“Here,” the pervert said, destroying the image in mid scene.
Emily opened her eyes. The pervert stood over her, holding out the inhaler with his fully extended arm. She took the container and put the tip in her mouth—anything to keep up the act. The medicine's bitter taste lingered in her throat as she inserted the breathing tube. Then the pervert pressed a sequence of buttons.
Again with the beach? When did I go there? Who were those people?
The world faded.
A scrap of paper and a gum wrapper fluttered past Emily's boots, across the desolate alleyway. The buildings around her stretched upward until they appeared to sway in the sky, and a breeze filtered through her fatigues. Soon soldiers, two girls and one guy, huddled around her. Sarah's grand scheme played in her mind. But which one planned to kill her?
Then red text scrolled in her visor.
Objective: Secure the rooftops by eliminating all enemy forces.
Oh shit. Did I miss a day? I'm not supposed to be A1 until tomorrow.
“Orders, ma'am?” a familiar voice asked. Raven shouldered her rifle.
Emily paused. Goosebumps. Safety off. All right, just try not to mess up too bad. She scanned both directions. Streets at each end. “Left,” Emily said—a guess. “Let's see what we're dealing with. Stick to the walls.”
She led her squad to the end of the alleyway and, while still hidden in the shadows, checked the streets. Across from her loomed a silver-plated office building. Beams of sunlight reflected off its opaque windows and cast a blanket of warmth into the air.
“Is it clear?” Raven asked.
Emily looked down both ends of the street. “Seems like it.” She stepped out of the darkness, and not a second later the pavement in front of her boots erupted, pelting her with chunks of asphalt. Automatic gunfire reverberated from every corner of the virtual city. “Back!” Emily spun around, but her squad was already halfway to the insertion point. She backpedaled, keeping her gun aimed at an unseen enemy, until she rejoined her team. They hunched over and gasped for air.
“We're sitting ducks in this alley,” said A2, also a girl. “The other way?”
Raven inched toward the opposite street.
“Wait,” Emily said. “Wouldn't they expect us to go the other way?”
“Maybe,” A2 said.
Emily pointed at the silver-plated building. “Stay together. We'll sprint to it.”
“Are you sure?” Raven asked, and glanced in both directions.
“They'll be waiting for us on the other side. We can do this. Trust me.”
Raven shrugged. “You're the boss.”
Emily dug the tips of her boots into the asphalt. “Ready?” She stared down the hundred or so feet of cement between her and safety.
“Let's do it,” A2 said.
Emily kicked off first. The thud of boots slapping pavement bounced from wall to wall as they closed in on daylight. The shadows receded, and they were in the street, exposed, a clear target. Then the wail of a scream, faint at first, grew closer. Automatic gunfire soon followed, shredding the surrounding concrete in a circle of rocks. Emily pushed harder, across the yellow centerline and to the sidewalk. Not slowing, she rammed her shoulder against the building door. Glass shattered, and a soft mass slammed against her, knocking her to the lobby floor. A sudden weight dropped on her back, then another and another. Air exploded from her lungs.
She managed to squeeze the question through her lips. “Is everyone okay?”
“I am,” A2 said. The load lightened.
“Me, too,” A3 said. It eased again.
Raven climbed off Emily's back. “So who screamed?”
The four soldiers looked out to the street. There, in a pool of blood, lay the unnaturally twisted body of a dead defender.
“He must have run to the ledge too fast,” Emily said.
“I wonder how bad that hurts in the morning,” Raven asked.
Emily cringed at the pretzel-like bend in the defender's neck. “I don't want to know.”
Her squad nodded in agreement.
Emily turned and surveyed the lobby. Darkness? Blank sheets of paper scattered on the floor? A stairwell in the corner? A door where a certain soldier disappeared last night? “Wait a second. Raven, didn't Stallings say the Sim changed every day?”
“Yes.” Raven glanced around. “This building does look familiar. I could swear I died in one with a similar interior, but I don't know if it's identical.”
