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Description
The bugle sounds early in Camp, but these Outsiders don't seem to understand it as a reason to wake up. So, as their Elder, I find myself helping wake them. Hell, I enjoy it a bit sometimes.

"Wake up, crap-sacks! It's morning, and you've got things to do." I grab the nearest blanket--and an ankle today--and pull it off the bunk. The associated idiot pops out of bed promptly, and wakes quick enough to catch himself before he hits the bunks opposite him. Which probably saved him from a broken something. Others aren't waking so fast.

"Come on, you lazy lumps, you think I yell at you for my health? If you had the brains to listen when I talked, I wouldn't have to be so damn loud. Up! Don't make me flip the beds!" Anyone not fast enough is given further incentive that accompanies the shouts. They've been here a week already. Why are they still so useless?

It takes them twelve minutes to wake, dress, and line up at the ends of their bunks. Pathetic. Too pathetic for words.

I pace the aisle of bunks. "Now I know you have it so hard. The food's not to your liking, the beds are hard, and you can't sleep all you want. Fine. But guess what? Me, I like the food. It's got everything you need in it. And I like the beds. At least they're safe spots to rest. And I hate sleep. It makes you slow and stupid when you wake up.

"For you lot, that change isn't enough for anyone to notice, of course. When you're this stupid, I'm forced to wonder if you're not asleep now." I turn to the Newlin beside me and yell as loud as I can in his face. He wakes up in a panic. Sleeping on his feet. Good trick. Bad timing.

I grab him by the collar and lift him off the ground. "You wanna eat breakfast?"

"Y-yessir!" he stutters.

"Then you're gonna have to do your exercises. And you can't do that sleeping. Number Three woke without trouble. Why can't you?"

"S-sorry, sir. I'll do better tomorrow."

"Sixteen," I yell, "what makes you think you'll live to tomorrow? You know when you're gonna die?"

"N-no!"

"You know how?"

"O-of course not!"

"Then how the hell do you know you'll be around long enough to make good on what you just said?" I put him down and face everyone.

"Tomorrow isn't real! You don't even have today, so don't go thinking you'll do something later. You've got one chance to do it right. Because next time, you won't be around to make up for your mistake. The guy who got it right will be there, and you won't care. 'Cause dead means you don't give a damn."

I storm through them and stand with my back to the room's only entrance. "Now we're doing six laps with two pull-ups at the end of each. When you finish, you eat. If you take too long, you don't. It's that simple. Ready? Let's go!"

I push open the door and let the twenty kids pass by in their correct order. When Twenty comes out, I shut the door and lock it, then run to the head of the line and lead them to the running area. It's a quarter-mile lap, and I let them run at their own paces, staggering out into small groups. The fastest ones are starting lap four when I finish my own laps. They can't say I don't at least put in the same effort they do. I won't let them think I'm not walking my talk.

Number Seven's the last one out, again. The demonstration a week ago messed her leg up more than I'd thought it would. Gave her a limp, which I hadn't expected. Figured it'd just leave a burn. She's one lap down when the others left for food.

"Come on, Seven, you've only got a few hundred meters and a couple pull-ups to go," I sound more impatient than I actually am. "Everyone else is gone, you can quit your fake limp and just finish up. They already feel sorry for you. You don't need to skip meals too."

"Fuck you," she says, dropping from her pull-ups. "I'll be done when I'm done."

"Good idea. But shouldn't that be now?"

She ignores me, and starts hobble-running away. So I figure I'll join her for the last lap. "You gonna limp along forever? They ain't gonna keep feeling sorry for you that long. You've been here a week. They're already running out of pity, and I don't blame them. It was your own fault you got hurt."

Seven glares. "If you ... weren't such ... an ass," she wheezed, "I'd be fine."

I smack her upside the head, but not hard enough to throw her off-step. "Don't you talk back. You need me hook you up to something else?"

Her eyes widen. "You wouldn't."

"Try me. In fact, I have an idea." I smile at her. "If you don't beat me to the end of this lap, we see how your other leg fares. Sound fun?"

"You woul ..." I speed up. "You ... You suck!"

She hurries, forgetting the pain for fear of more. I'm not going all out, but fast enough that she has to push. Seven sprints past me as I slow at the last second and she finishes her pull-ups just before I do. She drops to her feet panting, but she's not favoring her ankle anymore.

"There," I say, unwinded. "Let's get some food." She grumbles, but follows me to mess, where we join the others.

She won't thank me later. But she'll live a little longer; die a little harder. And that's enough. In here, it has to be.

