like any other addiction, it slowly kills you

your heroine flits through the blood in your chest

and bangs against your ribcage causing blood to fill in the lungs

and you cough, spit it out, and take it again

and again,

pretty soon it's all you know and all you think you need

despite the fact that you no longer recognize your face,

it's red and puffed up and makes a mask of shame

because you let it breathe for you

so your heart stops when it's not around.

so one day in a drunken stupor, you look over

and notice how much you are giving

while all the time there is a black hole sitting

on your couch devouring everything

and punishing you for what it decides you aren't giving it.

So it's enough and you rip out the IV

and it bleeds for a while, might I add,

not painlessly,

but you notice that you gasp for air while you're crying

and you can finally breathe again.

June 27, 2101 – Washington, DC –– This morning, a HoverPod traveling on the silver rail and occupied by several dozen younglings catastrophically collapsed into the ground layer. Upon inspection, it appears that the gravity inverter failed due to an algorithmic error. As a result, the program copywriter responsible for writing the faulty prompt has been promptly terminated. His widow has been reassigned to his previous position to keep production on track.

Tell me pretty things

Tell me pretty lies

Pretty girl, pretty girlfriend, pretty wife

Let's set up a life where I adore you,

and a separate little one for all the shit that you hide

Pretty skies full of stars outside the bar late at night

Pretty girl on the pole with the kind of face that you like

Pretty eyes meet your own in a drunken taxi ride

Pretty wife stays at home and hopes your trip goes alright

Perfect kids, picket fence, puckered lips, pretty lies

Ugly truths, under wraps, only kill us inside.

I hated who I was until I met you

I couldn’t bear the burden

Of accepting my own love

I would constantly pick and probe

My own heart and soul

Searching for a route to comfort with myself

And when you first told me you loved me

My own love sprouted from deep beneath

And slowly grew, surely and freely.

And now that you’re gone

And now that I know all love easily dies

The love I had for myself has vanished,

It ran away with your love for me.

It’s selfish and it’s sad

The measures taken, the truth concealed

In order to fabricate self-security

I blossomed when I had you

And you used to tend to my thorns

And they made you bleed

And eventually you stopped

I let you step on me, hurt me

Just so I could keep that feeling

A double bliss, that made my heart

Swell like the ocean

I reach or tell myself I’m reaching

For the only love I ever needed

One that was once in my grasp

My love was fixed, only in love with

What it got in return, with how beautiful it felt

So without you here, my love has nothing to offer, it’s got nothing to say.

And that’s why my love won’t come back.

I pray it’s on vacation, but I know where it is.

My love ran with the heart of another’s.

once a year only one month atlas the time has come that I can spam my discord servers with gay memes and text my friends about wishing them a happy pride month. This month is the month Id sham bully's for mocking us if I were to be in school, this month is when I get together with my friends and support them as they support me. Finally, I am able to notice how, how people actually have human decency showing that you hate someone off of their character and not off of something they can't control, and I can be sheltered by others being discriminated against. I am happy to be bi with all the support I receive from this month.

Have you ever had those moments of pure bookdrenaline? You know…the times where you aren‘t simply a “writer” but rather the literary vessel forged from the fire of creativity and as such a marvel. It is your soul purpose to deliver the stories swelling inside you to the world and there is nothing and no one who can stop you. Then…nothing….

Your cerebral planes have become a ghost town of thoughts. All the characters talking over each other, desperate to be heard hours before, have suddenly vanished.

Whenever this happens I acknowledge that I am simply not ready to hear and accept the next part of their story. I feel like I am, what author doesn’t? However, it is their story after-all.

Not every writer crafts like this, but I have always felt as though these stories are real and have been lost in the shuffle of the progression of the world. Only those with a heart and mind sensitive enough to listen can put them to paper.

I step away. I may even go through previous scenes in the story and find clues there. But more often than not, my characters will voice their story when I‘m in the snack aisle at the store, nowhere near my computer. *insert face palm emoji here.*

As they say, “inspiration can strike anywhere,” but what “they” didn’t say was the inconvenience that ”anywhere” may entail.

My process depends on the story I am working on, however one thing I recommend for all writers is don‘t let the outside noise filled with doubt and intimidation influence the voices of your story.

Never lose the awe and wonder this craft provides, not everyone can and not everyone wants to write. You got this!

There is a sin

coming up second

to rape

and sitting right above

murder

and it’s the cardinal sin

of being boring.

There is no shortage

of boring damned people,

an extreme surplus of them.

They have been ruining

the world

and collapsing civilizations

since their have been civilizations

worth collapsing.

Interesting men

have always gone to war

to run their bayonets through

other interesting men

because of the needs of

boring men to feel

adequate

to grab at other

sources of power due to

their lack of being something on

their own.

Boring men

destroy interesting women

so a man with more

doesn’t steal them away

and leave him with

his dick in his his hand

and boring women

erode interesting men

from the inside

because when they

fell

In love with him for his

ways

They didn’t expect it

to be so hard to

outshine him

so they decide he

is an oppressor

and start to sharpen the

guillotine slat.

Boring people wage

terrorism

on the others of us

every day with their woes

and their boring cancerous

conversation and it chews

at the rest of our contentment

with living.

We see their rules

and their governments

and their sycophantic societies

and we decide we’d rather

be somewhere else

because if they are right

it’s too much to bear

being wrong.

So we grab

interesting tools

built by interesting

gunsmiths

and we cross the

crevasse

of fear and unknowing

and make an interesting scene

for someone else

to find

and wonder:

’How could someone do

something like that?

What a coward.

Was he sick?

Look at these scribblings

on every surface

and all those books!

He must have been sick!

Yes. He surely was.

My goodness.

Goodness me.

Anyway,

I have to get this over with.

The game is on at 7.

We (they) are playing the

(Whatever’s).’

cardinal sin numero dos.

Right... This was going to be a challenge entry. However, when I was four chapters in, it vanished from the site. No idea what happened to it? Deleted by the person who created it? A glitch in the system? I don't know. But as I was four chapters in, and no longer had a deadline, I decided to continue with it. Still am, in fact. These are the first 6 chapters, I'll post more as I write them.

To the person who did make that challenge, an explanation would be appreciated in the comments, if you did delete it! Just because no one's submitted anything 3 weeks in, does not mean no one will!

Anyway...

Chapter 1

“I’ve just thought of a question.”

“We’ve been through all the technicalities, Mr Brown…”

A mechanical voice spoke over the head researcher. “Five.”

“…It’s a little late to have second thoughts, now, don’t you think?”

“Just…”

“Four.”

“… How do I know what I’ll be getting into? I will have this other…”

“Three.”

“...me’s memories, won't I?”

“No, and he’ll be very confused when he finds himself here.”

“Two.”

“Fortunately for him, we can at least give him your history.”

“Finds…”

“One.”

“… himself here? He’s taking over my life? And I won’t know anything about…”

“Initiating transfer.”

“…see to it, sir” He froze in midsentence, and stared around at the blank, white room with the observation window at one end. At the two men in white lab coats sitting at some controls. “What the fuck is going on? Where am…” He glanced down at himself, at the scruffy sweats he wore. “What the fuck am I wearing?”

“Allow me to explain, Mr Brown. Our research has unearthed a very interesting aspect of the universe. Have you any understanding of the concept of timelines?”

“I… You… You’ve… I… Yes, I’ve always been a fan of science fiction, everyone knows what timelines are. Are you trying to tell me that’s where I am? You’ve yanked me from mine and brought me… What gives you the fucking right?”

“Quite frankly, Mr Brown, we don’t care. You’re just an unfortunate consequence of the research, it’s the you you’re currently inhabiting who chose to take on a new life. It seems the life he’s taken, is yours. The only way to do it is by direct exchange, he takes yours, you take his. Goodbye.”

“What do you mean goodbye? Send me back!”

“No. Oh, you’ll find a dossier containing all pertinent information on how your life transpired at the entrance.” And with that, there was a click, the floor tilted violently and this other Mr Brown slid down into the darkness and was gone. The moment he’d slid out of sight, the floor returned to its horizontal state.

“Do you think he’ll figure it all out?”

“We haven’t exactly given him much choice in the matter. He can’t do much worse with what he’s been given than the one we sent.”

“True. Very true. I wonder what the differences are.”

“So do I. We’ll just have to piece together what we can by observation. Are all the cameras in place?”

“Of course.”

”We’ll never know the full story, short of exchanging ourselves to find out. I’m not quite ready to do that, yet. I’m not sure I trust anyone to perform the reversal and I like the life I have. I’m not sure I’d trust the alternative me to cooperate, either. One-way trips are all we’re doing for the foreseeable future.”

