Zombie Soap 2: Conspiracy

Twenty-Nine

Diego: Part I

Four in the morning was too early to be awake. It was a time for vampires and werewolves to start winding down for the night as the living slept off hangovers from all-night benders. Birds didn't come out to sing happy songs and roosters didn't crow because the sun wasn't up. More importantly, they'd be shot for disturbing the peace at such an ungodly hour.

Diego scrubbed his face with his palms, yawning discreetly behind his hands as his squad trudged into formation. They too, were exhausted from Ackerman's sadistic training regimen. After running everyone until they puked the night before, it was a marvel any of them were standing.

Personally, Diego didn't care for his partner's tactics, even if they were effective at instilling discipline into the soldiers. His own body screamed in protest, and he was in shape. He couldn't imagine how his squad felt.

Ackerman approached, slapping him on the back in greeting. The first time that happened, Diego almost face-planted. This time, he was better prepared and managed not to move.

"I'd hate to see how you greet your enemies," he grumbled through a second yawn.

"Oh, it wasn't that hard," Ackerman replied, way too damn chipper this morning. It was as if he was born with coffee in his system, and he kept going like the Energizer Bunny.

Diego rolled his eyes and did a mental headcount. Since the day the sergeant made an example of that soldier, no one dared to show up late or argue. They followed direction to the letter, though they still lacked a sense of teamwork.

And as for that soldier, Diego had gone to the infirmary the next day to check on him, only to discover he'd been reassigned somewhere else. Diego hadn't seen him since, and he wondered if that kid was doing better in his new role.

With a mental sigh, Diego stood through morning formation as the squad swayed on their feet. The headcount should have been enough for the report, but noooo, Sergeant Ackerman wanted to talk this morning. What someone had to say for twenty minutes straight with hardly any breath between sentences was beyond him, but by the time his partner finished, Diego was ready to declare mutiny.

Then, Ackerman called the squad to attention before leading them through the morning warm-ups and exercises. Afterward, they were released to shower and have breakfast.

"Be back here in formation at 08:00," Ackerman commanded. "That's more than enough time to get everything done. We have something big today. Dismissed."

A collective sigh rang throughout the group before they dispersed, leaving Diego with his sadistic partner. Running his hands through his hair, Diego shoved his hands in his pockets and followed behind.

Ackerman caught up to him quickly, falling in step beside him. "What's with you lately?"

"Hm? Oh, just tired," Diego mumbled, not in the mood to chat.

"That's not it," his partner replied. "You seem..." he uncharacteristly gestured his hands, as if searching for the right words, "I don't know, like your head isn't in it this morning. What's on your mind?"

Diego shrugged, shivering in the morning chill. Like Phoenix, the climate was similar with low precipitation and mild winters, but the nighttime temperatures were still cold compared to the hot summers.

He remained silent, turning over the state of his mood in his mind. His head was never in his work these days. After all, what was the point? The world had ended, and every day was a matter of going through the motions, doing the same things while everyone waited; to live, to die, or for a change that would never come. This place was a bubble, primed to explode at any moment and shatter what was left of reality.