Battle Dress (27 page)

“Man!” Cero said, wiping his face on his shoulder. “That was like wrestling an octopus or something.” He squirmed around, repositioning himself so he had both fists securely around the third chain, his chest across the second, and his thighs weighing down the first nearest our end.

“Good job, Cero! You did great.” I turned to Kit and said, “Ready?”

Kit winked. “I was born ready.”

I watched until Kit had grabbed onto Cero’s calves and was pulling himself over the small sawdust gap. Then I went over to where Ping and Gabrielle were checking out the equipment.

“Well,” I said, “I guess Cero and Bogus have everything under control.”

“Look, Bogus,” I heard Cero from the sawdust pit behind me, “you’re really not a bad guy. But don’t be getting close and personal on me now.”

“On second thought . . .” I laughed, then nodded at the supplies. “So tell me. Is that stuff as heavy as usual?”

Ping shook his head. “Well, the ammo boxes aren’t filled with rocks this time, so they’re considerably lighter.”

“Yeah,” Gabrielle said, “Even I can lift them. And that barrel—how much would you say it weighs? Not more than forty pounds?”

Ping shrugged. “Forty, fifty, something like that. But I’ll bet you anything”—he patted the barrel—“this baby, going over those chains and all, will be our Achilles’ heel.”

“Hey, Bogus! Watch those knees! I’ve had those kidneys for twenty-two years, and I sort of want to keep them!”

We turned from the supplies to watch Kit pull himself over Cero’s head and reach for the last chain.

“Quit . . . your . . . sniveling, Big Guy,” Kit grunted. “You’re yowling like a cat in a poke.”

“Listen here,
Country
,” Cero said, “instead of beating me in the face with your size twelves, hook them on this chain
here
.” Cero grabbed one of Kit’s feet, guiding it to the chain weighed down with his own chest. “That’s it. Now the other one.”

I had an improvement. “Hey, Cero,” I yelled. “Can you also try holding Kit’s legs while grabbing the chain? You know, by linking your arms under his shins? It might be more stable that way. You think?”

“Yeah, probably,” Cero said. “And that way I can be
sure
his feet stay clear of my face.”

Sending Hickman over our manmade bridge produced more groans and grunts as he went from lying on top of Kit to balancing on hands and knees to squatting, and finally, to standing. Then, with a little bounce, Hickman bounded up the wall.

“I might not be the most buffed guy in the world,” Kit said, “but just for the record, Hickman, I am not a springboard.” Kit momentarily released the chain with his left hand to rub his right shoulder. “I tell you what: I’ve always admired those ol’ martyrs of the faith. But I just don’t feel like being drawn and quartered today. Maybe tomorrow, but not today.”

“Quit your bellyachin’, Bogus,” Hickman said from his perch on the top of the wall. “I’m not the guy giving the orders around here. Davis said to cross the bridge and climb the wall, remember? I did what I had to do.” Then he looked down at me. “And we’re in luck, Davis, ’cause I’m still alive. And we’ve got no more mines to worry about up here or on the other side.”

I felt a slight relief. “Great!”
One less thing to worry about.
I smiled to myself.
Things are really starting to come together. I can’t believe it—I’m actually doing this!
I glanced at the ammo boxes and fuel barrel, rope and board.
So what’s next?
I ran my jagged thumbnail across my upper lip, thinking. I had a pretty good idea of what to do, but I needed to bounce my plan off someone else, just to be sure. I turned to Ping. “So, send more people across? What do you think?”

Ping smiled. “What do
you
think, Andi?”

He was right. I was the leader. I had to be the one making the decisions. I looked back at the obstacle. “Well . . . I guess we should pass the stuff across assembly-line style, like we’ve done on most of the other obstacles.”

Ping nodded. “Probably.”

“So that means we’ll need people on the obstacle—someone on the other side of the wall, someone on top of the wall, someone at the far end of the bridge, and someone here”—I stamped my foot near the red piping—“to, you know, start passing the stuff.”

Ping leaned closer to me. “If it were me, Andi,” he said casually, “I’d put one man in the middle of the bridge, too.”

I nodded. “Oh, that’s right! Because otherwise, the reach will be too long.” I quickly counted the people I’d already planned on using and came up with five. “And we have a couple extra people, so that won’t be a problem.”

