Forcing Out Man

• Artist: noey_ deej
• Description: This is a story I wrote when I was a freshman in high school. The assignment was to finish it in ONE month. I'd like to hear everyone's opinion on it. Maybe not on the original idea but more on just the actual writing itself.
• Date: 08/03/2012
• Tags:

Chapter 1


I jumped off the reef into the chilling water, slicing through the sparkly bubbles surrounding me. My eyebrows creased as my eyes tried to focus. The oil was wandering on the ocean floor, hugging it. I fought an urge to capture it, torture it, and ask it why it was here. It was mysterious the way it moved. It knew subconsciously that it had ignited trouble, though I did not. I was too young.
Suddenly, my lungs started to burn. My legs and arms pushed as hard as they could. I hadn’t known how deep I’d gone and how long I’d stayed. The water felt like Jell-O in between my fingers and toes. The sunlight started to return and my face punctured the surface. Oxygen at last. It’s funny how one can forget about something they are so dependent on. But that’s human nature.
As a kid, I felt instead of thought. It’s like when someone is behind you and you can’t see, but you feel them. That’s how I knew that the oil was bad. I knew nothing about politics or environmentalists. All I knew was that people were angry. Some were sad. And a few satisfied with themselves, for what, I didn’t understand. But later I saw what it had done.
I saw separations of families and friends. People I had known. Children I played with down the street. They moved away, trying to find a better place fit for their children. The land was not the same anymore.
I was born into a time when Earth was at its worst. It had taken too long for people to realize their mistakes. They were elementary kids procrastinating about a long essay that would inevitably be due. Governments pulled together to discuss how to solve their country’s issues. But the topic would get shrugged off. Decades passed. By the time global leaders got together, people were going mad. Rioting was close to common. Fire was rising alongside boiling emotions. Some moved to escape the toxic waste, but mostly they had separated from one another mentally not physically. My parents, however, decided on moving to an island where there would be an alternate living style. They were both involved in scientific fields of work. Mom was an amateur artist that used only soy-based ink and paints, but her career was in finding ways to reduce waste and energy usage while Dad was an architect for energy efficient buildings.
Quite a few of his designs were built on the island. He used the ‘mistakes of many and the laws of nature’ to guide him in his work. Dad often tells me that nature has set out a perfect balance, but we can very easily upset it. However, we can also manipulate and convert it into our vision. He keeps a notebook of scribbles by his bed so when he wakes up he can write down his scrambled thoughts. I find it funny yet comforting to read it occasionally; most of the time they don’t make sense.
Most days I start off with school but its Saturday so instead I walked outside to the backyard to gather my thoughts. I had Dad design a glass room about the size of a bathroom for me after I came up with the idea. I thought of it when Mom was driving me to the grocery store in the Aqua Cruiser. The engine had a tube leading to a reserve of hot water that transferred steam through it, but the tube had a crack in it so steam was leaking out. Mom had gotten out of the car to take a look. I sat mutely. It started to rain. It hit and tapped against the glass window, and that’s when I wondered what it would be like to have a room completely made of glass. That way I could sit in the middle of it, taking in all the rain drops around me.
It served as a nice place to calm myself. I didn’t mind being alone. In fact, I found it easier to be with myself than with others. When you’re with other people you have to constantly be revaluating yourself in their image. Being by myself means I get to be myself.
There wasn’t any “false” rain today. The water storage was low so there wasn’t any way to get artificially stimulated rainfall. Usually I stay longer in my glass room but because of that inconvenience, I decide not to.
I walked in to find Mom redecorating the kitchen. Not a surprise. The walls were now red with revolving oranges sticking out and spaced evenly. Before this there had been anything from forks being stabbed through walls, balloon lamp-posts, misshapen faces, and plant vines throughout the kitchen.
“Hi, Hun. Are you hungry?”
“It depends what you made.” I slinked into a kitchen chair. Mom was very involved in nutrition, so I never quite knew what was going to be served.
“Well, will pancakes make you hungry?” She turned to smile at me. Mom was always such a bubbly person. It almost hurt to be around her. I try not to compare myself to her socially but sometimes I can’t help it. Why can’t I go up to someone and simply say “Hi”? Aren’t guys supposed to have an unbreakable wall of confidence?
