Free Resist by Tracey Martin Page A

cellblock falls into an eerie silence.
    A low hum persists in the background, never changing, never ending. The lights are dim but never off. The effect produces a kind of mild sensory deprivation, and if I had to stay here long term, I’d go mad. Maybe that explains some of the Es’ behavior.
    As I lie on my back, staring at the white ceiling, my mind races. Although my memories have been wiped, supposedly for my own protection, I’m not sure I believe that anymore. Nor can I entirely believe they’re gone. Something is there, buried in the back of my brain. It has to be in order for me to have these memory flashes that I can’t understand.
    I have to make a decision too. Do I chase the memories and risk Malone finding out, or do I ignore these secrets and risk making a huge mistake? Cole would tell me to do the latter, I think. To be a good soldier and trust my superiors.
    Or would he? He was in those memories with me. He ran with me. So why is he here too? And what about the others—Summer and Jordan, Lev and Octavia? If they’re here, I haven’t seen them, but then, I haven’t been permitted to see many people. Perhaps that’s the first thing I should find out tomorrow. I can ask Cole about them. After all, it’s not as though I’m supposed to have forgotten them too. Just to have forgotten that they left with me.
    Depending on what Cole says, I’ll have a better idea of what happened. Although I’m trained to make tough decisions with incomplete intel, the more information I can gather, the better. That’s common sense.
    Satisfied, I close my eyes and will myself to rest. Sleep comes after a while, bringing more vivid memories.
    The gash on my knee alternately stings and burns. My lips tremble, and I hunch over, staring in horror at the blood spreading out from my wound, the little flecks of skin standing on end, the ugly dirt ground into my leg.
    It’s not only the pain that makes my tears spill over, although that’s a huge part of it. Everything feels so overwhelmingly hopeless. I want Leila, but the woman who used to take care of my unit has been sent away, and I’m stuck with this other lady. She says to call her Fitzpatrick. She’s not kind like Leila was.
    Fitzpatrick stands over me, and her stony expression declares I’ll get no sympathy from her. That makes me cry harder. “I want Leila.” I can’t stop the words from blubbering out.
    Big mistake. Fitzpatrick grabs my arm and yanks me to my feet. The pressure on my knee makes the pain wail, and I do too. Blood trickles down my shin. “HY1-Seven, are you a soldier or a baby?”
    I can’t answer. Leila would have called me her poor baby and cleaned up my cut.
    â€œWhat are you?” Fitzpatrick demands again.
    â€œI’m a soldier.” It’s the correct answer. The only acceptable one. I might actually be a baby, but I know how to respond even if I don’t know how to run without tripping over a tree root.
    Fitzpatrick puts her hands on her hips. Her posture terrifies me, and so does her voice. I only reach her waist, which makes her the biggest, scariest adult I’ve ever met. “Then stop acting like a baby. Stop being a failure. Do you know what happens to defective soldiers?”
    I don’t, so she shows me. Me and my entire unit. Fitzpatrick marches us down to the Es’ corridor and makes us see the mistakes of RedZone’s past. Half-metal humans, robots in flesh kept alive with scary machines that I don’t understand. But I do understand the missing limbs and distorted faces, the hoses and wires protruding from their heads, the lifeless stares that are only slightly less terrifying than the ones who scream in agony.
    Only after she reminds us that we could end up here does Fitzpatrick send me to the medics to get my knee cleaned up. I’ve dripped a trail of blood all over the camp by then.
    But her lesson sticks.