Forging Zero Read Online Free PDF Page A

them
around like cattle.  Within minutes, the aliens had pushed hundreds—if not thousands —of
children into the room, their fearful voices rising in tides, drowning out all
other sound. 
    Joe
reached down and tugged on the bluish band around his ankle in increasing
panic.  Like the doors that melted into walls, it was seamless—a paper-thin
ring that had no give whatsoever.  He wrenched on it in frustration, but
eventually gave up and went to hide his wet crotch in a corner, plotting how he
was going to kill his kidnappers for making him pee himself in front of
thousands of kids.
    About
an hour passed as more and more kids were added to the panicked mass.  The
aliens packed them into one half of the room until there was barely space to
breathe, let alone move, before dozens more aliens began pouring inside and a
fearful hush descended on the kids.  Joe, taller than anyone else in the room
by almost a head, was able to see the aliens line up in nine rows against the
opposite wall.  He recognized the group of five that had chased him down and
caught the pale, scarred one’s eyes, the one called Kihgl.
    The
pale alien and eight others moved forward and began sorting the kids like
captains on a playground team, barking orders to each other in their harsh,
guttural language while other Ooreiki hurried to obey.  Joe felt a twinge of
fear when he realized the aliens had turned off their translators.  He ducked
low and moved as far to the back of the group as he could, his gut instincts
telling him that, whatever was about to happen, it was not good.
    Eventually,
the nine ‘captains’ had all but Joe and a few others standing in groups behind
them.  Joe noticed with growing concern that, aside from himself, the
remainders all looked weak or sickly in some way.  One of the kids had an angry
red gash in his leg that ran from his knee to the base of his calf, laying open
a deep section of muscle and skin tissue.  A wound from the hellish days of the
Draft.  The kid had long ago given up on standing on it and instead, the boy
sat on the floor, his red-rimmed eyes watching the aliens nervously.
    Joe’s
breath caught when he recognized him.  Little Harry Simpson.  He’d seen him a
dozen times a week, riding his tricycle out in the road at the end of his
subdivision.  The boy always leaned on the fence when Joe, Sam, and their dad
played football in the front yard, sucking down a Freeze-Pop, acting as the ref
when they had a foul.
    Now
Harry looked like a skeleton with skin.  The little fingers that had offered
Joe popsicles were now bony protrusions bunched in his shorts as he fought off
pain and fever.  He had dark hollows under his eyes and his cheeks were wet
from crying.
    Seeing
the discolored pus oozing from Harry’s wound, Joe knew he needed to go to a
hospital.  Joe had read about wounds festering.  If he didn’t get help, Harry
was going to die. 
    Joe
sucked in a breath as an alien with orange features stepped toward them.  The
last thing he wanted was to be chosen by Commander Tril.  Already, Joe’s arm
was turning into a huge purple bruise where Tril had held him down. 
    Tril
walked up to Harry and gestured at him, looking back at his alien companions as
he spoke in his alien tongue.  None of them moved.  Tril gestured again and
Harry looked up at him with hopeful, pain-brightened eyes. 
    Why
isn’t Tril taking him back with him? Joe wondered,
dread beginning to form a cold knot in his gut.
    Commander
Tril activated the translation device hanging his neck and turned to speak to
the entire gathering. 
    “The
battalion leaders have made their decision.  Twice I requested a place for this
one, and twice I was denied.  No Congressional soldier will take him into his
fold.  Thus, he has no place in the Army.”
    The
alien pulled his gun from his belt and shot Harry in the face.   
    For a
long moment, Joe was too shocked to move.  Then a primal yell erupted from the
pit of his gut and he