Walking Ghost Phase (25 page)

“
I'm here to cash in.”

Outside the classroom, the shake officer looked over Emily, whose stomach rumbled in a low growl. His eyes finally showed a hint of recognition.
“Are you sure?”

The pink liquid beckoned her. Just one bottle would stop the uncomfortable churning. The instant dose of sugar and subsequent crash might make class more than tolerable. Still, it wasn
't worth the risks: feeling nauseous, dealing with cramps, getting distracted by the sudden urge to pee. No, she wanted all her senses aware when Stallings revealed Matt's victory. “I'm sure.”

Alone in the classroom, she stared at the wall clock—five minutes left.

Damon sauntered through the door first. A fresh bruise covered the right side of his neck, and he looked at her as if she disgraced his honor by beating him to class. “Morning, Heath. How'd you do last night?”

“
Not bad. I stayed alive for awhile.”

“
Me too. Can't wait to hear the results.”

Not today, you don
't.

Sarah
, covering her forehead, arrived a minute later.

“
Bad death?” Emily asked.

Sarah
plopped down on the stool with a tail-bone shattering thud. “So there I am, trying to show this defender my gun twirling skills, but the dude rips off my helmet and uses the ass-end of his rifle to knock me out cold. I don't have a clue how he killed me.” She shuddered. “Oww, my poor, poor body.”

Emily pulled Sarah
's hand away and studied the purple forehead marking. “It—says something.”

“
Yeah,
Property of Greaver.”

Emily turned her head, hiding her face from Sarah. Tears welled in her eyes, when a high-pitched bark escaped her lips.

“Laugh it up, Chuckles.”

Emily did.

Then Matt walk through the door, and it was as if someone pressed the mute button to Emily's voice. Her expression went blank and breathing slowed. As he made his way to the back row, his eyes never met hers.

Stallings came in soon after.
“Good morning, class.”

“
Morning, sir,” everyone replied.

“
Do I have a treat for you all today.” Even after he dimmed the room lights—far from his normal routine—his face still glowed with the giddiness of a child. He powered on the projector. “Last night another squad achieved the objective. It was also one of the most impressive victories anyone on this base has ever witnessed.”

Sarah leaned against Emily.
“Is he talking about Matt? What did he do?”

Emily shrugged. She
'd wondered the same last night, maybe for too long, because her joints now begged for the rock-hard mattress and scratchy sheets.

“
One of your classmates,” Stallings said, “defeated fourteen defenders by himself—without firing a single shot.”

Not a breath or heartbeat sounded as soldiers, their mouths agape, stared at
one another. Stallings clicked the remote control, and the video flickered to life. A top-down camera view followed a single soldier with the number two over his head. Fortunately, Stallings had begun the replay after the part where the deserter left Emily to die.

Matt moved along the cobblestone wall, too distant for enemy fire, and knelt at a bubbling stream. He dropped a chunk of clay into the water and squeezed it in his hands. After working the paste for a moment, he smeared it over his fatigues. The scene played out for ten minutes until his gear lost any resemblance of the original black color. When he stood beside a small hovel, his figure blended in with the adobe backdrop. Emily rolled her eyes at the sound of her classmates
' oohs and ahhs.

After creeping to the inner city, he stopped at the body of a soldier, bent down, sifted through the gear and tossed aside the rope and binoculars. He looked at the grenades before dropping them inside his knapsack. In the background, defenders scurried across the roof, but not one seemed to notice Matt in the open street. As he moved closer to base, he scavenged the battlefield for more grenades. So far Emily had counted six lifeless soldiers.

Then a familiar looking form appeared onscreen. Matt rummaged through Emily's gear for grenades, but once he finished taking them, he waited near her body. He stroked his hand along her motionless neck.

Emily shifted on her stool, while Matt scribbled something on his notepad that occupied him more than the replay. When he tilted the notepad toward her, her knees trembled.

I don't want you to experience this nightmare any longer.
Emily slowly faced the screen again, watching the end with what little attention remained in her.

Matt crawled inside the defenders
' building and checked the bottom floor for enemies. After pouring the grenades in the corner, he set each timer to the maximum ten seconds, removed the strap from his bag and slipped it through the grenade pins, creating an enormous necklace of green pearls.

He dangled the bag strap behind his back and, in one swift motion, swung
it over his head and yanked the strap against his chest. Grenades sailed clear of their clips, littering the corner. Before the last explosive came to rest, Matt had already darted into the dirt street.

The defenders now saw him and scurried to the ledge, probably thrilled to find their final victim so they could get to sleep. They were taking aim, measuring their distance to the target, ready to make the kill.