“I’ll pass, but thanks.” I headed for the front door. My neighborhood was mostly filled with nature and vegetation but had other houses and high-tec buildings. There are kids here and there, too, but I don’t regularly converse with them. Most people would say, “Well, why don’t you try to work on that. Try to be more outgoing.” but I’m not even sure I want to fix anything. Is it bad to be shy; an introvert?
I strolled down a trail that started out as gravel then slowly turned to sand. It lead to an opening that brought me to the shore. I liked looking at the tide pools and sea shells. The creatures seemed to have a cozy and safe life. Sometimes I wished I could live down there with them. Except for the part when people look at you with their huge eye balls and point their stubby fingers at you.
I realized my thoughts had trickled when someone halted them.
“They don’t like being stared at you know.” My eyes flicked up. It was a girl standing barefoot in the sand.
“You must’ve been standing there a long time to come to that conclusion.” Was she standing there long? Looking at me? Her hand caressed her wispy light brown hair, pulling it behind her ear. Her tan skin looked washed out in the coldness. She walked closer then bent down to gaze into the tide pool. The salt water’s reflection lit a jigsaw puzzle of light on her bold face.
She ignored my comment.
“I can feel what they’re feeling.” She must be crazy. I looked at her and I could sense my left eyebrow raising. She didn’t notice. “My parents had an experiment run on me in a lab. They’re biologists. Nothing felt wrong with me until that Christmas when I got my first pet. It was a mouse.” She seemed to be rambling but she was talking slowly, carefully. Her eyes were glazed in memory, “…didn’t seem to mention the experiment. Maybe they wanted me to forget it.”
She paused. She faced toward the sea but her eyes twitched to the left where I was. Her head followed.
“That’s some childhood. I’m sorry that happened, unless you like having those powers- I mean abilities. Then I’m happy for you.” I stuttered.
“Yeah, and the best part is…” she zoomed in further to my face, looking straight into my eyes. She paused for effect, “I’m joking.” Her eyes creased with a smile.
“Oh, right.” I nervously chuckled. I should have known that.
“So why are you here?”
“I like to look at the animals.” I gazed back at them.
“Every day?”
“Almost. How’d you know I come here that often?”
“I live just a little within the trees that way.” She pointed behind us. “I can see you through my dining room window.” That’s not too creepy.
The conversation paused for a while. Am I supposed to come up with something to say?
“What’s your name?” She beat me to it.
“Matthew.” It came to mind that I didn’t know hers. “What’s yours?”
“Kylee.”
What had first been just a slight breeze had turned into a strong wind. I covered my eyes from the blowing sand.
“It’s getting kind of rough out here. Do you want to come inside?” she raised her voice slightly to overcome the wind.
“Sure.” We briskly walked away from the shore and into a shortcut I never knew about. The trail wasn’t fully worn down yet so branches whipped and flicked at me, scrapping my face and legs. It didn’t take very long to reach Kylee’s front yard. There were many rose bushes heavily in bloom and vines covered one side of the house. Brick made up most of the house. Our feet found a trail of walking stones that brought us to the front door.
Leaves blew in once we opened the door. The dining room was to the left and a small living area was to the right. It was nothing spectacular but it did have a coziness about it. The house was warm and smelt like a combination of bird feathers and sweet cinnamon. It was quiet except for a low buzzing of a television. Kylee ran into the kitchen. She came back out with two rusted mugs of cider. She tossed one of them into the air with impossible accuracy. I flinched my arm forward and managed to catch it, but not without a third of it falling out first.
We sat down on the couch and sipped our cider. To avoid awkwardness, we starred at the television. Kylee turned up the news to hear what was going on. There was a caption that read, “PRES. DECLARES WAR”.
“War with who?” My thoughts were that since we lived separate from the “states” that it couldn’t be a war involving us.
“Shh!” Her eyes grew intense as she listened.
“…intentions are clear. They plan on taking over a southern island owned by the United States of America. South Korea’s reasoning is they have no room left to hold their people let alone, continue growing. They need more resources, something that every country pursues.” I froze. Our island had never experienced something like this before. After all, it was a very new civilization.
“But we don’t believe in war.” It was true. Our society didn’t believe in solving problems by killing. How would we handle a war? Would we just sit there and let them take over?
Kylee flipped the channel to the local news. A very important looking man was talking.
“There are many ideas on how to handle this breaking news. We are still in the process of making a decision. We ask that everybody stay as calm as possible and continue…”
“Uh, I think I better go home now. My parents are probably worried about me.” Kylee walked me to the door.
“It was nice meeting you, Matthew. I hope your parents aren’t too concerned.”
“Thanks. I’ll see you later?”
“Maybe. Bye.”



