Published: March 2013

Publisher: Fickle Frog Productions

Format: Paperback

               418 pages

Price: AUD$19.95

ISBN13: 978-0987293442

ISBN10:  0987293443

Genre: Science Fiction

 

BOOTCAMP: Heart of a Nation

By Stacey Logan

ONE

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Advancing through the dark streets on silent, unshod feet, the boy looked around nervously. He wasn’t expecting to find anyone watching but in a town of that size he just couldn’t be sure whose eye he might catch. What he was doing wasn’t that wrong, but it wasn’t exactly legal either—at least he didn’t think it was. Any knowledge he had gathered over the years, in regards to the laws of man, seemed to be less than relevant in this town. All he knew for certain was that his actions over the next few hours could be deemed shady at best.

 

Wiping the perspiration from his brow, he stepped off the tarred road and scurried onto a dirt track that was barely visible. The temperature had not lessened and he doubted it would. Even after the sun went down the heat was trapped by the same dense haze that shrouded the moonlight from view. Choosing a path that cut between two rows of tents—what passed for housing in the poor quarter of the town—the boy plunged headlong into the darkness, almost crashing into the back of the two story stone building he was looking for. Feeling around, he located the handle of a heavy wooden door and twisted it as he pushed. The metal hinges protested and their loud squeal pierced the darkness with surprising clarity as he slipped inside, closing himself in.

 

His slight shoulders were tense as he turned to view the room. Barely illuminated by the light of a giant candle chandelier that hung from the high ceiling, his eyes took a moment to adjust to the light. The orange glow flickered ominously as the air rippled with his movements and, as his vision finally acclimated to the dim illumination, he noticed the rough, wooden furniture that sat in the centre of the chamber.

     

Immediately his imagination started running wild. He wondered what he had gotten himself into and why that place, in the middle of the American desert, looked like a dank dungeon from the old volumes of English fairy tales his mother had used to teach him to read as a child. He half expected a sword bearing guard in a burnished metal breastplate to rush in and demand he return to his cell to await his appointment with the axe man, but instead a short, rotund, dark skinned man in a threadbare—but still shiny—silk suit appeared.

     

‘Take a seat,’ the man said in his deep, rich voice as he descended the rough, wooden stairs, his movement surprisingly fluid considering his girth. He indicated to one of the two chairs and the boy caught a glimpse of a gaudy ring that sat on his pinkie.

     

‘You Damon?’ the boy flicked his head, gesturing with his chin.

     

‘They didn’t tell you to be polite did they?’ Damon sighed and took a seat. ‘They always forget to mention that these days. Yes,’ he said sadly, ‘I am Damon. You’re the boy they’ve been talking about, the one that needs papers?’

     

The boy squinted and he looked at Damon warily. ‘I wasn’t aware anyone had been talkin’ but I am needin’ papers, yes.’

     

‘What kind?’

     

‘Birth certificate.’ Taking a seat, the boy’s garrulous nature forced him to explain his predicament. ‘For some reason all y’all want proof I exist. Seems standin’ right in front of people ain’t proof enough these days.’

     

Damon’s face split into a wide grin and a merry chuckle escaped. ‘That’s the truth, little man.’ Reaching into his jacket he retrieved a pencil and a piece of paper from his inside pocket. ‘What’s your name?’

     

‘Ethan.’

     

‘Anything go with that, or is it just Ethan?’ Damon’s dark eyes bore into him.

     

‘Ethan Strong.’

     

Ethan quickly told the man as much as he knew about his birth; the date, the place and his parent’s names, Harry and Abigail Strong.

     

Damon’s head snapped up and he looked at Ethan with merciless scrutiny. It was almost too much for the boy to bear. ‘Harry Strong? What was your grandfather’s name?’

     

‘I dunno. Can we just get this done? I’ve got somewhere to be,’ Ethan lied as he looked around the room nervously. He suddenly felt as though he had a dozen eyes on him but when the strange man asked what his mother’s maiden name was, Ethan balked. ‘What’s a maiden name?’

     

‘The name she had before she married your father.’ Damon’s demanding glare softened as he looked at the uncertain boy. ‘It’s alright I’ll give her a good name.’

     

‘Is that all?’ The words had barely escaped his lips when a loud crash interrupted their conversation. The wooden door he had entered through flew inward and a rush of dark blue fatigues and riot shields came crashing down on the boy. Grabbed by the arm before he had time to flee, he glanced helplessly at Damon who had been similarly restrained. Nudged toward the door, not a word was spoken to him as he was thrust into the dusty heat. Hurried into a sturdy looking black car, the likes of which he had never seen before, his bound hands were secured to a bar running along its roof. With his arms high above his head, Ethan sat as tall as he could in his seat to prevent the firm plastic of his binds from cutting into his skin.