“We could’ve debriefed him, you know. Found out from the horse’s mouth, so to speak?”

“No, Alan.” He sighed. “You know the only way to maintain stability in the early stages is to keep the exchanged subjects as far from the equipment as possible. One week and there’s no way to reverse it without another active transfer. He’ll never find us again, he doesn’t know where we are and the tunnel’s designed to be confusing. By the time he finds the exit, he’ll be a mile away and…”

The next words out of Alan’s mouth were in a bored monotone as if reading a line for the 500th time. “And the tunnel seals itself behind him as he travels, ensuring no possibility of return. I know. Hell, I designed part of that, myself.”

“Yes. Rather cunning little wheeze, that part, wasn’t it.” He chuckled.

Chapter 2

“…his? How the”

“I beg your pardon?”

Derek Brown blinked and looked around in shock. He wasn’t in the white featureless room anymore. He stood on the edge of a wide, open area surrounded by buildings on all sides. He gulped at the man standing stiffly before him, then he noticed his own posture. Both had their hands firmly clasped behind their backs. The man who’d spoken wore a uniform. An army uniform. He glanced down at the man’s sleeve but there was nothing there, then his eyes crept up to the man’s shoulder. On the pristinely pressed army tunic, a crown was woven onto each of his shoulder straps.

So, you’re an officer… How high, though… Higher than captain? Shit, how can I… Then he glanced down at his arm. At least that, he recognised. Three stripes. Sergeant. At least he knew how to address him.

“I’m… I’m sorry, sir?”

“What does ’He’s had every chance, I’ll his? How the' mean?"

“My apologies, sir, I… I suppose you could say my train of thought became derailed, sir. Err… Who’s had every chance, sir?”

“Are you unwell, sergeant?”

“I… I feel fine, sir. I suppose I could just put it down to a rough night, sir.”

“I expect better from my NCOs, sergeant.” The officer… Major! That’s what the crown represented!The major slapped a file into his chest. His hand instinctively shot from behind his back to grasp it. “I’ll give him one final chance. One more failure from him and I’ll have him discharged from service. And if you make a slip like that, again, get to the medical centre! Dismissed.”

It’d been thirty years since he’d been an army cadet as a kid, but the jog to his memory regarding the crown had another effect. Almost unbidden, his arm snapped up into a salute.

The major saluted back, about turned and marched away.

Derek attempted the same thing, stumbled a little and rushed away, rather than marched. He looked around in a panic, muttering under his breath. “Fuck! Why army!? Why the fuck did it have to be this bloody life? I can’t survive here! I don’t even know where I live! What my…” He glanced down at the folder he held. “Maybe I can fake it… Looks like I don’t have much of a choice.”

He began to pay much more attention to his surroundings. To the signs on all the buildings. Finally, his eyes settled on one in particular. A large NAAFI sign hung above the door. “I can’t remember what it stands for, but I know what it means. I… Shit, I hope it’s got a bar and a place to sit. No idea where the mess is.”

He sighed with relief when he crossed the threshold. A bar, a sign on a door to the left read “Snug”, on the other side, “NAAFI shop.” He walked up to the bar, noting the two stripes on the sleeve of the barman. “Half a bitter, corporal.”

“Yes, sarnt. Aren’t you on duty, though?”

“That’s why it’s only a half. I need time to think and somewhere comfortable to think it.”

“You normally go to the warrant officer’s and sergeant’s mess don’t you, sarnt?”

“Yes, but not this time. I… It’s complicated.”

“Oh. I get it.” He nodded at the folder. “Ashford, again. What’s he done this time?”

“I’m not at liberty to say. That’s why I need to think… What can you tell me about him?”

“You’ve worked much more closely with him than I have, sarnt.”

“Yes, but you’re likely to have seen him in… a less official capacity, working here. True? I want to learn everything I can about him, this time. Everything. It might be the only way to save his career. Maybe even his life. You know how bad it can be if you’re looking for work as a civvy having been involuntarily discharged from the army.”

“Frankly, I’m surprised he’s lasted his long, sarnt. If I’d been in his boots, I would’ve quit the first time.”

“Yes. The fact he’s still here must mean something.”

“Well… He’s a pleasant enough bloke most of the time, but my God he gets angry when people disagree with him. I even saw him throw a bloody tantrum, once. That time, I kicked him out, and sent him back to his billet to calm down.”

“Anything more?”

“Only that he’s glued to the screen whenever the wolves play.”

“Wolverhampton Wanderers?”

The barman nodded. “Even asked me to record a match if he was on duty and it clashed.”

“And did you?”

“If the recording didn’t clash with another request from one of us, sarnt. yes. I can only do two at a time.”

“I suppose it’s something.” He patted himself down, located a wallet and pulled out a credit card.

The barman smiled, tapped something into the till, then a handset and held it out for him.

A tap, a beep. He put the card back into the wallet and picked up his half. “I’ll just sit in the snug. Got some reading to do.”

Derek rushed to the corner table, placed his pint and folder and began emptying his pockets. “Anything. Anything to give me some fucking clue…”

He had more pockets than he was used to. From his left breast pocket, he pulled a notepad, his two rear trouser pockets produced a few folded bits of paper and the wallet… His wallet. Well, it was his, now. His right trouser pocket, keys. When he tapped his left trouser leg pocket and felt the smooth rectangular shape, he immediately unbuttoned it and pulled out a smartphone with a grin. The grin widened when he activated it and it asked for his fingerprint.

“Oh, thank fuck he didn’t use a password.” He immediately swiped through all the apps, spotted the banking app and tapped it. Another fingerprint lock and the sight of his bank accounts turned the grin into a cackle. “Twenty-five grand! I’ve never had that much money before.” He scrolled down. “And that was just an ISA… Another… Bloody hell! Why the fuck did I have to leave the army cadets if this is the result?” Another two accounts. Each contained six thousand pounds and a credit card that only had a hundred quid on it, obviously fully paid off every month.

He spent the next ten minutes studying the accounts more closely, trying to find some rhyme and reason, some clues to his life based on the payments he made.

“They say the smartphone contains your life, these days. I’ll have to study it more closely, later. Now, let’s see what…” He unfolded the papers and signed when one of them had his address on it, and the address was on the base. Finally, he knew where he was. Pirbright army barracks, wherever that was. His smile vanished as he looked at the contents of the letter. A mandatory increase in child support based on inflation? “So… It’s not perfect for you, here, either. I’ve got a kid! And divorced, by the looks of it. Suppose it explains why I’m living here.”

Putting everything back into the relevant pockets, he spotted the sign for the toilet and rushed over to it, freezing when he saw himself over the mirror above the sinks. A chiselled jawline, a rugged, handsome face, clean-shaven. Unlike the scruffy, unkempt, double-chinned, flabby mess he had been. The uniform looked like it was a part of him, from the pristine neatness of the sleeves of his shirt, folded and pressed so they rested just above his elbows, to his exquisitely polished boots. Around his waist, not holding up his trousers, but there anyway, was a cloth belt in three colours. He removed the beret he wore, and even the hairstyle, short, army cut, suited him. He didn’t just like what he saw, he loved it.

The cap badge had a figure on it. Pan, perhaps? No… Not Pan, this figure had wings on its ankles. Hermes? He shrugged. But it did give him pause. “I don’t even know what regiment I’m in! Use the clues. Start with the belt, seeing as I don’t know what the badge means.” He got out the phone and pressed the middle button, hoping against hope it worked the same as the ones back home.

It beeped.

“What regiment wears a belt of light blue at the top, green and dark blue.”

It beeped twice. “The Royal Signals wear a stable belt of light blue, green and dark blue. The colours represent air, land and sea.”

He sighed. “Thank God I’m not infantry!”

He returned his attention to the mirror and stared himself in the eye. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I thought I’d just become you. That I’d get your memories. Oh, fuck, you’re in for a shock when you see the state you’re in, the state my life’s in. I’ll do my best to not fuck yours up, too much. I like it here. I like me, here.”

Chapter 3

As he shot out of sight and the floor above slid back into its horizontal position, darkness engulfed him. He continued to slide and sensed what he was sliding down become narrower. A chute of some kind, then, a sharp turn to the right, another to the left and the gradient gently became shallower, flatter until he came to a rest. He felt his way forward. The chute had turned into a slide, flat at the end and as his feet touched the floor there was a slam behind him, cutting off any chance of him attempting to climb back up it.

Blindly, he stumbled forward until his fingers brushed a wall. He felt it, scratched it. Concrete. Then his foot kicked something that rattled into the distance. He crouched and began scrambling around on the floor until his hand grasped a stone. Standing, he felt the wall again and began scratching into it with the stone until he’d carved a deep indent. He did it again forming an X.

