*~*Mikey's POV*~*

Throughout the rest of the trip, more men were added to the back of the coach with us. Frank and I had been smart enough to move out of the way, more towards the front of the carriage so we wouldn't get squashed by the bodies of men. The men that joined us were a variety of ages, and from what I could tell, Frank and I were in the middle, neither of us being older than twenty six. I frowned when a guy, couldn't be much older than seventeen, if that, was thrown back with us.
As the day ticked on, there became seven of us in total, all but one pushed against a wall to be out of the way, the one still laying how he landed when he was thrown in. No one spoke and no eye contact was made. Everyone knew what was happening, and probably hating themselves for not believing the newspapers about men being taken to join the war against their will, just like I was.
The carriage stopped and I waited for the usual sounds of a gunshot and the struggling but it never came. Instead, a man opened the back door and held a gun inside. "Out," he said simply, his voice sounding threatening, and for a moment no one moved, but then the gun clicked and it was a race for the exit. The boy on the floor got trampled but the rest of us trying to leave, and was lifted out of the carriage and forced to stand on his own two feet as we were all lined up.
"I am General Bryar, and you will address me as such," a man with blond hair sticking out from under his cap said, walking in front of the line. My arms were still tied behind my back, which hurt after spending numerous hours hunched over. "You are now part of the Confederate army against those northern bastards. If you even think about running, you will be captured and will suffer the consequences," Bryar paused in his step, looking at us each individually, flashing a sickening grin. I tried my hardest not to flinch, but I couldn't help it. He walked closer to me, stopping just a foot away.
"You got that, soldier?" he asked, and I saw signs of his teeth rotting away.
"Y-yes sir," I stuttered, meeting his icy blue eyes only for a moment before shifting my gaze to his gray uniform. He moved away from me and back to where he stood earlier.
"Private Armstrong here will take your names, where you will be assigned a uniform and a station." Bryar left, leaving a man, who was also in a gray uniform with a sword hanging off his side, and a group of bigger men. He stepped in front of the guy next to me, a paper in his hands.
"Name and age." The man, Private Armstrong, ordered, scribbling the answer down. Alex, he was the kid who everyone trampled over, the one who looks the youngest. He's eighteen, and barely looks it. As soon as Armstrong moved on, Alex was taken by a big man, his arms now untied and pushed deeper into the camp.
"Name and age," Armstrong said stepping in front of me.
"Mikey Way, twenty six," I said quietly and he moved onto Frank, who was staring straightforward, his face void of any emotion.

A man grabbed my shoulders, and started to push me forward, the feel of a cool blade against my skin, clawing away at the rope. I felt my arms freed from the rope, but I didn't dare move them. The grip on my shoulders tightened and and turned me into a tent where I saw the kid Alex being measured by a balding fellow. We waited patiently and soon Alex was handed a uniform and we let to go change. It was my turn.
"Up," the man said, pushing my arms up and measuring. He went down my legs, and finally stepped away, going over to a shelf and pulling off a uniform and handing it to me. He motioned to the direction Alex went, to the back of the tent, behind another curtain, and turned to Frank, who just entered the tent. His face looked more bruised now than it did earlier, and I wondered what happened and made a mental note to ask him.
I went behind the curtain, and saw Alex in his new uniform, his old clothes in a discard pile. Alex sat in a corner and I turned my back to him, quickly shedding my own clothes and throwing them on top of his without a word and changing into my uniform, which was too big for me anyways. I wondered what the point of the measuring was if I was just going to get one that was too big.
"Where are you from?" I asked, turning to Alex who's face was red and bruised, probably from crying and the beating. I stepped in front of him, crouching down so we were eye level.
"Chester," he mumbled. "I was racing my friend on horseback and I got ahead and they caught me and shot my horse..." He trailed off, looking down at his feet. I heard a noise and turned to see Frank being pushed into the little curtained off section on the tent. I stood up and embraced him quickly, momentarily forgetting about Alex.
"I'm so glad you're okay," I whispered. He flinched, but hugged me back slowly.
"Alive but not okay, now let go of me you bastard," Frank mumbled. I pulled back and frowned. "I got kicked in the ribs, they hurt like hell," he clarified.
That reminded me. "You're more bruised than when I left, what did you do?" I asked, and he looked away, starting to take off his clothes.
"I refused to give my name, then attacked the arse, and his men went after me." He said it nonchalantly and I really resisted to hit him upside the head, not wanting to hurt him anymore.
"I can't believe I'm friends with you, are you daft? You could've gotten killed!"
Frank just glared and finished putting on his uniform. I turned my back on him and looked back to Alex who was staring up at the two of us.
"I'm Mikey," I offered, holding out a hand to him, "and this stupid man is Frank. We're both from Danville." He took my hand and I pulled him up to his feet. "We're good people, I promise."
"I'm sure you are," Alex mumbled. Frank threw his clothes onto the growing pile and we all left the little corner together, passing by another captive. The balding man was measuring someone else, and the three of us stood and watched, not sure what to do. I didn't dare leave the tent in fear of getting in trouble, since I wasn't much of a risk taker unlike Frank who could be defiant until it got him killed.
The man noticed us as he handed a uniform to the bigger man. "You three are through here. All you need is weapons, but we have no more for another week while we wait on a shipment. Food is three tents down, go eat before he finishes cleaning up. You'll get assignments later."
Frank lead the way out and we looked in either direction, taking our first real look at the camp. Night was falling, groups of soldiers in similar uniforms heading either for guard duty or to their tents for sleep. Frank turned and started going to where we assumed food was, and Frank stuck his head in the tent and disappeared inside. I opened the flap for Alex and followed him in.
"Oh great, more mouths to feed," a man said, pulling out three bowls from a barrel and start to pour something that looked like vomit into them. "How many of you are there this time? No one told me we were getting more of you. People need to tell me things. Eat up." He seemed annoyed, but nice enough as he handed us the bowls.
The three of us held the bowls out at arms distance and looked at it, then at each other. Alex was the first to dig in, his nose crinkling at the taste but he didn't say anything. Frank spit his out and I had trouble swallowing mine. It was lumpy and tasteless. The cook stood in front of us, grumbling about 'inconsiderate fools'.
"Seven of us, sir," I said when he asked again how many there were. The man's jaw tightened, and he looked frustrated.
"How am I expected to feed everyone here? I'm running out of food and weapons are more important than food so no new shipment for three more weeks, and by then we'll have moved..." He stopped and took a breath.
Alex set his bowl down, practically licked clean. I finished most of mine, along with Frank, and set it down on top of Alex's. The man grabbed them and turned his back to us, throwing them into a barrel, where I heard a splash of water.
"Sir, do you know where we're supposed to go?" I asked, interrupting him where he was grumbling about how much he hated Bryar for not telling him anything.
"The tent across the way, there will be blankets for you lot, or there should be. We might have a shortage of those, too. Now get out."
The three of us hurried out and we passed the other four men on their way into the tent. None of us said anything, but as they walked in we heard the cook start to complain again. Frank located the tent, it was the biggest one, right across the path as the cook stated, how could we have missed it?
Frank lead the way in and Alex and I followed in suit, none of us speaking a word. One of the men inside lead us to a corner where blankets were located. I had Frank's head on my chest, and Alex was next to me, but far enough so we weren't touching. I looked over at Alex, who was staring up at the ceiling of the tent. He looked at me, and I forced a smile. "We'll get out of here, I promise."