Rites of Passage (29 page)

“What is it?” I can't read the expression on his face and it makes me nervous.

His hand reaches out, but he pulls it back when he hears a door open. “I know you don't want this, but don't fight me.”

“It's ridiculous—”

“What's ridiculous is—” He sighs. “Do you know where Kelly is tonight?”

“Cross said he had a study group,” I stammer, the words sounding as false as they are.

He lets out a burst of air. “But you don't think it's true, do you?”

I shake my head.

“You knew Kelly was somehow involved in this and you didn't think it was important to tell me?” Hurt, then anger, cross his face.

I look down. “I didn't know for sure. . . .”

“What made you think it?”

“The blood wings. Matthews gave him and Wilson blood wings during a smoke show.”

“You should have told me,” he says, and this time he's not angry, he's hurt.

“I can take care of myself against Kelly. I'm not helpless.”

“Accepting help doesn't mean anyone will think any less of you. It means your recruit buddies care about you. It means
I
care about you.” He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “This isn't what I needed to tell you. I just got a text from Huff. He's been keeping an eye on Matthews, but he's lost him. No clue where he's gone.”

“Lyons?”

“No sign of him or Evers, either.”

I close my eyes, leaning back against the wall. His words confirming what I want to deny. “Jonathan?”

He shakes his head. “I don't know.”

“Do you think they're together?”

“That's the million-dollar question, isn't it?”

I can't listen anymore, because if I listen, then I'll get scared. And if I get scared, I'm going to want to run. “I need to go. . . . I've got to go to the library. I need to check my email.”

“I'll bring my laptop up here for you.” He grips my biceps, forcing me to look at him. “Sam, you're not leaving the barracks tonight. We don't know where they are. What they're doing. They hurt you once already. I won't let them do it again.”

I turn and walk into my room without being dismissed. I close the door behind me and sink to the floor, leaning my head back against the door until I hear him walk away. Only then do I let myself breathe again.

TWENTY-NINE

THE CHAPEL IS ALMOST EMPTY WHEN I COME IN AFTER
second block. Ritchie's on Guard Sam duty and goes to sit in the pew at the back, leaning his head back and closing his eyes. “God, I'm tired.”

“I told you, you don't have to follow me around.”

He opens one eye and rolls his head lazily toward me. “I'm not disobeying Drill.”

And it's true. Their homemade schedule and constant tagging along for the last few days have proven that. “Fine. I'll be done soon, I hope.”

“I'll be here,” he says, and closes the one eye he's been looking at me with.

I knock on Rev's door and hear a shuffle inside. Drill opens the door and ushers me in, glancing in the hallway before shutting it behind him.

“Don't worry. Ritchie's out there,” I mutter.

“It's not him I'm worried about,” Drill says. “Take the chair. I'll stand.”

I want to tell him I'll stand but there's no point. The sooner we can get this over with, the sooner I can get back to classes. I smile halfheartedly at Tim, sitting in the chair next to mine.

Rev clears his throat. “Any news on your father, Sam?”

“No, sir. I talked to Mom briefly while I was in the infirmary, and I've had a few emails, but there's nothing to report. He's still missing.” Out there somewhere, hunted or caught, in pain or dead.

“Well, no news is good news most often in these cases. Your father is a strong man. He'll get through this.”

I like the way he talks about Dad in present tense. Someone should have faith that he's still alive and will get home, not being tortured somewhere or eaten by worms. . . .

“This will be the only time we meet like this,” Drill says. “It's too dangerous.”

“Agreed. Though I thought it important to make sure we're all on the same page. Sam has a right to know what we're thinking,” Rev says, leaning back in his chair and steepling his fingers. “Sam, I trust you are recovering well.”

“I am. Thank you.” My face burns under the attention. “So what's the news?”

Drill grits his teeth, and his arm muscles tense and relax, tense and relax. “Cross is dating Evers.”

I turn around in my chair. “She's been dating him since . . . Parents' Weekend.”

