THE DARKEST MINDS: OASIS

"Crack"

Opening my eyes I placed my hands on the generator in front of me, last night had kept a large majority of us awake save for the corporate he seemed to had a good nights worth of sleep even slightly snoring through the night however when the soldiers came I herd the small gasp he had made when he woke up it was quite even muffled but I knew that his sleep wasn't as peaceful as it seemed to be.

The new red took my left, working on the furnace that had remained empty for so long but I was glad because it served to block me from the soldier that usually stood gaurd at the end of the line, takeing his eyes off of me and turning his attention to the new red.

The lack of sleep was evident as my eyes fought to close even when I was standing I still felt the lure of sleep at the edges of my mind, tempting me to give in and the heat only aided it's attempts however I knew I couldn't do that, the soldiers would immediately punish me if I did.

I clenched my fists, the rough surface of the generator grounding me, keeping me from slipping too far into the haze of exhaustion. The air was thick with heat, pressing down like an iron weight, and every breath felt sluggish, like I was inhaling embers instead of oxygen.

The new Red coughed beside me, the sound raw. His hands hesitated over the furnace, and I caught the small twitch in his fingers—hesitation, uncertainty. He wasn't used to this yet.

I didn't look at him directly, but I could feel the shift in the soldiers' attention. Their eyes flicked between him and me, calculating, waiting. They were watching for weakness, for the smallest excuse.

I gritted my teeth and forced my hands to move, gripping the generator's frame as I adjusted my stance. Even that simple movement was enough to keep me awake, enough to remind my body that I couldn't afford to falter.

A shadow passed over me.

The soldier at the end of the line had moved.

My muscles tensed instinctively, but I kept my eyes forward, pretending not to notice. That never worked, though. They always knew.

Boots scuffed against the dirt, slow, deliberate. I heard the faint creak of leather, the click of a holster strap being adjusted. The sound sent a spike of cold awareness through my exhaustion.

Then—

"Hey."

The voice was sharp, cutting through the dense air like a blade.

Not at me.

At the new Red.

I kept my head down, but I could feel the way he froze beside me, the way his breath hitched.

"Hands up," the soldier ordered.

The new Red hesitated. Just for a second. Just long enough.

A mistake.

The sharp crack of impact shattered the stillness. The new Red stumbled, gasping as the butt of a rifle slammed into his ribs. He hit the ground hard, coughing. The furnace hissed behind him, the sudden movement disrupting the balance of heat, sending a brief wave of searing air in all directions.

I didn't move. I didn't react.

Because I knew better.

The soldier loomed over him. "You fall, you get up," he said, voice cold. "You hesitate, you pay for it."

The new Red groaned, pushing himself up onto shaking hands. His breath was shallow, pained, but he moved.

Good.

The soldier watched for a moment longer, then turned away, satisfied.

I exhaled slowly, feeling the burn of restraint in my chest.

The new Red didn't look at me, but I could hear his ragged breathing, could feel the weight of the lesson he had just learned.

I tightened my grip on the generator, focused on the steady hum beneath my fingers.

Another day. Another lesson.

Survive. That was all we could do.

After a couple more hours went by they finally called it in for lunch and for the first time I was glad because that gave me enough time to rest.

The moment the call for lunch echoed across the yard, my hands slipped from the generator, the tension in my fingers finally easing. My legs ached, my skin slick with sweat from the relentless heat. The exhaustion never fully left, but at least now I had a moment—just a moment—to breathe.

We fell into line, the dull shuffle of boots on packed dirt filling the silence. The soldiers stood along the path, watching. They always watched.

The mess hall was barely cooler than the yard, the heavy scent of watered-down stew and stale bread meeting us before we even stepped inside. The line moved slowly, bowls sloshing as they were shoved into waiting hands. When mine was finally placed in front of me, I grabbed it without a word, retreating to a spot near the wall.

The new Red wasn't far behind. He hesitated for a second, then sat down next to me, careful not to jostle his ribs too much. I didn't react, but I could feel his presence like a lingering heat.

"I find this place a little silly." The new red spoke softly as he brought the barley edible protein to his lips, hesitating before he took a bite.

I didn't look at him right away, just focused on my own bowl. The food was bland, thick, and barely warm—more paste than stew—but it was fuel. That was all that mattered.

