A Privileged Few

This is a work of fiction. No real people, places or events were used. Copyright ã 2011 Plot Roach.

A Privileged Few

By Plot Roach

Deep breath, he told himself. Squeeze the trigger when you exhale. He let his breath out and gently squeezed with his index finger. A shot rang out and a clean hole emerged in the center of his paper target.

“Good job, Mylas.” the instructor said. “At this rate you’ll be in the Squad in no time.”

Mylas nodded, saying nothing. He did not need to, it was written on his face. He wanted this job more than anything in the world. It meant more to him than the cushy desk job he could have gotten, or the position of educational instructor he could have earned with his schooling. None of these jobs held a candle to Recovery Squad, because of the privileges.

As he showered and dressed, word came down the grapevine that a few new bodies were going to be recruited to the Squad, and soon. He slammed his locker door closed, the target practice silhouette taped to the outside, a perfect shot drilled through the head. He felt certain he would be the next to come up in rank and land a spot. He went back to barracks and waited the night in in his bunk, unable to sleep for the excitement of it all.

The following morning, the new recruits for Recovery Squad were listed on the outside of the main office door. Mylas’ name was not among them. “Tough luck there, champ.” one of the men called to him when Mylas’ face fell upon learning the news. “Maybe you just don’t have what it takes.” the man laughed.

When not in training, Mylas spent the rest of the day in a stupor. I’ve trained for this for the last ten years, he told himself. I’ve pulled more hours in the simulator and at the firing range than anyone I know. I’ve passed all the tests at the top of the class. What more do they want from me?

The more he thought about it, the more Mylas knew that he had to do something, and quickly. If they passed him up for promotion once, chances were, that they would do it again. But what could he do to ensure a place with the next group? The new recruits were spending their first day on the job the following morning, the next group would not be picked until a month later.

Mylas sneered at the thought of the man who laughed at him. He deserved this chance as much as anyone else, maybe even more. Why should someone else get ahead while he was kept behind?

Mylas passed through the training barracks, watching the new recruits as they packed up their gear in order to be transferred to the official Recovery Squad Facility. There they would have the best food, the most room and the best amenities short of those in political positions or those independently wealthy.

If only I could go with them, he thought. He watched them pass through the doors, looking like clones of one another. They all look the same, he thought. No one would notice if one of them should be replaced by myself…

Later that night he visited the public drinking house. The new recruits were spending one last night carousing among their inferiors before their new rank would give them new privileges.

Mylas sidled up to the man who had poked fun at him earlier. He bought the man drink after drink, congratulating him on his luck and stroking the man’s ego. When he was certain that the man was inebriated and that no one would be watching, he offered to walk the man to the Recovery Squad base. His arm around the drunk man, Mylas implemented his plan. Along the way to the base, were miles and miles of service tunnels used by both the public and the military. In the earlier part of his life, Mylas had been a tunnel worker in charge of sanitation. He knew where the tunnels were easiest to breach and what waste products were processed where.

When the time came, he simply snapped the neck of the recruit, stripped him of his clothing and switched their clothing. By the time they found the body, the face would no longer be recognizable and the identity would be confirmed only by the uniform. He would officially take the recruit’s place. Mylas found it ironic that it was the training that he had received to become a Recovery Squad scout that allowed him to take the recruit out of action.

The following morning Mylas was in the lineup with the other recruits, a hundred in all from all over the underground facility. The large rover tanks fit them six to a unit. The facility doors opened and the scout tanks filed into the ruined city. The chatter inside the tanks hushed immediately as they passed through what had once been a city that their great grandparents had called civilization.

The tanks took their appointed routes, stopping where enemy activity was heaviest. The doors opened and the recruits stepped out, guns at the ready. The sun crested the ruined buildings of the city and each man looked up, tears in his eyes. They had seen pictures of daylight, even a video during training. But the warmth of the sun on the body was more than each man had been prepared for. Only a privileged few ever saw the outside world.

“Keep your wits about you, men” ordered a senior officer. “They come in with the sunlight. And won’t pause because you want to enjoy the view.”

A few men laughed, but were cut short when the rumbling shook the ground before the noise reached their ears. Their leader was right, they came with the sunlight. Thousands of them. All black and purple bodies, filled with teeth and claws. Sinewy movement unlike anything else on earth. Some said that they were an experiment by the Elders gone wrong. Others said that they had fallen from the sky. In any case, they needed to be cut back with gunfire and grenades on a daily basis if humanity was going to take the earth back. The blood, the machinegun fire, the screams of the dead and dying were music to Mylas’ ears.

Bright sunlight, fresh air and the chance to prove himself. It was just the job that Mylas had always wanted. It was one that he was willing to kill for, time and time again.