Walking Ghost Phase (27 page)

When the muffled noise of distant gunfire rang out, he released her, and she eased off his chest.
“Okay, what the hell just happened?”

“
Remember the bus stop?” Matt asked. “At first I thought the defenders were using night vision to see those attackers. I was wrong. Night vision lets you see better in the dark but not through solid objects. They're using thermal vision.” He pointed at the jagged chasm in the outside wall. “They saw your body heat.”

“
But if they can see us through walls, why did they leave us alone when we were behind this thin counter?”

“
Our heat signatures dimmed because we moved away from the counter. It made them think we died in the blast. Lucky for us, they were too stupid to realize that it takes a bit longer than two minutes for a noticeable amount of heat to dissipate from a dead body.”

“
Aren't you the smart one.”

Matt laughed under his breath.
“Why do you think I let you stay on top? I knew if they found us, they'd kill you first.”

Emily bonked his helmet.
“Jerk.”

For a moment Matt laughed harder, but when he tried to stand
, a hiss sliced through his teeth. He grabbed a shredded section of his pants below the shin, which trickled with blood.

Emily knelt and guided her hands close to the wound, not touching it, unsure of what to do.
“How bad is it?”

“
I'll be fine.” He pointed at an emergency exit door, and Emily stayed near his side as he hobbled toward it. “Time to level the playing field.”

“
Let me guess, easier said than done?”

Matt didn
't answer.

In the deserted alleyway, he directed Emily behind a wheeled, green dumpster, where the stench of rotting food and the consequent stomach churning reminded her of the outside line for check-in. Matt pressed the tip of his rifle flush against the dumpster, toward the street. A single shot rang out, and the bullet casing jingled across
the wet cement. Flakes of paint clung to the edges of the circular puncture in the dumpster.

He removed his helmet and looked through the hole.
“Now we wait.”

Emily settled on the ground, holding her stare on the half-closed emergency exit door while Matt kept his face planted against the dumpster. She didn
't ask him to explain the plan; she'd already figured out some of it. Kill two defenders. Take their helmets. Of course, that only removed the equipment advantage. Unless a few attackers got lucky, which she doubted, twenty defenders still patrolled the streets.

“
Here we go,” Matt said, and pushed off on his good leg, rising above the top of the dumpster. The muzzle flash of two successive shots burned a white patch in Emily's vision. After Matt ducked down again, he tugged her sleeve. “There are two dead defenders in the street. Go take their helmets.”

“
Run into the
open
streets?”

“
If another squad sees me, I won't make it back in time.”

“
Please, don't make me do this.”

He shoved her in the tailbone.
“Go, before they find us.”

Emily sprinted toward the two lifeless bodies, which rested in a pool of shiny, black liquid. She slid to a stop, almost crashing atop the dead defenders, and ripped the helmet off the first, revealing the face of a young man. The bullet had pierced his lung, and blood rolled down his bottom lip and chin. But when Emily pulled the helmet off the second defender, she froze. The girl under the visor couldn
't have been old enough to drive, much less join the Army. Her youthful skin glowed under the light of a distant street lamp.
She's not really dead
.
It's just a simulation.

Then the girl
's eyes opened. Her arms shot upward. Emily tried to pull her gun around, but the defender pinned it to the ground, under her elbow. She grabbed Emily's throat.

“
Matt,” Emily screamed. Her voice sounded as little more than a desperate rasp. A fog of darkness crept over her vision. Her head seemed too heavy for her neck. She slapped at the defender's arms, but the blows hit with the strength of a gentle tap.

A gunshot echoed across the city. The defender
's eyes widened, and then her body went limp. As Emily twisted, which freed her from the dead hands, blood rushed to her head. Standing behind the dumpster, Matt lowered his rifle. Emily grabbed the helmets and sprinted down the alley, following him through the emergency exit and back inside the hotel lobby. This time, she stayed clear of the crumbling walls.

“
Put it on,” he said.

She slipped the helmet over her head. Her vision shifted from darkness to a spectrum of blues, blacks and, when she waved her hand in front of the visor, oranges and yellows.
“How does this work?”

“
Reddish colors are heat. Darker colors are cold.” He limped toward the stairwell door. “We're going to shoot the reds.” After they climbed the first flight of stairs, he stopped. “But first we need fabric—blankets, clothes, anything like that.”

On the second floor, Emily scoured a restaurant, where she located a few towels and linen tablecloths, but Matt told her the towels were too small, the linens too thin. She entered the kitchen and dug beneath the counters. More hand towels. A stack of pressed aprons. Mists of flour settled on the pots and pans as Matt tore apart the pantry in the back.

From the corner of her eye, she spotted something red on the wall. “Matt? What about these?” She pointed at the fire-emergency box.

“
Perfect,” he said, and lifted the handle. Two blankets flopped on the floor.