Chapter 2


“I met a girl.” I said as I walked in. My parents’ eyes considered me.
“That’s marvelous! What’s her name?”
“Never mind that, what’s she look like?” my dad wondered.
“Roger,” Mom glared at him.
“She’s kind of…” I searched for the right word, “ interesting. I don’t know very much about her. Her name’s Kylee. She lives right by the shore, next to the trail I take.”
“I’m so happy you’ve found a friend, honey.” She gave me a hug. “Now, time for dinner.”
We sat down at the table. Mom had already set all the food down. I was lucky; today was one of the good nights. She made mashed cauliflower with mushroom gravy, tomato soup with beans and fresh celery, homemade whole grain bread, and for dessert, frozen Greek yogurt.
All of our food was either home grown or bought locally. Everything on the island is sustainable. That means no “farming factories” like on the mainland. I’ve never seen the “factories” but I’ve heard only bad things about them. I do know that our cows are given grass to eat and our chickens’ fresh corn, supposedly unlike the mainland. There was originally no grass on the island when we got here so we had some work to do to make it possible.
We munched in silence.
“So about that war.” Dad stated. I had almost forgotten.
“Did you hear about it, Matthew?”
“Yeah, I was actually going to ask you about that.” I swallowed my food. “How are we going to deal or prepare for it? Most of the people on this island don’t believe in war.”
“They’re not quite sure yet. I’m sure they’ll think of something.” We munched on the silence for a while, chewing on the possibilities of what might come ahead of us.

Chapter 3


“Who’d you meet today?” my aunt yelled from the kitchen.
“Matthew. We talked briefly by the tide pools but the wind got really intense so we came inside. That’s when we saw the news.”
“Did you give him some hot cider?”
“Yes. But I don’t think that’s very important considering there’s a war being declared.”
“Oh, right.” She paused. “But you know there’s one with no sugar. You didn’t give him that one did you?”
“No I didn’t.” And with that, I knew there would be no good conversation there, so I went up the stairs to my room.
I spent most of my time in my room. There wasn’t a reason to be downstairs really. To some my room might seem cluttered but that’s just because I spend my time decorating and creating. I love creating. It’s a passion of mine. I like making collages and paintings. Even ones that don’t turn out so great I keep. I put them on one side of my wall and in the center is a large picture of a tree that was pasted on canvas. I like to think of it as my tree of thoughts, because every object I create had to have been either a thought or an image. I’d like to make a tree of people. I’d have people with interesting faces on it. It wouldn’t matter if they were pretty or not. I just like seeing pictures of faces that aren’t materialized and beautified. Faces in magazines are overrated. They all look perfect. All look the same. All perfect.
But imperfection is key.


