They weren't far away.
I could see them clearly.
Sixteen cans of Coke, lined up like a miracle, waiting to be claimed.
Hope.
Pure, carbonated hope.
My mouth was so dry it felt like sandpaper. Thirst crawled through my throat and wiped out whatever was left of my reasoning. I didn't think. I didn't hesitate and i completely forgot about anything else.
I ran.
I didn't care what Pain was explaining. I didn't care about rules, targets, or dignity. That was my only desire right then.
I jumped. Threw myself at the cans. Grabbed one.
And that's when my heart broke.
It was empty.
I hear Pain's voice behind me.
"Hey, you idiot. The cans are empty. Now get back in position before I bury you in a hole."
Can't you see I'm heartbroken? I think to myself.
Such a selfish man. He won't even let me grieve properly.
I drag myself back to the line.
"As this fresh meat, Lin Fen, has just realized," Pain says, enjoying every word, "the cans are empty. The one who hits the target gets a Coke as a reward."
He pauses.
"With the exception of those using the regulation stick. They'll get water. As usual."
He grins.
All sixteen of us ready to shoot. Eyes shining at the thought of having it in our mouths.
Okay, that didn't sound good.
But who cares?
I have a chance to win a Coke.
"Fire!"
Almost simultaneously, all sixteen pistols go off.
One hit.
Just one.
I didn't.
I crumble into the sand, almost tearing up.
From the corner of my eye, I see Rupert jumping with joy.
Go suck a lemon, Rupert. I hope you choke on the first sip.
Pain's voice cuts again.
"You are indeed a failure."
He looks at Rupert, then back at the rest of us.
"Everyone else—get back in line. I guess you just volunteered for the midday run."
This time, with our souls broken, it takes us more than two hours to finish.
That pisses Pain off again.
So that day, we only get one meal.
And to make things better, we spend the rest of the afternoon digging holes.
Covering them.
Then digging them again.
Like a bunch of crazy people.
By the time our arms and legs finally give up, we see Rupert drinking the soda like he's in a commercial. Slow. Deliberate. Enjoying every second. I can even hear it sliding down his throat.
Right now, I'd trade a car, a house—anything—for just one sip.
For a second, I think about standing up. Maybe negotiating. In the worst case,a forceful negotiation. I can tell everyone else is thinking the same thing—I see it in their eyes.
Then I notice Pain standing off to the side, holding a shovel, watching us expectantly.
There's even a faint smile on his face.
The ground suddenly feels very comfortable.
I lie back down.
We go to bed rethinking our lives. The night tastes sour.
Not like that sweet Coke I never got to try.
The next day starts as usual.
Morning routine.Same movements.Same pain.Same misery.
By midday, the lack of spirit is obvious.
We're all called in by Russo—which is weird. We rarely see him giving orders. Most of the time, we're just Pain's problem.
Standing beside him are the senior NCO and the other guy—the one with the constant frown.
"Attention!"
We snap into position, expecting an order that doesn't come.
We stand there for almost thirty minutes. The sun beating down hard.
Then we see it.
A truck approaching.
For a second, it looks like a mirage. I almost doubt my eyes as it cuts through the hot desert, heading straight toward our small patch of misery. We watch it with expectation.
Maybe visitors.Maybe some hot senior officer to distract us from the fact we're here.
Finally, it stops.
A burly man steps down.
Fantastic. No curvy senior.
We're ordered to unload all the boxes and take them to the supply tent. We work fast. Efficient.
Today, we're all runners.
That's when it hits me.
Supplies.
I don't need to check what's inside to know that at least one of those boxes holds more of that magic in cans. For a split second, I consider a quick "quality control."
Pain's shovel flashes through my mind.
I immediately dismiss the idea.
While we work, Russo speaks quietly with the burly man, smiling as he hands him a small package. It looks shady—but with mercenaries in the middle of the desert, legality isn't really part of the conversation.
Before the man leaves, I catch a glimpse of Russo's face.
The smile is gone.
For a moment, his expression turns serious.
Heavy.
And for the first time since I arrived here, I get the feeling that whatever is coming next…
Isn't training anymore.