“I---I’m sorry,” Leavitt stammers, to me, “I just thought---I’m sorry, I just assumed one of you put it up here, I was wrong. You’re right, we should just work together. to take this thing down and otherwise.”
“Very good, what’s your name?” I ask, looking him in the eyes.
“Leavitt,” I say, sitting down awkwardly to work on a corner of the flag.
“What’s your first name?” he asks, his eyes burning into mine. I want to look away but I can’t. I don’t want to answer him, but what’s the harm? He’s only asking and he is right. We do need to work together. we should be friends. Try to make to friends here, that’s my problem I never do make friends. Like that girl who flirted with me this morning. I brushed her off I didn’t have to. I don’t need to push people away as I do.
“Quentin,” I say. I haven’t said it since I got here. it feels funny now to say it. “My name’s Quentin.”
Now I own you. I’ll cut off your legs, Quentin. Then you won’t run so fast, will you? You won’t be able to run away from things and people, but mostly me. you won’t be able to run away from me.
“Hello, I’m Liesel, Stowe,” I say, to Quentin, because he and Titus are just staring at each other like hungry raptors.
“Hello, Liesel, that’s a nice name,” Quentin says, awkwardly, turning to me.
There you smiled and said hi to a girl politely, that’s very good. I berate myself. These are going to be my comrades. I should get to know them. quit resisting this.
(I don’t like them---except her she’s okay, I don’t like the guys)
and my ever helpful baby sister would decide mind stalk me right now. usually, I like her input but right now balancing on the roof I don’t.
(oh god don’t fall)
I wasn’t planning on it.
“Well I’m Tyrell Nolan, and I didn’t put your guidon up here either,” the other boy says. he’s the one Liesel said was a trouble maker.
“Ah good, I wonder who did,” Quentin says, awkwardly.
“Probably the MTIs, they like getting us in trouble for stuff they’ve done,” Tyrell says, calmly.
“Ebbel wasn’t very surprised,” I say.
“They wouldn’t,” Liesel says.
“I’m just saying, we should keep our eyes open, they could try to trick us, OCS has a high failure rate,” Tyrell says.
But does it have a high mortality rate? We shall see how our class affects those statistics, eh?
“I agree, we can’t be too careful, we’ll all get 314s for this, Ebbel won’t leave it at us simply taking the thing down,” Titus points out.
“Probably not,” I agree. I really don’t want to spend the night in the brig. Titus came back from there all feverish, and it can’t have been comfortable. And then I won’t get to use my tablet, which means I won’t get messages from my family that won’t be there anyway.
“He can’t do anything without just cause,” Tyrell says, confidently.
“I wouldn’t bet on it,” Quentin says, darkly, fiddling with his end.
“Well aren’t all of you depressing, it’s a lovely day, here we are on a roof in the sunlight, can’t we do something pleasant?” Titus asks.
“Like what?” Quentin asks, almost annoyed.
“Oh, I don’t know, plan how to drive the MTIs absolutely mad and never get 314s pulled, maybe I don’t know,” Titus says, innocently.
“They can pull 314s for anything,” Quentin says, suspiciously.
“Not for something they expressly told me I could do,” Titus says, “Let me explain to you, in song.”
“I leave you alone with them for five minutes and the next thing I know, they’re all on the roof,” I say, glaring at Ebbel.
“Only four of them,” he says, calmly.
“One of whom was running a fever last night---they could break their necks---what are they doing with that guidon?” I ask.
“That is the question,” he says, nodding.
“Ah---why are some of the cadets on the roof?” I ask Ebbel cautiously. I come out late because I don’t want to look like I’m stalking my kid which I am and now----of course. Of course, she’s one of the ones on the roof. The real question is, why did I expect her not to be one of the ones on the roof?
“’Cause one of them put a guidon up there and painted it,” Ebbel says.
“I admit one of them---probably one of the ones on the roof, is responsible but is sending them up there really the best way to get it down?” Wilde asks.
“Yes, what if they fall?” and break their necks or legs and die or are horribly disfigured or---oh hell I’ll just go and stand nearer to the edge in case she does fall.
“They’ll be fine,” Ebbel says, “They are kids, kids climb on stuff all the time, obviously considering one of ‘em put the guidon there, to begin with.”
