Free Gods of Anthem by Logan Keys Page B

hasn’t so much as wet his whistle?”
    The squad succumbs to choked hilarity.
    Sergeant Nolan yells over the top of the laughter. “Answer me, soldier. Is your team leader correct?”
    I keep pumping up and down, arms shaking, gut clenched. “Sir. Yes. Sir.” Sweat’s stinging my eyes, and I pretend it’s the only thing that’s making them burn.
    Sergeant Nolan chuckles and spits something brown next to my hand before he moves his boot to my shoulder. “Keep going.”
    A ringing begins in my ears. This is how it starts. “Roger.”
    “Count,” he snaps.
    “Fifty-five, fifty-six, fifty … fifty—” I collapse, face-first, feeling my energy leave in a rush.
    “Don’t you quit on me, you pussy! You get the hell back up, or I’ll make you pay for a hundred years!”
    “Roger, Sergeant!” But I’m only able to move about an inch upward.
    “Get up! Get up, you worm!”
    When I don’t, he backs off, telling me to stand. I do, and he moves toe-to-toe with me. “Private, tell me how it’s possible, when girls think the world’s ending and your pissant generation is gonna be the last so they’re passin’ it out like candy at Halloween that you still haven’t become a man?”
    I mumble an answer, avoiding the platoon’s stares, Cory’s grinning face, and Vero’s pitiful glance. “I’m afraid that I’ll hurt her … sir.”
    “What? What are you muttering about?”
    “I’m afraid I’ll make—hurt—”
    “Babababa! Talking like a baby, Private. Should I get you a bottle? Speak up, son, when you’re addressing a superior. If you like, we could heat up you and the entire platoon, too, an extra few hours.”
    Groans roll through the squad.
    I shift my eyes away, and spittle flies from his lips. “Get it out! Or so help me God—”
    “I’m scared I’ll kill her, okay! I’m afraid I’ll break her in half! That I’ll wake up to a corpse in the sheets, blue and mangled. Is that what you want to hear, Sergeant? I turn into a monster five times your size, and he—it—craves … and she won’t be able to get away … Do you have any idea what I’m capable of !”
    The entire platoon has fallen silent, their eyes round, while my body stretches inside my shirt. Seams creak from the strain, and a button pops off to roll across the cement. We watch it circle until it stops before Sergeant Nolan tips his head back, laughing softly. He spits off to the side again. “Well, why didn’t you just say so, pencil dick?”
    He nods at Cory. “Dismissed.”



Twenty-six
    Serena ’s asking me something, but I’m only half listening. When my stare remains blank, she repeats her question.
    “Do. You. Want to go to the movies?”
    But it’s late, past curfew. “Wait—what? There’s a movie place here?”
    She rolls her eyes. “Look, if you don’t want to go—”
    “No, I do. But what about curfew?”
    “They let us do this, like, once a month. Some kind of new program where they put out a couple of films. You wanna come or not? They bus us in and out, so curfew isn’t an issue.”
    “Sure,” I say. It’s a much needed distraction, and I’m adding a hoodie over my black jeans that I’d splurged on and purchased last payday, along with some tennis shoes. Dress clothes get old after a while.
    Serena’s right about the allowed extension of curfew. When we get to the alleyway, we find a line of people shuffling in the cold. Our raging heat wave has turned freezing in a matter of hours.
    At last, a bus pulls up and we all get in, huddling for warmth. But the bus is too much like a train for my liking so, despite Serena’s snide giggle, I end up gripping the bar near my seat.
    They drive us in a strange squiggle southward until we stop in front of a cement building with one glass door.
    There, we get off and wait for tickets. Just before we step inside, a man in a fancy grey coat and perfectly gelled hair runs toward us. “Serena!”
    He brushes back a non-existent loose strand, and his gold