His fingers probed the symbol he’d carved, familiarising himself with it. “At least now I’ll know if I’ve gone back on myself.” He placed his left hand on the wall and walked. As he did so, there was a flash, a vision. Bright sunlight. Major Davenport and it was gone.

“What the hell was that? Memory?” In the pitch darkness, he couldn’t even see his hand in front of his face. “I suppose the mind can play tricks on you when there’s nothing to see.”

He shrugged and continued, counting his steps, trying to note any deviation from a straight line as he continued. Then, his hand reached a corner. He bend his arm around it to measure the angle and continued. Another image. Pirbright’s parade square flashed through his mind. Another few steps and the NAAFI sigh appeared briefly and vanished.

He sighed. “Stop imagining your old life.” He slapped himself across the face. “Unless I can find those twats, I’m stuck here. I can’t afford to dwell on that, now.”

Again, he continued. Another flash, this time, Corporal Gorton, standing behind the NAAFI bar. Then the snug. Another corner and he was just about to go around it when the most powerful vision yet appeared. Of himself. Looking in the mirror in the NAAFI ablutions.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I thought I’d just become you. That I’d get your memories. Oh, fuck, you’re in for a shock when you see the state you’re in, the state my life’s in. I’ll do my best to not fuck yours up, too much. I like it here. I like me, here.”

Sergeant Brown froze. “What the fuck!? How did you do… What do you mean, you thought you’d become me?”

“You can hear me!? How the hell can you hear me?”

“Well I don’t know, do I? I suppose the fact I’m stuck in a pitch-black tunnel with nothing to see might have something to do with it. What did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything.”

“But you were talking to me!”

“Maybe that’s what I did. I wasn’t talking to myself, I was apologizing to your reflection.”

“There has to be some kind of link between us. Some… I don’t know… Residue of our old selves in each of us, maybe. What do you mean you thought you’d become me?”

“They said I’d get a new life! A new timeline where a decision I’d regretted would be undone. I wasn’t expecting this! They didn’t tell me we’d swap places until two seconds before the transfer. I… I can’t live here without help! I’m lost! How can I fake being an army sergeant when the last military experience I had was when I was fourteen?”

“But you said you thought you’d become me! You are me, now!”

“Physically, maybe.” Derek tapped his temple. “But I’m not you up here, am I? The only things I know about your life so far are what I’ve been able to piece together from the contents of your pockets!”

“But if you’d become me, you realise that would’ve been death to you, surely?”

“Death?”

“Well, if you somehow became me, me. Properly. All the memories from here would’ve been gone, wouldn’t they?”

“My life’s been shitty for years. No big loss, there.” Derek sighed. “And now, you’re stuck with it! I said I was sorry. Please, help me!”

“Help you? I’m going to find out where those bastards are and force them to send me back!”

“And if that’s not possible?”

“Where am I?”

“I don’t know! How do you expect me to know that?”

“You were there! You had to get there, didn’t you? How did you even get into this mess in the first place?”

“They’d been announcing their discoveries for over a year on the news. Worlds vastly different from the one you’re stuck in, now. Different kings, different prime ministers, different everything. I think they might’ve even been trying to map the timelines. Then, one weekend, they made a big announcement. A lottery. Ten quid a ticket. Win a new life. A life where your deepest regret was undone. I didn’t even know what that regret was until I found myself in uniform!”

“Well, now, we need to work together! I’m just as lost here as you are there. Now, where am I?”

“I said I don’t know! When they brought me here, they said their location had to remain a secret. Pretty obvious, why, now. To keep you in the dark. Stop you from finding them! The windows in the car were blacked out. I didn’t see any of the journey.”

“OK, where were you picked up? How long did the journey take? How many corners did the car take? Any straight sections that were probably motorways? How long were they?”

“I’ll need time to think about that! I’ve got other problems, right now.”

“Where were you picked up and how long did it take!?”

“I was picked up outside my house! I think it took about two hours.”

“I thought you said your life was shitty, and you own a house?”

“I inherited it when Mum and Dad died! I’m not well off if that’s what you’re thinking! When I saw the contents of your bank accounts my eyes popped out on stalks!”

“They’re dead? Both of them?”

“Covid.”

“What the hell’s Covid?”

“The pandemic? Think it was one of those SARS viruses? Millions died, more were affected long term.”

“Shit! When did this happen?”

“It started in 2019. Covid19’s the full name for it. It started in China but it was global by the end of March 2020.”

“But we have a robust bio-protocol against that kind of thing! Why wasn’t it contained!?”

“Boris fucking Johnson. For us lot anyway. Trump was even worse!”

“Who… and who?”

“PM? Bunch of greedy, self-serving twats who only cared about milking the economy for every penny they could scam out of it.”

“Fucking hell! Lemme guess? Tories?”

“Who else?”

“Who the hell would vote the Tories in again after Thatcher and Major?”

“Oh, after Major, we did sort of get a labour government. Sort of. There was a joke going around at the time, I’m Tory Plan B. An anagram of Tony Blair PM.”

“What? But… But we’ve been Labour since Major. Things are working out pretty well under Corbyn!”

“Corbyn? Bloody hell! Well, you’ve got bloody Rishi Sunak. Tory millionaire and totally out of touch with reality. Before him, you had the utterly useless head of lettuce known as Liz Truss.”

“Lettuce?” The sergeant resumed his blind fumbling through the tunnel.

“One of the tabloids. They got a head of lettuce and put it on a shelf. The lettuce lasted longer than she did as PM. Forty days. And in those forty days, Queen Elizabeth died, and she tried to shove through tax cuts for the ultra-rich that weren’t budgeted and crashed the economy. Before her, Boris, Teresa May and David Cameron. Thanks to him and Brexit, the country’s on its knees.”

“What the hell is Brexit… Never mind, I’ll check the newspaper archives rather than go over the history of the whole world for the past thirty years, we’ve got more pressing concerns. I want my life back and you need me. Probably far more than I need you, right now. I don’t want to get back there to find myself in the glasshouse or dishonourably discharged. You have to put up a bloody good show.”

“But what if we can’t talk again? What if what’s happening now’s just a fluke?”

“We have to at least try to keep the link alive!” Another corner, this one to the right. Again, he measured the angle before continuing. “Meet me!”

“What do you mean? Different worlds, remember!”

“Same physical location! Maybe it’ll help, both of us standing in the same place. At least I know where I live, now. I just don’t know how far away it is from here. I do know it’s a long way from Pirbright. We’ll have to meet halfway.”

“Where?”

“That depends on transport. Please tell me I own a bloody car, here.”

Derek shook his head. “I could never afford one.”

“At least tell me you can drive.”

“I can. It’s been a while, though.”

“Birmingham’s about the middle of the journey. Taken it often enough when visiting.”

“They’re… They’re still alive? Both of them?”

“Of course! They’re not thatold!”

“But how do I get there?”

“You’ve got an army land rover issued to you. Use it! Tomorrow night. I’ve got no idea how long it’ll take me to get home. How long it’ll take me to get out of this tunnel? When you said they wanted to keep me in the dark, you’ve got no idea. Oh, and bring a mirror. I will, too. That might be part of it.”

“OK. Where in Birmingham?”

“Hmmm… Good question. We need somewhere dark. Bring your torch. It’s army issue and bright enough. Maybe not Birmingham, then. Somewhere outside. Get your phone out. There’s a mapping app on it. Somewhere within easy reach of a train station. Preferably in the countryside away from streetlights. Pick somewhere north of the city, closer to me. I don’t have a car, after all.”

Derek got the phone out again to check, and noted that the train seemed to go way off course, but hit London before a change to get to Pirbright, then struck Pirbright off to get a better course for London itself. Finally, he saw a route he recognised. He zoomed in, following it until he found one that looked promising. “It looks pretty green around Rugeley.”

“Pick a place.”

“Cannock Chase Forest looks like it might be dark.”

“Zoom in as far as it’ll go and put a pin in it. Read out the coordinates. I’ll find it.”

“Pin? How?”

“Just press the screen until it appears. You can use that, too, to guide you while you’re driving. It does satellite navigation. When we get there, head for the most distinctive landmark near the pin. We’ll both likely see the same thing as suitable. We are the same person, after all.”

“Are we?”

“Just have to trust to luck this works. If we can talk, we can find the same landmark, that way.”

“I suppose that’s a point.”

“Now, what did Major Davenport say to you?”

“After telling me off for losing focus, he slapped a file to my chest and said he’d got one last chance.”

