Walking Ghost Phase (13 page)

Raven crossed her arms and leaned back.

“I'm kidding. Besides, any man who still wants to marry a girl with the face of a raccoon is a keeper.”

Now
Raven giggled. “He is. Either I got lucky with my memory loss or he's perfect. I don't remember a bad thing about our relationship. Not a fight or argument one. My mom even said she couldn't recall a moment when he and I seemed mad at each other.”

“
Almost too good to be true?” Matt said.

“
I guess I hit the jackpot.”

For a
while the table went quiet as everyone watched Damon drop the last bite of slop into his mouth. “Done,” he said. “Time to get out of here.”

“
So what do we do for the rest of the day?” Raven asked.

“
Yeah?” Emily asked. “Why do they wake us up so early for such a short orientation?”

“
They're getting you accustomed to the routine,” Matt said. “Do whatever you want for now. I doubt we'll be
able
later.”

“
I'm going to the gym,” Damon said. “Then I'll probably get some shut-eye.”

“
I need to get my meds,” Emily replied, and stared at Matt. She nudged him in the ribs. “But you already knew that, didn't you?”

“
Yes.”

She shook her head.
“Doubtful.”

He stared right back as if he wanted her to test him.

“All right, Mr. Observant, what's wrong with me?”

“
Asthma,” he said.

Her eyes widened.
“How the—no, wait. Let me guess. You heard me wheezing?”

He tapped Emily
's empty pocket. “I saw the outline of your inhaler yesterday.”

“
You were checking her out,” Sarah said.

A crimson hue climbed
Matt's cheeks. “I saw it right there in her pocket when she was checking on Raven. Anyone would have noticed.”

With the tray in hand, Emily slid off the bench.
“You're a terrible liar.” She flipped her wrist toward everyone else in a half-hearted wave. “See the rest of you tomorrow.”

“
I'm coming with you,” Sarah said. “I want to see if they have any pain pills. They might appreciate my preemptive strike and give me some.”

“
Unlikely,” Matt said. He slapped her on the backside and winked. “Not pills at least.”

Sarah
tilted her head and froze. Any witty comeback seemed lost to her confusion.

Emily tugged on Sarah
's shirt. “Come on.”

As they dropped their trays off with the dishwasher, Sarah looked at Emily.
“Was he hitting on me? He slapped my ass.”

Emily shrugged.

After about a mile of hiking through deserted halls, Emily located the pharmacy deep in the south wing. It consisted of a single sliding-glass window next to the clinic but not much else. Behind the counter, an obese woman worked on a crossword puzzle. She glanced at Emily and Sarah, her eyes devoid of any emotion. “Name?”

“
Emily Heath.”

The nurse turned and sifted through a plastic blue container with the letter H prominently displayed.
“Right here,” she said, and slid a white envelope across the counter. “Anything else?”

Sarah inched closer
to the nurse. “Can I get some pain meds?”

The nurse
's eyes gleamed, and her lips creased into an exaggerated smile. “Are you in pain?”

Sarah glanced around and seemed to wonder if anyone might question her motives.
“Yes. I'm hurting.”

“
How bad?”

Sarah rubbed her shoulder and scrunched her face.
“Bad.”

“
Coming right up.” The nurse bent down, reaching beneath the counter. A moment later she popped back up and brandished a six-inch-long syringe. Clear liquid dripped from the tip and glistened under the fluorescent lights.

“
Oh shit,” Emily said.

“
Come through the door and drop your pants.”

Sarah
's bottom lip quivered, and her wide eyes reflected a perfect image of the needle. “I'm feeling better all of a sudden.” Her voice was monotone.

“
We have a struggler,” the nurse shouted over her shoulder.

A green blur rushed out the door, and Emily stared up at the MP
's rigid face. He was easily six-six and two hundred and fifty pounds. His eyes hopped from girl to girl. “Which one?”

Sarah cowered behind Emily
's back, which gave the soldier his answer. “I feel fine,” she said. “Really. Look.” She performed three jumping jacks.

The nurse chuckled.

The MP grabbed a wad of Sarah's shirt, and Sarah clutched Emily's arm. “No,” Sarah screamed. “I feel fine. I promise.” The brute strength of the MP dragged Sarah inside the clinic, and Sarah's death grip took Emily along for the ride. He yanked Sarah's pants down to her ankles. She looked at Emily through fresh tears.

“
Here we go,” the nurse said. She wielded the syringe like a dagger and stabbed the needle into Sarah's flesh. If any dogs lived nearby, they probably sought shelter from the ear-piercing squeal.

The MP and nurse laughed.

Sarah trembled as she pulled up her pants and limped out of the clinic. “Not a word to anyone,” she said to Emily.

“
Not even Vasquez?” Emily asked.

Sarah swung her elbow toward Emily
's ribs but missed by a foot. “Whoa. This stuff works fast.”

“
By the way, girls,” the nurse said. “You can't get pain medication once you start ACES training.”

“
Why do they even have it?” Sarah asked. Her speech slurred. “Let's come back tomorrow.”

As
they walked to their corridor, Emily steadied Sarah every ten feet, and once they entered Sarah's room, the girl did a face plant into her pillow and fell asleep half a second later.

Emily returned to the hall and nudged the door shut.
“One more day.”