“Not me. This is the building where I died.”
“The simulated maps are large,” A3 said. “Probably a pain to make. I'd imagine they have to reuse them quite often.”
“But that guy was on the roof,” Emily said. “I bet his squad is there, too. At least they were last night.” She motioned to the stairwell. “Keep your guns aimed up, and stay against the walls. Don't enter the top floor until I do.”
A3 moved to the stairwell, where he sent his foot into the door. It shot open with a familiar squeal of metal. “Defen—” Bullets tore through A3's chest before he finished the warning. Strands of bloody cloth dangled from his shirt, and he sailed backward. His helmet bounced off the floor as he slid across a pool of his own blood. Emily and Raven dove for the left side of the door, beyond the defender's line of sight. A2 planted her back against the right side. Two more shots hit A3, this time in the stomach. If by some miracle he lived through the first onslaught, Emily didn't envy his additional suffering.
The gunfire stopped. In a flash of speed, Emily peeked around the corner and then pulled her head back. “Only one.” She jumped inside the stairwell, her finger already on the trigger.
The defender pounded his fist against his rifle, apparently trying to fix a jam, as he stared at the attackers from his position on the first flight of stairs. Emily smashed down on her trigger while Raven moved in and did the same. The defender convulsed, slammed by two entire magazines of bullets. Soon the clicking sound of two empty gun chambers accompanied the thump of his helmet cracking each stair on his descent to the ground floor. His mangled body settled at Emily's feet.
Raven nudged his arm with her boot. “Em, want to see my Sarah impression?” She stood over the dead defender, lifted her gun and pumped it in the air. “I am the queen of mean. Bow before my almighty awesomeness.”
Under her helmet, where no one could see, Emily's lips creased into a smile. “Reload. Let's get to the top and finish this.”
As they ascended, silence filtered down the stairwell, broken only by the gentle tap of footsteps. Emily knew what waited at the top, but if the defenders used the same tactics as last night, she may live through this. Her team might actually win this thing.
When they reached the top floor, Emily motioned Raven and A2 to stay behind while she crept inside the familiar room. It was empty. The overturned chairs and desks remained unchanged from what she remembered. “Move now. Take positions on both sides of the door. Get ready to fire.”
After they did, Emily made a beeline down the center aisle. With each step, she closed in on the door, and her heart raced faster. She passed the halfway point, the place where her previous squad-leader died, but the door remained shut. Come out. Please, come out. Prove me right.
It was as if the defenders read her mind; the door shot open with the ever-familiar flood of sunlight. Emily ducked beneath a cubicle as a crackle of gunfire zipped over her head. Particles of wood and cushion fabric rained down on her back. Behind her, screams and cries of agony rang out. Multiple thuds shook the floor until the final shot echoed.
“Clear,” A2 shouted.
Emily dusted off her shoulders and rejoined Raven and A2 at the broken door, where five lifeless defenders now lay in a growing circle of blood. “Great job.”
Words scrolled across the interior of her visor.
33% of objective complete. Stasis time reduced.
“We just earned a bit more sleep for the night,” Emily said.
“Woohoo,” A2 shouted.
But Raven stood motionless. Fog misted on the inside of her visor, and she grabbed her stomach and bent over.
Emily placed her hand on Raven's shoulder. “Are you okay? Where did they get you?”
“I didn't get shot. It's just a bit of pain.” Emily could hear Raven's short breaths. “I think I pulled a muscle in the fight. I can keep going.”
“What next?” A2 asked.
“Secure the roof,” Emily said. “But if we need to wait, we will.”
“No, I can do it,” Raven said, and moved behind A2.
Emily nodded hesitantly and lowered her boot on the first step, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the sunlight. Clouds floated low on the horizon of the pristine blue sky with the same clarity she remembered from—from where?
