The afternoon sun lashes down mercilessly as I stand at the edge of the outdoor yard, staring at the course laid before me. Yesterday’s was difficult; this one is impossible. The walls are higher, the beams narrower, and the pits beneath them are bottomless in the harsh shadows cast by midday sun.
Between obstacles, large open spaces are marked for running, and stacks of weights sit ominously at either end of a central balance beam that spans a pit of mud. My stomach lurches at the sight, regretting the lunch it consumed.
A grim thought occurs—what happens if I vomit? We’re not permitted to remove our masks here, and I doubt I could make it to a bathroom in time. The mental image of being sick inside my mask makes me gag, which only strengthens the fear of vomiting. Disgusting.
Arayik strides into the yard, every line of his large body radiating the fury I keep my power from exploring. I shouldn’t be shocked at this point…rage seems his natural state of being.
The three other recruits assigned to his afternoon group—Finnick, Calder, and Brenner—arrive shortly after me, standing with the wary alertness of prey animals in predator territory.
“Today we’re doing high-intensity interval training,” the Commander announces. The three men groan in unison while I stand silent, having not one idea what this kind of training entails. If these hardened recruits are griping, it must be brutal—though I’ve noticed these men complain about everythingfrom lukewarm food to slightly damp towels, so perhaps their discomfort isn’t the most reliable gauge.
Arayik doesn’t wait for response, stomping to the head of the obstacle course before beginning. His movements are fluid and powerful as he scales the first wall, using the rope as leverage rather than relying solely on his arms. He crosses the narrow beams with precision, navigates the tunnels with efficient grace, and completes the running section with long, measured strides.
When he reaches the weights, he squats, bending from the knees rather than the hips, and lifts two bulky disks as if they weigh nothing. His balance on the beam is once again perfect—each foot placed deliberately in front of the other as he traverses the twenty feet of it, mud gurgling beneath.
The entire demonstration takes less than five minutes, and Arayik isn’t even winded when he finishes. I marked each point of his technique, knowing I will not match his strength or endurance, but I can mimic his form, and focus on efficiency over power.
“You will complete this course as many times as possible in the next two hours. Begin.”
My mouth drops. The entire course? Multiple times?For two hours…
There’s no possible chance I will make it through the day. I couldn’t even finish one circuit yesterday without wheezing like I was dying.
I’m going to be kicked out today. I’m about to fail so thoroughly that even Arayik’s fascination with tormenting me won’t be enough to keep me here. I’ll be sent home in disgrace, back to hiding in my parents’ house, reading about a world that will never know change.
The thought fills me with a different kind of fire. I didn’tleave my family, cut my damn hair, and risk everything just to fail now. I’m here for a purpose.
And if my mother could endure being violated and dehumanized in a facility for years and still find ways to smile, then I can endure this.
Plus, I need information. Who the people are outside the perimeter; how many women they’ve helped escape; how they’re evading Enforcer surveillance. I know this building must contain things that could aid their operation more efficiently. I just need to stay long enough to find it.
“Move!” Arayik’s voice cracks across the yard, stabbing through my head.
My body responds before my mind fully registers the command. I sprint toward the first wall, dust kicking up beneath my boots. Yesterday’s training has left my muscles sore and stiff, but I push through the pain, focusing on the rope dangling from the top of the wall. Leaping for it, my hands wrap around the rough fiber and pull with everything they have. Both arms scream in protest, but I haul myself up inch by painful inch, imitating Arayik’s technique of walking the wall as I pull.
When I grunt and scramble over the top corner, I pause to catch my breath, surveying the course ahead. The others are advancing through the obstacles with varying degrees of skill. My eyes widen as Finnick slips on a balance beam and plummets into the pit below with a startled yelp.
Nope, nope, nope. Not falling in there today. “Focus,” I mutter to myself, the word muffled.
Each obstacle needs to be approached with calculated precision. Where I lack raw physical strength, I make up for in strategy. The Commander’s demonstration provided a template, and I follow it as closely as possible, adjusting for my smaller frame and limited muscle mass. At one point, I slow mypace, allowing Calder to overtake me. It’s better to appear average than to draw attention by excelling or failing compared to the others. I need Arayik to forget me.
After completing the climbing, crawling, and balancing sections, I reach the running portion. The open field that looked manageable from a distance stretches before me like an endless nightmare. My lungs already burn, and the prospect of running makes my legs tremble.
I begin at what I think is a reasonable pace, only to remember I’ve never ran before. Not properly. The times I moved with speed through my home were brief sprints, nothing like sustained running over a distance. I’ve made a critical error in beginning too fast. Pacing is necessary during endurance activities, though I know even that wouldn’t have helped me as my lungs are gasping for breath after a mere minute. Shit,it burns.
Sure, I make it through the required laps, but by that time I’m wheezing so hard I can barely stand. Dropping to my knees, hands brace against the packed earth as I fight to control my breathing. The mask traps much of my exhaled breaths as they come and go too quickly, creating an environment that makes each inhalation feel inadequate.
“Move it, stragglers!” Arayik barks from somewhere nearby. He doesn’t single me out by name, but I know the command is directed primarily at me.
My arms quiver as I rise, the muscles above my breasts blazing with fatigue. I stagger to the final portion of the course—the balance beam with its impossible weights. I don’t think I could even walk across the beam without them right now. Another recruit is midway on the beam, with the only sets of weights remaining on the other side. I’ll have to circle to the opposite end and wait for him to finish.
Finally, some reprieve.
Everyone else has finished, staring in this direction, waiting for me to struggle across. I’m determined to make it through, but muscle fatigue and determination do not fuel each other, and the probability of me falling flat on my face in the nasty mud is high.
When Brenner steps off, I position myself at the end. The weights sit on either side of me, the number forty displayed on each. I can assume what that means, but at this point, I don’t care…I do not wish to lift fortyanythingat the moment.
Bend at the knees. Don’t pull a muscle. And absolutely do not fall.