Then the grenades detonated. A plume of smoke belched from the building, and a massive slab of tan mud rolled down the wall where Matt had dumped the explosives. The corner warped outward and dipped as defenders scrambled to find something to hold; a few climbed over one another or tried to jump for safety. It didn't matter. The roof collapsed, sending a waterfall of bodies into the abyss. Once the tan mist thinned, a top down view of the destruction showed a single, bootless foot poking out of the rubble.

Stallings flipped off the screen and raised the lights. He didn
't say a word. Neither did anyone else. Then a guy in the front row clapped. The rest of the class joined in when Stallings didn't object. Moments later the applause ended and Stallings tapped a few keys on his computer. “Here are the results from last night.”

As usual, m
ost soldiers died early. Sarah finished in the middle, although her leader devised the brilliant idea to storm the defenders' rooftop. By some unknown miracle, Sarah—and only Sarah—managed to get up there. Stallings, of course, quipped about how the enemy would not spare her life because of an impressive rifle-spinning skill. Damon placed second with a respectable hour and a half. Now came the moment. In Emily's head, she heard the booming voice of a beauty-pageant host.
And the winner is…

Stallings walked in front of his podium.
“Private Holcomb?”

“
Yes, sir,” Matt said.

The class clapped again.

Stallings kicked the podium, silencing the room. “Never before has someone on this base accomplished such a feat. I had to watch the replay four times because I thought the higher-ups were playing a joke on me. Can I expect something like this again?”

Matt didn
't answer.

“
Surprise me then, Private.”

“
Yes, sir.”

The rest of the class period went on as usual.

By the time Emily made it to the mess hall, stories of Matt's victory had reached the ears of every soldier at Greaver. Word also spread about how he aided Sarah in her previous victory, which buried her short-lived acclaim somewhere beyond forgotten. A group of defenders, their faces bruised and swollen, glared at Emily's table.

Soon
a girl who Emily recognized as A1 from last night loomed over Matt. When he turned to her, she jabbed her finger in front of his face. “You think you're pretty smart, don't you?”

“
We won,” Matt said. “You got a good night's sleep. What do you want me to say?”

“
I don't care how fancy you did it or how skilled you
believe
you are. You won't always win by yourself.”

“
I don't plan to.”

“
You better, because once everyone figures out who you are and what you represent, you won't have anyone to rely on.” She turned up her nose and stormed to the exit.

Emily leaned closer to Matt.
“She's right. You can't always win on your own.”

“
I know,” he said.

“
Or even if I'm at your side.”

“
At my side? So you're finally with me?”

“
Maybe.”

He nodded.
“Can't win them all.”

Emily entered the elevator at 18:40, earlier than her normal arrivals, and a handful of soldi
ers and a lone defender boarded. Few passengers meant more space, so she dangled her arms and bent her elbows freely. Her breathing eased as she made a mental note to escape her bedroom early every night. Then a soldier planted his butt against her stomach and pushed her against the chilly wall. Her head knocked against metal. He bumped her again. “Do you mind?” she asked.

He glanced over his shoulder.
“I'm not doing it.”

Near the doors, a guy
bobbed above the other soldiers. His upward motion sent a ripple through the bodies until Emily's head smacked the elevator wall, ending the chain reaction.

“
Stop,” a girl said to the bobbing soldier.

“
Can't help it,” he said. “Got a good feeling about tonight. I'm going to get him in my squad.”

“
Not if I get him first,” the girl said. “I could use some extra sleep. I haven't lasted more than an hour since I got here.”

“
Thirty minutes for me,” bobbing-soldier said. “Wonder if I can bribe an OPS dude to place me in his squad.”

The lone defender snorted.
“Are you talking about the guy who blew up the building last night?”

“
Yeah,” the girl said. “He's won two in a row. Bad luck for your side, huh?”

“
It's because he's not a soldier,” the defender said. “Not like you at least. The Army put him here for motivation. To make you attackers believe you can win.”

“
Excuses, excuses,” the girl said.

“
I'm serious. You attackers had zero success before he arrived. We were owning you left and right. Then this dude wins a couple, and you're motivated as hell. You think you might have a chance. I'd say the plan worked.”

“
I doubt it,” Emily said. “I've seen him beat you. He's the real thing.”

“
He's a fraud. You'll all find out soon enough.” He stared at Emily. “You especially. Keep trusting him. See where it gets you.”

“
I will.”
What do I have to lose?

Almost fifteen minutes later, when she lowered into vat 922, she still hadn
't answered the question.