Chapter 3: Group Quilt Folding

Words : 2857 Updated : Sep 24th, 2025

Outside the dorm building, the new recruits shuffled into a formation that barely passed muster. Zeke held the roster in one hand. "We're splitting into squads. When I call your name, step forward!" "Adriel, First Squad!" "Edison, First Squad!" "Caden, Fifth Squad!" "Tim, Fourth Squad!" "Daniel Lyson, First Squad!" "Here!" Daniel jogged over to the First Squad line. Vincent grinned at him, all teeth. "Hey, we meet again. Small world." "Give me a break. More like rotten luck." Daniel turned. Adriel was giving him a sour look, chin tipped up. Daniel rolled his eyes. Just his luck to be stuck with these two oddballs. Where oddballs gathered, trouble followed. He'd have to stay alert. Soon, everyone was assigned. Zeke snapped the roster shut. "Squad leaders, take your squads back. It's the first day, so rest up. No training. We start for real tomorrow." "Yes! With me!" The squad leaders marched their recruits toward the dorms. "Pablo!" "Here!" The scowling squad leader was about to step off when the company commander called him over. "You go ahead to the dorm!" he barked to First Squad, then hurried to Oscar. Daniel furrowed his brow. The company commander had it out for him from the start, and now Pablo was being called over. Were they scheming to make an example out of him? He'd lived in the compound long enough to know all the old hands' tricks for breaking in rookies. In their eyes, he was already a thorn in their side. He could have kicked himself. If he'd known, he'd never have climbed that busted tank for fun. Pure trouble. Whatever comes, I'll handle it. Either way, no one's stopping me from lying low for two years. Worst case, I'll keep an even lower profile. Pablo stopped in front of Oscar and saluted. "Company commander, any orders?" Oscar smiled. "You're due to retire this year. I moved you to the recruit company on purpose. Put in a solid performance, earn a commendation, and there's hope for a promotion to officer." Light flared in Pablo's eyes. A commission. The thing he dreamed of every night. He'd served eight years and was slated to go back to that remote mountain village he came from. In those eight years, he'd earned two third-class merits, three Outstanding Soldier honors, and more commendations than he could count. Still, he had only a junior-high education. Without something special this year, he'd be out by year's end. A village boy didn't get the job placements that city boys did. If he got sent back, he'd have to hustle on his own. Everything he knew, he'd learned in the army. What could he do once he got home? He didn't want to leave the place he'd loved for eight years. He didn't want to go back to the mountains where hope felt out of reach. If he could stay, he'd give anything. "Rest easy, sir," Pablo said, voice tight. "I'll bust my gut to make First Squad number one." Oscar clapped his shoulder. "I handpicked a few weak ones for you because I trust your ability. If you bring them up and post results, I'll go to bat for you." He lowered his voice. "Keep an eye on the kid named Daniel Lyson. He's not soldier material. If he can't hack it, kick him out; don't let him hurt your numbers. Clear?" Pablo nodded. "Sir, you know me. I've got zero tolerance for slackers." "Good. Off you go." "Yes, sir!" Pablo saluted and headed for the dorm. Oscar's mouth curled. "Daniel Lyson, let's see how long you last." ***** Inside the dorm, five iron bunks waited. Daniel got a bottom bunk. Not bad. "I'll sleep above you!" Vincent flashed his big white grin. Daniel hadn't expected to end up bunkmates with this big lug. "Call me Daniel. We're all on the same team here." Vincent bobbed his head. "Okay." What surprised Daniel more was Adriel taking the bunk right next to his. Adriel gave a cold little laugh. "Same squad is bad enough. Now we're neighbors. What lousy luck." "If it's such lousy luck, don't sleep beside me," Daniel said, unimpressed. He'd been fed up with the kid for a while. Adriel had been needling him the whole way here, and the less Daniel bit, the harder he pushed. Adriel gripped the metal rail. "I can't stand your type, city boy. Coddled and spoiled. You're not worth a damn." Daniel smiled. "If you're so capable, be a leader and send me home. Got that kind of pull?" Adriel steamed. Seeing sparks fly, Vincent hurried between them. "Hey, you two. The company commander says we're one family now, squadmates. Being together is fate. Before I left, my mom said..." "What?" The low bark made everyone snap to attention. Pablo strode in from the hallway and fixed Vincent with a glare. "This is the army. You have squadmates. Do you hear me?" Spittle flecked Vincent's face. He bellowed, voice cracking, "I hear you!" "Answer yes or no." Pablo's tone went cold. "Say it again. Yes or no?" "Yes! I hear you!" Vincent locked his knees, rigid as a board. Pablo's jaw muscles jumped; a curse almost slipped out. Sensing where this was headed and wary of the 'one messes up, everyone pays' routine, Daniel cut in to smooth things over. "Squad leader, the kid's not the sharpest. I'll