Rise of the Judge

Continued from Part Nine Snyder climbed out of his bed, and grabbed his backpack from under the bed. He tiptoed into the latrine and changed into his red and gray Portland Trailblazers hoodie and black cargo jeans. Snyder crept outside the barracks. He looked around. Nobody but the guard at fort’s front gate. He needed…

Continued from Part Eight After their nightly walk, Cutler pulled a small, somewhat circular pink device from his pocket. “Here, put this in your ear.” Snyder put it in his right ear, and classical music began streaming. “Hey, what is this? I thought we weren’t allowed media players during basic.” “I got an exception from…

Continued from Part Seven Snyder sat with several recruits in a chamber full of tear gas. Snyder’s gas mask protected him from any ill effects, but that wouldn’t last. He’d read up on this. When he left the chamber, he’d have to take off the mask and then Cutler would ask a question. If Snyder…

Continued from Part Six Snyder ducked behind ferns and a vine as a bayonet blade came flying towards his head. He stabbed his attacker in the back. The attacker fell to the ground and Snyder delivered a final blow to the shoulder blade of the holographic opponent. The opponent disappeared and so did the jungle,…

Continued from Part Five Cold night air blew past the Defender. Couldn’t Aggei Aganovich find a less drafty place to conduct business? Closer to town would have made more sense, too. Aggei entered the building, his large, rotund frame nearly bursting out of his suit. He slapped down a briefcase. The Defender pulled a small…

Continued from Part Four At 1800 hours, Sergeant Cutler entered the barracks. “Attention.” Snyder stood at attention, but the rest wouldn’t be getting any cigars. He’d have to make sure that everyone knew how to stand by tomorrow. He couldn’t let his platoon look bad. Snyder dropped to the ground and started doing push-ups. The…

Continued from Part 3 Snyder awoke in a white room filled with gauze, bandages, and anti-septic. A figure  sat at the foot of his bed. Cerulean? His vision focused. No, not Cerulean, the face was all wrong. Just a sergeant. He groaned. “What happened?” The sergeant said, “Four Canadian recruits beat you up. When I…

Continued from Part Two Snyder snatched an old wooden chair near the fireplace and looked around the waiting room. His fellow camo-clad and buzz-cut shorn recruits fidgeted like they were in Sister Fran’s ninth grade math class, or something equally boring. Snyder looked down at his green uniform. He wasn’t a punk kid anymore, he…