Chapter4


A couple days and a week passed and there was no sign of Kylee. I thought maybe I should go over and knock on her door but then she might think I’m too clingy. So I stayed in my room, laid in bed with the covers over my head, and flowed music waves through my ears.
My stomach rumbled but I didn’t want to get up. I glanced at the clock; 6:45 a.m. Nice time for a walk. I pulled on a pair of pants and grabbed a jacket and out the door I went.
Fog lingered through the air and on the ground. Do you have to let it linger? Do you have to? Do you have to? the song popped in my head.
None of the stores were open yet except for a restaurant shack that I’d been many times before. They had pretty decent seafood. The golden door bell rang as I walked in.
“Clam chowder, please.” I handed the owner a five dollar bill.
“Coming right up.” There was only one other person in the shack. His back was turn away from me. I wasn’t sure if I’d seen him before.
“Here you go, sir. Have a nice day.”
“Thanks, you too.” I strolled back outside. Man, it was cold. I walked down the street more and found a wooden picnic bench. I sat down and slurped the chowder. The steam whirled through the air. I was so cold and the chowder was so warm, I could feel it run down to my stomach. It warmed up me up like a sparkling fire.
The setting was beautiful in the early morning. I’d like to watch nature play out as most people were inside sleeping. They seemed to miss out on so much.
I finished eating the chowder soaked bread and trotted back up the road, my hands in my jacket. I slowed my pace down; there was no need to rush anyways. I didn’t have anything important to do at home.
It was a cold island. Not like Hawaii or Fiji. Pine trees rimmed most houses and man-made ponds. The people who lived here were not intent on cutting them down. Ducks scattered the ponds with splashing water and white-feathered bottoms in the air. Birds nested in the trees and squirrels swirled around the trunks chipping off bark with their gripping claws. I enjoyed watching all the animals and the weather patterns. It didn’t bother me at all when it rained, which was most of the time.
Before I realized it, I was stepping up the stairs to my porch. The time had gone fast. It was still early, about 7:45. I went through the front door and sat down on the couch. The television was already on. The only thing my parents ever really watched was National Geographic. I flipped to some sitcoms. Mom thought the constant laughing in the background was annoying but I liked it. I think it helps me lighten up. T.V. lets me forget about everything else around me; I’m in another dimension. Lots of people say T.V. is bad, but I disagree. It may not be great necessarily, but whatever.
The television shut off. I looked behind me and Mom and Dad were standing behind me holding a letter. They didn’t look too happy.
“What’s wrong?” concern filled my voice.
“We got a letter.”
“What’s it say?” information was lacking and it worried me.
“It’s from the government.” My eyes wandered the room, panicking, thinking out the possibilities. It had to of been about the war. “Now, we don’t want to scare you but…”
“But what?” the speed at which they were talking was too slow.
“They have requested you. You’re going to be recruited.” What? I have to fight? I am not the type that can kill someone. The only experience I have in that is in playing videogames.
“Matthew, say something, son.” I realized I hadn’t said anything yet.
“When? How much time do I have?”
“It was very short notice. They only had so much time. And since the war is for the island in which you live on…” Just give me a straight answer please! I thought. “We have one week until you have to leave to some area in the United States. Just one week…” Mom began to sob. Dad held her.
I ran into my room and slammed the door.



Chapter 5


I awoke on the floor, my eyes tired, inflamed, and puffy from all the shedding of tears the night before. My whole body was sore from bad sleep. I slowly got up, moaning and groaning the whole way. I stumbled down the stairs and out the door without a word. I wanted to tell Kylee.


Chapter 6

I heard a knock on the door. Aunt Marese went to go get it.
“Is Kylee here?”
“Oh, you must be Mark. Come right in.”
“Actually it’s Matthew.” I walked over to the door to meet him.
“Hi, what’s up?” I said.
“Nothing much.” He didn’t look very convincing. He looked almost sad.
“Is something bothering you?”
“No, I mean yes.” He took a deep breath. “I’m going to be recruited for the war. I have a week.” I fiddled awkwardly. I didn’t know how to act or how to respond. I’m not very good with that sort of thing.
“I’m sorry. I don’t know what else to say.”
“That’s okay. I didn’t either. I kind of just ran into my room like a little girl.”
I laughed, even though I don’t think that was the appropriate thing to do.
“You know, you’re being brave just by opening up and telling me.” I reassured him.
“Thanks. I wanted to tell somebody and I don’t have anyone else to do that with.”
“Well then, I guess it’s a good thing I’m here.” I smiled at him and lightly punched his arm to try to lighten the mood. He gave a shy smile back.
He was cute in a way, in a dorky, low self-esteem sort of way. He had some physical beauty but it couldn’t show unless he knew about. It felt like I was hanging out with a brother. Almost as effortless as being with one.
“Come on, we can hang out in my room.” We went up the stairs and into what I like to call, my cave. I hoped he wouldn’t be too flabbergasted at the sight of it.