     

‘Where are you takin’ me?’ he asked as his usually deep, unwavering voice cracked slightly in panic.

     

‘To the lockup. Now be quiet.’

     

Ethan’s blue eyes scanned the darkness outside his window as the vehicle flew through the street to the one place in town he had tried to avoid. He wasn’t a bad person but the thought of being held in a cage had seen him give the city lockup a wide berth. No matter what trouble he had stumbled across since his arrival—and there had been quite a bit—he’d always managed to talk his way out of it before the local law enforcers showed up. A few fights and a little petty theft, for the most part, was the extent of the trouble he had known but this was something all together different. He wasn’t entirely sure why it was so different, but then, he knew so very little about the law in this town.

     

Ethan’s mind raced as he tried to figure out what he was going to do. The notion of slipping away undetected was absurd, given his restraints, and his absence would be easily noticed. He was going to have to come up with some brilliant story explaining what he was doing and why, and he knew that the truth probably wouldn’t cut it. It was that kind of situation that made him thankful for the look of youthful innocence he had been graced with. His eyes were very round and open and his diminutive frame gave him a look of fragility that he knew he’d be able to play on. His thick red hair sprung out in the tightest curls and, though he didn’t like admitting it, made him look wild and uneducated. He had lots of different ways he could play it but he decided not to commit to any one act until he had weighed his audience.

     

The car stopped in the street and Ethan took a deep breath. Before he was untethered from the bar, the second car, holding Damon and another two peace keepers, stopped behind them. When he was removed from the vehicle, Ethan’s bare feet were set upon the ground and he was guided into the building.

 

Stepping inside his feet touched down on the cold, highly polished, stone floors sending a chill through his body. He was shown to a silver bench tantalizingly close to the exit but in full view of the peace keeper working behind the desk. He didn’t fancy his chances of making it out the door before he was stopped. He sighed and sat, picking his feet up off the cold ground and tucking them beneath him as he kicked back against the wall, trying to get comfortable; it was going to be a long night.

 

Damon entered the building and was ushered down a narrow hallway and into a room that sat on the other side of a window overlooking the foyer. It was well lit and Ethan could quite clearly see the table and chairs in the centre of the floor. Damon was pushed toward one of the chairs, the one that faced the window, and he placed his hands on the table while he waited.

 

‘The Senior Sergeant will be in shortly,’ the Peace Keeper who had escorted him said tersely and Ethan realized the room was for interrogation. He wasn’t sure why he could hear what was going on inside but he didn’t mind. He welcomed the idea of knowing what was likely to happen when he inevitably found himself sitting in Damon’s chair.

 

It took quite some time for the Senior Sergeant to arrive but when he did, he seemed more exasperated than anything. ‘Damon,’ he greeted with familiarity. ‘What did we bust you for this time?’

 

The dark skinned man shrugged. ‘Got me. My nephew and I were discussing our family tree when your henchmen busted in and dragged us down here.’

 

A snort of disbelief escaped the Senior Sergeant. ‘That young, heavily freckled, red haired, blue eyed boy sitting in the foyer smiling innocently is your nephew? Forgive me if I don’t see the resemblance…’

 

‘He takes after his parents.’

 

Shaking his head the Senior Sergeant exhaled and called one of his peace keepers into the room. ‘Take Damon’s nephew to the cell, we’re likely to be at this a while.’

 

Watching as the woman who was to escort him exited the room, he stood in anticipation.

 

‘Come with me,’ she said with authority and Ethan nodded eagerly.

 

As he was ushered toward the rear of the building, the door to the street opened and Ethan heard a familiar voice. ‘Someone here wanted to see me?’

 

His eyes widened in terror. He didn’t need to turn around to confirm his suspicions; there was no mistaking that voice. His step quickened to avoid being discovered. He could only hope that whatever business had brought that man to the station had nothing to do with him. Placing himself in front of his escort, using her as a shield in the event the man turned around, he walked down the hallway. Only when they reached the cells did he allow himself to take a deep breath.

 

‘You’d have to be one of the first people I’ve ever seen that was relieved to reach the pen,’ the woman said with a smile as she closed him behind the barred door. ‘Put your hands through here.’ She indicated to the serving gap in the bars and once he did, she cut his binds.

