Walking Ghost Phase (38 page)

A deafening crack of wood shook Emily
's bed, and she shot up, instantly awake. Between the two beds, a pair of fatigue-wearing legs stared at her. She followed them up to the torso, the neck and finally the snarling face of the morning hall officer. The woman's upper lip curled over her yellow teeth. “What's your problem, Private?”

Emily glanced around the room. Maggie wasn
't anywhere in sight. The hallway also sounded lifeless, not bustling with the sound of a hundred scurrying girls. “Ma'am?”

The officer grabbed Emily
's neck and forced her to look at the clock. It displayed 5:27.

Emily gasped.
“Alarm—it never—I didn't hear it.”

The officer, still clutching Emily
's neck, dragged her out of the bed and shoved her against the door. “Private, you're going to shower. You'll then run the full thirty. I'll let your instructor punish you for your lateness.” The officer traced the baton around Emily's lips. “But only this one time. Do you understand?”

“
Yes, ma'am.” Emily threw off her clothes, raced down the hall and began the morning routine.

At 6:09, her legs still burning from the run, Emily arrived at the closed classroom door and peeked through the slit in the window. Inside, Stallings paced before the podium as he pointed at the projector display—his results
spiel. Predictable enough. She needed to time her stealth entry just right, so when Stallings turned his back to the hallway, Emily gently pushed open the door.

The hinges still let out a short squeal.

Stallings whipped around. “Private Heath, nice of you to finally join us.”

Emily felt the eyes of everyone in the classroom watch
her as she slinked to an open stool in the front row. “Sorry, sir.”

“
I thought you and Private Winston might have abandoned us.”

Emily looked over her shoulder at the center spot where she normally sat. The three stools were empty. Damon, sitting a row farther back, smiled at her.

“I'm sure she'll grace us with her presence sooner or later.” Stallings stood in front of Emily and leaned across the desk, close to her face. Behind him, her name flashed on the projector screen in the number one position. “Private, do you want the good news or the bad news?”

His words crossed her mind as little more than an undecipherable mumble. She was thinking about Sarah. Was she sick? Fell during the run? Something worse?
Please, don't let it be something worse.

Stallings slammed his fist on the desk.
“Private Heath?”

She gazed at his furled eyebrows.
“Sir?”

“
Good or bad news?”

She already knew the good—at least Stallings
' definition of the word. “The bad, sir.”

“
You were late.”

“
Yes, sir.”

Stallings returned to the podium.
“Think you can still win without your firearm?”

Emily stayed silent.

“As for the good news—congratulations to you and Private Peters. You two set an ACES record for the fastest victory.”

“
Thank you, sir,” Damon said.

Stallings then began his lecture. A few times over the next hour, Emily caught herself sharing glances between the door and three empty stools. A nagging tick in her brain—her subconscious, she guessed—gave her hope that Matt would be behind her. She also hoped Sarah might walk in the room with a smile on her face. Emily needed to see a smile.

Then the door hinge squealed. Sarah staggered into the classroom, legs wobbling under her thin frame as if her own body weight seemed too much for her to manage. She crumpled, and Emily jumped from her seat and threw out her arms, but Stallings had moved a second earlier. He grabbed Sarah's shoulders, and her face buried in his gut. Stains of a purple bruise painted her left cheek.

“
Sit down, Private Heath,” Stallings said.

Emily, seeing that Stallings held Sarah, did what he asked without protest.

He propped Sarah upright and whispered something to her.

Sarah
's bottom lip quivered. “Yes, sir.” On Sarah's way to the back row, Emily reached out and grazed her hand. She glanced at Emily and forced smile that seemed painful. A trickle of blood dripped out of her nose.

Sarah sat in her usual place, lowering her cheek to the desk. During the remainder of class, she never lifted her head. A puddle of blood spread
around her face and rolled off the side of the desk, and with each splash of red on the carpet, Emily's leg muscles tightened.

The second that Stallings ended class, Emily jumped off her stool, almost leveling a male soldier who was trying to leave the center aisle.
“Sar!” She touched the back of Sarah's neck. Her skin was on fire. “Oh my God. We need to get you to the clinic.”

“
Already been there.” Her voice quivered. “Sent me away.”

Emily turned to Stallings, who reclined in his desk chair.
“Sir, she needs help.”

“
I'm sorry, Private. She knew the risks involved in this trial.” He went to the computer and tapped the keys until a document appeared on the projector screen. “Here's her consent form. Take note of line thirty-seven.”

Ailments will not be treated under any condition.

“Unbelievable,” Emily said. “You heartless bastard.”

Stallings jabbed his finger toward the door.
“Private, get the hell out of my classroom. And take her with you.”

“
Are you blind? She can't even walk.”

“
If I have to call the MPs, neither of you will be walking. You have ten seconds.”

Sarah clutched Emily
's arm and pulled. “It's okay. I can do this.”

“
Get some food in her,” Stallings said. “She'll be fine.”

“
Food?” Sarah asked. “Here? Make me better? They
are
trying to kill us.” Sarah smiled. “Hey, I still got it.”

“
That's an order, privates.”

At the door and holding Sarah steady, Emily glared at Stallings.

Later in the mess hall, Emily finished her plate and watched Sarah pick at the edges of her outward-creeping goo. A piece of blood-soaked toilet paper dangled from her left nostril. Her skin color was ashen white, and blood vessels formed a road map across her eyes.