Images flashed in her mind. Rolling acres of freshly mowed grass and trimmed shrubbery surrounded a Victorian house with hand-carved columns. Near the front door, a man sat in a chair and read the Wall Street Journal. Specks of gray hair dotted his temples. He glanced over the top of the paper. “She isn't here right now, Emily, but she'll be home soon. Do you want to wait for her?”
“Who will be home soon?” Emily asked.
“Who are you talking to?” A2 asked.
Emily reached under her helmet and felt the moisture of a tear. Why am I crying? Focus. Focus. “Sorry, let's do this.”
Emily crept up the stairs and onto the roof. Pebbles crunched under her boots as she approached a brick utility shed. She went to the corner and inched her head around the side, while A2 moved to the opposite corner and did the same. Another shed sat near the street-facing ledge.
“See anything?” Emily asked.
“Nothing,” A2 replied, and checked a second time. “Think we killed all of them?”
“I don't know.” It seemed too easy. “A2, take the left. Raven, we'll take the right.”
Raven lowered to one knee and groaned. A trickle of blood dropped from under her helmet. “My back hurts so much.” She took three deep breaths.
“Something's wrong,” Emily said. “Are you sure you didn't get shot?”
Raven pulled the fatigues away her body. “I don't think so.”
“You don't have to do this. We're safe behind this shed. I bet we could hold it until the Sim ends.”
“No, I…I want to win. For you, Em.”
Emily hesitated. “Will you stay behind me?”
Raven nodded.
“On three.” She pointed at A2. “On three.”
Emily lifted a finger, then two, and on the third she sprinted around the shed and across the roof. Raven hobbled at Emily's side. Tan pebbles bounced off the tips of their boots. A position near the ledge would give them the high ground. Once there, they would be able to see the entire city, see any defender positions. They'd own the advantage. It was so close.
Then a red stream exploded out of A2's back; the roar of a gunshot reached the roof a second later. Raven spun to retreat, but two bullets tore through her arm and neck. Her legs buckled under her own weight, and when she skidded headfirst across the roof, her helmet entrenched beneath a crest of pebbles.
Emily slid to a stop. Three more shots whizzed by her and embedded into the utility shed. She turned and zigzagged back, trying to avoid some unseen defender's aim, until she leapt for safety. A final bullet pierced the rock wall of the building. With her heart racing outside of any healthy limit, she checked her fatigues for holes.
“Still alive?” a guy shouted.
Shit.
“Whoa. My snipers wasted your two mates. That's what you get for taking out my squad.” His voice carried a New York twang.
Emily checked her gun and mumbled to herself. “I hate New York. I don't know why, but then again, that's the story of my life.” She peeked around the corner. The defender, clad in pure black and wearing a visor like hers, did the same from the cover of the opposite utility shed.
He also held out his gun. Bullets dug into the bricks near Emily's head, spraying her visor with powdered grit. She spun back behind cover.
“Stick it out again,” he shouted.
“You first,” she answered.
“A girl? This'll be even sweeter when I waste you. And your two squad-mates were girls, too? Wow. I need to thank you for the week of hell I'm going to give my boys. Why don't you come out here so I can shake your hand?”
“Not a chance.”
Bursts of automatic gunfire echoed over the rooftops. “Hear that?” he asked. “That's me emptying a clip in your teammate. Her mother won't be able to recognize her when I'm done.”
Emily darted to the other side of the shed and stuck her head and gun around the corner. The defender, out in the open and in full view of every city rooftop, sent a round of bullets through A2's dead body. Emily took aim, each breath controlled and precise, and squeezed the trigger. After the first shots cracked the pebbles near his feet, he spun, running for safety. She now jerked the trigger all the way against the metal backstop. A stream of bullets buried into the opposite shed, a ventilation shaft, even dead air. Everything except her intended target. She ducked back behind cover.
“You can do better.” A hint of nervousness lingered in his voice.
Emily ejected the empty magazine and removed a fresh one from her knapsack. With her trembling hands, she rattled the new magazine against the bottom of the rifle as she tried to insert it. Stay focused. The magazine clicked, and she jerked back on the bolt.