Drill closes his eyes, letting out a sigh.

“Sam, we need to know who is helping you figure this stuff out. The one who thought it might be a secret society, who drew the link with the blood wings.” When Tim speaks, I can see exactly where Drill got his commander's voice.

It's hard for me to question him, but I don't want to bring Jax into this now. “What? Why?”

“I might have a lead. I need to find some information, though.”

“Tell me. I'll get whatever you need.”

“I'm not sending this information over email. I need to meet with whoever is helping you.” He leans in toward me.

“I'll be fine. It's okay. Nothing's happened other than scribbling in my KB.”

“You're forgetting the near-concussion you're getting over,” Drill says, walking around the chair and bending down in front of me. He takes my hands in his, squeezing them. “Not to mention that we're about to start the Weekend Warrior competitions. Look at me, Sam.”

Finally, I move my eyes to him, scanning his face before locking on to his eyes. It's Drill. I trust Drill. The last thing I want to do is pull Jax into this any more than she already is, but I don't think I have a choice anymore.

When I've given them a history of Jax and her email address, the meeting is over. Tim will get anything new to me through Drill. Operation Guard Sam will continue as planned, and Rev will work his confessional magic to try to talk to Jonathan and get our meetings back on track.

Drill walks me out of the office. Ritchie's snores greet us in the chapel. “My fearless guard for the day.” I nudge Ritchie and he jerks awake.

“Hey, Mac.” He clears his throat, rubbing his eyes, then jumping to his feet when he sees Drill. “Drill Sergeant, good morning, Drill Sergeant.”

“I'll walk Mac to her next class. Go on and grab lunch. You can pick her up after class.”

“Drill Sergeant, yes, Drill Sergeant.” Ritchie pats my shoulder and jogs out the door.

“You don't have to walk me yourself.”

His eyes scan the chapel. “If it were up to me, I'd be next to you twenty-four/seven.” He moves closer and I take a step back, pressing against the wall. Resting an arm up by my head, he leans in.

I can't tear my eyes away from his face. If I can just kiss him once, I know everything will be okay. That we'll make it through. I'll be able to wait until the end of the year if I can just take one second for myself right now.

A cough makes us both jump. I take a step away from Drill before I even look to see who it is.

“Dude, I could have been anyone. How stupid are you?” Tim smacks him on the back of the head.

“That's my cue to leave,” I say, unable to meet Tim's eyes as I skirt around both of them and head to the door.

“It won't happen again,” Drill says.

“It better not, dill weed. If you lose your position as her drill sergeant, there's no telling who they'll put in your place.”

Drill holds his hands up in surrender. “I said it won't happen again. Let's get to class, recruit.” He holds the door open for me, giving me a conspiratorial wink.

THIRTY

“THE WEEKEND WARRIOR COMPETITION. THAT'S WHAT WE'RE
all out here for on this cold-ass March Saturday.” Matthews rubs his hands together as he paces back and forth in front of our company. “You'll have a total of four of these challenges between now and the end of April.”

“That's right,” Julius picks up.

While Julius is talking, Matthews moves to stand in front of Kelly, who's been looking worse lately, like he's not getting much sleep. Dark circles outline his eyes and he's lost weight. I've told Bekah I think he's getting sick, but she gets defensive and says it's nothing. I don't like how close they've gotten lately.

Drill stands in front of us now and I try to focus on the instructions. “Each of you will have a chance to go through the obstacles laid out for you. Your speed and success will determine the company score. This will, of course, go toward our Company of the Year score. We're slightly behind Charlie since the snow battle.” Drill glances at me, then continues. “We'll definitely be able to make it up, though. So, first platoon, choose your order and get ready. When the gun goes off, your time starts.”

Our little mission is simple, really. We've got to move through a mock town to get to a rendezvous point. Once we're all there, we low-crawl through a mud pit covered in barbed wire to get to the safe zone.