The new Red let out a small huff, barely audible over the low murmurs around us. "Think about it," he muttered. "They have us working all day in heat that could kill a normal person, just so they can keep things running. But if we collapse, if we—" he paused, glancing around before lowering his voice, "—if we die, who keeps the place going?"

I finally turned my head slightly, just enough to see the flicker of something sharp in his gaze. He wasn't just tired. He was thinking.

Dangerous.

I swallowed another mouthful before answering. "They don't care if we die," I said simply. "There will always be more to replace us."

"Yeah but there's a thing I found out before I got here." He said quietly. "It's a simple saying but…to much control will lead to chaos."

I looked at him now, the faintest glimmer of curiosity breaking through the haze of exhaustion that clouded my mind. His eyes were sharp, like he'd seen something most of us hadn't, something that made him believe in something beyond mere survival.

I took another bite of my food, chewing slowly. "Chaos?" I asked, my voice flat. "You think that's going to happen here?"

Laughing he took another bite of the bile like food. "Oh Yeah I have seen multiple ways to at least fight back if I wanted to." He said while smileing while observing the the soldiers that skated the crowd with unrelenting determination, just waiting for the next kid to act out.

I studied him for a moment, weighing his words against the reality of this place. It was easy to talk like that, to say things that felt like rebellion when you weren't the one with a rifle to your ribs. But there was something different about him. He didn't just say it to vent or to pass the time—he believed it.

Really dangerous.

The kind of thinking that got people killed.

And yet… a small part of me wanted to believe it too.

"You talk like you've got a plan," I said, keeping my voice low.

The new Red smirked, but there was something in his eyes—something calculating. He shrugged, taking another slow bite, chewing like the food didn't taste like dirt. "Not a plan," he admitted. "Not yet, anyway." He leaned back against the wall, careful with his ribs. "Just observations."

I didn't answer right away. The mess hall buzzed around us, voices low, the scrape of metal spoons against bowls filling the silence. The soldiers watched, like they always did, their fingers twitching near their weapons. One of them stepped forward, scanning the room. I kept my head down, taking another bite. I could feel the new Red watching me, waiting.

"You keep talking like that," I muttered, "they'll beat it out of you soon enough."

His smirk didn't fade. "Let 'em try."

I watched him for a moment longer, weighing his arrogance against the reality of this place. He was new. He still had fight in him. That would fade soon enough. Either the work, the heat, or the soldiers would drain it from him. They always did. But for now, he sat there, smirking, like he wasn't just another cog in the machine.

I turned back to my food, forcing another mouthful down. The heat clung to me, sweat making my shirt stick to my back. My muscles still ached from standing at the generator all morning, but I knew better than to let exhaustion win. I had learned how to function on nothing. It was the only way to survive.

The new Red didn't speak again, but I could feel him watching, waiting, like he was trying to gauge me. I ignored him. I didn't need to get involved with someone who thought he was different. He'd learn soon enough.

Across the mess hall, a soldier shifted. I caught the movement in my peripheral vision, the subtle tilt of his head as he scanned the room. He was looking for something—or someone. My grip on my spoon tightened. Then his eyes landed on us.

My stomach clenched.

Slowly, he started walking in our direction. The sound of his boots against the concrete floor was deliberate, unhurried. He wasn't in a rush, which meant he wasn't just here to punish someone. He was here to enjoy it.

The new Red still hadn't noticed. He was too focused on his food, or maybe on whatever thoughts were bouncing around in his head. I exhaled slowly through my nose.

"You should stop smiling," I muttered under my breath.

He blinked, looking up. "What?"

I didn't answer. The soldier was getting closer. He stopped a few feet away, looming, waiting to be acknowledged. I kept my head down, but I could feel the weight of his stare.

The new Red finally looked up, his smirk fading slightly as he registered the soldier standing over us.

"You got a problem?" the soldier asked.

His voice was low, almost casual, but there was an edge to it—something sharp hidden beneath the surface. A warning.

The new Red's fingers tightened around his spoon. I saw it, even if the soldier didn't. He was thinking. Weighing his options.

He didn't know yet that there weren't any.

"Nah," he said after a beat, forcing an easy expression onto his face. "No problem."

