“Well...that’s what happens when you try to back out of your contract.” The man on the stage says, “So don’t. Back on topic.”

He rolls his neck.

“So the Earth is f-flat?”

One of the younger men standing nearby says.

“Yeah. I just said so, right? Any other questions?”

“What, so does the water just fall off the edge? That’s ridiculous?” A man in a chair says, “The Earth is obviously round.”

“No it doesn’t fall off the edge, there’s a barrier; a wall of ice that wounds around the world,” he makes a spinning motion with his finger, “and that holds the water in.”

“But what about Antarctica? I’ve been there?”

A uniformed man among the sitters says.

“No.” The man on the stage rolls his eyes, “You’ve been to an island literally called Deception and probably saw some penguins or whatever.”

“How about the sun? It’s millions of miles away, how would we have sunrises and sunsets?” The university student who tried to argue with him continues.

“No, it’s a lot smaller than you’ve been taught, and a lot closer.” He makes an exaggerated motion with his hand.

“Why can’t we see forever in any direction then, huh?”

“Perspective. Look, we can spend the next few hours arguing about the finer points but honestly, I just want to get this over with. It’s midnight and I want to get back to bed as quickly as possible,” he sighs, “So if you don’t believe me, there’s the door.” He motions to the sliding door. The men who had left were just now coming back in.

At that suggestion the student fell silent

“So what does this have to do with you guys being a mercenary group?” I ask.

“Finally, a sensible question, What’s your name?” He points at me, and I feel myself shrink.

“Lyle.”

“Well Lyle beyond the wall of ice, the Earth actually expands infinitely.”

“That’s ridiculous…” The university student mutters.

The man on stage turns his gaze to the boy. And the boy casts his eyes back to the cement ground.

“And within that ever expanding plane, different powers are struggling for control.”

“Like governments?”

The man on stage scoffs.

“Some. Corporations, mainly. Religious groups are another big one.”

“So we...what get sold off to these organizations?”

“Now you’re getting it.”

“But who do we fight? Granting this is all true.”

The man on stage groans.

“Other mercenary groups. Militaries, monsters, fairies, whatever you’re told to in order to secure victory for our client.”

“What were those last two?”

“Ah, didn’t know you were hard of hearing. The hearing aid will be deducted from your final pay. I said, ‘monsters and fairies.’” He repeats himself a little louder.

“No, I heard you, but…”

“But?”

“Monsters and fairies exist? Do you know how hard that is to believe?” One of the women sitting says.

“Oh. Right. Everything from folk and fairy tales? Well...this is kind of their domain. This is where they came from, and where they returned to after the Industrial Revolution and humanity got the upper hand. We call this land, ‘the Realm Beyond,’ mostly because that’s what others before us called it.”

“Uh huh…” The woman repeats.

Oh well, six months and I’ll be out of this loony bin with 130k in my pocket. It would be better than being back in Porterville, where I might run into my family, or run into the people I owe money to.

“So any more questions?” He glances around the room before continuing once he was sure that all of us were still left wracking our brains wondering just what madness we had just signed up for. “No? Good. So here’s the itinerary for you guys in the next couple of days. Tonight, you’ll be shown to your bunks, and tomorrow you will each be given a transfusion.”

“Transfusion?” Someone in our crowd asks.

This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

“For fuck’s sake…” the man on stage grumbles, “Yes, a transfusion.”

“Of?”

“Monster blood. Obviously.”

“How is that obvious?”

“Why?” Another asks.

“It will allow you to survive in the Lands. Without it, you will die as soon as you leave our drop ships.”

“Die? Why?”

“Well, the air is poisonous to humans.” The man says, “And we don’t want to waste gas masks on you. Do you know how expensive those are to replace?”

“But monster blood isn’t?”

“No, you can get dozens of vials from a single goblin. Very cost-efficient. So anyway, it’ll hurt, but bear with it. You’ll live. After that, we’ll give you time to acclimate.”

"Goblin?"

“Acclimate?”