“I suggest you stop looking in that mirror and start reading it, then.”

“What if we need it?”

“Well, we won’t find that out until you go back into the snug, will we? You can’t stand there all day! Get to it, soldier!”

Derek sighed. “Yes, sir.”

“Did you just call me sir? You’re lucky I’m not there or I’d beast you all the way to bloody Guildford! I work for a living! You address me as sarnt!”

“Yes, sarnt!” He returned to the door to the snug, opened it, stepped out and looked around, backing into the loo and closing the door.

“What’s wrong?”

“There are other people in there, now. We can’t talk. Damn!”

I wonder.

“Wonder? Wonder what?”

So, you heard me, then?

“Why wouldn’t I?”

Don’t speak. Think.

“Think?”Don’t tell me we’re telepathic, now!

I’m seeing through your eyes. Well, my eyes… I thought it was worth a try. Yes, we’re telepathic, now.

Oh, fuck, this is good!

Just, get to it.

Yes, sarnt! Derek retuned to his seat, took a sup of his bitter and picked up the file.

Interesting. And good. We share the same taste in beer. If you’d bought a Bux or Stella I would’ve been gagging, right now. I could taste that. Try not to stub your toe.

So the link’s not just… Fuck me, this is amazing! So, why is he here? I know he’s prone to losing his temper and throwing tantrums.

He failed basic for the second time, but that isn’t the only thing wrong. As you said, severe anger management issues.

Any idea why?

He complains about forgetting his training. I think it’s more a confidence issue than anything else. He picks things up quickly enough during classes and other training but fucks up later. The temper? Probably frustration.

When did he fail?

Last week. It’s all in the file.

Don’t they normally get sent home until the next lot?

First time, he failed due to an injury. He couldn’t complete before their passing out. We held him here until a decision was made, this time. It took the higher-ups all week to decide what to do with him. He’d make a damned fine soldier if he could only get over himself.

Derek opened the file and began. A brawl on the first day?

And he had a week of punishment duty because of it.

Bullying? And two of the other recruits stepped in to defend the victim?

That, in my opinion, isn’t certain. The officer in charge took their side, two against one. The other recruits present corroborated their evidence, but…

Why the doubt?

Because the one who was bullied, a recruit called Taylor, bloodied the noses of those two. three weeks later.

Shouldn’t we get to the bottom of that, too, then? If he was the one defending Taylor rather than the one doing the bullying, wouldn’t it mean a black mark wiped from his record if we got the truth?

How would you recommend we do that?

I don’t know, do I? I’ve been in this life for, what? An hour? Two? What about the other recruits? If they’ve all moved on, they shouldn’t be anywhere near the two who may be guilty, anymore. Any influence they had, any loyalty or threats are meaningless, now. Do you have their contact info, so we could phone them at their new postings?

Another corner and when Sgt Brown rounded that one, the image in his mind’s eye vanished. There was light at the end of the tunnel. Good, you’re getting into the spirit of it, now.

There was no reply.

Derek?

“Shit. Hang on.” The sergeant backed around the corner again and turned away from the light. The image returned. Derek?

Yes?

I just said good, you’re getting into the spirit of it, now. Did you hear that?

Oh, shit! No, I didn’t. We’re losing the link?

I don’t think so, no, but I think we’ve found a limit to this contact. Pitch darkness is a big part of it. I lost contact the moment I rounded the corner, this time. There’s light ahead.

Bugger! Do we have their contact details?

Yes, yes. They’re in my office. We keep them for a year. I’ll have them until the next intake, then they get moved to the archives.

When is the next intake?

A month.

And where’s your office?

Admin block, level two, room 242. The key code to get in past reception’s 5334x. You’ve got the key.

Thanks. Any maps of the base?

Yes, and they’re dotted around the place. There’s one outside the barrack block. I need something from you, now, before I get out of these tunnels.

What? You know where I live.

Your pockets are empty.

They took everything from me apart from the clothes on my back. I suppose they might’ve left all that for you.

Mobile phone password? Any internet passwords I need to know?

I’ve only got a dumb phone. Smartphones are way too expensive. Barely use it, anyway. It’s not locked.

Internet?

Not at home. I’ve not even got a computer. I just nip into the local library when they bother to open and use theirs.

Email?

Good point. Gmail.com. Username, Derek dot Brown 3342. Password, Snowy owl. One word. Just, make sure the S and L are capitals and the Os are zeroes.

Snowy Owl?

I like all owls. Tawny owls, little owls, barn owls, snowy owls… Of course…

Sgt Brown chuckled. Of course, they’re all snowy owls by the time I’m done with ’em. Christ, I’d forgotten about Richard not Judy. Can’t believe that joke stuck with you. Anything more? Credit card? Debit card?

Shit! Sorry. You’ll need them, too, if you plan on getting back home. Most of the time you can just get away with contactless. Just tap the reader, but once in a while, it does demand a PIN. 0405 for both.

Have you any idea how insecure that is? Using your birthday as a PIN?

At least you’ll remember it. Please don’t change it, just in case I do end up back there. Oh, there’s more to Gmail than just email, there’s an entire suite of programs you can use online, and I have been.

I suppose everything else I need’ll be in the dossier they said they’d left for me. If I do need further information, I’ll find a dark room and wrap a towel around my head. If it’s good enough for the ravenous bugblatter beast, it’s good enough for us. You do the same if you run into problems. I’ll sign off. Got a lot to do. You do, too. Go through that file with a fine-toothed comb, Derek. A man’s career depends on it.

Not to mention mine. Or yours. Whatever. I’ll do my best. Suppose it’s all I can do.

We’ll speak later.

Hopefully.

Oh, one last thing that should help. Office, bookshelf, army training manual. Study it. Might only cover the theory, but every little helps. Sergeant Brown, signing off.

Hang on! What about your passwords? There’s got to be more to it than a door code.

*sigh* Good point. Get your notepad out, you’ll never remember them all.

Derek did as he was told. Ready.

What followed was a long list of sites he’d never heard of, usernames, passwords and other pertinent data.

One last piece, saved it ’til last because it’s very important…

What?

Brown, Sergeant, 45305640!

Name, rank and… Oh, fuck… How long did it take you to memorise it?

I’d got it by the end of basic. Sticks with you for life, that number. Especially when you’ve been in as long as me.

What was it again?

The sergeant repeated it more slowly. Any more questions?

Derek studied the list in confusion. Where are Google? Facebook? Netflicks? There’s not even a sign of Twitter or eBay! No Amazon either!”

Never heard of any of them. Clearly, we got a different lot of things there. Are you on those?”

Don’t worry, Google stores all my passwords. Just use Chrome. You only need the Gmail one to make sure you’re logged in for the rest.

One final thing… Cap off! Didn’t you learn anything in cadets? Indoors, one does not wear his beret! And you only salute an officer when it’s on! Beret off, no salute.

What do I do with it? Shove it in a pocket?

*Sigh* I know it’s been a while, but… Right shoulder strap. Roll your beret up and put it there. Now get to it, we’ll talk later… Hopefully.

Chapter 4

Derek sighed and started to read. The file was quite detailed, covering every aspect of Ashford’s training and where he’d failed the most. The first time he took basic, before an injury forced him to miss the end, he’d been a hell of a lot better than the second. As he continued to read, the cogs began to turn. This could work for both of them… If the commanding officer agreed.

The moment he’d absorbed the last sheet of the report, he packed everything back into the folder, finished his bitter and rushed out of the NAAFI.

Where to go… Where to go… Well, he did say they were dotted around the place.

Derek resumed his walk around the parade square. It didn’t take him long to find one of the maps on a large noticeboard by one of the buildings. A large, red, “You are here” pointed at one particular block. Classroom block 1.

“Right, then.” There was a lot more to it than just the buildings around the square. The place was huge, but, he located the barrack block both he and Ashford shared, he located the admin block and the idea he’d had began to solidify in his mind. He nodded and made his way to his office.

He took a deep breath as he entered the admin block, removing his beret as he did so, nodded at the lance corporal behind the reception desk and looked around. There was only one door at the back of the room, so, he went to it and keyed in the code. A twist, the door opened and he rushed through.

This floor seemed to have far too few doors for offices, only four lined the corridor, so, he walked past them, noting what each sign said. Briefing rooms, all.

At the end of the corridor, double doors, a shorter corridor turned to the right and at the end of that, a stairwell. Up that, another set of double doors and offices, lots of them. It didn’t take long to find his, it even had his name on the door, so, a fumble for the keys, testing each until the lock clicked, he entered, closed the door, locked it again and breathed a sigh of relief.