Emily stood on the beach, watching the pink sun as it dipped below the horizon. Sand crept between her toes, and the waves crested over her feet. Then the air grew frigid; an ocean breeze ros
e bumps across her arms. Now a presence lingered behind her. Arms wrapped around her body, their touch strangely familiar, and she smiled and looked at the receding water. Words appeared in the sand.

Die with me.

Then the arms darkened purple. Emily struggled, trying to free herself. Chunks of flesh sloughed away. She gasped for air, but the bones squeezed tighter. She was dying.

Emily shot up in her bed, wide awake now. Sweat trickled down her forehead, and she stared at the digital clock
's blood-red display.
The beach?
I haven't been there in years
.
Last time I went, it was just Mom and me. Or did someone else go?
The mental film roll spliced in a new but blurry frame. A young man, the edge of his body radiating with heat swells, chased down a wind-lifted towel.
Yes, someone did. Who was it? Mom, why did you follow those damn rules?

It was 4:01 A.M, and throughout the next hour
, Emily sat awake and tried to piece together the missing frames of her memory. At 4:59, she covered her ears for the next minute or so in anticipation of the morning alarm. After it ended, Maggie slid out of bed, the previous day's struggle absent from her body. She stood in front of Emily with an astute and proud posture. Her lips creased into almost a smile. Even the bruises on her face appeared a shade less painful. “I lasted for an hour in the Sim last night.”

Emily dropped her feet off the edge of the bed and unbuttoned her shirt.
“Is that good?”

“
I usually live for twenty minutes, thirty if I'm lucky. It's your second day here, so you'll find out tonight.” Maggie sighed, releasing any semblance of a smile to memory. “Nine minutes. That's how long I survived my first night.”

“
How does it feel? You know, when you
die
.”

“
Lonely,” Maggie said. “Of course, it's just temporary. You aren't really dead.” She turned her back and finished undressing, but Emily swore Maggie muttered under her breath, “You'll only wish you were.”

During the searing shower and morning run, Emily considered Maggie
's words. The nightmares seemed tame compared to what she imagined was waiting for her in the depths below. She finished the chalk shake, showed the empty bottle to the officer and entered the orientation room.

But o
nce again, a yank on her shirt pulled her back into the hallway. She half-expected the hall officer to point out a single drop of the shake festering at the bottom of the bottle. Instead, she turned to find Sarah tugging at her. “Come look at this,” Sarah said, and led Emily around a corner, away from any prying eyes. “Don't laugh.” With a squeaky whimper, Sarah eased down the back of her pants, revealing the enormous, red bruise. “I might need another shot for this.”

Emily
's cheeks expanded with air. She threw her hands over her mouth, letting the tears roll across her fingers.

Sarah stomped her foot.
“Not funny.”

Emily
glanced at the clock—5:59—and then gasped. “We can't be late.” Sarah struggled to fasten her belt as Emily dragged her to the orientation room.

They returned to the same place they sat yesterday, and Emily plopped down
in the chair, ready to fall asleep. Sarah, however, lowered her butt at a snail's pace, whispering what sounded like a prayer. Then Sarah's squeaks of pain ended when she seemed to notice Matt strolling up the stairs, his smile beyond obvious. “Not a word,” Sarah whispered to Emily.

After sitting behind the girls, Matt leaned forward, close to Sarah
's ear. “How's the pain medicine working?”

Sarah flinched.
“Shut up.”

“
She has a bruise the shape of California on her ass,” Emily said.

“
Thanks for warning me, jerk.”

“
I tried,” Matt said. “Or do you think I slapped you for my enjoyment?”

“
Your enjoyment.”

“
How'd you know?” Emily asked.

Matt shrugged.
“Did you see anyone else popping pills?”

Soon
a female voice overtook the hushed chatter. “Good morning.” Emily slumped lower in her seat, but every male straightened to full attention. A svelte, blond-haired woman carried a green duffle bag to the podium and dropped it near her feet. “Did you all sleep well?”

The answer from the room came as a few cursing mumbles.

She adjusted the microphone. “I'm Colonel Harper. My purpose is to instruct you on the proper usage of the ACES weaponry and supplies. What you learn here today may decide whether you live or die in the simulated world.”

Harper unzipped the duffle and pulled out a black rifle.
“This is the M4A1 assault rifle. It's what you'll carry in the Sim.” She aimed the gun at the crowd, and a sudden rush of chaos overtook the room. Soldiers jumped out of their seats. A few climbed over the chair-backs or one another, while others hid in the aisle. Emily ducked, pressing her chest against her knees.

Sarah did the same.
“Is she crazy?”

Emily peeked
above the chair-backs, looking at Harper, who still pointed the gun at random directions in the crowd. Near the front row, Damon stayed motionless as three girls cowered behind him. He seemed to enjoy his position as their protector.

Harper pulled the trigger, but the gun
released only a faint click, not a deafening crackle. “It's not loaded,” she said. Displaced soldiers grumbled as they made their way back to the seats. “As you can see, an empty weapon is useless.” She bent down, removed a black casing from the duffle and lifted it above her head. “This is your magazine. It holds thirty rounds.” She walked in front of the podium. “Can I have a volunteer help me demonstrate how you properly load the weapon?”