August 20th, 2030, 9:52 am

All the aches and pains of yesterday are finally deciding to set in early this morning. I lied in my bed this morning, hardly able to move my muscles. I writhed under the sheets as echoing groans cascaded throughout the room. We were all feeling it, and it was only going to get worse. A quarter of the boys in my bunk-room claimed to Sergeant Lee that they were in so much pain that they had to go to the infirmary and miss out on the island run. Lee let them go, but he said their ranks would be hindered greatly. They didn't even hesitate.

Me, I have no other choice but to participate. Those boys who escaped to the infirmary just eliminated a small portion of my competition, so I guess that's a positive. I can take advantage of their absence. That's about fifteen recruits I won't have to worry about.

I don't know what to think about the state of my rank right now. The obstacle course placed me into the top two hundred, while the pool test shot me back down to the eight hundreds. At least, that's what Hal's prediction told me. I won't know for real until Saturday, at the ranking.

I wonder if I'll actually be able to find out what my rank is, even if I don't make it into the top one hundred. They say that the ranks will be posted on monitors throughout the facility, but I don't know if I'll actually get the opportunity. I still uncertain of what will happen when I don't rank, and even beyond that. What are they going to do to me, in the end?

Until then, I have to control what I can. Whatever bullshit the rankers decide to toss my way is nothing I can dictate. They'll want to nitpick and tear apart every little thing I do, anything, just to make sure that I don't make it into the top one hundred. I know that Sergeant Rory seems honest and trustworthy, but I have a sinking feeling that Sergeant Lee will try to interfere with me by any means necessary.

So, today is the island run. That's two laps around the whole island, even curling under the bridge. There is one downhill, which is pretty nice, but with every downhill, there is always an uphill. I didn't practice sprinting up and down inclines while I was with the Captain; I only ran in a straight line. I guess this is more like the time I was running away from the Medo, like the obstacle course. I have more to worry about besides parasitic grass.

Apparently, this is one of the most hyped events at the ranking. Hal will never let me forget that the all-time Imperial Guard ranking record for this run is eight minutes, forty-five seconds, held by none other than his mentor. Hal says it was because he ran cross country in high school and that kind of thing was his niche. That time will never be touched, he claims. I'm not going to refute it at all; I can hardly hit twelve minutes.

I stand beside Hal as the rankers maneuver around the exhausted recruits who just returned from their run. Some are collapsed on the dirt, where the dust sticks to their damp shirts. Their chests rise and fall with their arms sprawled out around them. They'll have plenty of time to rest until this afternoon's first two rounds of the combat tournament, but right now they just look beat.

Groups of two hundred run at a time, meaning that the last one, the one I'm stuck in, has only seventy-two recruits. It's a much smaller size compared to two hundred all at once. There's less of a fear of being trampled, but's that only if you're in the back. If you're in the front, you have to hold the pace and not trip.

We were given a tour of the course early this morning before anyone was given a go at it. We begin near the pool, beside the northernmost cliff on the island. There is a dirt path that traces around the back of the headquarters on the west end, and curls around to a view of the city. Once you spectate the Bluefield shoreline, you dip into a pitch-dark cave for half a minute, then you return to the light. That's where you find yourself under the bridge that holds the city and the headquarters together. From there it's an uphill battle back to the parking lot, then down another dirt path, and finally back to the start. And again.

So far, someone just skimmed nine minutes. We don't know who exactly it was, but she was in one of the earlier groups. She wanted to get it over with, and she set the bar high for everyone else. No one has come close to hurdling it yet.

We were given the opportunity to run in whichever heat we wanted, as long as we specifically signed up last night. If not, recruits would be placed in a random group and hoped for the best. Hal signed us up to go in the eighth heat because that's where all his ranking rivals were headed. I was going to stick with Hal regardless, but I didn't want to go last. I didn't argue much.

The sun has cooled down by about ten degrees from yesterday, thank God. I don't know if anyone could survive in that kind of brutality during this test. It was so bad, in fact, that I stepped in the shower last night and had an excruciating, burning sensation on my face and the back of my neck. They provided sunscreen to us, but I neglected to use it, and now, Hal teases me for looking like a strawberry.

"Get ready, recruits, your run begins in two minutes," Sergeant Lee barks. He chats with the other two products of MacTavish, Rory and Frost, who hold clipboards and timers in their hands. A sharp, silver whistle dangles at his neck, over a gray t-shirt.

I can't believe there was a moment in time in which I trusted Brayden Lee. I believed that he could help me press through my troubles of being the odd man out, but he has done the exact opposite. It's not that I fear him either. He and Luke Bradley are two people that I can genuinely say that I hate. The only difference between the two is that Luke has always been my enemy, while, for a short period, I had thought of Sergeant Lee as an ally. He was never on my side.

Hal pulls his shirt off over his head and hurls it onto the dirt. I copy him, instead holding it around my burnt neck like a towel. I wince, resulting in a laugh from him.