He began his search in earnest, riffling through all three filing cabinets in there until, finally, he located the group of recruits that’d shared Ashford’s dorm during his first basic training.

Sitting at the desk and searching the drawers, he gathered together some paper and began compiling the information he required, building up the story as the other recruits had sworn was the truth, noting that only Ashford’’s testimony deviated from the story the others had told. Even Taylor’s corroborated the other recruits' stories. He studied Taylor’s file in more detail, noting the bloody noses he’d inflicted on the two Ashford had initially accused. Privates Wallis and Pritchard had avoided any other trouble. Even the bloody noses had only had a passing mention, no discipline against anyone in that case.

Derek shook his head and sighed. Then, he remembered something else his counterpart had said. Bookshelf. Training manual. He dashed over, gathered up the three volumes and returned to his desk, perusing the first part. It didn’t take long for him to find something that raised a smile. Something he could use.

He grabbed his phone, unlocked it again and studied the apps in more detail. None of them had familiar names, apart from the ones that described their function. Fortunately, the one he wanted did just that… Call recorder. He activated it, returned to his papers and dialled the first of many numbers.

“Kettering army camp.”

“Ah, good. I’m just following up on some details from a soldier’s basic training. Would it be possible to speak to Summers, private, 88944507?”

“Name?”

“Oh, of course. Brown, Sergeant, 45305640”

“One moment please…” What followed was a couple of minutes of the most insipid hold music it was possible to produce.

“Workshop.”

“Ah, hello. Could I speak to private Summers, please?”

“Speaking.”

“Ah, good. I’m following up on something that happened during your basic training, first night on camp.”

“Oh, shit. How can that even be an issue, anymore? It was last year!”

“Recruit Ashford.”

The voice rose three octaves. “Recruit? Still? I know he didn’t pass out with us, but… Seriously? And he’s still there?”

“Before we continue, I’d like to emphasise a few points.”

“Err… What… What points.”

“The core tenets of the British Army include honour, loyalty, respect and courage. That loyalty and respect isn’t just between your comrades, the majority of it should be directed upwards, to your superior NCOs and officers, ending with the king himself. Agreed?”

The voice on the other end of the phone sighed. “Agreed.”

“So, what happened that night.”

“I…” Summers froze.

“Don’t tell me you still consider Wallis and Pritchard worthy of loyalty.”

“It wasn’t loyalty, believe me.”

“Fear? There were 18 of you against those two. OK. Look at it like this. You’re not in that billet anymore. You joined the royal engineers, those two joined the artillery. Two different regiments, too. Every single one of you moved on to separate army camps. The chances of you even seeing them again are slim.”

“I’m sorry, who is this?”

“Sergeant Brown.”

“Oh, shit! Sorry, sarnt! You saw them! They were both hulks! They started throwing their weight around the moment we’d had the bed-making demonstration. They singled out Taylor, saw him as the weakest, so decided he was going to do all their personal admin.”

“And Ashford?”

“He saw Taylor in a similar light, as the weakest. God, was he wrong about that.”

“So, he joined in on the bullying? And they decided he wasn’t worthy to receive the same services they were demanding, hence the fight? Something like that?”

“No! He stepped in. He defended Taylor.”

“Thank you, private Summers. That’s exactly what I suspected. Ashford failed his second basic training. I believe it may be a confidence issue and the punishment he had to endure when everyone backed up Pritchard and Wallis in their lies… Well, I think you can imagine that confidence took a major hit. I’m going to contact everyone from your intake. Get the story from each of you. Wiping that black mark from his record, I think, is the first step in getting him back on track. Now, what happened a few weeks later?”

“When Taylor snapped?”

“That’s one way to put it.”

“I wasn’t there. Obviously Wallis and Pritchard were. Galway and Brent were the only other ones to witness it, but when they told their tale after leave… He might look scrawny, but it’s a wiry strength. He flattened both of them. Oh, my God. Taylor suddenly became a friend to everyone. He’d tried to keep himself to himself until then.”

“And Wallis and Pritchard?”

“Taylor showed his worth that weekend. Really gained our respect. He forced them to apologise to Ashford, too.”

“But the stain remained. No one stepped forward to correct the injustice?”

“It was too late for that, sarnt. The damage had been done and we were all terrified we’d get kicked out for lying. Oh, bugger. I’m not gonna get it in the neck, now, for telling you this, am I?”

“I think we could chalk it down to the indiscretions of youth. I won’t push for any repercussions. In fact, I’ll advise against it for most of you.”

“So Wallis and Pritchard?”

“Who knows? They may. It’ll be down to the CO if he decides to pursue this. The only reason I’m doing it is to remove a black mark from Ashford’s record.”

“I hope he makes it this time! He’s a good bloke. Best of the lot of us.”

Derek chuckled. “Thank you for the endorsement. I hope that works in his favour, too.”

He ended the call, ended the recording, began another and dialled again.

Sixteen calls later, eight of which had borne similar fruit, the others being unavailable for various reasons, he left his office and explored the admin block, noting every office, every name on the doors. It was a while before he came across the office of Major Davenport. He gulped, took a deep breath and knocked.

“Come!”

Open the door, step inside, close it, march to the desk, stamp to attention. “Sir.”

“I take it this is about Ashford?”

“Yes, sir. I believe I may have concocted a cunning plan to deal with him, sir.”

“Go on.”

“Well, I did a little digging, sir. I believe a lot of his problems are centred around the frustration, resentment and loss of confidence after his first day as a recruit, sir.”

“What resentment?”

“The punishment he received, sir. The black mark on his record.” He pulled out the phone and hit play on the first recording, placing it on the major’s desk. “I believe it was an unjust punishment, sir. Listen.”

The major nodded and smiled when Derek invoked the values of the army, then it got to the core of the issue. The smile vanished as the recording reached its end. “And you’ve corroborated this?”

“I managed to contact eight more, sir. The rest were all unavailable, but I could follow up on the calls if you wish. They all said pretty much the same things. I did record those, too.”

“Forward them to me, and give me the list of numbers of the ones you failed to contact. I’ll follow up on them. If they also corroborate this new evidence, I’ll also contact the commanding officers of the two true guilty parties.”

“Thank you, sir. Which email address do you wish me to forward them to, sir?”

“Good point.” The major jotted something on a sheet of paper and slid it across the desk. “So, what did you have in mind?”

“Well, obviously, the first thing that should be done is to wipe that black mark from his record, sir.” Derek collected the sheet and placed one of his own, sliding it back towards the major. “I haven’t spoken to him, yet, but something to boost his confidence before the next intake… That’s where my cunning plan comes into play, sir. I would need to requisition a fresh army training manual, a new set of uniforms for myself, sir. And a set of lance-corporal armbands for Ashford. I’d also need to be relieved of my other duties if we do this.”

“Promote him? Before he’s even completed”

“Oh, no! Nothing quite that extreme, sir. He would be an acting lance-corporal, but I would emphasise some severe limitations. I would be the recruit that he would train, sir. The rank would only be in relation to me, sir. No-one else. If he tried pulling rank on anyone else, or treating a real lance corporal as an equal, well… That’s one punishment he would deserve. As for the training, trust me, I’ll make all the same mistakes they make. Probably even come up with a few they’d never think of, sir.”

“You’d willingly do this? Lower yourself to below him?”

“The next intake is in a month, sir. A recruit again for that long, before he resumes his own training? I think it’ll work wonders, sir. He’ll certainly gain an understanding of the frustrations we have to endure, sir.”

“I’m not sure I can spare you, sergeant.”

“I’d willingly take some of my leave to do this, if you can’t spare me in any other way, sir.”

“Seriously?”

“A man’s career is on the line, sir. He’ll make a damned fine soldier. The first recording wasn’t the only one that said he was the best of their section, sir.”

“And when do you wish this training to commence?”

“Monday would be the ideal start. It’ll give us time to prepare, sir. He’ll need it just as much as I will, and I have personal business to get out of the way tomorrow in order for it to be possible, sir.”

“And you’re willing to take on the role of recruit, for the full month? Even after hours?”

“Of course, sir. Might actually be fun, and it wouldn’t be the full trainer experience for him if he didn’t also get to do the morning inspection, sir.”

Davenport smiled. “I’ll assign you to three echo one and have a corporal arrange it’s clean and suitable for habitation. Ashford can take three echo three. You won’t be disturbed or disturb others. And I’ll have staff Etheridge arrange for all your needs. I agree, this is a worthy cause. We could even expand the concept if it works out for Ashford.”

“Expand it, sir? More than one of us posing as recruits?”

“And more than one of them taking the roles of your trainers. Done right, it could even lead to a few exercises. Exercises they would devise and you would attempt to complete.”

