Hater

the body is on the ground more troopers scurry across the front of the building to collect it. Instead of leaving it where it fell they pick it up and, between them, carry it inside. What the hell are they doing?
    There's another noise in the distance. It has to be thunder.
    We move forward again and now I'm close enough to hear some of the conversation at the checkpoint. My heart is beating at a hundred times its normal rate and my legs feel like they're about to buckle and give way beneath me. This time it has nothing to do with my tiredness, this is sheer terror. I can feel the minutes of my life ticking away and I'm devastated that it's going to end this way. Maybe I can attack, I think to myself again. Can I summon up the energy for a final strike? Am I ready to die fighting? This is my very last chance. I can see Patrick just ten people or so ahead of me. If I could somehow get his attention then just maybe together we could do something… Who am I kidding? I look at the nearest soldier with his rifle poised and ready to fire and I know that the odds are too one-sided to even dare consider. It would be over before I'd been able to kill even one of them.
    'Name?' one of the officers at the checkpoint yells at the next person in line.
    'Jason Mansell,' the man replies, his voice quiet and resigned but still carrying the slightest hint of anger and resistance.
    'Date of birth?'
    He answers. He's also asked for his most recent address and, while he's answering, it finally dawns on me why these bastards are treating us like shit but are also strangely concerned about our bodies. We've been stripped of all individuality and yet they still want to know who we are and where we're from. The answer is obvious - it's a bloody census. They're carrying out a bloody census of us. If they want to completely control us and wipe us out, then they have to know where every last one of us is. That was why they attempted to identify us when we were first taken at the house this morning. That's why they collect the bodies of the dead. They have to know who it is they've killed to make sure we're all accounted for. I stupidly think about giving them false information when it's my turn but I know it won't do anybody any good. As I get closer I see that they're also taking swabs from people's mouths and they're using devices to scan their eyes and palms. Christ, we must be a hell of a threat to them. They're running scared.
    Another rolling roar of thunder. Storm's getting closer now. Patrick has disappeared from view and there are now just four people left ahead of me in the line. We're moving with an uncomfortable speed. People are being processed at a frantic rate which seems crazy. We've been stood out here for hours. Why start rushing now?
    Three people. Wish they'd slow down.
    Two people.
    Now I'm next. I stand a short distance back behind two soldiers and watch as Karin is processed. I watch helplessly as one of them slams her hand down flat onto some sort of scanner as another one holds her eye open and scans her retina with another device. A few key presses on a computer keyboard and she's finished and shoved towards the dark opening to the building. There are solid lines of guards on either side. It's clear that once you're past this checkpoint there's nowhere else to go but inside.
    'Name?' the officer at the desk shouts as I'm pushed forward.
    'Danny McCoyne,' I answer. I glance to my left and see that there's a rifle pointing at my head. Just do what you're told, I think to myself, just do what you're told.
    'Short for Daniel?'
    I nod.
    'Answer!'
    'Yes,' I mumble.
    He asks my date of birth and my most recent address and I tell him. My right hand is then grabbed and scanned. Another trooper reaches up and with rough, clumsy fingers prises open my eyelid and uses the device on me. It has a bright light which I wasn't expecting. It blinds me temporarily.
    'Send him through,' I hear the officer order and I'm pushed forward into the darkness. They're definitely speeding things up now. There are too many of us being sent through too quickly. I stumble and trip towards the back of a bottleneck which is quickly forming. Behind me I hear the next person being processed.
    Less than ten meters now separates me from whatever fate is waiting inside this place. I still can't see anything from here, just a huge pair of dark doors and the steady stream of bodies which go through them. Like so many of the desperate people I've already