The Expatriate-the story of a Prodigy

8. The Return

 The clothes were given out after dinner, and Alex got into them right after he got back to his room. There are a few humans who fit every clothes given to them, and would fit every clothe on the face of earth well-and Alex was one of them. He felt comfy in the clothes, and Andrew sighed since he looked like a rag doll in a mirror compared to his companion.

 Howver, the next day was going to be more difficult than simply clothing.

 They were asked to(ordered to) come out to the back of the building at 6, which meant that they had to get up at at least 5:30 to prepare. Even Alex didn't wake then-he usually woke at 6:30. But this was not his home, not his bed-this was the military. He was going to get used to it. 

 Since he had read from a trustworthy source that a tensed up person could wake extra-early, he crawled under the soft line sheet of the bed and thought of all the nasty things that a Prod could be facing in the military. He tried to imagine torture and labor. He thought of the Martyr, his last words being to survive no matter what. 

 That did the thing, and he drifted to sleep with his fists clenched.

Ok, this had been his first try at the 'natural alarm bell'. So...

 His eyes flew open at 4:45, and he groaned, wondering whether to go back to sleep for the nest 45 minutes or to just get the hell up and shower for long. The second seemed better since his body was fully awake and had left behind sleep miles behind. 

 Stepping carefully around Andrew's bed(he was drooling on the pillow, deep in some happy dream), he went into the shower.

 As he brushed his teeth before the shower, he wondered how well his parents could be managing without him. Did they know that Prods like him could get killed, even when they had gotten inside with Muted abilities? Or were they just ignoring it, trying to believe that their son wasn't going to be killed? His thoughts then led to his dad, when he had looked happy yesterday for Muting his son. He felt a tiny shiver of anger inside him, but then, just had to agree that the Mut-ation had helped him get in the military, afterall. 

 He spat toothpaste and saliva into the basin and rinsed his teeth. Suddenly, he felt a bit strange, like his head was clearing-ok, so maybe sleep had been only a few miles away-maybe he was now waking up properly... The water rumbled down from the faucet to the sink noisily. Ok, this place had some luxurious but noisy facilities. 

 He stepped into the shower, and watched with narrowed eyes as the water rushed out from the shower. He tried to ignore the big sound and showered. After, he slipped into the military uniform that had given to him. Just right for his size. He stepped out of the shower and walked through the vapor spilling out from the bathroom over to his bed and turned on the light. His mental calculator said it was one 5:06, so Andrew was anyway gonna get up soon. He watched as Andrew turned in his sleep, drool coating his right chin. His eyes did some REM sleep stuff then finally winced. He blinked, then rose with a start, eyes running crazy around the room. He was silent, confused. 

 "You're in the military, I'm Alex Mars, and it's 5:07 now," Alex said, rubbing his hair with a towel. Andrew blinked some more, turning like an i***t slowly too him. "Oh, right. Sorry, Alex," He wiped off his drool quickly as if embarrassed and hobbled over to the bathroom. Alex just kept drying his hair, then his eyes narrowed again. Andrew had turned on the faucet, but strangely, the sound was small. Well, small like a normal faucet. 

 He could only look at the air in front of him, eyes blinking like Andrew a few seconds ago, like a deer caught in the headlights. 

 He and Andrew went down the stairs to the first floor, and immediately saw the others, murmuring and whispering, looking tired and nervous. Well, this was their first training, afterall. Though Alex felt worse than that-he wasn't feeling great and this was his first challenge to hide his real identity. 

 They walked out onto the dirt and cement. The sun was just rising, its orange rays streaming as much as possible over the treetops, over the mountain, and over the fences. Alex suddenly felt as if he was in the 1830s, as a son of a farmer, going over to the back yard to fetch the eggs-the thing was, he was going to the back yard-to train, though. Plus, it was 2070. He snapped back to reality. 

 The group marched as best as possible in single file. Alex also did his best, but couldn't ignore the tiny smirks and glances among the guards standing at the fence. He wished that a general would appear in front of them and shut them up. 

 They reached the back yard that Alex had seen as he had entered the base the last day. The cement was shiny and Alex could see very dent in it, every bump. The group, once out of guard-sight, moved away from him and Andrew. They started to pace, everyone, excluding Alex. 