He grinned. “This is very clever. I love where this might lead. Granted, and no need to use any of your leave. I’ll have Etherage delegate your duties for the month.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“I suggest you speak to recruit Ashford. I imagine what you tell him may be a bit of a shock.”

“Oh, I intend it to be, sir. I’ll order him to close his eyes when I slip the armbands on, sir. And I’ll be in the rankless uniform when I do it. See how long it takes him to realise.”

“You’d better get down to the quartermaster’s stores. I’ll phone ahead. Everything will be waiting for you. Dismissed.”Chapter 5

The light at the end of the tunnel hadn’t been daylight. Just a dim bulb at the foot of a flight of stairs. That led to another maze of service tunnels, this time, illuminated. He didn’t know how long it took before he finally found his way to a small room at the top of another staircase, this time, five flights.

His heart sank. If their complex was so far underground, he might never find a way back there. Even with the map he’d been building in his mind.

On a table, a carrier bag containing a folder, wallet, mobile phone and set of keys. One more door and a short flight of steps and, finally, he was in open air. His dismay grew as he studied his surroundings.

It was a housing estate. A badly rundown one. Many of the buildings were boarded up, a few even burnt-out shells and to make things even more unpleasant, the place seemed to be a target for fly-tippers. Heaps of rubbish, rotten old mattresses and rubble dotted the streets.

A heavy metal crash behind him shook the ground and he turned in shock, bolting back down the steps, wrenched open the door, only to be met by a steel wall.

“Fuck! Well, that’s one way back down there blocked. I need to find out where this is. I need a map.”

Continuing to count his paces, he moved down to the street, turned left and followed it around until, finally, he reached a junction to a main road. Following that for what felt like an age, finally, a road sign and something more. Something he knew. 33 Signals?

“Merseyside? Well, at least now I know how to locate that estate on the map. Damn, it’s a shame I can’t call on them to help. I could seriously do with some.” He dug into the carrier bag and checked the wallet. A ten pound note and two cards. That was it? That’s all this version of him bothered to carry?

“At least I know where I am.” He crossed the road and turned down a street that lead towards the nearest train station.

As he continued, his calves began to burn. He gritted his teeth and forced himself to continue, finally arriving an hour later, gasping for breath. He collapsed onto the bench and groaned. “I refuse to live like this. I refuse!”

He allowed himself to recover for a few minutes before looking at the display. The next train to Manchester was thirty minutes delayed and due in twenty. He sighed, forced himself to stand and staggered over to the ticket machine, muttering “Oh, God. Oh, God. How can anyone get into this state?” He took a deep breath. “I should be able to run ten times that distance. I will. Looks like it’s going to be hell for me for the next few months if this doesn’t get sorted.”

* * *

“Finally!” He gasped as he collapsed onto the sofa in his parents'… in his… living room. Even the trudge up the hill from the bus stop had knocked the wind out of him.

He only then looked around the room in dismay.

The place was a mess. It looked like the house had been ransacked! If it weren’t for the fact a TV sat in the corner of the room, he would’ve suspected burglary.

“You lazy, bone-idle waste of air!” Another sigh. “I’ll deal with this crap tomorrow.”

Spotting the TV remote half buried under a pile of paper on the coffee table, he reached for it and turned on the telly, flicking through all the channels.

“Well, that’s similar.” He glanced at the clock. “4pm and sod all on.”

He was just about to hit the button again when an advert came on. He froze and stared in horror.

“Unsatisfied with the way your life has turned? Do you have deep regrets you didn’t take a different path? The new life lottery. Just £10 per ticket and you could win the life you always dreamed of. A life where those actions you missed weren’t missed. A life where the things you regret didn’t occur. Next draw on the 20th of June. Get your tickets now!”

“I… Oh, fuck! So, I’m not the only one? How many more? How many before me?”

He continued with the channel surfing until he stumbled onto a news channel and settled down to watch.

Chapter 6

You’re a sergeant. Talk like one. Act like one. Exude the presence of one! He took a few deep breaths, then an extra deep one and yelled. “Stand by your bed!”

He gave it a count of five before he opened the door to the billet.

Ashford was six foot two, medium build and wore a t-shirt and jeans. He stood to attention at the foot of his bed and didn’t look happy.

Derek marched forward and stamped to a halt in front of him.

“Make yourself presentable, Ashford. Uniform. Now. I’ll be back in ten minutes!”

“Uniform, sarnt?” The worry increased on his face. “Ah, shit. That means they’ve decided?”

“Yes, a decision has been made. Get changed.”

About turn, march out, slam the door. Derek chuckled. “That actually felt good!”

He looked down the corridor, the doors all followed the same pattern. On the left, all had large gaps between them, indicating they were all similar dormitories, each with the two doors on the right indicating smaller rooms. Rooms for the lance corporals and corporals in command of each section, or in this case, training each section. The other, for the sergeant in command of all of them.

He fumbled with his keys again until he found the right one, then picked up the kitbag he’d been given and opened his door.

So… This is home, is it?

It wasn’t a huge room, but it was enough, he supposed. Everything he expected was in there. The large metal cabinet synonymous with army barracks everywhere was his wardrobe. The pristinely made bed. Everything in the place, neat, tidy and clean.

There was no hint of clutter and apart from a TV in the corner, very few personal items. He opened the cabinet and studied the perfectly stores uniforms. On the left-hand side of the rail, one set of civilian clothing. On the right, shelves contained underwear and socks. The top one, a few books. The shelves also housed a lockable drawer. Another fumble with the keys and he studied the contents of that, too. A couple of wristwatches, one looked high-tech, a few coins at the bottom and a box. He reached in and opened it to reveal a medal. What it was for, he had no idea.

“Where the hell’s all your other stuff? You’re on a sergeant’s wages and you don’t seem to own anything! So this is it? A career soldier, with nothing to show for it?”

He sighed, locked the drawer and wandered over to the desk. A lamp, a blotter, a couple of drawers, but when he opened them, more army stuff. Nothing personal.

“How can anyone live like this? And now I have to? God! How can he not be bored stiff when he’s not on duty? Just as well I am doing that basic training thing next week. Least I won’t have this to think about.”

He sighed and returned to the door opposite. Another yell of “Stand by your bed!” and again, he marched in, this time facing a fully uniformed Ashford.

He glanced around, grabbed a couple of chairs and slammed them down. “Sit.”

He sat on the other, facing Ashford as he took his.

“Now. Tell me how you feel?”

“Miserable? Terrified? I don’t want this to end, sarnt! I want to pass out! I need” Ashford sighed. Well, half sigh, half sob.

“I said a decision had been made, I didn’t say what that decision was. I am partly instrumental in it, though. I did a little digging on your behalf.”

“Digging, sarnt?”

“Listen.” He again hit play on the first recording.

As it played, Ashford stared at the phone in shock. Tears began to well. “Does this mean…”

“The next intake is in one month. You’re a part of it. You’ll get to complete your basic, Ashford.”

“But I failed!”

“I can understand why, you know? You took an unjust punishment on your very first day. You’ve been holding back a hell of a lot of resentment since then. Confidence in yourself at rock bottom? Second guessing every decision? Tiptoeing about, walking on eggshells, terrified you’ll make a mistake?”

His eyes widened and he nodded.

“Well, by the time you begin again, that black mark will be permanently wiped from your record, if it isn’t already. Stop worrying so much. If it makes you feel any better, I handed the list to Major Davenport. Everyone I couldn’t contact, or didn’t try to, will be contacted too and if they also corroborate what the nine I already did said, and the two true guilty parties continue to lie… Well… They’ll likely really get it in the neck.”

“So… So I get to come back next month! Oh, thank fuck! Thank’s sarnt!”

“Oh, no. You’re not coming back next month.”

“What? But you said”

“We’ll talk about that later. Right now, though, I want to build some of that confidence back. A little roleplay.”

“What? But I’m not a nerd, sarnt!”

“I didn’t mean that kind of roleplay. I’m not asking you to pretend to be a wizard or anything. Just pretend that I am a guest of this base. That I’ve never been here before. You are going to give me a guided tour, tell me what each and every building and feature of the camp is, what it’s called, its function and so on, and as we walk between them, you can go into the history of the base. If we have time, maybe the history of the regiment you hope to join.” He stood. “So, get to it, recruit. Lead the way.”

* * *

At first, he stumbled over his words, hesitated, ummed and ahhed, but after a few simple questions about the place, easy ones even someone who’d been there a day should know, but Derek still didn’t, Ashford began to relax, become more vocal, more eloquent and by the time they were halfway around the camp, he brimmed with enthusiasm. It was clear he loved the army life and that enthusiasm began to rub off on Derek.

