyotr spoke next. “A roof fell on me. It had been due to be repaired, but-” he shrugged, “we were always putting it off until next year.” “Guess there wasn’t a next year though, huh?” asked Ollie, not expecting an answer. “I was hit by a truck crossing the street. I could swear the walk sign was on, but who fucking knows now. Maybe my girl got some money about it. I hope so at least.” He looked at Marcus. Marcus shrugged. “I was hit by an asteroid.” “So you're about as open about that as you are about where you’re from?” Marcus smiled and popped a piece of meat into his mouth. The eyes all went expectantly to Michael. He wiped his mouth. “Cancer.” Pyotr shook his head sadly. “That would be my last choice of what has been given.” “Did you at least get to try and sell meth to pay for the treatment first? You know, the American tradition?” asked Ollie. Michael chuckled. “No. I had good insurance actually. Just unlucky.” Pyotr chewed his food thoughtfully. “You know, one good of what has happened to us, there are many great questions that it has answered.” “Oh?” asked Michael. “I know now that the colors I saw in my old life are the colors everyone sees. I know that sweetness and savory are similar no matter the body I’m in, even if the amounts I taste are different in this new one.” “Assuming those perceptions are tied to the body and not the soul,” countered Michael, spearing what he believed was pork. “Ah, you believe in the soul?” “I didn’t before, but now? I’d say I’ve seen some strong arguments for it.” Kline stood up at his own table and projected his voice easily across the large room. “Finish up. You have only until first of sun, Then, it’ll be time for all of you to start learning some magic.”