I try to ignore how this could be what my dad is going through right this very second. How scared he might be. It'll do no good to lose my focus and bring the company down. If I can just get through this without screwing up, I'll be thrilled. The gun goes off and first platoon is gone, Wilson leading the charge. They yell and scream support to each other as they work their way through the challenge.

It seems like the entire Corps is out here watching. Ropes are set up to keep them separate from us. Evers stands over to the side, whispering to Matthews. Kelly and Bekah stand together, though they're not talking. Their eyes are focused on first platoon. Almost too focused, like they're specifically trying
not
to look anywhere else.

“Second platoon, get ready,” Matthews says, stepping away from Evers and handing a clipboard to Rev, our supervisor for today. “Kelly, you'll lead the charge. Cross, you're second.” He assigns Ritchie, Nix, and Dove their places. “And you can be last, McKenna. See if you can lead from the rear.”

“Corporal Matthews, yes, Corporal Matthews.”

I wait until Dove reaches the wall we've got to get over, and the second he jumps, I take off.

Imaginary foes and traps wait around every turn. I press my back against the wall, glancing around the corner, and wait until the “explosion” goes off, sending green smoke up into the air. Running and diving to the ground, I let my momentum carry me, flipping over once then returning to my feet at a run. Thank God I've recovered from the snow battle.

The next obstacle is jumping across the roofs of two “buildings” they've built. They're only a foot off the ground, but the leap requires a running start and I barely clear it, the heel of my combat boot not even on the second roof. Luckily the forward momentum helps pull me to safety and I don't lose any points. I jump down on the other side, where my platoon waits for me.

“Good job, Mac,” Ritchie says, patting me on the back. Nix and I trade fist bumps.

“We'll celebrate later, guys. We need to move now.” Kelly doesn't look at me; his eyes are fixed on the mud pit. “Same order. Let's go.”

One by one, my platoon aims themselves for the mud pit and dives in, pulling themselves frantically under the barbed wire. Blanks fire overhead and when I hit the mud, I keep myself as low as I can. They're simulating live fire and, just like Declaration Day, I'm not going to be one to “die” in my company. I keep myself as close as I can to Dove's boot, pausing only long enough to be sure he's not going to kick me in the face. Globs of grit get in my mouth before I remember to keep it closed; the exhaustion of the run makes breathing hard.

But then something slams into my side. It feels like a rocket has split me right open and I scream before I can stop myself, the pain in my ribs so excruciating it sucks all the air from my lungs. I look down, clutching my side. The mud doesn't turn red, though. The gaping wound is all in my mind. But I can't breathe. No amount of forcing will make my lungs work.

Dove crawls on, oblivious to what's happened, so I know whatever it was only happened to me. The crowd is cheering as I try to suck air into my lungs to yell for help. Black spots dance in front of my face. Am I going to die, right here in the mud pit while the rest of the Corps watches and cheers?

I finally take a breath. Then another. Pain stabs at my side and tears blur my vision. But the thought of Matthews celebrating—of all those boys out there celebrating right along with him is enough to spur me on. I can't give in to the pain and let him win.

I force myself to move, put one arm in front of the other and pull myself inch by inch through the mud. It hurts like hell every time I inhale.

A black circle surrounds my vision. Dove looks miles away. He turns back. His mouth opens. He stretches his arm out to me.

It all happens in slow motion, like we're stuck in some movie and have to keep going until the director yells cut. So that's what I do. Using my left arm only, I pull myself on in a slow, stuttered movement that gets me barely anywhere. Then I reach out and do it again. And again.

I keep doing it until Dove and Ritchie grab hold and pull me out from under the barbed wire. “You okay, Mac?” Ritchie's voice is quiet, the ground spinning as I try to figure out where I'm supposed to be headed.

“Fine,” I manage. “Just go.”

Then I see the end, my company standing in a semicircle ten steps in front of me, waiting. I'm going to be last one in the company to cross the line. Ritchie stays with me but at least he knows enough to let me finish on my own.

“What the hell happened, Mac?” Ritchie bends down, whispering in my ear despite the cheering going on all around us.