Life was strict in the camp, and so was our schedule. Every morning we woke up exactly the same. Well, I shouldn't say exactly the same.

After a few weeks, we got used to the cadre coming into our room, flicking on the lights and yelling at us. We still did what they said and moved as quickly as possible, but most of us stopped getting rattled the same way we did in the beginning. I'm not exactly sure why they needed to come in every morning to do it, but I'm pretty sure they just liked it.

After the morning yell fest, we all went to the gym for mandatory physical training. Physical training lasts for two hours, at the very least, but we usually do a lot more. Afterward, we're quickly ushered back to our rooms to get uniforms. Then it's off to the showers for personal hygiene. Once that's done, we go to eat chow. Finally, we go to the Garden for maintenance and ability training. We usually spend most of the day in the Garden, but sometimes we go to other places.

I thought the first two days were terrible, but on the third day, we started physical training. Like the day before, we woke up to the cadre entering our room and yelling at us.

“Is there another assembly?” John asked. I just shrugged my shoulders as a response.

“Shut up, you walking disease!” yelled one of the cadre. “You all have fifteen minutes to get dressed in P.T. gear and line up outside.”

“What’s-” Brian began to ask.

There was a loud thud and an exhalation of air. I looked to see what had happened. Brian was kneeling on the ground, clutching his stomach and gasping for air.

“I said, shut up,” the same cadre member as before growled. This time he was hovering above where Brian was kneeling.

Our physical training or P.T. gear was a pair of shorts, a t-shirt and some running shoes. We also had a pair of pants and a jacket for cold weather.

After we were all dressed in shorts and a shirt, we were herded to the gym. We met up with the girls again, who all looked worse than we did. This was because it looked like they had no time to fix their hair.

We were lined up and instructed to spread out through a series of commands that had us raising our arms and moving away from the person who was closest to us. On the first day, we actually didn’t do much exercising. We repeated the drill until we could do it without messing up and with sufficient motivation. We may not have done the exercise the cadre wanted, but we were utterly exhausted by the end of the two-hour it was scheduled.

On one occasion, after we had been in the camp for a few months, it was asked why we exercised so much. Sarah or I raised the question, and we were lucky enough to get a response.

That morning we were being led by Sergeant Gray, an older, dark-skinned, gray-haired man. His age didn't make him any less physically capable. He loved to work out and adored making us sweat.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

However, while he wasn't verbally abusive or mean as long as the exercises were done, his response showed us a different side. That day we were probably on about number two-hundred of our side-straddle hop, which is the military term for jumping jacks. Don't ever call them jumping jacks to an army person. That was a lesson we learned a few weeks before, and the lesson was drilled into us with a thousand of them. Literally, A THOUSAND.

I digress; we were on about number two hundred when the question was posed to Sergeant Gray. Even though he was doing the exercise with us, we received a lengthy response. Sweat was already dripping from my forehead and stinging my eyes.

"Well, it's a multi-faceted solution to numerous problems that could arise in the camp," he said, without slowing down and in between our yelling of the number we were on. "However, first off, we do it because this is a military camp. While you may not be soldiers, we treat you like soldiers and soldiers train. Another reason is that you are all children with excessive energy and budding hormones. Those reasons are the most important to me. You all can't imagine the issues I have seen with build-ups of those two things.

"Three hundred," we all yelled in unison.

"Finally," he continued. "You all have one more factor that's a complete wild card. Your abilities. No one knows the end result if there is an uncontrolled release of energy, hormones and some sort of genetic virus power."

He was one of the more liked cadres up until that point, but his last comment showed his real feelings on the matter. After that, everyone seemed to just focus on getting through the exercise, with the only sounds coming as we yelled out the number we were on.

"Five Hundred," We yelled and were given the command to stop.

We were all breathing hard, that wasn't the most we had ever done, but it was a large number.

"The Flutter kick," declared Sergeant Gray.

"The Flutter kick," we echoed.

Despair wrenched my heart and the command to get in position for the exercise, but we all knew better than to show it. Those displays only caused the cadre to go faster and do more. Usually, Sergeant Gray wasn't the type to wear us down with excessive amounts of any exercise. Still, it seemed the question struck a nerve since his eyes were blank and his face hard.

We laid on our back with hands under our buttocks, then lifted our legs about six inches off the ground. The sergeant wouldn't start until everyone was in position. A quick scan showed everyone was ready, but Sergeant Gray still didn't start.

It seemed like he was making us suffer. We may not have done a thousand jumping jacks, but that day might have actually been worse. It was when we all learned not to ask questions.

The days were always demanding, and they began to fly by. We were busy learning to use our powers or doing details, which are like military chores, and just trying to find our place. I tried to pay attention to how everything worked and where I needed to go for the information about the night I was brought in. It was a difficult task without raising suspicion. Usually, I went about my day normally and tried to blend in.

During the first few months, only four rooms were filled with those who had the physical ability to manipulate wood. One for boys and another for girls, with each room consisting of five bunks. After a few months, another group came in, and a few weeks after that, another.

I assumed the Welders and Sirens received more members than the Carpenters. The few times we interacted with them, their numbers seemed much larger than at the assembly. However, when we were at a different assembly, I looked at the colors of everyone. I noticed a significant number of the silver Welder armbands.

Looking more closely, I noticed that most people were wearing silver. At the same assembly, I looked again for Claire, the girl I saw in the first assembly. I managed to find out her name without anyone asking too many questions. I always liked to find her, even though I never got a chance to talk to her.

Although I didn’t want to admire her that day, I was curious about the colors. It didn't take long to spot her since I focused on the colors. To my surprise, there were even fewer Sirens than anyone, except for me.