I felt that my mouth had dropped. Her room was completely covered with what I assumed her artwork. Most of it was quite good. Some was creepy and eerie; some was interesting. There seemed to be a design for every emotion, like a library of paintings each with a different story, title, published date, and each with different readers. It seemed to be an honor to stand in such a room. I turned to see her looking at me, reading my facial expressions.
“It’s kind of messy, but I don’t care.” She smirked at me. She had a unique sense of humor. I was beginning to like it.
“No. It’s really, very fascinating to look at. You can see the time you put into it.”
“Thanks. Do you paint?”
“No, not really.”
“I’m sure you could if you tried. Let’s paint something now!” she grabbed out a canvas and painting supplies. “Do you like abstract or more on the realistic side?”
“What do you like?”
“Both. Here, let’s do abstract. It’ll let your thoughts flow.” So we swirled and twisted, dotted and sprinkled, created colors and mixed. And then we were done. We hung it on a new spot and admired our finished product. It felt good to do. I felt lighter in a sense.
“Thanks.”
“For what?” she asked.
“For showing me art. You know, my mom is an artist too. But I never touched a brush to canvas before today. It was a good experience. I can see why she enjoys it so much.”
“You should paint with her sometime.”
“Yeah, I think I will.”
“And take this with you to show her. She’ll appreciate you showing her your work.” Kylee handed me the painting from off the wall. I gripped it gingerly.
“I’ll go show her now.” I turned to walk out the room then turned back. “I’ll see you later?”
“Yep, g’night.” She escorted me out the door and left me into the night.


Chapter 7



I awoke early Wednesday like usual. And for once the fog and rain made me feel like most people feel when it visits; depressed. It would be a while before I saw it again, if ever. Today was my last day, my last 24 hours before I took a long, solitary flight to the U.S. It is there, in Texas, where I will begin my grueling training for becoming a soldier.

I told Kylee I would write to her while I was away. She was excited about the idea. She thought it was old fashioned and therefore interesting to try out. I added a good amount of paper, some pencils, and stamps to my pack. It was getting full. I wished I could bring everything I own but I knew that was impossible so I tried not to think about it.
I was almost done packing when Mom came in. Her laugh lines were apparent only because they weren’t being covered up with smiles. She didn’t say anything but her presence alone was comforting. She just sat there solemnly while I packed my belongings.