The soldier stared at him, expression unreadable. He was young—not much older than us, maybe—but his eyes were hard, empty. Whatever had been there before had been beaten out of him long ago.

"You looked like you were thinking about something," the soldier said.

The new Red shrugged. "Just eating."

The soldier hummed, unconvinced. Then, so quick I barely saw it coming, he lashed out.

The metal bowl clattered to the floor, food splattering across the ground.

The new Red froze.

I did too.

All around us, the mess hall went silent.

The soldier took a slow step forward, closing the distance between them. "Eat it," he said.

The new Red's jaw tightened.

The soldier smiled. "Eat it."

For a long second, the new Red didn't move. I could see the gears turning in his head, the war playing out in his eyes. He was angry. Furious, even. But anger didn't mean anything here. It didn't win fights. It didn't change things. It only got you killed.

I knew that.

And I knew that if he didn't listen, if he hesitated for too long, the soldier wouldn't stop at just humiliation.

"Do it," I muttered under my breath.

The new Red's eyes flicked to me. I didn't look at him, just kept my gaze locked on my own bowl. My hands were steady, my breathing even. He didn't know me, but I needed him to understand.

This was survival.

Nothing more.

His fists clenched. Then, slowly, he dropped to his knees.

The soldier watched, satisfied, as he scooped the ruined food into his hands and brought it to his mouth. The paste-like slop dripped between his fingers, mixing with dirt.

He swallowed.

The soldier snorted, stepping back. "Good boy."

Laughter rippled through the mess hall, quiet but sharp. The other kids weren't laughing because it was funny. They were laughing because they were relieved it wasn't them.

Freezing in place I watched as the new red stood up an emptiness that was different from before covered over his eyes.

"I accept my punishment,"he said before he grabbed the soldiers private parts and from the screams I could tell that the new red was frying them brutally.

The soldier's scream ripped through the mess hall like a blade, sharp and jagged. His body jerked violently as the new Red held on, fire crackling between his fingers. The acrid scent of burning fabric and flesh filled the air.

For a moment, no one moved.

Then—chaos.

The soldier collapsed, his knees buckling as his screams turned into strangled gasps. His body convulsed, and when the new Red finally let go, the soldier crumpled onto the floor, clutching himself, writhing.

The new red droped to the ground and immediately the sound of bullets flew to the left of me all the while the new red was laughing as he completed avoided the rain of bullets.

The moment he dropped to the floor I threw myself off the bench and hid underneath the opposite table luckily I had done that because in the next moment a short rain of bullets evryone who was to slow was killed almost immediately, falling to the floor as blood seaped through there clothes.

I stayed low, pressing my body against the cold floor as another round of bullets shredded the space above me. My heart slammed against my ribs, my breath coming in sharp, shallow gasps. I wasn't stupid enough to move—not yet. The soldiers weren't aiming anymore; they were spraying, their nerves overriding their training. It was reckless, desperate.

The new Red had gotten to them.

From underneath the table I could see the new red laughing as he pressed himself against the floor observing the chaos he had created.

Thankfully the rain of gunfire ended even as some of the soldiers began turned over the ones that had bullet holes In there chest and legs one or two gunshots to make sure they had done them in good and only when they began dragging the dead off did he took out from his hideing spot, makeing sure that his whole body was feermly pressed against the ground just like all of us who hid underneath the benches.

The mess hall reeked of blood and burnt flesh. The silence that followed was thick, suffocating, broken only by the ragged breathing of the survivors and the distant groans of the wounded. The soldiers worked quickly, dragging bodies across the floor, their boots squelching in the growing pools of blood. I stayed pressed against the ground, my muscles locked in place, waiting—watching.

The new Red, still grinning like a maniac, finally sat up. His hands twitched at his sides, faint sparks crackling between his fingers. He looked entirely at ease, like he hadn't just thrown the entire camp into a frenzy.

I swallowed, my throat dry as sandpaper.

"You're insane," I muttered under my breath.

His grin widened. "Yeah," he said, voice light, almost playful. "And?"

And? Feeling my blood boiling underneath my skin however the boots that echoed against the floor as the soldiers dragged the dead against the floor held me back.