"I hope you're ready for someone to punch you in the arm or shoulder tonight. That'll kill." He starts toward the white line in the front of the group. "If I end up fighting you, I won't resist getting you in the stomach or back."

I drop my shirt beside his. Hopefully, we'll be able to tell them apart. "How kind of you."

"Slater, is that you?"

I hear a girl's voice chime from out of the blue. Turning away from Hal, I see a girl with golden locks waving toward me from the back of the crowd. As she presses through the mass of people, I blink with a frequency that defines surprise. I thought I had seen her face for the last time.

"Dalia?" I watch her as she collects her hair and ties it into a ponytail. Her gaze doesn't shy away from me as I look back, nearly shaking my head. "What are you doing here? Are you running with us?"

A hand clasps my shoulder from behind. Hal did that on purpose. "So, you guys have met before? Slater, this is Dalia; she's a top recruit."

My mind is shot back. "A top recruit?" The words exit my mouth with a bit of a quake to them.

She smiles and pats my chest. "Don't look so surprised, carrot boy."

"Carrot boy?" Hal starts laughing again. "That's your new nickname now!"

I have no friends here.

Sergeant Lee steps to the painted white line in the grass. "Everyone, to the line, now." We all approach the start, side by side. I place myself next to Hal, while Dalia hides in between us at our heels. To my right, a noticeable boy takes his position. He looks to be in the similar image as someone else here on the island. I can't put my finger on it, though.

"You all know the ordeal," shouts Lee. "You are given a maximum of twenty minutes to complete this course. The faster you finish, the better you will rank. Two laps. You have the opportunity to tap out if you want but keep in mind your ranks will be affected. I shouldn't have to worry about that from any of you though, should I?"

"Nah, man," Hal utters with a grin on his face. All the Sergeant does is glare at him out of the corner of his eye, with the whistle loosely in his mouth. Hal still doesn't know. I forgot to tell him.

Our vicinity to the Sergeant bursts our eardrums when he puffs into the whistle. I get my legs moving, as does everyone else in the rest of the batch behind us. Some kids find the energy to spring ahead of the horde and take off past the combat squares. I won't pick up the pace unless I get the opportunity to.

I was expecting Hal to go with the faster group in the front, yet he stays by me. Not thrashed by lack of air, he turns to me after observing the quick ones. "They're just going to wear themselves down. We'll catch up to them by the cavern."

We turn onto the south end of the island, where the city comes into the spotlight. I can't take my eyes off it. The idea of never seeing Queen's City ever again has tormented me all week, and it's good to finally lay my eyes on it again. I can see the deep, marine waves crash along the beige sand on the shore. The luxurious beachside condos glitter off the sunlight above. Today would be a perfect day at what they call "the safest beach in all of Oltima." I'll be back there to experience it.

The decline leading into the cavern is steep. I take choppy steps along the trampled grass, now mud, before being taken in by the darkness. When I say that it's dark, I mean it. There are dim, artificial torches plastered to the wall, and I find myself kicking rocks every now and again. The only real source of light is that entering from the exit, where we will start our journey under the bridge.

The skyline of Queen's City shows its face again, and I can't contain my smile this time. I can now see the northwest shoreline, the same one I can recognize from the training area in the back. If you look hard enough, squinting from the sun in your eyes, you can spot some of the tallest skyscrapers over in east Woodrow, and even some of the larger ones in Bluefield. I shouldn't stare for too long, I may become captivated.

As Hal and I trek up the hill to become level with the parking lot, we reach the kids who sprinted ahead at the beginning of the race. They aren't moving so quickly anymore, appearing to continue to jog through the necessity of oxygen. We even pass by one boy who is keeled over by the rocky ledge, hacking up something into the ocean so many feet below. Someone had a big breakfast.

The group of those who conserved their energy, lead by Hal, Dalia, and I, all return to the synthetic woods where the obstacle course took place. We take the dirt path easing us back to the back doors to the facility, and the Sergeants and Corporal Porter remain at their position at the starting mark. Once we make it to them, that'll make one mile. One more loop and we're done. That's it.

I'm starting to feel it in my chest, and I don't think it's my lungs. Or maybe it is. Am I having a heart attack? I'm a mostly healthy seventeen-year-old. I haven't had heart problems before, and neither of my parents have anything wrong with them. I can't just stop running as a precaution, but I don't know what's going on. Don't panic, don't panic...

As I pass by Lee, who yells out a time that I don't pick up on, I recognize the pain I'm feeling. I don't know whether or not I should worry even more or less, now that I know what it is. When I encountered Anthony Young, the kid with the mark who tried to kill his brother, I was blown backward and I had an ache in my chest up until last week. Now that I'm sending my lungs and heart into overdrive with these tests, it's returning with a vengeance.

I don't take the same amount of effort to admire the Bluefield shoreline. How I feel within my ribs is taking too much out of me to care about my home. I just want to be done with this run so I can rest for the combat tournament later.

Sweat has found its place in my hair and on my forehead as the burning sun beats down on me. Any part of my body exposed to the light is slimy with a combination of sweat and sunscreen. My legs are beginning to feel tight and my feet are aching from constantly hitting the grain below them. The end can't come soon enough.