“Well, with the monster blood, you’ll feel some changes in your body...and we found it more efficient to give new hires a week or so to get used to them. There’ll be three meals a day; the first is scheduled for six in the morning, the second is at noon, and the third will be served at six. It doesn’t matter to us if you eat or not, but there will be no exceptions to this. It will be first come first serve.”

“Can we have more than one helping?”

A fat man in my group asks. He looks remarkably out of place here; he doesn’t look as if he was addicted to anything, other than, perhaps, food, nor did he look particularly dangerous like some of the others.

“No.” Came the short reply. “Any other questions or can I finally go to bed?”

No one else asked a thing.

“Good. Now, if you’ll follow Miss Zhi there, she’ll show you to your bunks. Now get the hell out of here, I’m going to sleep.”

He steps off the stage and walks to a small door in the back near the stairs leading up and down the small platform, and slams it shut behind him. The whole building seems to shake at that.

“This way, please!” The lady who had recruited me stood at the entrance.

The first to get up are the women that remain. Their faces were pale and sickly. The rest of us follow after. Outside of the warehouse, a worker was spraying red liquid off of the black asphalt Miss Zhi led us through the complex. There were only two other buildings aside from the warehouse. For an organization that was apparently being hired out by major corporations to conquer a fairy tale land, it was incredibly sparse. Was this all that they could afford? Oh well, I’ll do my time, get my cash, and then finish up.

Right behind the warehouse, was a long building that stretched from one section of the wall to the other. Its roof was similarly rounded so that the snowfall wouldn’t stick to it.

“Men are on the left there,” she points in the direction, “And women are this way. Follow me.”

We men linger there for a moment, unsure of what to do. A few of the rougher-looking ones; the ones in orange jumpsuits with bold black CDCR written on the backs head to the bunks first, shoving their way through the group. One shoulder checks me and glares back as he steps through the glass double doors.

“What a bunch of assholes.” One of the uniformed men says as he follows after.

The cleaner people; those who looked as if they had their lives together, followed after, as we, the fuck ups, lingered behind; our hands in our pockets, and our bones aching for that one more hit. I see the tell-tale signs; the twitching and the scratching, and the glancing from side to side. One comes up to me.

“Hey...do you got anything on you? Don’t care what it is; sleeping pills, Benadryl, fuckin cough syrup. I just need something, man.”

“Sorry man. Nothing.”

“Shit. It’s going to be a long night.”

He shoves his hands back into his pocket and goes wandering around the compound. I rub my neck and head inside. The eyes of everyone there burned like coal pressed against my skin, and I needed out of their sight. Ah, how hot everything was. I claw at my skin as I feel another twinge as if a thousand, thousand legs are crawling against the goose-pimpled flesh.

I entered the building through the double glass door into a long, white hall. A pair of doors to my left separated the men’s hall from the women’s hall. Between the front door and the bunking area, there were three doors: I checked each as I passed by. The first was a large open cafeteria with entrances on both the male side and female side of the building, the second was a locker room/shower area, and the third was a communal restroom. At the end of the hall, another pair of double doors opened up into the bunking area. Bunk beds lined the floor like the block of a county jail. The CDCR jumpsuit people monopolized the bunks at the far right corner.

“Aren’t you Kyle?” One of them says as I situate myself in one of the lower bunks near the door. I glance at him.

“Oh. Reyas? You’re here too?”

Daniel Reyas was my cellmate when I did a couple months for possession with intent to deal three years back. I recognized him immediately by the small cut above his brow that I gave him when he and a few others tried to jump me for a few packs of ramen I had gotten from the commissary. After the fight, surprisingly, we became pretty good friends in the pen. At that time, however, he had a well-kept head of hair and a small goatee. Now, however, his head was shaved, and his face was tatted with the symbols of the gang he no doubt joined for protection after becoming a lifer; something I had heard rumors of from other people who were in our block.

“Shit, man. I can’t believe I’m running into you here of all places.”

I put up my guard.

“How many months are you contracted for?”

“Shit. 36 months. Better than life behind bars, I guess. At least I’ll be a free man after.”