I looked at my watch. Five out of the thirteen minutes were already spent.
We’ve got to hustle!
A new burst of adrenaline spurred me on. “Okay, guys. This is the plan. We’re going to pass the supplies across. But to do that, we’ll need people at different spots on the obstacle. Bonanno, I want you to cross next. Okay? All the way to the other side of the wall.”

Bonanno nodded and reached over the sawdust for Cero’s calves.

“Hickman, I want you right where you are. Okay? And if Bonanno needs help, you can give him a hand.”

Hickman leaned over the side of the wall and spat into the sawdust. “Whatever.”

His attitude bothered me, but I wasn’t about to let him intimidate me now. Ignoring him, I turned quickly to Ping. Of all the members in my squad, I felt the most awkward giving Ping orders. “And Ping, you can be the guy on the far end of the bridge, closest to the wall. You’ll be passing the stuff up to Hickman. Is that okay by you?”

“It’s okay by me.”

That left Jason, Gabrielle, and me without jobs.

I looked over at the supplies. One of us would have to reach them over the sawdust to the obstacle. The barrel was lighter than usual, but still heavy. And remembering the other obstacles, I figured the ammo boxes would be awkward. I knew
I
wasn’t strong enough for the job . . . and neither was Gabrielle.

Unbelievable—I’m the leader and look what happened—Bryen and Davis out of the action. Again.

I turned to Jason. “Well, it looks like you’ll be doing most of the lifting.” Then I looked at Gabrielle. “And you’ll . . .”

“Don’t tell me,” she said. “You want me to take the middle of the bridge, right?” She glanced at the obstacle and licked her lips. “So, where do you want me? You want me to sit on Cero?”

I nodded. She was staring at the barrel and twisting her hair, looking doubtful. I could tell she was worried about the weight.

“You can do it, Gab. You’re the Push-up Queen, remember ? Just go where you can reach the stuff that Jason passes to you
and
stay clear of the mines.”

Less than four minutes later everyone was in position. Jason and I started passing the stuff across, starting with the ammo boxes. I decided that the six-foot board was nothing but a distractor and sent it over too, saving the barrel for last.

“We are smokin’!” Hickman yelled, slapping his hands together. “Send that puppy over!”

Jason moved to pick up the barrel. “One barrel of sugar water, coming right up.”

“Hold on,” I said. “What about the rope?”

Jason sighed. “What
about
the rope, Andi? One of us will just take it when we cross over.”

“Yeah . . . but maybe we’ll need it to, you know, pull the barrel up and over the wall. We could tie one end of the rope around the barrel. And once the barrel gets across the bridge to Ping, he can toss the other end up to Hickman.”

“Whatever you want, Andi,” Jason said. “You’re the boss.” We got right to work, looping the rope around the barrel, securing it with a tight square knot.

“That oughtta do it,” Jason said, moving to pick up the barrel again.

“Uh . . . shouldn’t we wrap the excess rope around the barrel first? You know, as a precaution? So we don’t lose the rope to the mines?”

Jason sighed again, but he wound the excess rope around the barrel anyway. “I’ll tuck the end . . . right under . . . here . . . and she’s ready to travel.” He picked up the barrel.

“Wait one more second, Jason,” I said. “Let me think this through one last time.” I looked from the barrel to Ping, then from Ping to Hickman, straddling the top of the wall.
That thing may be too heavy to just pass across. Especially since the bridge is so unstable....
I looked at Gabrielle. She was staring at the barrel again, twirling that strand of hair.
What if the barrel
is
too heavy for her and she drops it? And her knee . . .
I chewed on my thumbnail.
Oh . . . I don’t know! Would it be better to toss the end of the rope up to Hickman
now
instead of later? Then he could alleviate some of the weight while they’re passing the barrel across. Or won’t the rope be long enough for that?

“So?” Jason said, looking at his watch. “Is there some kind of problem, Andi? Or can we get on with this? We’ve only got about five minutes left!”

For the first time all summer Jason actually looked annoyed with me. And it made me nervous. I tried to smile. “Uh, no. I mean,
yes
—go ahead. Forget it. It was . . . nothing.”

Jason shook his head and reached the barrel over the sawdust to Gabrielle.

“Wait!” Gabrielle screamed, her hands fluttering between one end of the barrel and the rope around its middle. “Don’t let go, Jason! I don’t have it yet. Oh, where should I grab it?”

“How should
I
know?” Jason yelled. “Am I there with you?
Just grab it!
”

“Grab the rope around the middle, Gab,” I yelled, pointing. “Then pass it to Ping—quickly!”