Emily and Matt went up the stairs again. On every other floor, they discov
ered an unopened emergency box, collecting the final two blankets inside an Italian restaurant with an elaborate fountain in the center of the tables. Four winged angels gazed down at the stagnant pool of water. Matt tossed the wad of blankets into the fountain. “Lay on your chest in front of the window.”

For a moment Emily just stared at him. Then she remembered how far she
'd come under the odds. Without Matt, she would have died in the streets alongside her two idiot squad-mates. She'd be waiting in darkness, probably wishing she could cry from the pain. She slid across the floor and approached the glass as Matt stood above her, holding the sopping-wet blanket in his hands. He draped it over her back and legs, and moisture seeped through her fatigues. She figured now wasn't the best time to complain about how water caused her skin to prune up like the wrinkles of an old woman. “And the purpose of this is—?”

“
It
should
trap your body heat. The defenders won't be able to see you, so we can take them out in relative safety.” After Matt covered her with several more blankets, he dropped to his chest and pulled a pile over himself. He crawled forward, inches from his reflection in the glass. “One shot at a time. Don't make it easy for them to find you.”

“
Yes, sir,” Emily said, making her sarcasm easily detectable.

“
Okay,
Sarah
, let me know before you fire.”

Only minutes passed before blobs of red danced in the open streets.
“I see two. Three hundred yards on your eleven.” She finally found a reason to use the lingo she'd learned in class.

“
I have the one on the right. Fire on three, two, one—”

Emily squeezed the trigger. Glass shattered and shards bounced off the blankets. In the streets below, two defenders crumpled under the weight of their own deaths.
“Woot,” Emily whispered.

A moment later she spotted two more, killing them under the outstretched awning of a street café. For the rest of the Sim session, Emily and Matt kept to the strategy. A game of patience. Waiting for the defenders to come within range. The instant Emily
's ninth kill dropped to the cement, the world faded.

Congratulations!

You have completed the objective.

Total time:

Two hours, nine minutes, four seconds.

Ending ACES training.

The Sim room lights sparkled overhead, and the nice female white-coat—even the pervert would have seemed nice right now—helped Emily escape the gel. Feet firmly on solid ground, she threw her arms in the air.

“
Great job,” the white-coat said.

Emily smiled, too excited to speak.

After scrubbing the Sim ooze out of her ears and getting dressed, she walked to the elevator, where she lingered for a few minutes. Two guys, their cheeks and necks red with the onset of bruising, limped toward her. Behind them, Matt acted oblivious to the presence of anyone, although a smug grin crossed his face.

“
How the hell did you two win?” asked a guy. Emily recognized his voice as A4.

“
How fast did you two die?” she asked.

“
Ten feet outside of the starting point,” he said, and laughed. He pumped his fists in the air. “But thanks to you two, I get to sleep.”

“
Enjoy it.”

The elevator doors lumbered open, and Emily stepped inside. A1 went to the back corner, keeping his distance.
“I can't say I'm too happy about you dismissing my orders.”

“
I'm sorry,” Matt said. “I only wanted what's best for—”

“
I know,” A1 interrupted. “You have your reasons. Thanks for the extra sleep.” He extended his hand, which Matt shook. Four minutes later, the elevator stopped, and A1 and A4 raced ahead, ready to indulge in the great prize awaiting them in their rooms.

During their own long walk, Emily stayed near Matt
's side. She caught herself moving closer to him, brushing against his arm. He glanced at her with a subtle gleam in his eyes, but the luster in his face dimmed when she didn't turn down her corridor. “What're you doing?” he asked.

“
I've never been in this hall, even while running. I'd like to see your room.”

“
I think you should get some sleep. Neither of us might be so lucky tomorrow.”

Emily ignored him and stopped at the first door.
“Is this it?” She grabbed the knob.

Matt stepped between her and the door.
“You can't go into some stranger's room. The MPs would be all over you if they found out.”

“
So this one isn't yours?”

“
I didn't say that.”

“
I guess I'll find out.”

He sighed.
“You aren't going to let this go, are you?”

“
Give up? Not if I get to see you squirm.”

She twisted the knob, and he grabbed her wrist.
“This way.”

After a few minutes, he approached a room—1844. She jumped in front of him and pushed open the door. It was dark, empty.
“Roommate not back yet?”

“
He usually dies early.”

The clock displayed 21:33.
“So he won't finish the Sim for another four hours?” Emily poked the mattress—firm like hers. The familiar smell of disinfectant choked the air. “I guess our rooms are all the same.” But they weren't. Above the desk sat a bookshelf where unrecognizable titles seemed ready to spill on the floor. “Did you raid the library? Have you read them all?”

“
They're my roommate's.”

Cheek twitch alert.
“Liar.”

He sat on the edge of the bed, and she plopped down beside him. For a moment he just stared at her.
“You should go to your room and get some sleep.”

Rejection.
“If that's what you want.”

“
Yes…it
is
what I want. I'll see you in the morning.”

“
Yeah, I guess I should leave.” Once she stepped into the hall, the door creaked shut.
Why do I act like this around him?