 

‘Thank you,’ Ethan said respectfully and rubbed at the red marks on his wrists.

 

‘You’re welcome. I suggest you get comfortable. Your uncle can be a touch uncooperative and you might be here a while.’

 

Turing around to face the stone wall Ethan saw a bench that he assumed doubled as a bed when the need arose and he sat down gloomily, feeling the boredom encompass him immediately. There was absolutely nothing he could do—except wait.

 

Once he was alone, he stretched out on his back. Looking up at the stone ceiling he wondered how he had ended up in a cage. He felt the cold walls creeping in on him and he closed his eyes, pushing the fear aside. Never in his life had he been penned, in fact, up until six months ago, he had never been inside a building that wasn’t at least partially open to the elements. It had taken him a little while to adjust to the confinement of the dwelling he had moved into but even there, he was free to come and go—at least he had been free to come and go. If the man in the foyer discovered he was sitting in the chilly cell, awaiting interrogation for some criminal act he wasn’t even sure he’d committed, he expected he’d be free to go, for good, and he wasn’t ready to do that just yet.

 

Growing up beyond the cities and townships, Ethan and his parents had lived outside society. Everything he knew, he had learned from books, but he was discovering that reality was very different. The year was 2081. Much had happened in the world since the publication of those books and his return to civilization had both intrigued and disappointed him when he saw what the world had become.

 

His parents had told him of the horrible war that raged for a century, a war that they had removed themselves from by living in the desert but that had caused many hundreds of millions of lives to be lost. Every day he had seen evidence of the war in the very land as the world was plunged into a harsh and endless summer but his parents had never managed to explain why or how the seasons had vanished.

 

His contact with people outside his parents had been severely limited. Once or twice he had accompanied his father into populated areas for trading but he had been quite young and since his parents died, he had been completely alone. Isolated from the world and all the people in it for years, everything had changed when the man he now hid from stumbled across him in the desert. He had offered Ethan a home expecting absolutely nothing in return, and he had helped him adjust to the demands of living in a town, though a few things had been left out, things that might have helped in Ethan’s present situation. After quick consideration, the boy conceded it was possible that the respectable, honest and big hearted man knew very little of the intricacies of criminality.

 

With no time to realign his thoughts and focus on the problem before him, his cell door was flung open.

 

‘Ethan, what the hell were you thinking?’ The tall Native American man that strode into the cell was clearly displeased. His near black eyes were darker than usual and Ethan could tell he was struggling to suppress his anger as his full lips were drawn into a thin line and the muscles in his jaw were taut.

 

‘Now, Adam,’ Ethan said placatingly as he rose to his feet, ‘I can—’

 

‘Explain?’ the man called Adam asked, his tone demanding.

 

‘Yes, explain.’

 

‘Well?’ Adam folded his arms and looked at him expectantly.

 

‘Now?’ Ethan’s tone conveyed his surprise.

 

‘Do you need time to come up with a story?’

 

‘No, but… well, maybe it could wait ‘til we get home?’ Ethan inclined his head in the direction of the peace keeper that was watching their exchange.

 

With a weary sigh, Adam ran a strong hand through his lengthy black hair, combing it out of his face to expose his high brow, creased with a concerned frown. ‘Damon’s filling out paperwork for his release. It’s time to go.’

 

Glancing at the guard, Ethan apprehensively exited the cell and was followed by the looming figure that had come to rescue him.

 

‘How’d you know I was here?’ Ethan asked as they walked, afraid of the silence.

 

‘I didn’t. I came for Damon,’ Adam’s tone was cold and Ethan lowered his eyes feeling as though he hadn’t deserved all that the man had given him over the last six months. He kicked at the ground as he shuffled through the building, an overwhelming desire to flee the town and head back into the desert he would always call home washed over him. Things were so much easier when he wasn’t worried about disappointing someone.

 

Entering the foyer, he saw the portly form of Damon standing on his toes trying to reach the top of the counter as he signed his name on some papers. Without pause, Adam placed a strong hand on the small boy’s shoulder and gripped it tightly as he guided him out into the street. Any notion Ethan had of fleeing to avoid the chastisement that was sure to be headed his way was squashed under the weight of that grasp. Pulled to a complete stop, Ethan stood silently as they waited for Damon to exit.

     

‘Thank you!’ the flamboyant man said when he finally joined them and he embraced Adam in a rough and familiar hug.

