It has been six months since I wrote my name on that sign-up sheet.

    Six months of being away from home.

    These past months have consisted of wearing the same uniform, eating the same boring mush of potatoes and soup, and reading the same letter my Mother gave me the day I left.

    Her hand writing is in her unique cursive lettering but looks rushed, which makes it slightly harder to read, but the love behind each curve and line in each word is still there. Having only one letter to read for six months trained my eyes to read past the jagged and wavy letters.

Morris,

I might not like this idea of you going, but I know your choice was a hard one. I also know why you are taking this path and I am grateful for it. You might ignore me when I say that it's okay for you to not do this because of me, but no matter what, you are a determined boy. I shouldn't be calling you that any more. A boy. You have grown up so much. You are a man now, no matter how I deny it. I love you. Be safe and don't come home regretting your choice.

Love, your dear Mother, Rosy-Bell Thornton

    I stuff the letter back into my jacket pocket and quickly tie the laces on my boots. The same work boots from the ranch.

    "You're up early today," my bunk mate says from the bed above me. His head peeks out over the edge and he is wearing his signature grin that never fails to brighten his murky brown eyes.

    "Not early enough," I say. James winks down at me before climbing over the bed railing and jumping to the ground fully clothed and ready,

    "Can never beat me, Thornton," he smirks.

    I roll my eyes as I get up from the mattress.

    We walk together to the dining hall for breakfast and roll call. The walk is a quiet one, except for the echoing of our boots on the concrete floors. We pause only twice to salute a higher rank as they passed by.

   Boot camp consisted of eight weeks of pure, hard torture. The first week was a group of twenty-five of us crammed into a classroom within the army base. We were taught how to stand, salute, and wear our uniform. It was a breeze for the most part, except for all of the yelling.

   The next nine weeks after was when the long days began. Running, more running, more running, and a little more running. Pushups times a thousand-and-one every day. Our Sargent wasn't the kindest, but if I'm being honest, I'm glad he wasn't. If this was easy I would have probably gone home as a quitter.

  Boot camp has been done now for the past few months and we haven't really had a mission yet other then guarding and cleaning, but everyday is a routine. Wake up. Read Mom's letter. Go to breakfast. Stand tall. Talk quietly. Don't bring attention to yourself. Morning workout and training. Lunch. Do assignment. Dinner. Clean the bunk. Bedtime. Everyday, it has been this routine. Nothing has been worth while to spice up the daily tasks other than James.

   James came in with the same inmate group as mine. He is about the same height and build as me so we were put into the same training sections during boot camp. We quickly learned each other's strengths and weaknesses but we also learned how to encourage one another. Once boot camp finished and we were moved into our more permanent sleep quarters, he claimed me as his bunk mate almost immediately. His true and free spirited personality didn't start showing until after boot camp, but I got use to it. I got use to him being around.

   "Oh look at this, Thornton," I glance up at him as we make are way through the canteen line. "Breakfast all in one bowl." He raises his bowl filled with what looks to be rice mixed with a gravy-like sauce mixed with it. I raise an eyebrow at it.

   "I don't know about you, but I would rate this five stars," he dramatically waves the nonexistent steam to his nose and breaths in deeply. "Ah yes, the sweet smell of bird crap and sand."

   A lean boy who is shorter looks behind and quirks an eyebrow at us. James just smirks and winks at the poor guy as I just push my way out of the line with my ugly breakfast.

   James and I sit at a table near the exit, not in a booth. Booths feel restraining, especially if someone sits next you and you're stuck between them and a wall.

   "Did you read the memo?" he asks, a mouthful of gray behind his teeth.

   I cringe at the sight. "Yeah, it seems we are getting some big news after breakfast."

   "Maybe it's a new inmate group coming in," James glances over his shoulder before leaning in closer, dropping his spoon into the murky substance in his bowl, "or it's the new tax law from the Government Hill."

   I glance over my shoulders, making sure no one is particularly watching us or listening in. When the coast is clear I lean in, shoving my bowl to the side and leaning my forearms on the table. "Did they change it again?"

   He shakes his head. "No, they demolished the old law and rebuilt it."

   I take a moment to process that. Demolished the old tax law? I can't see the Government Hill reforming the law to ease down the tax prices but they still, they demolished a major law in our society.

   "Why?" I mutter under my breath.

   "No idea really," he rasps, his thumbs twitching on the table. I immediately catch his nervous movements with my eyes.

   I choose my words carefully, "What's new to the tax law, James?"

   He glances over his shoulders again, it makes me wonder how even got this information. Soldiers don't read the Hill Newspapers and we certainly don't have a bar for drunk confessions and late night gossip. Plus, I rarely see James with other soldiers other than myself. I raise an eyebrow in anticipation.