My parents were quiet as they drove me to the small airport. There really wasn’t much to say. I think we were all in shock because it happened so fast, the letter and all. And honestly, I really wasn’t looking forward to this journey at all.
The plane ride was taking a long time. It had been only two hours and fifteen minutes since I got on the tiny plane. Six more to go.
The plane was not padded at all. Everywhere you looked there were sheets of metal. No cozy chairs or carpet. No one else was on the plane except for the pilot of course, but he wasn’t someone I could talk to. Even if I did have the good fortune to have someone to converse with, I probably wouldn’t say anything anyways. I was a lonely little boy.
I brought some books to read and some music to listen to. My eyes got tired off the small print after just a couple hours however, so I was left with music. Not that that’s a bad thing, it’s just that, it’s hard for me to listen to music without singing along and bugging everyone. I made sure to limit myself to just humming for the sake of the pilot. I did not want to irritate him and have him get distracted because of it.
We reached Texas at around four o’clock. I had to be at the training station at five. As soon as I recovered my luggage and got out of the plane, I was looking for a taxi. Who knew what the people at the camp would make me do if I was late.
“Washington Columer drive, please.” I sat down heavily and took a deep breath. It relaxed me.
“Sure thing, kid.” The driver said without even making eye contact with me. The tires of the car squealed like an irritated pig and I was on my way. Most of the drive was very boring considering that all there was to look at was dirt and horizon. There wasn’t even a sunset to gaze into. The driver turned on his radio. It was country music. It definitely wasn’t my favorite, but I could tolerate it. I didn’t know any of the words so it wasn’t possible to risk accidentally singing.
The rest of the ride went by a little faster. I knew it was coming to an end when I spotted a group of low buildings way out in the horizon. As we drove closer, teenage boys standing around talking, laughing, or standing alone with creased faces were visible. The car pulled up to a small parking area with room for only about five or six cars. About a hundred faces turned my way as I creaked the passenger door open and slid out. I paid the driver and then he took off down the long dirt road. The sun beat on my eyes. I took one look at everyone then felt my face get hot. I kept my eyes down staring at the dirt the rest of the time until I was safe in the office.
It was air conditioned and had a couple cheap chairs for waiting. There was a middle aged woman sitting at the front desk dealing with papers, scribbling away. The room had too much white in it, causing my head to spin. There was one isolate painting of some sort of flower. It was watercolor, but not a bright, vibrant one; faded. There was a blowing fan which had tensile attached to it. A couple indoor plants sagged in the corners.
I walked up to the lady at the front desk. I wasn’t sure what I wanted to ask her. There were a lot of questions I had but they seemed unimportant. I felt more like stalling so I wouldn’t have to go outside and have kids look at me.
The lady kept on working. “Excuse me, where is it that I should be headed? Possibly a bunker or…?” I trailed off. I didn’t know what else I could call where I would be staying.
“Just sit outside there and wait for further instructions.”
“Could I stay in here and sit over on those chairs?” she sighed and finally looked at me, her eyes where magnified with glasses.
“What makes you so special that you can sit in here while everyone else sits outside in the heat? If you can tell me that, then we can discuss the matter.” she was again consumed by her work. I had the feeling that many had asked her the same question. I didn’t want to bother her any more so I headed out the door slowly taking as much time as I could to avoid the inevitable. But I did reach the door. The heat was horrible; the sun blinding. I was not used to it and even if I was I would not enjoy it. I was going to miss my fog and rainy days.
The eyes once again switched over to me but lost interest fast. More were forming groups, already getting to know each other. I picked a spot to sit and wait. There was one against a wall. It was cold; a nice way to cool off.
My thoughts started to drift. I thought about my parents, how they were doing, the tide pools, Kylee. But I was cut short by a sharp whistle piercing my ears. I stood to see who blew it. I had difficulty seeing over all the young men, most of which were older than me since they had to be 18 or older and I was 15. But I managed to find a man with a uniform on who was facing the crowd, talking very loudly and spitting while doing so. His face was slightly red. I tried to get closer to hear what he was saying.
“This is a no nonsense training. Your little world as you know it is in crisis and no matter how sissy you are, you’re going in to help. So slip out of those panty hoes you’re wearing or I’m going to have to burn them off myself.” It was hard to hear the rest. People were getting antsy and mumbling to each other. I strained my neck to hear the rest of what the man was saying but there wasn’t any use.
After the whispering died down, so did the man’s yelling. The cluster of young men moved forward so I did the same. We walked down to rows of small buildings which I assumed where going to be our living space for the next couple months.
“Set your crap down over in your room. If you don’t already know what your number is add up all the digits in your date of birth, divide by three, and round if necessary.” It looked as if everyone had forgotten they’re basic math skills. Their faces were creased and thoughtful; their fingers were out filing out digits to help count.
I thought of my birth date; 01/17/1997. I added then divided and got 671. Here we go, I thought. I walked around the corner of the blue building scanning the isles of room numbers until I found mine. It was bare. Nothing but a cheap spring bed, a toilet, and a sink. No windows either.
But there was a second bed. My first thought was that I would have to go to the bathroom in front of someone else. I cringed at the thought. Light filled the room then disappeared again revealing a young man about the age of 16, tall with a slightly muscular build.
“Hey.” He dropped his bags on the floor and reached a hand out towards me. I shook it. “The name’s Jake.”
“Matthew.” I responded.
“Ready for hell?” he laughed then shook my hand. I didn’t see how it was a joke, but I forced a chuckle out. “Mind if I take a piss?”
