“Wake up, you weak degenerates!” Colonel Croft screams at the top of his lungs, waking us all up to racing hearts and full attention. It doesn’t matter though, I’m certain my adrenaline is shot to hell by this point so this wakeup call is only preparing me for the day of constant anxiety and alertness ahead. 

I nearly fly off my newly appointed top bunk and my feet scramble to find purchase on the hard floor. I’d already fallen from my bed during the wake-up ceremony earlier this week and the bruise around my ribcage is still yellow and tender. Everyone had laughed as I cried from the pain zinging down the right side of my body. I hadn't cried since. 

Along with the pain and humiliation of falling I’d also been punished with extra time in the training facility, without food or water. None of those things were something I was eager to repeat. I’d only been here six days.

In a matter of seconds, we all stand straight and tall in front of our bunk beds waiting for our orders. Eyes straight ahead. Aching bodies from training, all pretending to be ready. I swallow loudly to get past the lump in my throat. I'm just relieved to be in position with the rest of them as the Colonel walks by me.

“Today at 0600 you will be training in combat and have a physical test,” he screams at us. 

“You have 5 minutes to get ready and meet in the mess hall, maggots!” he yells as he walks away. 

Waking up to this every morning is a nightmare and all I can do is wish I could just go home and snuggle up to my nice, soft, pink blanket that’s waiting in my room. I let out a breath knowing that it’s so far beyond my reach now, it’s stupid. I’m stupid for wanting it. I realize I better get my ass in gear. I turn quickly to get my toothbrush but end up slamming into a hard surface. 

I rebound off someone's chest. As I begin to right myself, a hand pushes me down hard.

“Watch out, you idiot,” a shrill voice barks. 

I fall on to the floor only to look up and see Bran. I cringe inwardly but I don’t know why I'm surprised. My life is hell now. Bumping into him just makes sense. 

If the Colonel is Satan-and he is-then Bran is his fire breathing hellhound. On top of his unreal amount of muscles and the ability to thoroughly savor the pain and weakness of others, Bran is also a stone-cold killer. He'd come here straight from juvy and he wasn't shy about saying all the reasons why. If he were dumb like the rest of the meatheads here I might’ve felt better but in his blue eyes you could see that he was sharp, hard, and calculating. 

Then again, I didn’t underestimate any of these kids. I didn’t know much about this program, Project Aries, hardly anyone did. I knew that everyone here was handpicked and under the age of 18. Some of these kids are highly intelligent. Others are insanely strong. I’m technically in the first category but the best reason I could figure I’m here is that my father is a General and a war hero. I didn’t sign up for this but I’m here and I can’t let my parents or my country down. 

My father literally told me not to bother coming home if I didn’t make it through the program, that I was lucky to even get in. My mother calls it tough love. I call it child abuse but no one is going to listen to me because no one ever has. It didn’t matter why I was here, it only mattered that I made it through. 

Bran is unfortunately a nasty side-effect of training. With everything combined he scared the shit out of me. I stayed as far away from him as I could but in a small cabin it wasn't exactly possible. Besides, he picked on others as a show of his dominance. Having watched him the last few days, I figure out that bumping into each other hadn’t been an accident at all. I’m 15 and while I’m not the youngest, I’m one of the smallest and weakest people here. This was a game for him and I was the new target.

“Just because you’re some General’s daughter you think you’re going to get it easy here?” he says, smirking along with his two buddies. They’re nearly as big as he is but not nearly as intelligent. 

Others walk by and are busy getting ready for training. They pretend not to see. That's how it is here. You keep your head down and you stay alive. Even I’ve figured that out. 

“If so,” he continues, “think again, you little skank.”

He picks me up and pounds me head first into the wall, making my bones rattle. My face takes the brunt of the impact and my mouth begins to bleed. As I pull back I also feel my left eye starting to swell because it hit the corner. 

He turns me over to face him, his meaty hand bigger than the size of my head. 

“You worthless piece of shit,” he says once again, kicking me in my abdomen, making me wish this could all stop. I try to fight him off. I use everything I have, clawing and scratching, but it does nothing. I cry out, knowing my recently bruised ribs can’t handle anymore.

 The pain is so great, I sink to the floor and know there's nothing I can do but cover my head with my hands in protection. I’ll have to wait till he gets bored with me. 

“Dude! What the fuck? Stop it!” a guy shouts as he comes running in. Out of my working eye I see that he's completely stunning. He’s got blond hair like Bran but it’s longer, slicked back and to the side, and his blue eyes are warm and kind. He's also taller than Bran, less muscular but no less intimidating. His arms, covered in tattoos, reach for me. 

Bran tries to block him but he can't. I watch in fascination but can barely hear over my own harsh, ragged breathing.

“Why do you care, Adam? It's none of your fucking business. Now get out of my way or you’re going down with this skank,” Bran says, spitting out the last word.