Then they reached the assault course and as they approached one of the walls, Ashford slowed.

Derek glanced across at him to see pain in his eyes. To see the hesitation beginning to return.

“What’s wro… Ah.” Remembering the file he’d read, he nodded. “I understand. This is where you broke your ankle close to the end of your first attempt at basic training?”

“I… Please sarnt… Before I say anything more… Could you go to the med centre and ask them to review the x-ray?/”

“What? W… Don’t tell me it was more than just a bad landing?”

“I want you to see for yourself before I say anything more. I… I can’t… I need you to see it.”

“I’ll do it, now. I think we’ve covered a lot… Before I go, though, point out anything we missed.”

“Yes, sarnt! At the end of the assault course, the outdoor firing range.” He pointed. “That building, the armoury manned by Staff Wilson, normally. He even has his billet in there, the weapons are never left unguarded. Beyond that, general stores, where we go to pick up our ration packs and where we got issued with our kit. That building over there… Payroll. Only really need to go there, these days if there’s something wrong with our wages, but they told us there’d be a queue around the block twenty years ago when they paid by cheque. These days, it goes straight into our bank accounts, though. Workshops beyond that, for general trade training. Things like bricklaying, carpentry, stuff like that. Then, back to the guard house by the main gate and the cells in there.” He shrugged. “Spent a week in one of them when I wasn’t painting those rocks along the paths. They’re comfortable enough.”

“Thank you, recruit. I think you did a fucking good job. Until we got here, you were enjoying it, too, weren’t you?”

“Yes, sarnt!”

“Get back to your billet. I’ll see what the med centre has to say.” Now that I know where it is. “I think I can guess why you’ve clammed up again, though. You were… still are? Terrified no one will believe you?”

Ashford sighed and nodded.

“I think that may have changed, by now. If the med centre does claim anything unusual, I’ll fetch you, we’ll both report to the major’s office and I will bring the x-rays and an assessment by the medic on duty of that x-ray. If what I think you’re trying to say is what I think it is, this is a hell of a lot more serious than a bit of bullying.”

Ashford nodded again.

“Well, jump to it. I’ll meet you there when I’ve done this, make sure you’re in tip-top shape for major Davenport.”

“Thanks, sarnt.” Ashford bolted back towards the accommodation blocks.

* * *

He froze just before crossing the threshold, his hand shooting up to his head. For fuck’s sake, Derek, it’s not that hard to remember. Cap off, you idiot!

He took off his beret, rolled it up, unbuttoned his right shoulder strap and fastened it again with his beret in place, then opened the door.

It looked pretty much like any doctor’s reception area, a lot of seats for waiting patients, even a few tables with the ubiquitous readers digests on them.

Behind the counter, a lance corporal in conversation with a captain, both with red crosses on their arms.

He marched up to the counter, stamped to a halt and waited.

It didn’t take long for the captain to turn. “Sergeant Brown! No health concerns, I hope?”

“Not for me, sir. It’s a past one I wish to enquire about.”

“But you haven’t had one in”

“Sorry, sir. Not me. Ashford.”

“Ashford?! So, he’s finally decided to come clean, has he?”

“So, there was something suspicious about his injury, sir? He only hinted earlier. He wanted me to see what you had to say about it before he’d be more… forthcoming, sir.”

“Any idea why?”

“Oh, I have an idea, sir. He’d been labelled as a liar from his very first day, sir. I imagine he wasn’t willing to tell the truth about it because we’d see it as him lying again, sir. Probably in an attempt to get one of the other recruits in trouble.”

“Yes… Well, he did lie, sergeant.”

“He didn’t, sir. That’s just it. Major Davenport already knows, I suppose you should, too.”

He again played the first recording.

The captain’s eyes widened as the recording reached its end. “Bloody hell. No wonder he clammed up so much. He insisted his injury was caused by a bad landing after jumping off the wall but… Just a moment. I’ll just go and get his file. And your intentions?”

“Clear his name, sir. Completely. If it means bringing a true villain to justice as a consequence then so much the better, sir. This isn’t just bullying if I think it’s what it looks like, it’s aggravated assault, grievous bodily harm, sir.”

The captain vanished into the room beyond the reception for a few minutes and returned holding a file, he pulled out an x-ray and held it up to the light. “Yes… See here, and here… The injury he claimed would’ve been a compression injury if he landed badly, but his ankle appears to have sustained a crushing force laterally, as if impacted by a blunt object.” He pointed at the picture showing how the bones had been cracked and displaced.

“What are the probabilities that it was self-inflicted?”

The captain shrugged. “Pretty negligible, unless he took a hammer to it. The angle’s all wrong for anything but a force applied from outside. Even if he’d stamped on his own ankle, the bones would’ve been displaced in the opposite direction.”

“Would it be possible to write these conclusions down, sir?”

“No need, already done. The suspicions have been in that file from the start, along with his insistence that it was just the result of landing badly. Take it.”

“Isn’t there a doctor/patient confidentiality… thing to worry about, sir?”

“Not in this case. We have a little more leeway in the army. It’s army business, we’re fine. If it’d been a more personal… issue, such as a sexually transmitted disease, then it would be a concern.”

* * *

He didn’t bother with a yell of stand by your bed, this time. He just opened the door, said “Ashford, with me,” turned and walked down the corridor.

Ashford was by his side moments later. “What did he say, sarnt?”

“Oh, he knew you weren’t being very liberal with the truth about your injury.”

Ashford sighed. “Thought so, sarnt. They grilled me when they were setting my leg.”

“Now, it’s time to set things right. Major Davenport’s office. When I say speak, you tell your tale, fully and truthfully. Who did it, why, how, etc. Understood?”

“Now I know you know I wasn’t lying the first time, no problem.” He grinned. “I would’ve just been accused of doing it to myself before, though, sarnt. Just to get back at them.”

“I thought it must be something like that. Come on…”

Out onto the square, into the admin block, and up the stairs. Derek knocked.

“Come.”

He opened the door, stepped inside and held it open for Ashford before closing it.

“Brown… And Ashford?”

“Sir, something more serious has come to light regarding Ashford’s first basic.”

“More serious? We have them both banged to rights already!”

“Ashford. It’s time. Speak.”

“It was the final assault course before our passing out, sir. We only had a few more lessons, then it would’ve just been drill practice until the parade itself to make sure we were perfect, sir. Wallis and Prichard didn’t know what order we’d be running the course, none of us did, and if I’d gone before both of them, nothing would’ve happened. I would’ve been in the signals right now. Unfortunately for me, Prichard was three ahead of me. He deliberately slowed to let the ones behind him pass and when he got to the wall and dropped down, he waited. The moment my feet hit the ground, he lashed out, sir. Kicked me in the ankle. After that… Well, you know I spent the next four months in plaster and another two undergoing physiotherapy to get my movement back. I’m sorry, sir! I didn’t see any choice but to lie. You already had me pegged as a liar and if I’d tried to report what really happened, he said right there after he did it, he’d report I did it to myself, sir. And no one would’ve believed me! I would’ve been kicked out for sure, sir!”

Davenport sighed. “I see. And I understand. You’re probably right about your veracity being put under severe scrutiny after what we perceived to be the lies on your first day. So, Prichard broke your ankle?”

“Yes, sir, but I bet if Wallis had been the one ahead of me that day, he would’ve done the same thing. They were almost joined at the hip, them two, sir.”

“Did he say why he did it? Was it just retaliation for that first day?”

“I was doing pretty well on my first basic, sir. I think I might’ve even been heading for best recruit or at least, most improved, sir. I think it was just to take me out of the running, sir. I missed all that… Can you tell me who got that, sir? And if I would’ve if it hadn’t happened?”

“I’ve reviewed all the files, now, so I don’t even need to look it up. Best? No. That black mark knocked you out for that one, but most improved, yes.” He sighed. “And yes, Wallis got best.”

“And most improved, sir?”

“Taylor.”

Ashford smiled. “Thank you, sir. At least he deserved it.”

“You were right, sergeant. This is far more serious, and now that they’ve both completed their basic training and attested, they are really in for it. Assaulting a fellow soldier? I see the glasshouse in Prichard’s future, probably followed by a dishonourable discharge. I managed to contact all the others in your section the sergeant missed, bar one. Wallis was out on an exercise and won’t be back until next week, so he’ll have to wait to dig his own grave, but… Well… You may want to hear this.”

Davenport grabbed his phone, scrolled and prodded a couple of times and placed it on the desk before hitting play.

“Aldershot.”

“Ah, hello. Major Davenport of Pirbright. I was wondering if you could get private Prichard on the line. Army number, 88944502.”