“Holy shit,” the defender shouted. “This one's still alive. Emily? Is that your name? I think she wants to tell you something. Sounds important.” Shots rang out again, and he laughed. “Oops. I guess she'll have to tell you later.” He fired again.
His gun clicked—the joyous sound of an empty magazine—and Emily sprinted out from behind the shed. By then, the defender was halfway to safety. Not good enough. “Got you.” Her first shot punctured his ass; the rest planted into his back. He fell to the ground, dead, still clutching his tailbone. “Enjoy the timer.”
Then a burning sensation crawled across her chest, and a boom echoed from a distant building. Emily looked down her body, where her fatigues shined with moisture. “Oh, no.” Another round sliced through her arm. Her knees knocked against each other, and she crumpled. The wonderful blue sky disappeared in the growing darkness.
The world faded.
You Are Dead!
Overall time:
One hour, two minutes, seventeen seconds.
Squad leader success:
Thirty-three percent.
Adjusted state of death time remaining:
Four hours, twenty-one minutes, thirty-one seconds.
Emily's ethereal smile pushed the pain somewhere in the back of her mind. She'd achieved something rare, and even if her team didn't win, the idea of extra sleep and bragging rights tomorrow morning sufficed. The re-piecing of broken images could wait. The shortened timer replaced the need to dream.
But less than five minutes later, the timer disappeared.
The Sim chamber came into focus, and a strange hand pulled the breathing tube from her mouth. A male officer was standing over her when she surfaced. “Head to your quarters immediately. Don't change. Don't towel off. Just go.”
“What's going on?”
“Now,” he shouted. He ran off to assist other white-coats and MPs who scurried around the chamber. After she climbed out of the vat, a scream for help came from the back of the room.
Then the out-of-place morning alarm blared. “All trial soldiers are ordered to remain in their quarters until further notice.”
Emily, still dripping with Sim ooze, crammed inside the elevator. Her confused expression mirrored that of her fellow riders, even the defenders, who rarely rode the elevators with attacker soldiers.
Sometime later, she entered her room, where Maggie was toweling a glob of Sim gel out of her ear. “What's going on?” Emily asked.
Maggie shrugged. “I died almost twenty minutes into the session, but after an hour of
darkness, the Sim terminates. Then some nasty MP kicks me out of the chamber.” She tossed the towel on the floor. “But I'm not about to complain. I haven't enjoyed eight hours of sleep since I left home.”
“Good point.”
Emily turned off her light and curled up in bed. The clock displayed 20:43. She hoped the nightmares let her sleep, at least for one night.
Once the morning alarm ended, Maggie inched her legs off the mattress and rubbed her eyes. For a moment she stared at the door, squinting. “What's that?” She knelt down and grabbed a folded paper off the floor.
Emily sat up. “What's it say?”
Maggie's eyes zipped left and right and then bulged. “Oh my God.” She shoved the paper toward Emily. “Read!”
Emily took it.
To All Personnel:
Due to human error, a critical system failed on the ACES module last night. We have conducted an extensive investigation into the matter, and the responsible party has been removed from the OPS controller position and disciplined.
Unfortunately, the nature of the problem had dire consequences. One of your fellow soldiers passed away in the night. Several others were injured but should make a full recovery. Army Command takes this matter very seriously and will make certain that an incident such as this does not reoccur.
We have contacted the family of the fallen soldier and received their approval to honor her with a memorial service. Until that time, all soldiers are required to follow their regular schedules. However, all personnel shall be allowed to attend and honor our fallen ally—
Emily stopped at the name. “No. No. No.” Tears welled in her eyes.
“What?” Maggie asked. “Do you know her?”
“Raven, I'm so sorry. Please, forgive me.” Emily dug her fingers into the sheets.
Maggie cradled her arms around Emily. “Who was she?”
“We rode here together. She was in the Sim with me last night. I was the commander…she followed me to her death.”
Walking Ghost Phase Page 13