“Uh, sure. Go ahead.” I turned away letting myself look busy by unpacking my belongings. I hadn’t had many guy friends before and was a little unsure of how I was supposed to act.
“What, are you afraid to see a guy pee or something? Take a load off man. You’re going to be seeing a lot of that here. It’s just you, me, and a whole lotta testosterone. They’re gonna have to toughen you up. Just a bunch of bones, aren’t you?” he chuckled again then paused while he went to his baggage. “My brother is in the army. He tells me about it sometimes. He’s one scary guy, yes he is. What about you, any brothers?”
“No, I’m an only child.”
“Huh,” he grunted. “That’s what’s up.” Jake had a strange way of talking. It wasn’t formal at all. Not what I was used to.
“Where you from?”
“What’s it to you? We’re all the same anyways, no matter where from. Don’t you think?” his eyes penetrated into mine. My eyes were nervous, trying not to make contact.
“Yeah, I guess.”
“Anyways, nice to meet you.” he walked by managing to simultaneously punch my arm.
“You too.”
The rest of the day was long. After everyone unpacked we gathered back to where we had been earlier. The man was waiting in the front of the crowd. I had managed to get closer to the front this time. The man looked about forty-five. He had grey eyes and leathery skin, tan and sprinkled with age spots and freckles from being in the sun too much. His veins were abnormally large, I assumed from yelling too much. His uniform was clean and ironed. He stood very straight.
“Now that you’re all unpacked, I bet your just starving.” the corner of his lip curled slightly signaling sarcasm. “Go follow that lunch lady over there. She’ll take you where you need to go.” I turned my head. I hadn’t even noticed her. Was she there the whole time?
We started to follow her. She stood waiting, her extra pounds in her midsection seeming to hold her up. Her face held no humor, no involvement. She turned around and walked forward, her feet barely lifting off the ground. The crowd of men moved as a whole, the sound of pebbles and dirt being tossed under shoes.
We walked past where our rooms were then about 200 yards down. There was a building, not much different from most of the buildings there. We went through the doors, taking a couple minutes just doing so. Once inside, I could see lunch tables and a serving table with food on. The woman took her place behind the food table then tied an apron around her waist.
“Grab a plate and get in line, please!” she yelled across the room. A long line appeared almost out of nowhere. I was lucky to get half way down from the start of the line. I watched the people get their food. I was deciding whether or not it looked appetizing or not. Most of it looked like a pile of mush and I wasn’t close enough to see any details.
Minutes passed filled only with boredom. Five more people in line. I could see the food now. It was chicken teriyaki with rice, a mound of corn, and a dinner roll. A strange combination of food. It smelt tolerable, not rotten or sour. Although I have never smelt sour teriyaki or soiled corn before.
I gripped a plastic tray, holding it out for the lunch lady. She had deep laugh lines but was not smiling. Maybe she had been happy in her earlier life. She held an ice-cream scooper in her hand. It rounded some corn which was then plopped on my tray. Steam rose up to my nose. Rice was poured and then the chicken was topped on. She shoved me a dinner roll with a latex glove hand. I shuffled my feet trying to find a place to eat. There were so many kids, it was almost impossible to find a spot. It almost overwhelmed me. I might have been used to it had I gone to a high school, but I hadn’t.
I must have been standing there holding my food for minutes. It would have been embarrassing had I been the only one doing so. But there were others. Most of them were on the small side like me. They seemed out of place. A lanky guy with bulgy eyes saw me looking his way and decided to walk over to me. I knew he was older than me but that didn’t seem to matter.
“Hey, I saw that you were looking for a place to sit?” he asked me.
“Yeah, everything looks taken.”
“Well, my new buddies and I are going to sit on the floor over there. Do you want to come?”
“Sure,” we walked to the small group that I was peering at before. They stared back at me like they were analyzing a new species, but somehow they felt warm and approachable. Their stares crinkled into smiles, welcoming me.
“Okay everybody, this is…” he turned to me.
“Matthew,” I raised my hand to signify a wave. They nodded and waved back.
“I’m Nick by the way,” he stated as we sat down against the wall. I nodded and began to chip away at the mountain of corn mush on my plate. “Where are you from?” I figured this would be the normal conversation starter at this place.
“The eco-island. You’ve probably heard of it,” that was the slang word they used for it. Most people on the mainland had mixed feelings about the island on which I lived.
“Oh, so you’re all green and stuff,” he mocked. “Just kidding. I’d rather live there than here. It’s filthy.”
“I can imagine,” I said. Someone from the group chimed in.
“How did you get to the island? It’s really hard for most people to qualify.”
“What do you mean?” I was confused. I had never heard this before.
“You know,” he ripped a bite of chicken off, “the government doesn’t just give that space to just anyone. You have to, like, have some sort of agreement with them.”
“What kind of agreement?” He was looking at his food this whole time, never looking up.
“Well, I don’t know if this is true or not. It may be just a rumor. But I heard that when the adults of the island have kids, and their kids turn sixteen, they will start their training and when they turn nineteen, they will lead different countries all over the world. Leading them to a better future. They’ll teach them to be sustainable and to keep ‘world peace’ and all that crap that will never happen.”
Wow, could all that be true? No, no, probably not. And if it was, would I even want to lead a whole country? I’d be like a president, or like Martin Luther and Gandhi. Or what if I became corrupt with power? I’d be like Hitler! Oh, no. That would not be good.
“Hel-lo?” A hand waved across my face. I blinked. “Now that you’re back with us…” Nick laughed. But he was interrupted by the same man, this time with a voice projector.
“Okay everybody! Back to your rooms. Eight-thirty, lights out!”
I departed from Nick and his friends and went to my room. I had 20 minutes until “lights off” so I picked up a pen and paper and started writing.