“One moment please, sir.”

Another few minutes of that same insipid hold music.

Davenport frowned. “I’m really going to have to have a word with them about that. A dead line would be preferable.”

Derek chuckled. “Yes, sir. At least on Father Ted, the nuns sang their hold music live, sir.”

“I’m sorry? Father who?”

Damn! Err… “I caught it quite some time ago, sir. An Irish catholic priest. Comedy, sir.”

“When you were stationed in Belfast? Good grief, that was a while ago, wasn’t it? I suppose it just didn’t make it to the mainland.”

“I suppose so, sir.”

Their attention snapped back to the phone when the next voice emerged. “Hello?”

“Private Prichard?”

“Speaking.”

“Ah, jolly good. I’m phoning all who took part in your basic training. Just routine, you understand. I was wondering if you could give your assessment of one recruit Ashford.”

A snigger emerged. “Don’t tell me that loser’s still there? I’m surprised he hasn’t been kicked out, yet.”

“That’s your assessment? Loser? Can you be more precise?”

“He’s a coward, sir. And mentally unstable, sir.”

“What do you mean, mentally unstable?”

“He’s bonkers, sir! I take it you know about our first day?”

“Go on. I do have the file here, but I want to hear it straight from the horse’s mouth, so to speak.”

“We’d just been taught how to make our bed and iron our kit when he started on the wimp at the end, sir. Telling him to make his bed. That he’d be his personal valet from then on, sir.”

“And how did the fight start?”

“We saw what he was doing was wrong, sir. Me and Pete… Sorry, sir. Private Wallis, stepped in, sir. Told him to stop.”

“So, not quite the coward if he stood up to both of you, even if he did pick on the weakest, initially?”

“No, sir. It was like flicking a switch, sir. He went totally mental. Threw a right hissy fit. Before we knew it, we were both rolling around on the floor with the moron, sir.”

“Any other instances of this… mental instability?”

“Assault course, sir. He was right behind me. He yelled forward that he was going to get me for what I did, whatever that was and when he jumped down off one of the taller walls, he landed with his foot right on his other ankle, sir. I yelled back that no one would ever believe him. He’d already lied through his teeth about us, sir. I suppose that’s when he realised what a mistake he’d made. God, did he turn the air blue. As I said, sir, he’s a nutter, sir!”

“Thank you for the rather… colourful description. Anything more to add?”

“If he is still there, seriously, dump the git, sir. He’s a danger, sir. Dread to think what he’d do with a loaded weapon and someone in his section he had a grudge against, sir. Bastard should be sectioned.”

“Thank you, Private Prichard. That was very helpful. Dismissed.”

“Thank you, sir.”

There was a beep.

“God, he really has it in for me. Even now, the petty, vindictive little”

“Ashford!”

“Sorry, sir.”

“Understandable, but the language I imagine would have come out of your mouth is totally inappropriate in front of an officer. Don’t worry. The others in your section all described the events of that first day much more favourably. Favourably for you, that is. Added to that… I wonder…”

He opened the medical file, nodded and fiddled with his laptop for a minute. “We do have security cameras on all the buildings. It isn’t a good view… Ah, here we are.”

The assault course was visible and it was a good angle to see the wall from a direction that showed the side they dropped down from, but it was a fair distance away. The major turned the laptop again briefly and zoomed in on that section of the course, watched for a minute and clicked something before turning it back. A lot of soldiers in full combat gear dropped down the wall and continued, then one stopped and waited for a few frames. The next frame, another soldier was at the top, a couple of frames later, he was curled into a ball at the foot of the wall as the one who’d waited was halfway to the next obstacle.

“Whenever an incident occurs on camp, all camera outputs for that time are logged rather than discarded. Unfortunately, it was such a distance away, we don’t have the resolution to identify faces and as it’s in time-lapse, we didn’t see the whole event or the offending kick. I suppose we should count ourselves lucky we have that much. It does, however, correlate with your version of events, which means that phone call is another nail in his coffin.”

Ashford beamed. “Thank you, sir!”

“You will, of course, testify at the court martial. I don’t know when, and as every witness is spread out across almost every army camp in the country, I’m afraid you won’t be able to face him directly. It’ll have to be via videomeet.”

“Gladly, sir.”

“Very good. Report to the military police at oh eight hundred tomorrow to make your official statement.”

“Yes, sir. Might get the chance to ask them a few questions, too, sir.”

“Questions? About what?”

“If I’d passed out when I should’ve, I would’ve been wearing Mercury on my cap badge right now, sir, same as sergeant Brown, but after what happened, my priorities have changed. That’s what I’m gunning for now, sir. MP.”

“That is excellent. We always need more MPs, not the most popular trade in the army and as you’ve suffered an injustice yourself… I think you’ll make a damned fine one.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Dismissed.”

He about turned and marched to the door.

“And you, sergeant.”

“Of course, sir!”

He was getting better at the about turn and managed it flawlessly, marched out of the door Ashford had opened, closed it and joined him as they marched back towards the billet.

“Looks like I won’t be going home for a while, after all, sarnt. Do you have any idea how long it’ll take before the court martial?”

“Absolutely none. I doubt he’s even been charged, yet. It can take some time. I wouldn’t worry. You weren’t going home, anyway.”

“I… don’t understand, sarnt. The next basic’s not for a month.”

“You will. I did say you weren’t returning for the next basic training, didn’t I? The reason is, you’re not leaving so there was nowhere to return from. Come on, back to the billet, I’ll explain there.”

* * *

“Stand to attention, but this time, move your arms away from your body a bit and close your eyes. I’ll be back in a minute.”

Derek returned to his room, replaced his shirt with an unranked one, hastily and messily folded up his sleeves, rummaged for the new beret and put that under his shoulder strap and gathered up the fresh training manuals and armbands.

When he returned to the dormitory, Ashford still stood there, a little worry creasing his brow.

Derek dumped the manuals onto one of the beds, stretched the first armband as wide as it would go and, careful not to touch the recruit’s arm, eased it up until it was in place before releasing. He did the same with the other arm, stood before him and… “You can open your eyes, now.”

He did so and stepped back, staring at Derek’s arms. “Where’s your stripes, sarnt!”

“Think of this as a continuation of the roleplay we had earlier. The guest you escorted was so swept up by your enthusiasm, he joined up. That’s why I don’t have a rank. I’m a recruit, now, and you, corporal, are going to train me. I’ve never been in uniform before. This is totally new to me. You will perform all the duties the training team had when they trained you. Every mistake you lot made and many more, I will make and we have a month. We begin on Monday.”

“You… You want me, to train you?”

“Yes, corporal!”

“Corporal!?” He glanced down at his arms. “Fuck… me! Seriously? How can I”

“Before you continue, you are an acting lance-corporal. Don’t try to pull rank on anyone but me or you’ll be in deep shit. Don’t try to act as an equal to a real lance-corporal, either. Those are only armbands, not sewn on. For the next month, I’m your plaything. Inspection, training, punishment. Everything we did to you, you get to do to me.”

“Holy shit! This is… It’s… Why, though? I don’t get it.”

“You needed a boost, corporal—a serious one, not only to your confidence. By the time this is over, you’ll hopefully be a hell of a lot more sure of yourself. No more second-guessing. It can kill a soldier, being frozen in indecision, so, I came up with this and the CO didn’t only agree, he loved the idea.” He returned to the bed, gathered up the training manuals and shoved them into Ashford’s chest. “You’ve got a lot of preparation to do. I suggest you study those. Every single thing, no matter how basic, you teach me. Even down to making a bed, polishing my boots and ironing my kit. Take the armbands off, for now, though. They don’t come into force until Monday morning. And on Sunday night, pack all your kit”

“Pack up, sarnt?”

“To stay out from under the feet of everyone else, Major Davenport has assigned me to three echo one and for you, three echo three.”

“I… But no one’s been on the top floor of block three in five years, sarnt!”

“I did say to keep out from under everyone’s feet, didn’t I? Don’t worry. He assured me it would be returned to a habitable state before we begin. I Imagine it’s a bit dusty up there, right now. If you require any resources, the person to see is Staff Etherage.” Damn, what was the word… Think, Derek! Think! Oh, yeah. “The major’s assigned him as our quartermaster. He’ll probably be able to offer you advice, too. Now, I suggest you start studying those books. They’ll be available for the full period as a reference, of course, but absorb as much as you can before then.”

“Oh, God, this is amazing! Did you say I’ll be in room three?”

“Of course! You’re training me, after all.”

“My own room?”

“And I have a dormitory all to myself, but a room is more appropriate to someone doing the training, so, yes.”