Page 26 of Unmade

“Lost and indifferent,” he echoed. “Let’s hope that changes soon.”

That’d be nice.

* * *

The next babysitter, to use Operator Rose’s word, let us get familiar with the schoolhouse on the first floor. We saw the classrooms, most of which were on the small side since they didn’t take in many recruits at once. There were some large ones as well, though. After seeing our dorms, it was clear they were used to accepting bigger groups of people too. Operator Hyatt said they often took in government personnel that were sent here for advanced training for whatever reason.

That led to some of the recruits asking why the government would send employees to Hillcroft, and Operator Hyatt replied absently while checking his watch.

“We train security escorts and drivers, for instance. We teach them how to handle certain situations like riots, assaults, protests, terrorist attacks…”

I tuned him out and wandered into one of the classrooms.

Nine seats, one teacher’s desk, one big-ass whiteboard. Nothing whatsoever on the walls.

It made me curious to find out how individualized our schedules were. Had they already profiled us enough to customize our lists of classes? Would someone take history but not a second language? Were there any classes they’d taken off my list?

“Listen up, everyone!” That sounded like Beckett.

I ducked out of the room and looked down the hall, and both Beckett and Coach were coming in hot.

“Thank fuck,” Operator Hyatt muttered. “I’m out. It was nice, uh…” He glanced at the recruits and changed his mind. “Never mind.” He left. “Don’t do this to me again, Coach.”

I smirked.

“Love you too, sunshine,” was Coach’s reply.

I folded my arms over my chest as our hot teachers reached us.

“It looks like we have a water leak on our hands, so dormitory units one, two, and three will be moved,” Beckett announced. “Don’t worry, your shit hasn’t been damaged, but we gotta get plumbers in there. And depending on the damage, unit four might also need to be transferred, but we’ll know more tomorrow.”

Well, fuck. I was in unit four. I’d started clocking out mentally when he’d only mentioned the other units.

“For the affected units, congrats, you’re grabbin’ your shit and moving in to the condos across the street,” Coach announced.

Damn. The recruits in those units suddenly perked up, and I hoped they found a fucking flood in our room. I hated bunk beds.

Beckett spoke up again. “As Coach mentioned earlier outside the dorms, all Hillcroft operators are entitled to a home close to work, whether it’s temporary or a permanent residence. Hence, Lincoln Towers across the street, where several of our operators live in between deployments.”

“And we’re tellin’ you this now because you gotta keep your mouths shut,” Coach said pointedly. “There are still primarily civilians livin’ in that building, so you better not treat the place like the barracks. You can pair up right now, and each duo will share a studio unit until we know more about the leak.”

Come on, water. Turn my dorm into a swamp. You can do it.

* * *

August 7th, 2024

My eyes flashed open.

4:30.

I turned off my alarm and sat up to scrub my hands over my face.

Wednesday. Deprogramming at oh-eight, introduction to secret communication in the field at ten… Lunch, followed by target practice. We were being assigned sidearms today, and I was looking forward to it. Rumor had it recruits were given Glock 19s.

I hadn’t been to a shooting range in over a month, and it was an obsession of mine. Target practice had gotten me through training rotations, dumb-fuck NCOs, power-hungry Shirts, and my transfer from active duty to reservist. Lastly, one semester of a class in business economics with a professor who hated his job.

I put on my workout clothes, ignoring the stuff we’d been given with the Hillcroft brand, then went to the bathroom. I wasn’t the only one who set his alarm this early, but there were few enough to grant us a moment’s peace in the shitter.

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