 

‘It’s been thirteen years since I promised you that favor, how many more times are you going to call it in, old friend?’ Adam asked, unable to stop the laugh that escaped.

 

‘At least once.’ The dark skinned man’s deep brown eyes twinkled and Ethan watched the exchange closely. The pair obviously had history and he wondered how the seemingly strait-laced Adam had found himself in a position where he would owe someone like Damon anything.

 

‘Why don’t you just stop getting into trouble? Your last little endeavor saw me on the receiving end of a pretty nasty right hook when I came across the peace keepers again,’ Adam scolded the man, easily twenty or perhaps even thirty years his senior.

 

‘So how do you know the boy?’ Damon’s swift change of subject didn’t go unnoticed.

 

‘Real smooth, Damon. I think a better question is how do you know the boy?’ Adam’s eyes were narrow.

 

‘How do I meet anyone? He needed papers, just like you.’ Damon shrugged and winked subtly at Ethan whose jaw dropped.

 

‘Why?’ Adam asked Ethan, turning to regard the boy.

 

‘Because people keep askin’ me for ‘em.’

 

‘What people?’

 

‘Everyone.’ Ethan shrugged evasively knowing Adam wouldn’t like the details. ‘Why did you need them?’

 

Adam ignored his question and turned back to Damon. ‘How old were you going to make him?’

 

‘Sixteen,’ Damon replied innocently, ‘here.’ He handed the piece of paper with all the details on it to the tall man. ‘It was going to be a little more complicated than yours, seeing as he was born in a hospital in Maine and not on a reservation in the middle of nowhere…’

 

Adam took the piece of paper and read it, the look on his face showed his surprise. ‘And you didn’t offer to make him older?’

 

Damon laughed. ‘Look at him! Sixteen’s a big enough stretch.’

 

‘That’s his real birth date.’ Adam handed the paper back.

 

Ethan was struggling to keep up. He didn’t know how anyone could make him older than he was but it was all the talk about Adam’s paperwork that had him confused. Surely, even when he was younger, the giant Native American’s age wouldn’t have been in question.

 

‘Well I’ll be,’ Damon laughed. ‘He’d have to be the first one that’s ever told me the truth.’

Adam shook his head ruefully and extended his hand to the old forger. ‘Take care, Damon, and try not to get into any more trouble.’

 

‘Go easy on the boy. He’s an honest kid, even if he has entered into a shady deal with an old paper smith. I’ll have what he needs in a couple of days. You know where to find me.’ Damon couldn’t help but tousle Ethan’s fiery curls before he departed, leaving the boy filled with questions.

     

‘Is there somethin’ you wanna tell me?’ Ethan asked, sensing the tables had turned as they started for home.

     

‘About what?’

     

‘You heard what Damon said, I was the first one to tell him the truth about how old I was… what did you tell him, and what did you need your birth certificate for?’ There was a wicked glint in Ethan’s eye. He knew he was out of trouble, Damon had just given him all the information he needed to avoid a serious reprimand. He may not have known much about this town’s legal system but he was more than capable of putting two and two together.

     

‘So I could join the army.’

     

‘Fourteen years ago?’

     

‘Thirteen years ago,’ Adam corrected him as he crammed his hands into his pockets. The air that had been so warm all afternoon was finally cooling; a sign that it might rain soon.

     

‘You’re twenty-seven, right?’ Ethan asked. They had celebrated his birthday—much to the big man’s dislike—little more than three months ago. The question went unanswered but Ethan continued, ‘So, thirteen years ago, you were barely fourteen… last time I checked, you had to be sixteen to join the army.’ Again he was greeted by silence. ‘Huh, well ain’t that interestin’?’

     

‘Things were different then, and how do you know how old you have to be to get into the army?’ Adam asked sternly.

     

‘I was keepin’ my options open. Bryony suggested it might be somethin’ I’d enjoy and I was sorta thinkin’ she might be right on that.’

     

Adam stopped walking and faced the boy; his concern was plain to see. ‘It’s not the epic adventure you imagine it to be. People die.’ Sighing, Adam changed his approach. ‘Just promise you’ll think it through properly before you decide and if you have any questions, ask me. Bryony hasn’t seen as much as I have.’

     

‘I’ll agree to that.’ Ethan looked at Adam and took a deep breath, stealing himself against the answer to his next question. ‘So let’s get down to it, how much trouble am I in?’

               

‘None, just come to me next time you’re about to do something questionable. I’ll help you.’ Adam tried to conceal his smile. ‘How did you find out about Damon anyway?’

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