 "I can never understand the need for pacing," He said to Andrew, who was doing combo-he was pacing and biting his lip and chewing his nails and fidgeting with his fingers. Ok, a multi-combo, we can state. 

 "Why not?" Andrew asked, his teeth busy to bit his nails off. "A waste of leg muscles, a waste of time-you can use it to think instead and try to change something, like your environment," Alex said the Prodigies' Motto-ok, it was a title he had made up that every Prod seemed to know, though the only Prods he knew in his life was himself and the Martyr. "Uh, right? So what's your point?" "My point is, stop pacing," "Aha," Andrew stopped his combo-activities. "Jesus, you're so sticky to the rule and living easily with your great brain," Andrew said, putting his hands on his knnees and staring at the cement below his butt. 

 Alex had nothign nor not wanted to say anything to that. 

 General Fawkes soon walked to the clearing with two less-important looking fellas in uniforms walking like robots behind him. They seemed amused by the situation as the 'newbies' gaped with wide eyes and got into the most unorganized line they'd seen. Fawkes waved them off, and the two walked to a corner near the building. The gernal walked stiffly to the centers of the space. The group slowly and hesitantly dissipated into lines in front of him. 

 "Ok. Today is going to show you the schedule of yours that might go on for months, and maybe years. I have to get used to each of your names and personalities. I think I'll know them natarully as I train you. The first thing you do each morning-you run exactly 20 times around this tiny feild, and whoever can't make it runs 5 more. That's generous, compared to the past. After that, you are going to train yourselves while I hover around, correcting you. Just be careful-I know you're all sane enough to not shoot yourself in the face or cut your arm," No one snickered. The general continues. "Also, one more important thing, other from the schedule-if you feel strange or feel mentally different than usual, report it immidatley to the office or me," Alex swallowed. Here it was. The sentence the general had just said had been about his type. And just that morning, he had felt stra-

 His eyes froze as they watched the general's mouth open and close, spitting out words and words. But his ears didn't work. And his brain was fanatic. 

 Being a prod. Having been Muted. His strange ears that morning, just some 30 mintes ago...

 That couldn't be possible.  

 That couldn't be, simply, Alex Mars thought.

 Were his ears coming back?

 Well, I didn't mention it before as it kinda returning as if from some mental telekinesis that would work in his brain-well, that wasn't exactly true, but still, they were coming back. 

 The Muters were wearing off, finally. 

 It hadn't been the doctor's fault-nor the illegal company which made the Muters. It was simply that Alex's hearing was too young and thirsty, just too willing. Also, he was a true Prodigy. And that means: Muters aren't effective so long as forever on them. 

 Alex was out of his daze right before the general ended his sentence. He tried to make the tension in his body dissipate as the general and his two guys stared at him and the others. He was off their radius of danger for now. He tried to get rid of something similar to adrenaline in his bloodstreams-but he couldn't.

 His ears were back, after all those years. 

 Though he couldn't confirm it, they had to be. 

 But the thing was, Alex had been actually grateful for them for being Muted just yesterday in bed, as you know. And now they were back. 

 It was the worst luck he had had in his 16 years of life on the face of Earth. 

His legs pushed and jumped and pushed and jumped, his arms swaying for balance and swinging, but his head was, for now, a millions light years away from his body. It was making very fast signals of thoughts as he ran...

 Un-Muted?!-Jesus on a stick-this is going insane-my ears finally back, but why now...?-how can I now survive the army when just hiding the fact hat I'm a Prod mentally but with now physical signs of being a Prod on the outside was hard enough?-will I get killed?-they won't even need to transport me away from my family to the army to kill, since I am already at one-dear god, Mike, my Martyr...I'll so sorry for wasting your time and energy according to the Prodigies' Motto...-I was a Prod who survived the government's hands but only survived initially. Now my worst fears a.k.a.hopes have just returned, making my 16 years of life a failure...

 In a second, Alex Mars was writing his own eulogy, which was something very rare-though his brain did zip around often, this was unprecedented. Thoughts were literally hopping up and down some 3 meters into the air, a million light years away from his body. 

