Frederich climbed up the wooden ladder and sat on the hard platform in the middle, which had no backrest; the perfect way to stay upright and alert. Above his head hung an antique bell for sounding the alarm. Outside the protected area was a large opening that led to a forest which sloped upwards and merged into an open plain. It would have made sense to cut the trees down to help expose approaching enemies, figured Frederich, but the trees also helped hide the facility from nosy outsiders who might have ignored the numerous military signs intended to keep them out.
His whole body was aching, especially his shins and feet. He took off his shoes and socks and inspected his feet. He pressed against a small blister between his toes and decided to leave it alone. He had bigger problems. Too many recruits had already been claimed by the night. He did not want to be the next. Being inside a mountain, the facility only needed guarding from one side, and there had been no incidents since Frederich began, which explained why so many recruits were seduced into sleep and as a result lost their chance to join The League. With the fate of his predecessors firmly in his mind, Frederich put his shoes back on and straightened up to focus on his task.
The night wore on and the temperature dipped. Although his face was burning from the cold, Frederich found himself getting drowsy. His neck would bend gradually to the side and he would lift his head with a start when he realised what was happening. Sometime after, there was a loud bang and the hut shook all over. What the.. He leapt to his feet and looked outside.
“Pssst,” said Piotr from his hut. “Don’t sleep. I heard you snoring.”
“What was that noise?” he asked.
“Rock,” Piotr said, waving one in his hand. “I have them with me just in case. I’m a sniper with these things.”
Frederich grinned and waved then returned to his seat and looked ahead. Lucky. The armed guard could have come at any time. What a shameful way to let Scheffler win.
It was a relatively clear night with the odd cloud in the sky. An almost full moon shone down on them and a carpet of mist hovered over the snow. Nothing stood out. His instinct told another story. He noticed his veins were throbbing and his arms and shoulders were beginning to tense up. He moved closer to the window and hugged the edge to stay hidden. Was there someone out there? He watched the trees carefully and wondered if Piotr could see anything, but it would have been too risky to make a noise or leave his post.
Minutes passed and nothing, except for the light breeze. Then there was a flash from the upper corner of his eye and he shifted his gaze beyond the forest and caught it; a silhouette in the moonlight of someone running over the plain and behind mountain cover. He peered into the other hut. Piotr would have said something had he seen it. Frederich weighed his options. He could alert Scheffler, tell Piotr about it, or leave it. Would Scheffler believe him? What could Piotr do? He left it. Saying he saw a silhouette would come across as thin. Going out there would be too dangerous. He had only one real choice; sit and wait, and remain alert.
With Frederich focussed and primed against a potential threat, the night passed even more slowly. Eventually the adrenaline died down. He did his best to avoid checking the time, and resorted to rapid, shallow breathing and body rocking to keep himself awake, as well as the occasional hard slap to the face. Day broke and he was lightheaded from the fatigue and the cold. Later in the morning, one of Scheffler’s armed guard came out with two replacements and told Frederich and Piotr to report to Scheffler’s office. Piotr emerged from his guard tower and staggered toward Frederich. His eyes were completely red and his face had lost all colour.
“You look terrible,” said Piotr.
Frederich gave him a weak smile.
“You’re looking in the mirror,” he replied.
When they reached Scheffler’s office they knocked on the door and waited.
“Come in,” said Scheffler after a long pause.
The two of them went in and stood in the middle. Scheffler was seated at his desk with both his feet up and his hands behind his head. He looked them over.
“Paleski. Get some sleep,” he said.
Piotr hesitated.
“Now,” added Scheffler with a firm voice.
Piotr looked at Frederich with a frown then reluctantly left the office.
“How are you feeling, Abel?” asked Scheffler when they were alone.
“Great, never been better,” said Frederich, his head spinning. He wanted nothing more than to surrender to his mattress and fall into a deep sleep.
“Good. So get to morning drills. You’re already late.”
Frederich blinked hard multiple times. His brain had no reaction to Scheffler’s instruction. Sometime later he was in the hall doing push-ups. Otto’s orders echoed in the distance. He watched himself doing rope climbs. He descended to the mattress and made for the back of the line, knocking against someone in the process.
“Watch out, idiot,” said the recruit.
Frederich fought to keep his body upright and his eyes open. He kept blinking over and over. More push-ups. He followed the lead of the person in front of him without paying attention to the count. More rope climbs. Then sparring. He moved in slow motion while a barrage of fists landed on his torso. He tried to throw a return fist and was immediately brought to ground. He tapped out and turned his head to the right. Scheffler was standing by the mattresses with a smirk on his face. Frederich had no energy to think.