Description
The bugle sounds early in Camp, but these Outsiders don't seem to understand it as a reason to wake up. So, as their Elder, I find myself helping wake them. Hell, I enjoy it a bit sometimes.

"Wake up, crap-sacks! It's morning, and you've got things to do." I grab the nearest blanket--and an ankle today--and pull it off the bunk. The associated idiot pops out of bed promptly, and wakes quick enough to catch himself before he hits the bunks opposite him. Which probably saved him from a broken something. Others aren't waking so fast.

"Come on, you lazy lumps, you think I yell at you for my health? If you had the brains to listen when I talked, I wouldn't have to be so damn loud. Up! Don't make me flip the beds!" Anyone not fast enough is given further incentive that accompanies the shouts. They've been here a week already. Why are they still so useless?

It takes them twelve minutes to wake, dress, and line up at the ends of their bunks. Pathetic. Too pathetic for words.

I pace the aisle of bunks. "Now I know you have it so hard. The food's not to your liking, the beds are hard, and you can't sleep all you want. Fine. But guess what? Me, I like the food. It's got everything you need in it. And I like the beds. At least they're safe spots to rest. And I hate sleep. It makes you slow and stupid when you wake up.

"For you lot, that change isn't enough for anyone to notice, of course. When you're this stupid, I'm forced to wonder if you're not asleep now." I turn to the Newlin beside me and yell as loud as I can in his face. He wakes up in a panic. Sleeping on his feet. Good trick. Bad timing.

I grab him by the collar and lift him off the ground. "You wanna eat breakfast?"

"Y-yessir!" he stutters.

"Then you're gonna have to do your exercises. And you can't do that sleeping. Number Three woke without trouble. Why can't you?"

"S-sorry, sir. I'll do better tomorrow."

"Sixteen," I yell, "what makes you think you'll live to tomorrow? You know when you're gonna die?"

"N-no!"

"You know how?"

"O-of course not!"

"Then how the hell do you know you'll be around long enough to make good on what you just said?" I put him down and face everyone.

"Tomorrow isn't real! You don't even have today, so don't go thinking you'll do something later. You've got one chance to do it right. Because next time, you won't be around to make up for your mistake. The guy who got it right will be there, and you won't care. 'Cause dead means you don't give a damn."

I storm through them and stand with my back to the room's only entrance. "Now we're doing six laps with two pull-ups at the end of each. When you finish, you eat. If you take too long, you don't. It's that simple. Ready? Let's go!"

I push open the door and let the twenty kids pass by in their correct order. When Twenty comes out, I shut the door and lock it, then run to the head of the line and lead them to the running area. It's a quarter-mile lap, and I let them run at their own paces, staggering out into small groups. The fastest ones are starting lap four when I finish my own laps. They can't say I don't at least put in the same effort they do. I won't let them think I'm not walking my talk.

Number Seven's the last one out, again. The demonstration a week ago messed her leg up more than I'd thought it would. Gave her a limp, which I hadn't expected. Figured it'd just leave a burn. She's one lap down when the others left for food.

"Come on, Seven, you've only got a few hundred meters and a couple pull-ups to go," I sound more impatient than I actually am. "Everyone else is gone, you can quit your fake limp and just finish up. They already feel sorry for you. You don't need to skip meals too."

"Fuck you," she says, dropping from her pull-ups. "I'll be done when I'm done."

"Good idea. But shouldn't that be now?"

She ignores me, and starts hobble-running away. So I figure I'll join her for the last lap. "You gonna limp along forever? They ain't gonna keep feeling sorry for you that long. You've been here a week. They're already running out of pity, and I don't blame them. It was your own fault you got hurt."

Seven glares. "If you ... weren't such ... an ass," she wheezed, "I'd be fine."

I smack her upside the head, but not hard enough to throw her off-step. "Don't you talk back. You need me hook you up to something else?"

Her eyes widen. "You wouldn't."

"Try me. In fact, I have an idea." I smile at her. "If you don't beat me to the end of this lap, we see how your other leg fares. Sound fun?"

"You woul ..." I speed up. "You ... You suck!"

She hurries, forgetting the pain for fear of more. I'm not going all out, but fast enough that she has to push. Seven sprints past me as I slow at the last second and she finishes her pull-ups just before I do. She drops to her feet panting, but she's not favoring her ankle anymore.

"There," I say, unwinded. "Let's get some food." She grumbles, but follows me to mess, where we join the others.

She won't thank me later. But she'll live a little longer; die a little harder. And that's enough. In here, it has to be.