The first thing that hits me when Hal and I enter the cavern is the escape from the sun, the coolness that surrounds us. That's the positive. The negative? The lights are out. Either this is some kind of sick ploy from the Sergeants, or there was an accidental outage. Either way, no one can see shit.

"Oh shit, what do we do?" Dalia bumps into me from behind. We duck to the right wall to feel our way around. This is just eating away at our time.

Hal, ahead of our procession, grabs a hold of my wrist. "I don't know. Hold onto each other. We'll find our way out."

I reach behind me and discover Dalia's fingers grasping for mine. I lock hands with her and continue onward through the cavern. The cave is much larger than I thought, probably since it's not as big when you're running through it. We could be in here for a few minutes.

Dalia releases my hand and screeches. "Slater, what the hell is that?"

Not again.

In an instant, I can see the slick brown stones that shield the path through the cavern. I notice the water running off the stalactites above our heads. The sleek, glossy appearance of some of the rocks reflect the tangerine color back to me, only adding to the embarrassment of having my mark glow in the first place.

Hal twists back to see what is causing the path in front of him to illuminate. His eyes are fastened on the mark of the Medo until he gazes up at me. He pulls my wrist, sending me to the front of the pack. I'm first.

"Slater, go!" He commands over the sound of confusion from the other recruits behind us. "We're behind you! Run!"

I'm their flashlight and the only way they'll get out of this cave with a decent time. I don't hesitate to follow his order. He's the future Sergeant of our class, anyway. I start sprinting with the torch in my arm until I make it to the world of light underneath the bridge. The mark flickers until its state is eased.

I turn around the see Hal and Dalia on the other side of a gap between us. I slow my pace to return to their side. I hear Hal's voice over the sound of a car zipping by overhead.

"Slater, keep going! Go!"

Feet, don't fail me now. Hal van Lester, the leader of our class, the one to look up to, is giving me a chance to win this race in the most difficult group devised. I have the opportunity to defeat recruits with the likes of him, Craig Larsson, and Dalia Biron. Me, Slater Tross. This is my chance to show the rankers what I'm made of, with the help of Hal, of course.

My heart is squeezing tightly and releasing as my sneakers crunch the mangled dirt on the incline. It's not much farther now. The several vehicles in the parking lot next to where I traverse are harshly reflecting the ten o'clock sun into my eyes, which I do my best to ignore. I start coughing, and something rises in my neck. Everything that could possibly go wrong is.

I reach the dirt path when I hear heavy footsteps getting louder and louder behind me. I hope that it's Hal and Dalia, but I know one of them would have said something to me. My legs are chopping away as fast as they can, but they can't match up to that of a flash coming up beside me. I keep my eyes up, watching, trying to even up with him.

It's no use. He chugs along, screaming like a bullet through the finish line. I follow behind by only around five seconds before tumbling to the ground. My heart is beating through my ribs, and my lungs give them the space to do so. My breath escapes my body and replenishes as swiftly as possible, but time seems to go so slow.

I open my eyes and stare up at the deep blue sky above. The harsh light from the sun is blocked by Sergeant Rory, who towers over me. Her silhouette carries a smile, which her staple, apparently. That could mean anything.

I glance to my right and see Sergeant Lee marching over to the boy who passed me at the tail end of the race. That bastard. I had this run in the bag, and he had to come up and ruin it. I can't see his face all that well, but I'll know him when I see him again by his over-confident stride. I'll get him back at some point.

As Rory scribbles something onto her clipboard, I spot Dalia and Hal huffing and puffing as they cross the finish line on my left. The large group behind them finally clocks in, which accounts for a majority of the recruits in our heat.

Those two take a seat beside where I lay in the grass. Hal pats my chest, which sends a shock through my whole body. "Dude, that was sick. Your arm just lit up!"

I shoot a glance at Rory to see if she recognized Hal's statement. People aren't all friendly with the fact that I have this mark. Lee, especially. I turn my inner arm toward the dirt so no one can see the black streaks that line below the crease of my elbow.

Dalia grins from ear to ear, tugging at her ponytail. "Carrot boy is a freak. A pretty cool freak, if you ask me." That warrants a smile from me. Not a lot of people actually like the mark.

Sergeant Rory checks something off on the records and peers down at me, still on my back. "Slater, you got a time of eleven minutes, forty-two seconds. Good enough for second place in your heat. Great work."

As the Sergeant walks away, Hal shoots me a dirty, slimy look. "Yeah, nice work, carrot boy." He winds up and slaps my pink stomach. He can't contain his laughter as a vicious sting shoots around my entire torso. I shield my stomach from further harm by hunching my body upward. I hear Dalia chuckling to herself, too.

A successful island run in the books. It's time to get a break and some lunch before the combat tournament begins later today. The first round of my bracket begins at about two or three; I forget. Whichever it is, I'll get plenty of time to find out who had the nerve to take first place in the race.

After lunch, of course. Or after I go throw up.