One of the soldiers got o tip of the table and let us rifle spray into the roof. "Get up, the lot of you." He yelled and almost immediately we got up, save for some who hasitasted but he didn't care instead he raised a dead red up. "If anyone of you freaks, dare to fight back this will be you." He said as he threw the dead carcass at us. "Light out." He said as he throw a random yellow from underneath the table into the feomnt of the the middle of the mass hall.

I watched as they dragged the Yellow forward, tossing her into the center of the mess hall. She was trembling, her hands shaking as she tried to stand. I could see the faint crackling of electricity radiating off her, involuntary and wild, as she struggled to hold it in check.

A collective breath was held. Everyone knew what would happen next. The soldier stepped forward, his hand tightening around his rifle. But instead of using it, he grabbed the Yellow by the arm, dragging her roughly to her knees. The others watched in fear, not daring to move, not even to breathe.

"You," the soldier growled, glaring at the Yellow. "You think you're special? You think you get to break the rules? You're nothing but a liability, a little walking time bomb waiting to blow."

Her body jerked as her electricity sparked uncontrollably, her eyes widening in panic. But she didn't speak, too afraid to provoke him further.

As if that was an excuse he raised his Rigel and in a second the pour yellow yell dead at the soldiers feet. "Let this be a lesson to you, if you hurt one of my soldiers you die…now line up, single file."

Still with a smile glued to his face the new red got to his feet his eyes not even showing a hint of remorse as if a random yellow didn't just take the fall for what he had done.

The line formed slowly, everyone moving with stiff, mechanical obedience. The air in the mess hall was thick with blood and smoke, the acrid stench burning in my throat. The soldiers stood like statues, rifles in hand, eyes sweeping the crowd for any hint of defiance.

The new Red stepped into line without hesitation, his posture loose, almost casual, as if the chaos he'd just caused was nothing more than a passing amusement. The smirk hadn't left his face, though his eyes—sharp, unreadable—tracked the soldiers' movements with careful precision.

I fell into step beside him, keeping my head down. My hands were steady, my breathing even, but my mind churned. That Yellow had been nothing more than an example, a disposable lesson to the rest of us. Just another body for the pile.

And he didn't care, why should he whean he was the one who got her killed.

The line shuffled forward. The mess hall doors loomed ahead, flanked by guards who watched us with hollow, unblinking stares. Beyond them, the camp stretched out in all its miserable, sun-scorched expanse.

We stepped outside. The heat hit like a physical force, baking the sweat into my skin, making my already aching muscles feel leaden. The yard was silent except for the hum of distant machinery and the occasional barked order. No one spoke. No one ever did after a punishment.

The new Red rolled his shoulders, exhaling slowly. "Well," he muttered, almost to himself. "That was interesting."

I kept my gaze forward. "You're an idiot."

His smirk twitched. "Probably."

"You got someone killed."

His expression didn't change, but I saw the way his fingers flexed, the faintest flicker of something in his eyes. Not remorse—something else. A calculation.

"They were going to kill someone anyway," he said easily. "That's how this place works. You know that."

I clenched my jaw. He wasn't wrong, but that didn't make it any less infuriating.

"You're reckless," I said. "That kind of thing gets you killed."

He tilted his head, amusement dancing in his gaze. "You're ganna thank me in a few years host-you-wait" he said silently as we passed a couple soldiers.

"You know you could have stopped it…if only you had told me no." He said and I knew it he was right I saw the chaos he was a brewing, but I did not stop it because I didn't think I could.

"Do not pin this on me." I hissed back as we approached the cabin.

"I am not but let me remind you, you have seen something you weren't supposed to you have seen behind the mask you stop… you are my chain, not them."

His words where like a sharp knife despite the weight they carried, I knew I wasn't at fault, I knew it was his butt like the tiredness. I felt it hung over me all the way up until the cabin, where I climbed into the top bunk and laid down almost immediately his words still ringing in my ears, as I closed my eyes waiting for the sleep that weighed me down so heavily before to take over but what had happened earlier replayed in my mind over and over, there was no difference between what he had done last night and what he had done earlier, his words didn't help neither so I bagan to think, plan the deaths that had happened earlier now became irrelevant to me.

It seemed like sleep wouldn't happen until later in the night and I couldn't help but chuckle.