Following orders

Edited after reader feedback.




A shaft of amber street light illuminated the forlorn faces before being quickly extinguished by the dark night. They were quiet now, the screams and shock being replaced by a muted trepidation. This was the usual reaction once they’d been thrown into the catch wagon, thought Corporal Kent, as they drove along the silent streets. Few fought back when his squad kicked in doors and pushed rifles into people's faces. And those who did? Well, they have their orders.


They only had one more address to clear of subversives and Kent wanted to get it over with. He’d joined the Militia to stop the rioting, but now was helping send dissenters to the classification camps. At first, he’d felt proud at confronting the chaos and disorder. Then the incident at Stevens square happened. Shots were fired and bodies fell. After that, the Militia were utilised in ever more brutal ways. And he hated it. With every raid and patrol, he witnessed the thuggery and beatings his squad now revelled in.


Kent looked outside and recognised the road he used to drive to the base. He’d be glad to get home; the men had been unsettled tonight. Even Lieutenant Foster seemed out of sorts and rarely met his eye. Maybe he could request to go off duty early as he was so close to home, Kent hoped. But, as he was about to call to him, Lieutenant Foster looked back into the catch wagon, fixed Sergeant Rourke with a cold stare, then slowly nodded. At that sign, the men pounced. Kent felt a blow to the side of his head and went down. As he was dragged towards the other prisoners, the truth dawned on him. The last address on the list was his.