An empty silence lingered at their table. Raven and Matt weren
't around to talk, and Emily and Sarah's classmates had chosen different company. Sometimes none at all. Near the serving line, the class jokester supported a tray against his stomach as he ate. A moment later a girl who usually ranked behind Emily in the results joined him. The only other regular at their table, John Simmons, was probably wasting away in a six-by-eight jail cell.

“
They're avoiding us,” Emily said to no one in particular. “Do we look that miserable?”

Sarah dropped her fork.
“You hate me, don't you?”

“
No…”

Sarah stared at the empty seat beside Emily.
“I opened my big mouth. I always open my mouth. And now…I'm sorry, Matt.”

“
There's nothing for Matt to forgive. John used you. He wanted revenge. If you hadn't told him about Rizzo, he would have found someone else to do it. But you didn't force Matt to stop John. You didn't make him jump in front of the blade. No one did. Matt and Matt alone made the decision.”

Sarah wiped away a tear from the corner of her eye.
“Just admit it, Em. I'm pathetic. I should have died in the hospital.”

“
Don't say that.”

“
It's true.”

“
Not even cl—”

“
You know why I was late to class?” Sarah interrupted. “I overslept. My roommate didn't try to wake me. The officers didn't even come in my room. I got up and ran into the hall, where like ten of them were laughing at me.” Her tears soaked the wad of bloody toilet paper. “They called me a traitor. Said I murdered my friend. Said I was next. Then Stallings tells me I've lost my gun until my squad wins. You know that's never going to happen.”

“
I'll talk to Stallings. Maybe I can get you in my squad or at least get you back your gun.”

“
I don't want it back. I want to go home, Em. I can't stay here.”

Emily stood, walked around the table and sat beside Sarah.
“We'll finish this together. We'll go home together. Promise me you'll try.”

For a moment Sarah slowly shook her head.
“I'm dying. That's how I'm going home.”

“
No, you're not.” Emily draped her arm across Sarah's shoulders. “You can't. You're all I have left here.”

“
No,” Sarah screamed, and shrugged away Emily's arm. “Matt was who you had. He was your best friend, and I killed him. How can you even look at me?”

“
This isn't your fault.”

“
I'm sorry.” Sarah shoved her tray across the table and ran to the exit.

“
Sar?” Emily shouted.

Sarah didn
't answer, and her whimpers grew faint until she disappeared into the hall.

A female MP marched up to Emily and tapped her nightstick on the table.
“Is she coming back to finish her tray?”

Emily, glancing left and right at the myriad of eyes on her, hesitated to answer.

“Well?”

“
I'll take it for her, ma'am. It's not a big deal.”

“
Yes, it is, so don't touch it.” She squeezed the baton handle and sprinted out of the mess hall.

Emily grabbed both trays, dumped the untouched pile of mush in the trash and left the dishes with a frail, hairnet-wearing black man. She returned his half-smile and headed for the hallway. She reached the first intersection, when Sarah
's cries resonated in the distance. They were growing louder, clearer, more desperate. Then Sarah stumbled into view, herded toward the mess hall by the MP's quick jabs to her spine. “We don't allow food to go to waste here, soldier. You're going to eat every last bite.”

Sarah glanced at Emily. The toilet paper had slipped out of her nose, letting the blood drip freely again. Wrinkles of wear marred her face.

A brief flash of Vasquez appeared in Emily's mind—a subconscious warning perhaps. She ignored it. “I emptied her tray.”

“
Both of you can finish another plate.” The MP dug her fingers in Emily's arm, but Emily slapped away her hand. For a moment the woman froze, as though she asked herself if that really happened. Then she whipped the jet-black baton over her head. Emily took a deep breath and prepared for the blow.

“
Lieutenant,” a voice shouted. The expected pain never came. Captain Stallings stood at the end of the hallway with his arms crossed.

“
Sir?” the MP said.

“
I'll take care of this. Return to the mess hall.”

“
But sir?”

“
That's an order, Lieutenant.”

The MP glared at Emily and Sarah.
“If I see you two again—”

“
Now, Lieutenant.”

She scowled and marched away.

Stallings stared at the two girls through narrowed eyes. “Private Winston, your little stunt cost you another month of service. Now get out of here before I call back the Lieutenant.”

“
Another month?” Emily asked, appalled. “You can't do that.”

“
I just did.” He looked at Sarah, who seemed like she waited for him to change his mind. “Disappear Winston.”

Sarah gazed at the carpet.
“Yes—sir.” When she rounded the corner, a minute or so passed before her sobs faded beneath the mess hall noise.

“
Leave her alone,” Emily said. “She's already under enough stress.”

“
To my side now, Private. We need to talk.”

Emily didn
't move.

“
Private, I'm not going to tell you again.”

“
What do you want?”

Stallings didn
't answer. He held his closed hand in front of his gut. One by one, his fingers shot out—a countdown.

Before the last finger sprung from his hand, Emily sighed.
“Where are we going?”

Stallings
didn't answer, and Emily followed him until they reached an office in the south wing. Cherry-stained furniture decorated the quaint room, and two leather chairs rested on opposite sides of the desk. A thousand books, separated in three categories—tactical, operations and command—filled a room-length bookshelf. Two volumes caught Emily's attention, titles she recognized from her short visit to Matt's room.