Phoenix Island Read Online Free Page A

The air rushed out of his lungs, and pain spread through him.
    “Back!” Someone told him. “You get sassy again, we’ll take it out on your buddy.”
    Carl swallowed the pain and started doing sit-ups. Buddy? Davis wants to turn me into his third teardrop.
    “You’re not in Fort Living Room anymore, kid!” one of the sergeants yelled at Davis. “This is the real deal!”
    “I gave you an order!” Skull-and-Crossbones said. “You have exactly three seconds to start pushing, or I’m citing you for insubordination!”
    Davis lay curled on the ground.
    “One!”
    Get up, Carl thought.
    “Two!”
    C’mon, man.
    “Three!”
    Skull-and-Crossbones kicked him again. Davis cried out and tried to crawl away, but they hauled him to his feet, shouting that he’d disobeyed direct orders. Davis was loose in their grip, like a fighter standing up after getting knocked out for the full ten-count.
    “If he’s not going to follow orders,” a woman’s voice, cold and smooth and oddly lyrical, said, “take him to the sweatbox.”
    “Yes, First Sergeant!” the drill sergeants yelled as one. One tossed Davis over his shoulder and jogged off through the heat blur.
    The shouting stopped. Hands yanked Carl to his feet. “Show the first sergeant respect! Attention!”
    Carl had seen enough war movies to know what that meant. He stood straight with his arms at his sides and then executed what he thought of as a salute.
    A compact woman with very dark skin regarded him coolly. Raised lines of scar tissue, stacked as neatly as ranked soldiers, laddered her cheeks. Speaking with an African lilt, she said, “Do not salute me, young man. I work for a living. Rejoin the ranks.”
    “Yes, First Sergeant,” Carl said, and, lowering his hand, jogged back toward the kids. As he neared the group, he saw a jeep pull away from a low block building, two long legs dangling out of the back. Davis was off to the sweatbox, then, whatever that was. Carl hoped never to find out.
    As he reentered the ranks, someone tripped him, and he nearly fell. “Way to go, Hollywood.” Others hissed curses. Without even looking, Carl knew it was Davis’s friends.
    Great. This was going just great.
    Then Carl saw the pretty girl in the back rank, staring at him, her gray eyes wide. He’d noticed her on the bus in Texas, then again boarding the plane, but they’d separated the boys and the girls, and only now did he really get to look at her. She looked frightened and stunned and exhausted, yet still beautiful, with sad-looking eyes the color of wet gravel and long hair as dark as his mother’s had been,though a patch of pure white marked her bangs. White hair. And her, what? Sixteen?
    Then he was back in his spot beside the small kid, facing away from her. Had he seen concern on her face? He wished he’d smiled. Then the absurdity of that hit him, and he could have laughed at himself. Smile at her? This wasn’t exactly a make-out party. Still, she was very pretty. Those eyes, that hair.
    His bag was gone. Everyone’s bag was gone. The lines they stood in were straighter now. Guess they had time to tidy things up while I was dying over there . There was a gap where the red-haired kid had been. Carl glanced to the side and saw a lump under the trees. Must’ve fainted.
    “Attention!” a drill sergeant yelled.
    Everyone snapped to attention.
    First Sergeant Oteka stood before them. “Welcome to Phoenix Island, boys and girls. I am First Sergeant Oteka. Allow me to explain the reality of your situation, children.” She walked slowly back and forth before them. When she turned, Carl saw the pistol on her belt. “Your parents are dead.”
    Her words echoed in Carl’s mind. Your parents are dead . Was she talking to him?
    “You are all orphans,” Oteka said.
    All of us? Carl thought.
    “You bit the hand that fed you, and society cast you away. You are yesterday’s trash. And from this moment forward, until your eighteenth birthday, you belong to me