 He felt as if he had freshly lost everything he had owned, waited for decades to get them back, finally got them back and was so happy when he just found out that they had come from hell. Well, his entire life did go like that, falling exactly into the one-sentence paraphrase like a jigsaw puzzle.

 His body stopped automatically running when the 20 rounds were done and groaned. His mind zapped back through time, space, and the black hole, back into his body to sit again in his skull.

 "Just wait a few mintes, the equipments for knife-throwing aren't just here yet," He heard the general say, and his ears suddenly pricked to the sound of his voice. Well, it had been normal enough. Maybe his ears were just sitting on the line boudarying 'normal' and 'Prod mood'. 

 He watched glumly as some guards brought a metal box of knives in plastic sheeths and some targets. The general ordered them to get a few knives and they, including Alex, obeyed-Alex Mar's legs snapped and click-clacked to the box and his arms bent to pull out some knives. 

 He still didn't know how to interpret his mood. He wasn't sad nor angry nor amused nor happy nor...

 The clear thing was that he was confused-and that was very very very rare for Alex Mars.

 His eyes finally found a clear focus, and he found himself standing 10 feet away from a white wooden target. He  turned his eyes a bit to see the others throwing knives like maniacs, most of them missing, especially Andrew. Poor guy, he thought, then started to practice with the daggers himself. 

 He wondered why the soldiers-and that also meant himself-was required to trian with the knives. The Martyr had said that the army was there to control the people-ok, so were they going to stab the citizens to push back some revolt? Well, they'd end up killing the people in their own country, Alex thought absent-mindedly. 

 He threw teh first knife with measured strength, hand measuring the right amount of speed, agility and strength, and the snap of the wrist. The thing flew, whirled over once, then buried itself into the wood with a thwak-a bit from the center. Ok, normal people couldn't have had traing in like this or even learnt it from You-tube-he was going to act more, be more careless. His ears were a big problem and there was a huge probability now that he'd get caught in a physical brain scan or endurance test, but he still had to at least try to hide his identity...

 "Good throw, Mars," He heard Fawke's voice from behind him. "Thanks, sir. That was a bit of luck," Alex said, trying to sound impressed. He picked up another knife and threw it loosely at the board-it had taken barely a whirl before it hit the target-it stuck to it barely at the edge.  

 Alex was frustrated-his sudden change in achievement, from the center of the target to the edge of the target-or 'luck', as he had said to the general-was too major. The gerenal wasn't going to trust him, start doubting him...

 "Well, to increase the luck and probability, you should grip it not so firmly by the end of the handle, then let it go during a swift swing of your elbow from top to bottom," Huh. "Err, ok," He managed to say, surprised by the general's inability to doubt him, and did as told. The knife fell near the center once more. "Thanks, sir," He said. "Well, training's my duty here. You seem to know the basics of the martial arts, I also watched your performance by video. Just keep it up and train every day," Alex nodded. "Thank you, sir," 

 The only emotion he felt was that he was happy for his gerneal for being so mundane to notice his mood and thoughts.

 Traing went smooth. Alex's center of the board was packed with knives, so he decided to do some charity instead of looking for more space to thrust his knife into-he instead threw his knives for Andrew at his boards, and the other boy looked gratefully at him. Well, he had only had 2 knives to even stick to the board.

 The sesssion ended for lunch, and they all were eager and more happy then the day ago to go to the cafeteria-well, not all. Alex was still a bit paralyzed while Andrew felt depressed. The meal was some rice that was shaped long and sticky-Alex found it strange that it wasn't a GMO-and more soup and a tiny patch of salad. He showed slowly, trying to earn more time to consider his options in life now-one thing for sure: everything was a risk for him from now on. Duh, he sighed. Oh, why had they come back now in particular... He swallowed his rice and closed his eyes, concentrating on his ears. The sounds he noticed were cleared then normal, a bit back to the years ago when he heard everyhthing in a mile's range. But what can I do? Get'em Muted again? Well, that's unethical a lot even in a situation like this...Alex thought.

 He went to a conclusion-hide it as best as possible, and if he was sure he couldn't just get somehow out of the army. 