set him straight later." Pablo snorted and addressed the room. "Introduction. I'm Pablo. For the next three months, I'm your squad leader. It's early for chow. No sense in loafing. I'll teach you how to square away your kit." Murmurs rippled. "Square away what?" "He means make the beds." "What, you have to learn to fold a quilt? Back home I never folded mine. My mom did it." Daniel kept his mouth shut. He knew exactly how serious barracks discipline was. Around the world, armies had their own standards. Americans made shoes shine like mirrors; the British put razor creases in shirts; in Yanos, soldiers mastered the art of the folded quilt. Barracks standards reflect a soldier's discipline. Quilts had to be crisp and square, corners sharp. The sheet couldn't show a single wrinkle. Even the toiletries had precise spots and exact angles, down to which way the toothbrush head faced. Daniel might be a well-heeled brat, but the moment he stepped into his house, his father held him to a brutal, finicky standard. One tiny flaw and his backside paid for it. When it came to barracks chores, he was on par with any old hand. "I'll walk you through the standard," Pablo said, "Your quilt needs hard edges and a perfect square. A mosquito should skid on it, and a fly should do the splits when it lands." He set up a demonstration. "Watch me. Mind every detail." He went to a bunk, lifted a quilt, snapped it open, and got to work. Align the edges. Press the seam. Smooth the face. Fold to the mark. Daniel's eyes warmed with a flicker of respect. The man had miles under his boots. His hands were quick and sure, each step by the book. In no time, a puffy quilt turned into a neat brick. "Got it?" Pablo asked. Blank faces. They shook their heads like rattling drums. He smiled without impatience. "I'll do it again. Watch closely and remember the details." He sobered. "Barracks standards are part of a soldier's bearing. They count toward your evaluation. I don't want anyone failing at something this simple." His gaze lingered on Daniel for a beat. Daniel didn't blink. He might drop the ball on many things, but not this. If he couldn't even fold a quilt, all those years of whippings had been wasted. Pablo finished the second demo. "All right, practice on your own. If you get stuck, ask me." The recruits dove in, brimming with confidence. Within minutes, they were clawing at their scalps as if fleas had taken hold. Vincent nudged Adriel. "You catch that? After the first fold, what next? I forgot." "The hell I know?" Adriel's quilt looked like a chewed-up rag no matter what he tried. He sneaked a glance at Daniel. Seeing Daniel just as lost, he relaxed. Good. The city boy couldn't do it either, or he'd have died of embarrassment. He had no idea Daniel was faking it. If Daniel had wanted, ten-odd seconds would have been enough to turn out a block. To avoid drawing fire, he matched the pack, even sprinkling in mistakes to muddy the waters. Pablo watched Daniel and sneered to himself. Thick as a plank, just as expected. "Well, now, Pablo. Other squads are resting, and you're already drilling them on barracks standards?" Pablo turned. Zeke stood in the doorway. Pablo loped over and saluted. "Instructor. We had time to kill, so I figured I'd let them get familiar." Zeke took a look around and smiled. "No wonder it's you. Looks like next month's Best Squad pennant is First Squad's to lose." Then he added, "But they just finished a five-kilometer run. Rest matters too. Don't chase honors at the cost of their health." "Understood." Zeke glanced twice toward Daniel and said kindly, "Pablo, this squad is a tough one to lead. You may need to put in some extra work." Pablo dropped his voice. "The company commander already told me. I'll keep that kid under a microscope." "That's not what I mean." Zeke waved lightly. "Oz's got a firecracker temper. You were trained by him, so you know it better than I do. He's rash. You're different. You're steady. Be patient with the rookies. If they don't get it, teach them again." Pablo nodded along, but he didn't take it to heart. If Daniel dragged the class down, he wouldn't accept it. "Carry on. I'm just taking a look," Zeke said and left. Pablo turned back into the room and froze. Daniel's quilt sat on the bunk, folded. It looked like a plump loaf, but the shape was there. The kid had even moved on to other bunks, coaching people. "That won't work. Do it like this." "Hey, you, your method is off." "Vincent, how can you not even fold a quilt?" Pablo's eyelid twitched. First try, and the kid had gotten it that far? Luck. Had to be luck. Daniel noticed him and beamed. "Squad leader, how's my fold?" Pablo didn't bother arguing. He yanked the quilt off the bunk and flung it to the floor. "What are you showing off for? What is this, a fresh loaf? And you've got the nerve to teach others? Do it again." Daniel eyed the quilt on the ground and rolled his eyes. Great. Target on his back already. He'd planned to lie low for two quiet years. Looked like it wouldn't be that easy.

Chapter 3: Group Quilt Folding

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