Dear Kylee,

I finished my first day of training. It didn’t actually involve any training unless you count forcing down chicken and rice as exercise. The food wasn’t too bad though. I was expecting ground pig’s meal with split peas and guts, like in the movies.
It’s very dry here. And it’s in the middle of nowhere. Orange dust rises when you walk. The sun is the only thing in the sky besides the roaming birds and their squawking. I miss the droopy fog.
My instructor yells a lot. I would like to see him attempt to whisper. At least there is a ton of people so I’m likely to not stand out to him. Oh, did I mention I have a roommate? His name’s Jake. He sounds rough, like he’s from the Midwest. He has a brother in the army so I’m sure he knows lots of dangerous stuff like pressure points and how to knock people out. I don’t know how well we’ll get along.
I met a group of kids at dinner. They saw me standing alone looking for a seat. The place was packed and we had to sit on the floor. They seem like outcasts in a way, like me, because they don’t have the muscular build and aggressiveness that most of the guys here do. They, we, don’t look like we could ever kill someone.

One of the guys said something about the kids on the eco-island. He said they have to lead all these different countries when they turn nineteen. Have you heard anything about that? I’m really curious about it. Not saying that it’s true, but if it was would you want to lead?
And how’s everything going down there? Anything new?

Hope to see you soon.


Matthew




Chapter 8





The days were very long, starting at 5:30, ending at 8:30. Training was excruciating and my muscles bulged with soreness whenever I took an inch in any direction. I was always layered with dried mud like scales on a fish. I was progressing in target practice though. Surprisingly I was pretty decent at it. The trouble was lifting the gun. I found that guns were heavier than I thought. They felt like they were made of lead.

Four slow snail days after I sent the letter to Kylee, I received one back. I felt my thumb shred through the envelope, slicing a paper cut on my finger. I raced to get the letter out. My eyes furiously searched the sentences, lining back and forth like darts.


Dear Matthew,

It sounds interesting yet uncomfortable there. Maybe it’ll at least open your eyes up about the world around you. You said you never had been off the island before so this is your new adventure! And you could possibly try to be outgoing, even to the big guys.
I tried to talk to my aunt about what your friend said but she got all flustered and started doing busy work to distract her and me. It was strange. I think I’ll do some digging with the matter. I think she know more than what she said.
Talk to you soon.

Kylee



Every week I would get a letter. One from my parents and the following week, one from Kylee. Having the letters was the only thing tying me down to the island. If I don’t get them weekly I predict I would fly away from the island’s attachment to my heart entirely, my mind would be so involved in war skills and desert sand.
And eventually it did. My parents had given birth to a new child while I was away and no longer wrote to me. They had written just enough to have me filled in on the new baby boy. His name is Isaiah. They sent me one picture of him which I was tempted to through in the trash but refrained. And when I needed Kylee most, she vanished. One day she just stopped writing to me. I had no one.
The war with South Korea had come in a flash. They had stolen the element of surprise from us. They had attacked multiple training sites around the country including ours. Bombs dropped from the sky like a water reflection of funeral balloons leaving resistant hands. Dirt was suspended in air for split seconds then gravity followed its laws. Explosions erupted, burning building and supplies. Many, many died, but I had found a place to hide that luckily was missed by the bomber. Smoke fogged my vision. I had finally gotten the fog I so desperately wanted to encounter.
South Korea was on their way to my island when one of America’s few allies fought their ships with their aircrafts. There was no chance for South Korea. The island was saved. However, other countries were in line to claim the island. More wars had broken out like a shattered window. They were fighting each other to make sure one wouldn’t get a chance over themselves. They were weaving an unending web of chaos, back and forth between them.
As for me, I tried to stay out of the confusion. I decided to stay in the mainland up in New York where I could go to college to study ecology and architecture so I could help rebuild in a healthier way. It’s very busy and dirty but it’s a new adventure. And as for Kylee, I still think of her sometimes. I haven’t seen her since the day I left the island but I hope someday we can share our stories. Or perhaps I will visit my parents and the fog once more and I will find her sitting by the tide pools talking to the creatures, explaining her pain of how she wished she could write to me once more, if only there were enough trees to spare to make one sheet of paper.