 He finished his meal and dumped some celery into the dump, which was among the only's that he didn't eat. He was stressed enough to give Earth more compost to break down. He left the cafeteria and Andrew behind, since he was far from finished with his meal. He walked to the back of the building again, since the general had ordered them to meet there to train for the martial arts next. At least I knew the stuff in it and could concentrate on hiding myself, Alex thought grimly as he walked out into the sun. 

 He ignored the guard's bored glances and made it to the back to find out that he was the first. He found the box of knives in front of him, and decided to practice. He knelt down to pick out a few long, ones and set up a wooden target a few feet from him. He began to throw, most of them sticking to the middle or center. When his first round of knives were done, he pushed the target away some more feet with teh edge of his foot. Then did it all over again. 

 "You're eager, Mars," He heard a voice behind him and spun around. Gee, it was Fakes. He knew hos to approaches silently just as the Mratyr had taught him, and as he confronted his general, Alex was suddenly reminded of the time 4 years ago when his Martyr taught him the art of being silent and watched him do the feat after he promised to keep his eyelids closed. He felt a pang of regret and apology for having a big chance of failing the man's purpose again.

  "I was just looking for stuff to do. Well, I can put it away," Alex said, dropping a knife in his hand into the box. The general smiled-not warmly nor coldly. "Ok. They're the ones late, to be exact," He said, tapping his phone to see the time(as I mentioned before, phones were allowed). "Well, what techniques do you know in the field of the martial arts?" The general asked, pushing the box away to a corner. Alexconsidered his answer throaoughly, trying to consider it as a practice test. "I know only a few-taekwando and some karate," "Taekwando-the thing you used to do that little performance of yours at your test. Uh-huh. I want to see more of it-i already brought some supply of wood and panels for the Korean arts. Show me, doesn't matter if it runs out," Alex was surprised to see a giddy smile on the general's lips.

 So the man brought over the box of stuff, and they together crouched to pull out stacks of panels and wood. 

 "Ok, this cement sure doesn't seem like the best place to do this, but we don't have a cushioned room at all. You fine with it?" The general asked, surprising Alex more by using a casual tone. "Yes," He managed to reply. 

 Soon, everything was in place, and Fawkes waved his hands at it. "You can try," Alex nodded, looked around the place one mire time to see if no one was coming-ok, a lot of time seemed to have passed,a nd he felt as if everyhone, including the general, was gonna get scolded from a higher status. It was the army! Not a playing round with no clear time rules, and...

 He blocked out the thoughts wheezing around in his head by moving forward to the wooden blocks.

 "Well, I know this one-" He quickly spun, jolted his leg out to a perfect kick of the air, and then bent down in a single movement to split the wood blocks in 2 parts from one like at the sessions. The general gave him a smile-and for a terrible moment,Alex saw the paternal glance in the man's eyes. He could tell that he general liked him. He quickly made notes-liking someone for his skills was good to hide his identity since the man would try to embrace everything he did and think he was a superiority student. But as I mentioned before-a big act that would cause suspicion, like betrayal, would turn the man's mind definely. And thus making him more vulnerable to getting killed here...

 "I think you're good at this, Alex. Maybe you can spend the next hour practicing something else or teaching the others with me?" Woah. That was a offer.

 "I'll help you, sir," He said instead. The general nodded thoughtfully, a strange smile rising on his lips once more. "Thank you, Mars," His ears then caught the sounds of shoes running on the cement floor and turned to the side of the building. "They're coming now," He said, then realized that the gerneal hadn't probably noticed the sounds, but he had. 

 Oops. 

 The newbies ran into the clearing, out of breathe. Alex forgot his mistake a second ago as his eyes scrytnized the crowd to see a few-well, two, missing. "Where's Andrew?" He asked. His voice wasn't loud, but still, it carried angrily across the cement. Well, the others, disheveled, all looked at him. They were surprised-this was one of he first times Alex had spokne to them. 

 A boy, Mark Higgins, rubbed his neck, stepping forward. Alex looked at him suspiciously. He regretteed leaving Andrew behind to come here. "We're not very sure. We were actually looking for him and that's why we're late. We apologize, sir," The body turned to the man for a moment, then turned back to Alex. "But some of us think they saw Andrew go into the forest with James," Mark said.