brisk display.
“What’s
your name?” I ask her, once I’m sure the commander is busy helping someone
else.
“Lucrece,”
she replies.
I
am taken aback by the broken quality to her voice. She sounds as though someone
has forced her to gargle with glass.
“I’m
Raja,” I tell her, and she lets that little smile slip out again.
“You’re
all right, Raja,” Lucrece says. “The first friendly-looking face I’ve seen
around here. Pity friendly isn’t in Briggs’s assessment criteria.”
Lucrece
is a remarkably intelligent girl. Though her hands shake with nerves, she
understands the mechanics of the gun far better than I do, and she explains the
principles of distance, perception, and air resistance with confidence. From
her, I learn that the guns have two settings: single shot and continuous fire.
She finds the switch to change between the modes with ease. It pleases me to
know that she has so much skill, but a little part of me is sad when I realise
that she won’t be coming to the South Tower with me after all. Once today is
over, we might never speak to one another again.
“Time’s
up,” Briggs snarls. “You, you, and you, with me up here.”
Lucrece
is one of the three people that Briggs’s pointing finger finds. She hands me
her gun and stumbles nervously to the commander’s side with the two tall boys
the commander has picked. Briggs uncovers something huge and lumpy from beside
the gun stores, throwing it at Lucrece. She misses the catch as the heavy
object thumps her hard in the chest, but when she manages to lift it again, the
object takes shape. It is a thick, padded jacket, which appears to be full of
small, frayed holes.
“Put
these on,” Briggs barks, handing a jacket to each of the boys too, “and go and
stand in front of the targets.”
He
can’t be doing what I think he’s doing, and yet I watch in horror as Lucrece
pads up and walks a few metres away. She heads toward the spiral-shaped targets
that I’d assumed we would be aiming at. Briggs gives the three teens a shout
when he’s satisfied with their distance, then turns back to us with a
self-satisfied smirk.
“Set
your weapons to fire single shots,” he instructs. “Let’s make some holes in
those dummies, recruits.”
They
aren’t dummies. They’re people. Real people. My fellow soldiers are adjusting
their guns, but I can’t stand to even touch mine now.
“What
if we miss, sir?” I interject. “We could kill them.”
Briggs
leans close to my face, his bared teeth glowing white against his dark lips.
“You’d
better not miss then, had you son?” he purrs.
My
throat tightens at the sound of the first shot being fired. I scan the targets
quickly, realising it’s Lucrece who’s been hit. Another shot rings out, and
this time I see it sink into the padding over her right shoulder. Through her
violet bruises, Lucrece’s eyes shine wide and white with fear. She doesn’t
move, presumably terrified of shifting in the wrong direction as the recruits
take aim once more. It doesn’t take me long to fathom that she’s the only one
they’re shooting at.
I
meet Briggs’s steely gaze again, and he’s still wearing that stupid, smug grin.
He knew that this would happen. He could have put me out there to be a target,
but perhaps he’s already worked out that I’ll suffer so much more seeing
someone like Lucrece in the firing line. He doesn’t care about her skills or
her intellect; all he sees is a victim to toy with. The commander folds his
massive arms expectantly, looking at me and then at my discarded gun.
One
of the great advantages of growing up in the darkness of the Underground is
that my eyesight and focus have become very, very accurate. A merry irony
strikes me as I take up my gun, remembering a few of the valuable pointers that
Lucrece gave me moments ago. I pretend to take aim at one of the target boys,
who is nearest to Briggs at the left side of the field. Then, as I shift my
arms for a more
“What’s
your name?” I ask her, once I’m sure the commander is busy helping someone
else.
“Lucrece,”
she replies.
I
am taken aback by the broken quality to her voice. She sounds as though someone
has forced her to gargle with glass.
“I’m
Raja,” I tell her, and she lets that little smile slip out again.
“You’re
all right, Raja,” Lucrece says. “The first friendly-looking face I’ve seen
around here. Pity friendly isn’t in Briggs’s assessment criteria.”
Lucrece
is a remarkably intelligent girl. Though her hands shake with nerves, she
understands the mechanics of the gun far better than I do, and she explains the
principles of distance, perception, and air resistance with confidence. From
her, I learn that the guns have two settings: single shot and continuous fire.
She finds the switch to change between the modes with ease. It pleases me to
know that she has so much skill, but a little part of me is sad when I realise
that she won’t be coming to the South Tower with me after all. Once today is
over, we might never speak to one another again.
“Time’s
up,” Briggs snarls. “You, you, and you, with me up here.”
Lucrece
is one of the three people that Briggs’s pointing finger finds. She hands me
her gun and stumbles nervously to the commander’s side with the two tall boys
the commander has picked. Briggs uncovers something huge and lumpy from beside
the gun stores, throwing it at Lucrece. She misses the catch as the heavy
object thumps her hard in the chest, but when she manages to lift it again, the
object takes shape. It is a thick, padded jacket, which appears to be full of
small, frayed holes.
“Put
these on,” Briggs barks, handing a jacket to each of the boys too, “and go and
stand in front of the targets.”
He
can’t be doing what I think he’s doing, and yet I watch in horror as Lucrece
pads up and walks a few metres away. She heads toward the spiral-shaped targets
that I’d assumed we would be aiming at. Briggs gives the three teens a shout
when he’s satisfied with their distance, then turns back to us with a
self-satisfied smirk.
“Set
your weapons to fire single shots,” he instructs. “Let’s make some holes in
those dummies, recruits.”
They
aren’t dummies. They’re people. Real people. My fellow soldiers are adjusting
their guns, but I can’t stand to even touch mine now.
“What
if we miss, sir?” I interject. “We could kill them.”
Briggs
leans close to my face, his bared teeth glowing white against his dark lips.
“You’d
better not miss then, had you son?” he purrs.
My
throat tightens at the sound of the first shot being fired. I scan the targets
quickly, realising it’s Lucrece who’s been hit. Another shot rings out, and
this time I see it sink into the padding over her right shoulder. Through her
violet bruises, Lucrece’s eyes shine wide and white with fear. She doesn’t
move, presumably terrified of shifting in the wrong direction as the recruits
take aim once more. It doesn’t take me long to fathom that she’s the only one
they’re shooting at.
I
meet Briggs’s steely gaze again, and he’s still wearing that stupid, smug grin.
He knew that this would happen. He could have put me out there to be a target,
but perhaps he’s already worked out that I’ll suffer so much more seeing
someone like Lucrece in the firing line. He doesn’t care about her skills or
her intellect; all he sees is a victim to toy with. The commander folds his
massive arms expectantly, looking at me and then at my discarded gun.
One
of the great advantages of growing up in the darkness of the Underground is
that my eyesight and focus have become very, very accurate. A merry irony
strikes me as I take up my gun, remembering a few of the valuable pointers that
Lucrece gave me moments ago. I pretend to take aim at one of the target boys,
who is nearest to Briggs at the left side of the field. Then, as I shift my
arms for a more
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