his head away. âYou sound like Declan.â
When Page remained silent, the boy turned a hard glare on him.
âI know what this is,â Julian said. âI know what youâre doing.â His dad raised his eyebrows. âOh?â
âItâs punishment,â Julian continued. âFor . . . for what happened in Canada.â
His father raised a shoulder. âThatâs in the past.â
âThen why are you doing this, making me be here? Iâm fourteen,â he said. âEveryone else is, like, eighteen, nineteen, twenty. I donât belong here. All they do is talk about war and fighting. Even my school curriculum focuses on war. I donât know how you pulled that off. For English . . .â He twisted, grabbed a paperback book off a nightstand, and tried to hand it to Page. âThe Red Badge of Courage . Before that, it was War and Peace . . . The Art of War . . . A Farewell to Arms . . . Slaughterhouse Five.â
âYou do other things,â Page said. âMovies. Video games.â
Julian pointed at a wall. âGo ask those guys what they watched last. How much you wanna bet it was something like Enemy at the Gates or Saving Private Ryan? Some documentary. Same with the video games. Thereâs not one racing game in this whole complex. Or a roleplaying adventure. Theyâre all personal shooters or war strategies like Command & Conquer .â He looked away again. âItâs not very subtle, you know.â
âItâs not supposed to be. It works.â
âIt works, how? Okay, I get it,â Julian said. âYou make soldiers here. Thatâs what Outis does. And apparently theyâre really good soldiers, because everybody wants them. Thereâs, what? Thousands of Outis soldiers fighting in wars all over the world?â
His father smiled.
âWhat I want to know, Dad, is why am I here, me? I never wanted to be a soldier.â
âItâs good to know the family business.â
âItâs your business. But if you want me to learn it, thatâs not what theyâre teaching me! This isnât business. Itâs . . .â He searched for a word. âItâs death.â
They stared into each otherâs eyes. His fatherâs were dark, unreadable. Julian knew his revealed every emotion raging behind them. Thatâs just how he was made. He couldnât help it and didnât want to. He knew his father saw that as a weakness, as giving too much away.
Well, Daddy, he thought, youâre not going to change me by putting me through this boot camp. Youâre not.
But deep down, he wasnât so sure. Heâd seen the people whoâd come through here: normal kids at the beginning, hardened automatons by the time they were sent off to kill other peopleâs enemies for six hundred dollars a day.
His father stood. He leaned over to lay his hand on Julianâs head.
Julian flinched.
âYouâll do well here,â his father whispered. âI know it.â
Julian blinked, and tears spilled out. He resisted wiping at them. When his father raised his head, Julian tightened his jaw and glared at him.
âSee?â his father said. âItâs working already.â He went to the door and began pulling it shut behind him. He said, âYouâll do the allterrain course again next weekend. Finish it this time, Julie.â The door clicked shut.
Julian grabbed the paperback off the bed and threw it at the door. He fell onto his pillow. Smoke swirled against the ceiling like a brewing storm.
TWELVE
Hutch sat on Loganâs bed and brushed the hair off his sonâs forehead. He said, âI noticed you were trying to be nice.â
Logan wiggled his head deeper into the pillow. He tugged a blanket up to his chin. Smiling, he said, âJust trying ?â
âYou got in a few jabs.â
âItâs just . . .â He shook his head. âI donât