Gasoline | Ben Parish

4

WHEN I wake up the next morning, I'm told to go down to Reznik's office. It's there that I'm given new boots, a new blue jumpsuit, and a new name.

"Private Croak," he muses with a hellish smile. "I've heard all about you and how you won't croak yet. For shit's sake, if the universe wants you to die, just effin' die!"

I snort, ducking my head slightly to hide my smile.

"What the hell was that?"

I straighten, biting my lip. "Nothing, sir."

"Do you think I'm funny?"

I shrug. "Yes sir, a little."

Reznik's face falters for a second. I don't think anyone has ever had the guts to tell him that before. "Well, thank you." He spits sarcastically once he's gathered his wits about him again. "Now get your ass down to Barracks 10 and ask for Private Zombie."

"You got it, dude." I catch myself by the end of it. "I mean, sir."

He growls and shouts something about being thankful my arm is effed up or I'd be in the lean and rest until his arms started to hurt.

___

BARRACKS 10 isn't that hard to find. I just follow the trail of sweat and tears.

Nah, I'm kidding. I just follow the Barracks in numerical order until I find it.

Everyone is awake and rushing around – whether making up their beds or hurriedly tying their boots. One kid comes out of the showers with nothing more than a towel, and he just drops it before shoving himself into his standard issue blue jumpsuit.

I stand in the doorway and watch it all for a few seconds before clearing my throat. "Um, excuse me?" Yep, now would be the time I would remember my manners. No, not when speaking to the drill instructor or even the commander of the base, but when I meet my equals.

No one hears me though. They're too busy rushing around and barking insults at one another. I notice that there's only one female voice in the mix – a little seven year old who seems to be trying to pick a fight with a guy at least my age and twice as big as I am.

Great. I wonder if she and I can form sometime of dynamic duo fueled by estrogen and girl power.

I hear Reznik make an entrance in Barracks 1 – "and what the hell is all of this?" – so I decide we better get through with the awkward introductions before he comes for inspection and makes all of this worse.

"Hey!"

Well that certainly got their attention. Eight eyes are on me, wide and analyzing.

I hold my head high and plant my hands on my hips, shifting my weight slightly. "Who is Private Zombie? I was told I was supposed to report here."

A tall guy around my age raises his hand. Yikes. No wonder he got the name 'Zombie.' His eyes are dark but the circles underneath them are even darker. Although he's clearly got a decent build underneath that jumpsuit, his face is thin and jaw extremely angular. His skin is pale, almost sickly. His dark hair is a mess, but I guess that doesn't really matter when the world has gone to shit.

He's the only one in the room who doesn't seem shocked or surprised by my entrance. In fact, he doesn't have any emotion on his face. Zombie indeed.

"What's your name, Private?" He asks, wetting his lips. Ooh, the undead speaks.

"...like my real name, or the one that psycho just gave me?" I jerk my thumb over my shoulder towards Reznik's office.