“You got life? I thought you only had a couple years left.” I said; feigning ignorance. “Shit, what happened?”

“Killed a guy.” He shrugged.

“Really? Why?”

“He was a chomo.” He said, “Was my cellmate after you got out. Started bragging about what he did to his neighbor's kid. Used my sheets, and choked him to death in the middle of the night.” He turns to the others who had come out of the corrections facility, “Hey, this is Lyle Kyle, he’s cool. Don’t fuck with him.”

One of the men scoffed.

“Lyle Kyle? That’s a fake ass name.”

Their laughter echoed in my head. Ah. I wish I had at least finished that baggie. The headaches were back, and the nausea and my bones felt as if something was clawing their way through them. The bright white light bars blaring above us hooked to the ceiling didn’t do me any favors. I pulled myself up to the top of the bunk as the others began to filter in. I noticed those that had been seated in the middle of the room weren’t in yet; wouldn’t be surprised if they had their own bunk somewhere else in the building, or if they were talking among themselves.

The fat guy decided to take the bed underneath me; as he settled into the mattress, the whole bed squealed and shook, and that only exacerbated all the pain and nausea, and kept me from falling asleep right away. I pressed the thin pillow over my head to block out the harsh light and turned so that my stomach was pressed against the spring mattress. I then turn to my side. Then my other side, back to my stomach, and over and over again, I toss and turn; trying to find some angle that didn’t bring more pain.

“You alright up there?” The man underneath me asked.

I grunt in response and feel the bed shake as he stands up. He steps over to the bright white wall and presses his back against it; sliding to a sitting position on the ground. His dark eyes fell over his freckled face and down to past his shoulders in heavy ringlet curls that hid his hazel eyes.

“What’s your story?” I ask; the pillow wrapped around my head to block out the light and the humming of the electricity through the phosphorescent bars. “you don’t seem as much of a fuck up as the rest of us.”

He scoffs and hangs his head.

“Nah. Failed out of college...kicked out of my house because of it.” He sighs, “After the first night of homelessness, decided suicide was the better option, and before I stepped off the bridge, a woman stopped me and offered a contract. 130K for six months? That’s a deal. Signed it right away.”

“Where are you from?” I asked.

“LA.” He answered, barely lifting his head away from the floor. “Hopefully this job changes me for the better. How about you? What’s your story?”

“Don’t got one,” I answered.

“Not like...addicted to anything? Some of the others here seem like they are.”

“Nah, man.” I said; wincing as another wave of pain rushed through me, “I can quit whenever I want.” I rolled over to my back; covering my face with the pillow.

“If you say so. My brother would say the same thing about oxy.”

“Where is he now?”

“Dead. I found him a year back face down in his room.”

I roll my eyes. Oh boy, here we go, another sob story.

“Okay,” I say. “And? I’m not your brother. I can quit whenever I damn well please.”

“Oh. Alright. I’m sorry.” He muttered as he hung his head.

He pushed himself off of his ground and climbed into the bunk beneath mine. It shook as he finished settling in. Daniel approached my bunk.

“He cool?” He motioned towards the bottom bunk.

“I guess.”

“Cool.” He leans down toward the heavy-set man.

I hear the slap of Reyas’ hands against the big man’s shoulders; a greeting he always used when meeting new people.

“What’s your name, homie?”

“Uh. Jack. Jack Harlas.”

“Well Jackie, you cool with Lyle here, you cool with us, okay? Anyone fucks with you, let us know. This man can throw hands.”

Reyas pats the side of my bunk, and I grunt.

“Oh. Alright.” Came the response to the statement.

Reyas sauntered back over toward his group.

“What was that about?” Jack asks.

“That’s just how he is.”

“Crazy how you ran into someone you know here.”

“Yeah, probably.” I shift in the bed.

More people filter into the room, chatting among themselves. I clamp the pillow down over my ears as an ache begins to take over my bones. I roll around on the mattress. After the chattering got too much for me to bear, I rolled out of bed and left the room; clutching my head as I searched for a quiet place to pass the night, and pass the time until the withdrawal symptoms stopped.