The Escape: Chapter Four: The Induction

I left the closet and yanked my shirt up to make it look thrown on. I didn't have to fake an annoyed expression, that came naturally as I walked through the dark house. I pulled open the door, prepared to let loose on whoever dared to knock so late. A wave of humidity hit me as warm night air rushed in.

An entire Virtue Squad stood on the porch. Six young men with serious eyes and rifles that were standard issue for Border Patrol, not the virtue enforcers. The Watchman in charge met my eye. "Sir," he said, "General Moore sent us by to ensure everything is proceeding properly."

I would have thought it was a terrible joke by one of my brothers if they didn't look so grave. All I could do was stare for several moments. Proceeding properly?

"Everything is fine," I said. The Watchman, Forest, eyed me.

"Very well. The General instructed us to remain in the area. In case there's any... concerns."

Just how well did my father expect me to perform with a handful of men listening from the road? While it was not entirely unbelievable for my father to do this, it did put me in a bad spot.

"Understood, Watchman. Now if you'll excuse me, I have pressing tasks."

I closed the door and stood there for a moment, staring at the ancient oak door. No doubt the squad leader would report back to my father in the morning. I would need to make sure they reported something acceptable, which made my stomach turn and skin burn.

Alaina's eyes locked onto me the moment I got back to our closet.

"What was that?"

"The General has ears out."

"What does that mean?"

"We have to fake it."

She felt the same as I did about that, based on her expression.

"You go fake it," she said, "and I'll keep practicing with the rifle." Her voice did not waver, but her hands trembled the slightest bit.

She wanted to be able to assemble the rifle as quickly as possible just in case. It was an older one passed down to me from my grandfather. It was more robust and fired better than any of the newer options.

"You want me to go alone?"

"Well they won't be able to see. You just need to make convincing noises." If I didn't know she was stressed, I'd think she was enjoying herself.

"Okay, I'll go. But we can never discuss this again."

She did not give any sign of agreement as I left.

Two months after my father announced his requirement for more grandsons, I faced a crowd of silent seated teen men. The Guardians charged with their training stood at the ends of the pews with fierce, eager expressions. It was a swearing in, the last I would see.

So many faces stared with a mix of emotions. Some of them were determined and proud. However, a few glanced around, never quite looking at anything.

Traditionally, no one told boys what to expect at training. Allusions to the difficulty and stress, but no outright explanations. They reached thirteen with no true idea of what they were in for. Nothing they imagined, in their games or daydreams, could begin to prepare them.

The big three were present, somehow commanding attention without a word. I stood beside the Grand General, who was next to the High Preacher and the Executive Governor. It was rare for all three to be in the same room, but always for inductions. All of us would speak to the newly minted men, amping them up for their training.

Every aspect of training was intentional. It was a process honed over centuries, designed to shape boys into hardened militiamen. They would hear some speeches, then immediately be separated into individual cells with only a slat in the door for light, fed once a day, and never spoken to for a week. Guardians patrolled the hall, ensuring none of the Catechumens communicated. They would bang on the doors, scream, and crack lashes until they finally opened the doors and acted as if none of it happened. They would lead their charges to a hot meal and warm shower, show them to their bunks. For a week, there would be gentleness, compliments, and kindness.

At the start of the third week, the real hell began. I still remembered what it was like to go from isolation to warmth to the worst experience of my life in under a month. The Guardian's lashes were the gentlest part of the next six months.

I could remember each excruciating detail, every sensation. The cold, the hunger, the betrayal.

It took everything in me not to shout at them to run. Run and never look back. Nothing would come of it, except harm to my wife and son.

Preacher Everett took to the pulpit in his denim jeans and white short sleeved dress shirt. Just as he did every induction, he eyed the crowd with a stern expression. In his deepest preacher voice, he said, "422 years ago, your brave ancestors answered God's call to resist the demon forces spawned by Satan. They came from all corners, right here to New Covenant, and closed that border. They did this for you, so that you could live peacefully, free from the tyranny of alien rule. For generations, your forefathers remained on God's path, fighting for this freedom you enjoy. Now it is your turn. You're here to honor your family, the colony, and your Creator. Let us pray."

I bowed my head during the prayer, but barely heard a word. If everything went to plan, my little family and I would be very far away before the induction next month.

After the bellowed prayer, Everett stepped back. Executive Governor Luke Fox surveyed the audience, sharp in his pressed suit. He had been a Contractor by profession. His skill writing contracts made him very popular among voting men, and he trounced the competition in the election.

A wiry man who could argue a loophole until his opponent just gave up, Fox was ostensibly the intermediary between the Militia and Church. In reality, the both were so entwined, even I could hardly tell the line between them. And I was in line to rule one of them.

Speaking more evenly than Everett, Fox said, "This is your first step into manhood, and the beginning of your journey to a profession. I know each of you will do your family proud, and I look forward to seeing where you end up. Work hard, and you can accomplish so much in the colony. Idle, and you will earn a legacy of shame."

Eyes in the crowd shifted. Some didn't grasp the weight of their training until reality became stunningly clear.

The General strode forward. His uniform was so stiff it looked like stone. I remember when he spoke at my induction. Nine years felt like a lifetime.

Though spoken at a normal volume, his voice carried across the militia chapel. "You're here to become the protectors this colony depends on to keep us safe from the monstrous beings snarling at the gates. You've heard the story, I'm sure. Eight short years ago, Overseer Moore was a mere Legionary, just out of advanced training. On patrol at the border, he slew a massive beast of an alien. That is the sort of men I expect you to become. To stand, literally stand between this colony and the demons who would enslave us. And who better to turn you into that man than Overseer Moore himself?"

It was my cue. I stepped beside him. Hundreds of eyes focused on me. For a moment, my entire body froze. I have no problem with public speaking, but that urge to warn them reared again.

Forcing myself to continue, swallowing the urge to denounce this entire charade, I said, "The next six months will be the hardest, most rewarding of your life. I will be here every step of the way, keeping you on the path. Your success is my success, and your failure could mean the destruction of the colony." For the record, my father wrote this speech when he was the Overseer in charge of training. "So, be assured, I will do everything in my power to see to your success."

I gestured to the trainers. They had everyone rise and raise their right hands. One inductee whispered, "Oh fuck."

Raising my right hand, I recited the oath, pausing so they could say it themselves, "Repeat after me. I, state your name, do solemnly swear before Almighty God to uphold peace and defend New Covenant against all threats, within and without... I will bear true allegiance to militia command... obey all orders without question... and serve with righteousness and resolve... There is no force on Earth strong enough to sway my loyalty... So help me God."

When the last echoes died away, the trainers ordered the newest Catechumens from the chapel. I watched them go and pretended my chest wasn't tightening around my lungs. I was part of the problem with the colony, and all I could do was leave these young men to their fate. Prioritizing my son felt like a betrayal.

"James. Follow me."

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