Parade.

(Knacker Wagon Chronicles - XI)

"Let's go. We need to get to the barracks." said Rev, as he started walking away. Baye noticed that the rest of the crew had piled into the van. He was learning that despite the unpleasant qualities each crew member had, they did work rather efficiently as a unit. For the sake of learning, he'd go along. But he was getting tired of wearing the ridiculous pink No Splat shirt.
"We walk, they drive, kind of unfair isn't it?" Baye queried.
"Yup", Rev retorted.
"Whatever you do, don't take off the No splat shirt."
"Vengeance Crew comes here too?", Baye asked.
"No, they're part of another camp. There's a bunch of crews here and they're just as bad as Vengeance. You gotta watch out for them."
"What gives with the shirt, are they like vampires or something and this stupid shirt is blessed with holy water to ward them off?"
Rev spun on Baye and glared at him. "Vampires only drink blood, Baye. Knackers are worse."

They walked through the compound. Dull, gray, concrete structures were everywhere. A fine dust covered the roads and walkways, adding a bit of grit to the air. Scrub grass and weeds
predominated the floral landscape. Baye half-expected John Wayne to stroll out of a building,
carrying a rifle in his hands and pair of sidearms on his hips. The buildings had a geometric
arrangement - they weren't scattered randomly about, rather there were long lanes like alleyways between rows. At the end of any given row was a tower, complete with sniper's nest. Baye had difficulty with the notion he was not in a prison. The layout of the compound was designed to accomodate kill zones. He could quite clearly see heavily armed guards marching around in combat fatigues and bullet-proof vests and assorted riot gear. He, by contrast, was armed with merely his wits. He didn't mind the guards having a disadvantage.

They approached a cluster of people. Rev didn't bother to slow down or acknowledge them. They, however, took delight in noticing Baye. The catcalls descended upon them. Lurid, suggestive body motions were cast as well. They reminded him of Tweed. He shuddered. Rev tried to steer around them but they blocked the path. They were composed of a handful of scraggily looking derelicts and a pair of guards. Baye couldn't see the guards' expressions through the visors on their helmets but the jostling of their shoulders let him know they were enjoying this spectacle.
"Hey, can you dance real purty-like?" snarled one rough-looking man.
"You boys are marching so fast, looks like a parade", jeered another.

Rev grabbed the front of Baye's No Splat T-shirt. He clenched his hand into a fist, gripping the fabric. "Lay off, meatheads! You wanna smell trouble! Smell this, you louts!" Rev pulled on Baye's shirt, forcing Baye to take a couple steps closer to the ne'er-do-wells. One stepped forward and sniffed towards Baye. He sneered and raised his arms in a surrending fashion.
"Alright, alright," he said, dejectedly. Rev released his grip on Baye's shirt and pushed his way through the cordon. The catcalls continued for a while longer. To Baye, the shirt just stank, and nothing like holy water.

Rev marched on toward a non-descript building. There was a lone person resting on its small front porch. "'lo Rev," he said. "Is the newbie as dumb as he looks?"
"Dumber."
"Maybe he'll live longer than the last moron."
"Maybe. I wouldn't hold my breath." Baye felt a flash of anger but refused to show any emotion. Rev strode across the porch and opened the door to the building. Baye followed Rev inside. The interior was dim. They entered a long narrow room. There were two rows of cots along the length of the room. Baye stopped at the entrance. Rev walked halfway down the room and leaned over a cot. He reached toward a wooden shelf, about chest level, on the wall.

Rev picked up a photograph from a wooden shelf and handed it to Baye. "That's what happened to the guy you're replacing. Within 24 hours of his pickup he tried to escape from this camp. You can see what the result was when another crew got hold of him." Baye studied the picture. It looked like the inside of a garage or warehouse. There was a body lying on the floor; mouth slack, arms and legs splayed, eyes, not even staring, but missing, and a huge cavern where his torso should have been. The top of the skull had an unnatural straightness and shortness to it.
"You could say he lost his mind."