The Transfer ✔️

Chapter Forty - Unanticipated

My heart continues to pound. Throughout my life it's been the only constant thing that I've been able to rely on. This situation is no different. As my heart pounds, pumping blood through my system, I feel as though it's the only thing keeping me attached to the ground. A hook keeping me steady against the sheer rock cliff. Hundreds of meters of free fall below me to descend into. I know my mind wants to choose that path.

I continue to fall when David wraps up his speech. Dismissing us, the camps seem to be experiencing similar emotions as they exit The Pen for the first time. Shock. It's the only thing that will register. My other senses are dulled out so my hearing becomes more astute. The pounding of footsteps as we walk away. Others harshly whispering to each other, afraid to speak it out loud in the fear that noise will make this situation real. It can't be.

But it's everything we've been training for. Every punch received. Every one given out. Every knife that I've thrown, weight that I've curled and heaved around to build muscle. Every drop of sweat. They add up to my physical state today. Trained and refined to be ready. Why didn't I focus on the mental aspect more?

What use is a strong physical resistance going to give me if I can't mentally cope with the situation?

Leonardo seems to be experiencing the same shock as me. He doesn't make a move to comfort me apart from taking my hand. We sit on the bus together, our eyes on the floor. The ride seems to take hours. Half-way there Leonardo begins squeezing my hand in a rhythm. Sympathy, my second emotion I seem to be capable of, worms its way into me as I cast a glance at him. He's biting his lip, his leg bobbing up and down.

Although the camp claims every sector is important, it's only Defense that thinks of war everyday. Leonardo doesn't have that advantage. Sure, he's trained but his life hasn't revolved around the idea of war for the past eight years like mine has. Similarly, we're not just soldiers. We're leaders, responsible for more than ourselves. I get to take most of my sector with me – he has to tell the majority of his that they're going to stay in this system. Continue to train until you're good enough for a battlefield. It's not an easy message to deliver.

The bus arrives back at camp and it's like we've suffered our worst loss in The Pen to date. Gone are the reassuring whispers of a loss or the ecstatic whoops of a win. Silence. It's all we're capable of. People rise slowly but I'm one of the first people off. The atmosphere was suffocating.

I attempt to rid my mind of the negative voices. I have a job to do, one I need to constantly do to the best of my ability. People are about to turn to me for answers. I need to have them and I need to be able to deliver support confidently. Nobody wants a weak leader and I refuse to be one. I've trained for this; we've trained for this. It's a war but not one we're unprepared for.

I keep this mantra going through my head as I get back into camp. Rolling my shoulders, I stretch my neck from side to side as I walk. Leonardo kisses my forehead as a goodbye before walking off, almost managing to bring a smile to my face.

The day isn't over, however. My job still requires me. The ground may have been chiseled away from my feet, but people still expect me to stand tall until they can themselves. I'm a support pillar with no structure. I'm inevitably going to collapse but I'll keep going until I do. Lasting as long as I can because these soldiers need me and there's no way, I'm going to let them down.

The questions start as soon as I reach the end of the ramp. How were going to defend ourselves, medical care, food supplies, protection and equipment. Questions I'm wondering about myself but I try to answer them the best I can.

It takes three hours to answer everyone. I let them all off early. It's dangerous to train in a distracted mindset. As they traipse up the ramp, I'm the only one left standing in the middle of the base.