To one side of the parade ground stood a woman in her twenties. She had fiery red hair pulled into a tight ponytail. She held a wicker basket. Some of the teenagers were queuing up in front of her, their berets in their hands.

Max stared at this peculiar scene for a full thirty seconds without saying anything. Then he turned to his sandy-haired companion with a questioning expression.

‘Welcome to the Special Forces Cadets selection camp,’ said Woody. ‘I’ve got a feeling you’re going to fit right in.’

4

The Watchers

‘The what?’ Max said.

‘The Special Forces Cadets selection camp.’ Woody smiled at him again and looked back out of the window. ‘Looks like we’re losing a few already,’ he said.

Max blinked at him. ‘Can we just back up a moment?’ he said. ‘What are the Special Forces Cadets?’

‘You know what cadets are, right?’

‘Young soldiers.’

‘And you know what special forces are?’

‘Highly trained soldiers.’

‘Well, there you go. Highly trained young soldiers. Couldn’t have put it better myself.’ Woody frowned. He seemed to be looking at the line of teenagers clutching their berets. One by one they placed them in the wicker basket the young woman held. ‘We don’t normally lose that many on the first day. Probably the weather.’ He turned to Max. His face softened slightly at Max’s obvious confusion. ‘The Special Forces Cadets are a secret team of young military personnel,’ he said. ‘Everybody here has been identified as a potential recruit by a team of army scouts. I’m one. Hector’s another. We’re known as the Watchers. We watch over you, you see.’ He pointed at the woman with the wicker basket. ‘That’s Angel. She’s a Watcher too.’

‘You’ve been spying on me?’

Woody looked a little offended. ‘Spying is such an ugly word, Max. We’ve just been taking an interest in you, is all. You tick the boxes.’

‘What boxes?’

‘Physical. Psychological. We’re looking for young people who are fit and strong. Smart people. Determined people. People with endurance and …’ He hesitated. ‘Bravery, I guess. And, of course, we need people that nobody would miss.’ He looked out of the window again. ‘Most of the kids down there are orphans, or come from backgrounds where not a single person would mind or even notice if they disappeared.’

Max felt a pang of loneliness. He didn’t much like that last description, but he had to admit that it did apply to him.

‘I guess not many people tick those boxes,’ he said quietly.

‘Oh, you’d be surprised. We cast our net pretty wide. We look for teenagers all over the world. There’s kids down there from South America, Australia, Afghanistan … you name it.’

‘But how do you find them?’

‘I told you,’ Woody said, his face suddenly a little more serious. ‘We’re the Watchers.’