Walking Ghost Phase (17 page)

“
Doubtful,” Matt said under his breath.

Stallings read two more names, both guys, their times nearing the two-hour mark.
“And the number one soldier, lasting two hours, four minutes, five seconds, Private Peters. Fine job, Private.”

“
Thank you, sir,” Damon said.

“
Where'd you learn to shoot like that, Peters?”

Sarah kicked her knee into the desk and snorted.
“When the Government told him to kill his parents.”

Everyone laughed until Stallings
' icy stare silenced the room.

“
Why did you let a member of your squad desert, Private?”

“
Sir?”

“
You were in command.”

Damon stayed silent; his jaw seemed to hang for an answer.

“Private, I hear you intend to join the Army at the end of your six months. Is this true?”

“
Yes, sir.”

“
Then if you can't figure out the problem and hold your team together, maybe you should resign yourself to a life of taking orders.”

Damon turned and scowled at Matt, who didn
't look away. Their glares seemed to form an aura around each other, leaving Emily with a sense of collateral damage. The beginning of Stallings' lecture finally ended the stare-down.

For a brief moment during the morning run, Emily constructed a few expectations of what she hoped to learn in the classroom setting, things that might seem important to any soldier who wished to avoid the pain and suffering of darkness.
And what was more relevant than a be-all-end-all strategy to stay alive?

She supposed Stallings wanted to keep that secret to himself.

He flipped on the projector, which displayed a gigantic vocabulary list: flank, suppressing fire, click, echelon, vanguard, etc. A throbbing face and disappointment—but mostly a throbbing face—distorted her ability to process all the new information.

Matt scribbled down every word Stallings said. He even added a few thoughts of his own, but Emily couldn
't understand any of it. Sarah, however, dropped her head to the desktop and acted as if she took important notes. Soon undecipherable symbols covered her paper, maybe the invention of a new language.

Five minutes before class was scheduled to end, a puddle of drool dripped from Sarah
's lips and seeped between her cheeks and the desk surface. Her snores made their way to the front row. Emily shook Sarah's arm, trying to wake her, but she stopped when a shadow loomed across the desk. Stallings kicked his boot into Sarah's stool. “Winston.”

She leapt to her feet.
“Yes, sir.”

“
You just lost your firearm for tonight.”

“
What? No.”

“
That goes for everyone. Sleep in class and I'll make sure you enter battle unarmed. Now report to the mess hall for chow. Dismissed.”

During the walk, Sarah kept her head lowered.
“Tonight's going to suck.”

Emily nudged her shoulder.
“Look on the bright side—you might break your record.”

“
You jerk.” She smiled.

When they arrived at the usual table, Matt and Raven had already finished half their slop. Emily looked around the room for their missing companion, eventually finding him sitting with a strange group of soldiers. Damon wore the same scowl from the stare down.

“He looks mad,” Raven said.

Matt glanced over his shoulder.
“He'll live.”

Damon stood as if he knew someone talked about him. Like his stare, the path of his steps focused on Matt.

“Uh oh,” Sarah said.

Damon stopped behind Emily and, with one swift motion, flipped Matt
's tray in the air. Chunks of white ooze flung across the table and splattered on Raven's shirt. She jumped to her feet, brushing the goo off her chest “Hey.”

Matt didn
't move, not even a flinch. A nearby MP watched but didn't head toward Emily's table.

“
Why'd you desert us?” Damon asked.

Matt faced his accuser.
“The first night doesn't mean much. You should relax.”

“
We could've won.”

“
I doubt it.”

“
I know my abilities. If you hadn't run off and done your own thing, we might've taken out those four defenders.”

“
What about the twelve in the room behind them?”

Damon
's expression turned blank.

“
That's right,” Matt said. “I scouted ahead of you the entire time. I saw them. We didn't stand a chance. Your little rag-tag band and predictable tactics only got you so far because I'd already taken out four defenders. You were dead in the street thirty minutes into the fight, but I saved your ass. You should be thanking me.”

Damon
's face flushed crimson red. “If you try to desert me again, I'll put the killing bullet in you myself.”

“
And you'll be dead a few minutes later.”

Damon shoved
Matt's back. “Stay far away from me, Holcomb. Or else.” He stormed off to rejoin his table.

“
Uncomfortable moment,” Sarah said. No one seemed to appreciate her sarcasm.

Emily slid her plate in front of Matt, not for any reason to win him over, but the morning chalk still churned at her insides.

“No, thanks,” he said.

