the production

chapter sixteen

Who was his first kill? I wonder, irrationally disappointed he didn't answer the question.

The rest of the workout passes as I expected it to. I do my best to step into the role of a leader, painfully aware I'm less experienced than the people I'm supposed to be leading. But when it comes to fighting, I'm the best. There's no question. I beat every person I go up against, and I beat them by a lot. I'm thankful there's something I'm skilled at, because I can't understand why Julius thought this was a good idea.

Captain and I are a bizarre pair—he's as stubborn as I am. There's no compromise between us, only disagreement. Everything he does I would do the opposite. Mostly he just yells at people. But I do notice he's a good teacher, which is a valuable skill as a leader. I get the impression that although Captain isn't particularly well-liked, he's respected. The team is loyal to him in a way I can only hope to emulate. There's trust there, and I can understand why. Despite his totalitarian attitude, or possibly because of it, Captain's the reason they're still breathing.

I observe the team as well. Pearl is exceptionally good at knife work, distributing slash after slash yet never getting cut herself. I learn Joseph is actually an amazing shot with a gun, something I wouldn't have expected yet kind of makes sense. Dodger doesn't do much other than hang by the weights. Missy is the glue that holds the team together. Everyone else is nice enough, if a bit cautious of my newly minted leadership.

I'm watching Joseph spar with Missy when Captain comes up behind me.

"How's he doing?" he asks.

"Uh," I say. Joseph may be a wicked shot, but he's not good at hand-to-hand combat. At all. He always ends up cowering on his knees with his arms over his head. I've been giving him pointers, but they don't seem to be sticking.

We watch as Joseph loses twice in a row. When he falls a third time, Captain yells:

"Everyone on the ground. Pushups."

Despite the team's groans of displeasure, Captain doesn't relent. "The first person to stop runs laps."

"Isn't that a bit excessive?" I say. Captain's head whips around to me, and the team goes silent.

"Excessive?"

"Pushups are enough of a challenge. You're going to make them run, too?"

"If I don't make them run, they have no motivation to do the pushups."

"I think we're all sufficiently motivated considering the circumstances," I snap.

The cameras whir to face Captain, capturing his reaction. He ignores them, a vein in his forehead popping wildly.

"When you've kept a team alive for months on end, you can have an opinion on how that team is managed."

I glare at him. This is not what he promised me.

"You agreed we were equals."

"It's your first day."

"And you agreed we were equals."

Captain turns his back to me.

"Get on the ground," he yells at the team. They do it without hesitation. In a split-second decision, I drop to the ground myself.

"What the hell are you doing?" Captain asks.

"Pushups. What does it look like?"

"You're a team lead," he hisses. "You're not supposed—"

"Oh, so now I'm a team lead? I'm not asking them to do anything I wouldn't do myself. If you had any honor, you'd do the same."

The pause that follows might as well be a million years long. I can practically see the gears grinding away in that insufferable alpha dog brain of his as he tries to comprehend my audacity.

"Christ, V," Captain says under his breath, rubbing his hand on the back of his neck. He glances at the ceiling as if looking for answers. Apparently there are none there, because with a loud curse, he drops to the ground beside me and yells:

"Go."

Everyone starts doing pushups, Captain and I included. I push myself as hard as I can, dead set on not dropping first. It turns out I shouldn't have worried, since thirty seconds later I hear someone collapse. I don't need to look up to know who it is.

"Stop," Captain says, and everyone stops. He crosses to Joseph, towering over him.

"Laps, Weasel."

To my complete surprise, Joseph shakes his head. Captain raises an incredulous eyebrow. This is the second time he's been undermined in five minutes, and although he's contractually obligated not to beat me up, I can't imagine he'll extend the same courtesy to Joseph.

"I said laps," Captain repeats slowly.

Joseph shakes his head again. "I can't—I—"

Captain bears down on him, unrelenting.

"You what?" Captain sticks his head right near Joseph's and I fight the sudden urge to rip it off. If he puts his hands on Joseph I will end him, and Julius will just have to deal with it.

"I have asthma," Joseph manages to get out.

Rather than triggering a compassionate response, as this information would in a normal person, for some reason it does the exact opposite in Captain.

"Do you think anyone cares you have asthma?" Captain says. "The other teams don't care. They'll be thrilled to hear there's something that makes you even weaker than you already are. If you didn't want to run, you shouldn't have been the first to stop. Now get on the fucking track. Now."

Joseph hesitates just for a second, his eyes darting to me for help. Before I can move, Captain yells: "I said now."

The fury in Captain's voice stops me cold. He's done having his orders disobeyed. So I give Joseph a little nod, mouthing: It'll be okay. I figure him running is better than Captain breaking his legs, and me consequently breaking Captain's legs. Joseph gives a tiny nod back.

He gets up, walks over to the track, and starts jogging.

"Faster," Captain orders.

Joseph goes faster. I can hear his ragged breathing from here. Everyone can. I watch silently, hating myself for not speaking up but knowing it wouldn't make a difference if I did. Finally, Captain yells:

"Stop."

Joseph collapses immediately, rolling onto his side. I run over to him. He's out of breath, as one would expect, but he's alive, for all intents and purposes.

"What now?" I shoot a pointed look at Captain, expecting another horrible order from him. Instead he shrugs indifferently.

"We're done for now. We'll meet back for the afternoon workout."

As soon as the words are out of his mouth, our communicators beep at the same time. Two words: HOUSE PARTY.

"Or not," Captain says.

"House party?" I ask.

"It's exactly what it sounds like. Teams from the other side of the island will come over to ours. It's so we can mingle."

He says the word mingle with utter contempt.

"Workout's cancelled," he barks. "Everyone clear out."

He doesn't have to say it twice. Everyone disappears into thin air, including Joseph. Captain looks at me like he wants to say something, but I'm in no mood to talk.

I brush past him to the door, slamming it behind me.