Distantly, since most of my focus is on trying desperately not to pass out from the pain, I can’t help but wonder why this boy, Adam, is helping me. I want to hope he has no ulterior motives but it’s just too hard for me to believe that someone else with their humanity still intact found their way here. 

“What the hell did she ever do to you? Huh, Bran? Not a damn fucking thing. And did you forget that Croft is waiting? Now get out before I break your face and your little buddies’ too.”

“You'd break our alliance over some spoiled princess?” Bran grumbles, not backing down.

“I would. I'm not telling you again.” The guy Adam gestures to me and it's all I can do to stay conscious through the pain but I watch as Bran huffs and leaves without another word, his cronies trailing behind him. 

“Are you all right? Shit. What the heck am I saying?” Adam mumbles in a panic, making me think my injuries are worse than I realize. 

“Don’t move. I’m going to take you to the infirmary.”

I cry out as agony sweeps through me again when his arms move me tight into his chest.  He picks me up as though I weigh nothing and carries me down the plain, bright white halls.

With confusion and gratitude at war in the part of my brain that isn’t screaming in pain, I consider his deep blue eyes. All I find there is concern. 

“Thanks,” I manage to get past my lips as he puts me down on the hard cot. At this point I’ve been jostled one time too many and the pain and darkness take over.

BEEEEEP BEEEEEP BEEEEEEEEP 

●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●

I wake up from my nightmares of old memories with a throbbing headache, ears ringing from nonstop bomb alarms, and the sting of cuts all over my body, but what really bothers me is the overwhelming stench of rotting garbage, blood, and death in the musky air. I gag and reach up to the nearest table ledge, leveraging myself into a seated position. At least the sirens are no longer blaring.

Finally alert, I scan the pizzeria frantically. My parents are gone, my little brother too. I’m alone. 

At least that’s what I thought. I try to get up and I see all the others. There’s a group of people just standing there on the far side of the restaurant. I quickly note my family isn’t among them. There’s no one I recognize either. They probably need me to guide them to a shelter. 

Still, they look odd. They have torn clothes and look awful but it’s the way they’re just standing there that’s bothering me. They’re probably shell-shocked. 

Flashes of memories come back to me and I remember the men crashing through the windows. Where are they now? Where’s my family? What’s going on? I swallow my panic and try to stay calm.

Then I notice Plastic Chick. She’s looking around the restaurant now, seeming to be just as confused and lost as I am. “Hey!” I yell at her. “What happened?” I ask, walking towards her as I shake the glass shards off my clothing.

She stops, makes a strange sound and stares at the floor, her blonde hair hanging around her face like a rag doll. Alarm bells are going off in my head. This isn’t right. 

Then out of nowhere she charges straight for me. How she’s running in those heels, I have no idea. Still, I bolt away.

“Hey, calm down! I know your boyfriend checked me out and all but I thought we had no hard feelings," I say. 

Then I see it, her eyes are white like the figures that crashed in through the windows. Jesus, her eyes are just gone. If they were white contacts, then I was Little Miss Muffet. 

Shivers run through me even as I try to tap into my training. It’s been a few years and I’m a little rusty but some things tend to stick in your memory, no matter how hard you try to forget them. I get a whiff of her stench and gag again. She’s definitely contributing to the putrid garbage smell. 

Luckily, I notice the others haven’t moved. They’re not coming to help me but they’re not attacking me either. She keeps coming for me though, and I try dodging her by using the tables as shields. 

“Are you even okay?” I scream as she jumps over the table in one leap, landing right near me. 

I scurry back and swipe a steak knife from off the table behind me. Plastic Chick catches up to me easily and growls at me while trying to take a bite of my shoulder.

 "Oh, hell no!" I punch her in the face and with a sickening crunch of bone, her nose snaps left. 

There’s no blood. None. I blink in shock but she keeps coming for me like she doesn't feel it. She probably doesn't.

Whatever she is, she’s no longer human. This thing wants to kill me and in a game of kill or be killed, I know where I stand.

She comes closer, snapping her jaws like she's possessed and I slit her throat right then and there. Brownish ooze spurts out and I dodge it like a pro. I’m not about to find out if that shit is contagious. With my hands covering my head, I hear a loud thud and turn to see Plastic Chick's lifeless body fall to the floor.

I look beyond her and see that the others are just standing there, except now they’re facing me. It's clear to me now that their eyes are just as blank as Plastic Chick’s were. I don’t know why they’re not chasing me too but I don’t want to stick around to find out. 

I decide very quickly that getting the heck away from whatever these people have become is my newest priority. So, I run to the bathroom, steak knife in hand.

What is going on, I think to myself for the hundredth time along with a few choice curses as I lock the door. I turn on the sink and wash my face. Maybe this is all a bad dream? Except I know it’s not. Unfortunately, all my dreams are just memories from my life and I definitely don’t remember this shit happening before.