“Okay, okay, okay!” Gabrielle grabbed the rope with both hands. “It’s . . . way . . . too heavy! I’m going to drop it!
Somebody help!
”

“Ping!” I yelled.

“I’m on my way!” Ping crawled over Kit from his post near the wall.

“Put it down on my back, Gab,” Cero said. “I can take the weight for a couple of seconds. Just keep it steady so it doesn’t roll off.”

“Okay . . .”

“All right, Gab,” Ping said, now straddling Cero’s back behind Gabrielle. “Scoot over. I’ll take it from here.”

Gabrielle cautiously edged around the barrel. Then she crouched over Cero’s calves. Ping had taken her place, the barrel between them.

Ping quickly unwrapped the excess rope from around the barrel, then looked up the wall at Hickman. “Hey! Catch!”

Hickman nodded, and Ping tossed the end of the rope up to him, underhand.

I chewed on the inside of my lip.
That’s what I wanted to do! Why didn’t I say something?
Jason had unnerved me. But I knew that was just an excuse.

“Now, Hickman,” Ping said, “on the count of three, I’m going to push the barrel toward the wall. At the same time, you’ve got to pull like there’s no tomorrow and get that barrel up there. We probably should’ve done this in the first place.” I noted a tone of aggravation in his voice. It was slight, but it was there.

“Well . . .” I cocked my head and smiled, trying to make everyone like me again. “I had thought of that, guys, but—”

“
Thinking
about it,” Hickman said, “doesn’t count for squat.” Then he nodded at Ping. “I’m ready when you are.”

I blinked, like I had just been smacked across the face.
Well, what did you expect? A “That’s good, Andi! It’s the thought that counts”? Well, Hickman’s right. You didn’t trust yourself, and you blew it.
I focused on the barrel, wishing I were anywhere but where I was.

Ping looked at Gabrielle over the barrel. “I could sure use some help pushing this thing from your end.” Then he turned back to Hickman. “Okay, ready? One . . . two . . . three!” Ping and Gabrielle pushed the barrel, and Hickman pulled the rope. The barrel slammed against the wall, then bumped its way up, inch by inch, until it stopped, dangling at the end of the rope about three feet from the top.

“Ping,” Hickman gasped, “give me . . . a hand here . . . will you?”

Ping scrambled back to his original position on Kit’s shoulders. Steadying himself against the wall, he stretched upward until he was just able to tap the barrel with his fingertips.

Then it happened, quick as a camera flash. But to me the few seconds took hours to play out, stretching before me in slow motion, frame by frame.

I saw Ping’s upward shove and Hickman’s tug, the barrel clearing the top of the wall. I saw Hickman grab the rope around the barrel’s middle and shout, “Yes! I’ve got it!” before he twisted around, lowering it down to Bonanno on the other side of the wall. I saw Ping throw his arms back, giving Hickman a thumbs-up, then stumble, his left foot slipping off Kit and slamming onto the padded chain held between Kit’s hands. I saw the padded chain move forward, Ping lurching with it, and Kit collapse, slipping between the chains. I saw Kit’s face hit the sawdust, his feet shoot upward, smashing into Cero’s face, then catching on the chains. I saw Cero rear his head back and yell. Blood from his nose ran down Kit’s boots and drip . . . drip . . . dripped onto the sawdust below.

And then I heard heavy footsteps charging through the sawdust, and Cadet Daily, with Cadet Tooley right on his heels, yelling, “Don’t anyone move! Davis, talk to me! What happened?” But all I could do was think about Kit, moaning beneath the obstacle, and Cero, his blood darkening the sawdust.

“Sir . . . I”—I waved weakly at the obstacle—“Kit, I mean . . .
Bogus
, sir . . . and Cero—”

Kit dragged himself out from underneath the obstacle and staggered to his feet, holding his right arm tightly against his chest.

Cadets Daily and Tooley turned away from me and rushed over to Kit. “I thought I said, ‘Don’t move!’ ” Cadet Daily yelled. Then his tone softened. “What’s with the arm, Bogus?”

“Sir . . . it’s my . . . shoulder, sir. It hurts. Bad.”

“Where?” yelled Cadet Tooley. “Which one?”

Ping sprang from the obstacle. “Let’s get his shirt off, sir. I’ll bet he’s got a dislocated shoulder. The way that chain flew forward . . . I bet it yanked his arm right out of its socket.”