   James gulps, "They doubled the tax price and they have made the punishments more-" he stutters in hesitation, "more violent."

   My blood goes cold. More violent? Doubled the original price?

   The tax law was one of extremes, but was also tolerable. Harsh tax prices weren't a new thing at the Government Hill. We are in the middle of a brewing conflict and a potential war with our neighboring country, so taxes aren't really a surprising thing, but what was surprising to the citizens was the punishments that came with the tax law. Things like property being taking away in exchange of no tax funds, livestock being killed on the spot for meat, and even in extreme situations there would be jail time.

   "Violent," I taste the words slowly, a lump forming in my throat, "what kind of violence?"

   With a sharp intake of breath, James whispers my nightmare. My demise. My home and families' doom.

   "Death."

   "On your feet, boys!" the commander yells from the dinning hall entrance.  Out of habit, everyone in the room, including me, jumps to their feet with their legs stiff and pressed together. It's the same commander that came to my town and convinced me to join. He is the one that convinced me to leave my home.

   My mind is still analyzing the new information the James has told me. Death? Like a bullet to the head or torture chamber kind of death? A death for not paying the tax price, for resisting, or for delay time payments? Is death the new late fee?

   All I can think about is the small amount of debt that my mother stands in and is trying to claw out of back at home. All I can think about is how I have left her home alone with a new death punishment coming her way. My heart won't stop beating fast.

   I can hear James breathing heavily beside me. I try to relax and think about his situation more than mine. James has it worse than me. He left two sisters alone at a farm house outside of the Government Hill district, on the edge of the Restman Woods. They had to flee the district because they were to high in debt that they would all become slaves to the Government Hill representatives or would be sent to the front lines. No matter there gender. Joining the military was a risk, but James took it. He did it for the long term goals. Money soon to come, a name for himself again and for his sisters, and maybe even a second chance at life.

   But no, James is now stuck in captivity of his safe haven, away from his two sisters who are going to probably be on the number one catch list for the banks. The number one catch list for punishments.

   I breath through my nose and exhale through my mouth, casting away my thoughts. I can't think about James situation or mine right now. I want answers and assurance but I will have to be patient. I will have to wait.

   "At ease soldiers," the commander demands. His voice is raspy but still is hard as a sharpened sword cutting through rock. "I hope on God's green Earth that all of you read your memos and are aware of the meeting after breakfast. I expect everyone at the Red Patch at 0800 hours. If you are late, you will be spending the next three nights sleeping on the roof of my sleeping quarters! Do you understand soldiers?"

   "Sir, yes sir!" we all shout back, our voices echoing through the canteen and down the halls.

   "Get back to it boys!" he shoos with his hand and steps out into the hall. The double doors slamming behind him.

   It's eerily quiet after he leaves, like snow hitting dead grass in uninhabited fields. Fields that would look like hoards of silver to the Government Hill, but in reality, it's just silence. No treasure will be found and no living victim will be spared from the waves of law.

   The commander is definitely mad. During canteen hours he is more loose in the shoulders and his tone isn't so sharp. I turn to James and he looks at me. I'm starting to believe his gossip more and more each breath I take. Each breath I loose to the anxiety.

   We don't finish our breakfasts that morning. We give our servings to older recruits and leave the dinning hall. This time I can't hear our footsteps in the hall over my mind-or it's lack of thoughts.

   My mind has shut down. I can't stick to one train of thought, not just yet. We don't know for sure. For all we know, it could be a nightmare that we are about to wake up from or it can be all just a misunderstanding. Yet, the better half of my thoughts doesn't believe either of these excuses. I scoff at the irony. of it all. This country is going into war but the Government Hill is starting with it's citizen's brains first and I am falling victim to it.

   I shake my head.

   "It's almost 20 'till 08000 hours," James informs me, glancing at his wrist watch. I glance at mine anyway. James doesn't give me a snarky joke, it's so unlike him. I don't like it.

   "Yeah," I twist my jacket buttons into place and rub the creases out, "we might as well head for the Red Patch."

   He nods slowly and walks beside me to the outside doors. He opens the door for us, pushing on the heavy metal. The morning sun blinds us for a moment and in that one moment, I felt a small bliss. The sun on my cheeks and the gentle morning air penetrating my soul. Just for one moment, I felt like I was in a totally different place in the world. A safe haven.

   My thoughts and emotions immediately drift back down from the high. I don't even consider my home a safe haven. I dream of another world. Another life that's not mine.

A/N: This chapter is unedited. Changes will be made as time goes by, but there won't be major changes that will change the story's plot.