She stared at the goo. Her hand quivered as she dropped a scoop
inside her mouth, and after the rush of pre-vomit nausea subsided, she turned back to Matt. “Why
did
you leave them?”

Raven and Sarah leaned closer.

“Because I don't want to die.” He lowered his head. “At least not like they expect.” His last words came out as a whisper.

“
But you did, just like the rest of us.”

“
In a simulation.”

“
And you deserted your squad
in a simulation
. I'd understand your position if those battles were real. I think all of us could. We might even join you.”

A knot climbed
Emily's throat when he trained his eyes on her. “You don't get it, do you?”

Emily turned to Sarah and Raven. Their faces told her she hadn
't missed the obvious.

“
Do you know anyone on the outside who served in the military?” Matt asked.

“
My grandfather, but he died before I was born.”

Matt brushed his hand across Emily
's head of stubble.

She jerked away.
“Hey.”

“
My grandfather served, too,” Matt said. “He told me about the real Army. The real Army didn't require females to shave their heads. He also told me about his ruthless sergeant. That man ruled his unit with an iron fist, and his soldiers would eat and sleep discipline. You never spoke unless spoken to. Everything a soldier does in the real Army is based on a rigorous schedule.”

“
Matt, what's your point? We aren't in the
real
Army. So they let us get away with a lot. This is a trial, an experiment. Would you rather them beat the crap out of us every day to make us fall in line?”

“
They already do but not so we fall in line. They're brainwashing us to become mindless killers.”

“
Excuse me?” Raven asked.

Sarah pointed at the dishwashing station.
“I think I need to go ask them for some tinfoil so I can make Matty a nice little hat.”

“
All right, Miss Three Minutes,” Matt said. “Are you going to try harder your next time in the Sim? Dying in a virtual world didn't feel too great, did it?”

Sar
ah tapped her finger against her black eye.

“
And for a brief moment,” Matt continued, “you thought you were actually dead. We all did. Then we walked away. Tonight, you'll do the same thing again. What purpose does any of this serve other than to make us accept that dying is no big deal? They want soldiers who will run into battle without the fear of death. A bunch of dying kids would make perfect test subjects for that purpose. No problem. They're dead anyway.”

“
You don't really believe that,” Emily said.

“
You're not going home, Emily. Neither are you, Raven. Or you, Sarah. You're going to die here. We should all want to be as lucky as the girl in the courtyard. Think about it. A quick jog toward the gates and this entire nightmare would end.”

Raven dropped her fork in the pile of mush, hopped off the bench
and picked up her tray. “I don't need to listen to this. I'm out of here.”

“
Me too,” Sarah said, and chased after Raven.

“
You think you've got it all figured out, don't you?” Emily asked.

“
I do.” Matt's eyes seemed to darken. He grabbed his tray and stood. “And I
can
do something about it, but I'm not relying on a group of brainwashed morons when my life, my
real
life, is on the line. If you follow them, Emily, you're going to die alone.”

As Matt walked away, Emily saw Damon pointing at him. A tanned soldier, listening to whatever line Damon was feeding him, nodded. Then Damon leaned close to a different soldier and pointed again.

“That might make two of us,” Emily said under her breath.

Emily waited beside
vat 3721 until a female white-coat approached her. The woman's smile looked sincere but disappeared from her wrinkled face a moment later. “Ready?” she asked.

Emily took three rapid breaths.
“I think so.” She climbed the stairs and stared at the ooze, when her knees began to wobble. The white-coat grabbed her wrist, and Emily gasped, expecting her feet to sail over the vat. Or maybe this time she would go in headfirst and possibly crack her skull against the electronics. Her balance preferred the headfirst approach, and she swayed forward.

“
Easy,” the white-coat said, and steadied Emily. She moved her hands with methodical precision; each touch seemed to have a clear purpose, unlike the pervert's groping.

The gel slithered around Emily
's neck, and she leaned her head against the vat wall. The white-coat applied the temple sensors, but Emily narrowed her eyes, cautious, when the woman handed her the breathing tube instead of shoving it down her throat.

“
Good luck,” the white-coat said, and waved at a mounted ceiling camera. “Ready on 3721.” The lights blinked red and green, and Emily submerged in the gel.

One session in the Sim—a quick session at that—didn
't give Emily the confidence to guess what she might encounter in the make-believe world. Sure, she would probably die in some horrific manner, but right now she wasn't thinking about that. The blurry outline of the elderly white-coat hovered above the gel surface.
Please, don't let me freak out on her
.