“They’d better be,” I mutter. Things are getting out of hand. First, the cadet chocking, twice, now this. Thorne’s words come back to me---no. he was drunk and rambling. This isn’t some apocalyptic cloud or whatever he was talking about. this is just cadets and their antics stuff happens all the time, we once had a cadet try to run away, another tried to hack into the mainframe computers. They do little things, this isn’t that abnormal.
“Every one of you is spending the night in the brig,” Ebbel calls, as they one by one begin to descend the ladder. Two of them try to slide down it holding the rungs, like morons. Why are boys so stupid?
Lovely. Ebbel has just sentenced himself to death. Sure I’ll spend the night in the brig. Whatever you say.
I climb down, clutching my poor abused guidon carefully. It isn’t fair, I didn’t do it and now I’ll have to spend the night in that awful place and won’t get to call home.
Those two idiots Card and Nolan slide down the ladder leaving me to clamber slowly like an old man. They wait at the bottom for me, though, or they’re waiting for Liesel yep, waiting for her, I stagger off on my own. I’m no good at climbing on things, I didn’t join the Space Forces because I’m good at climbing over and through things---well not man-made things. I’m good in forests, and I’m good with taking things apart and putting them together not ladders and not spending nights in jail cells. I pull my 314 out angrily. It isn’t fair now I won’t get to call home at all. And I’m already miserable here and now it will be even longer. And my mum was working late last night so I didn’t get to talk to her anyway and now I won’t get to till tomorrow night.
(it’s okay)
No, it’s really not.
(I love you)
I hate it here.
Chapter 9
“I
h—h-hate it here, I just want to go home,” the cadet and I are waiting in the IDMT for the doctor to see us. he is blubbering and I am massaging my head and squinting.
“Ah, me too kid,” I say, patting his head. By now he’s blubbering into my arm. I tried to stop that at first but now I’m simply not bothering. And as a result, he’s basically hugging me and sitting in my lap, but I care so little at this point it’s remarkable.
“Y—y—ou do?” he mumbles, looking at me through red eyes.
“Yeah, well, home is space for me now, space and warships, I wish I were out there,” I say, with a heavy sigh, “Everything’s so much more confused down here.”
“It’s s—s---so weird. I’m not an incompetent person—”
“I kind of think you are---”
“I can do things and I do good at school but here I feel like such a —failure,” he says, sobbing heavily.
“Yeah, well, at least you aren’t having waking dreams of your impending death,” I mutter.
“What?” he asks.
“Never mind,” I say. If I focus too long I can see it all hovering before me. the blackness into which I ‘ll eventually be drawn, my life’s blood draining from my body.
“You’re breathing okay to be bawling that hard, you still want to go?” I ask, leaning over to look at him a little. His neck’s all r
ed and bruised. That can’t be good.
“Yes, I just want to go home,” he says, nodding.
“You’re not going home, half-wit,” I say, “Not for something like this it wasn’t your fault it was an accident. This isn’t real Space Forces, it’s totally different out in the stars. You’ll like it fine, then.”
“R—r-really?” he asks, sitting up and looking in my eyes, so very pathetically.
“Sure you will, everything is clearer out in the stars, and brighter. You can think and see and breathe again and it’s like---you’ve found your place in the universe,” I say, softly.
“That sounds nice,” he says.
“And nobody can say you aren’t good enough or smart enough, because you’re already there, out in the stars, the only one there so there’s nobody else to measure up to because it’s just you. you and space,” I say.
“Really?” he asks.
“Really, nothing but you and the stars and space, space everywhere, for everything, including you,” I say, “You’ll be all right. You’ll live. Not like me, you have a chance.”
“Sir, why don’t you have a chance?” he asks.
“I don’t---I don’t know, I just know, it’s over for me. not yet, maybe, not just yet, but I’ve been so far, I’ve seen the other side, a part of the other side—and it’s coming back to haunt me,” I say, shaking my head, “I don’t expect that to make sense.”
“It’s okay, I won’t tell anyone,” he says.
“Okay,” I say, smiling a little. He means he won’t tell anyone I’m crazy. That’s okay, I guess. They don’t need to know. “Our secret?”
“Uhuh,” he says, nodding and wiping his nose on his sleeve.
“Who’s next?” a doctor opens the door to his office, fiddling with a tablet and only looking up at us briefly through thick glasses.
“We are---come on,” I say, helping the cadet to his feet.
“Both of you?” the doctor asks, looking confused.
“Yes---well I’m escorting him, I just need some pain killers,” I say, walking past him into the office. I help the cadet sit on the examination table. he’s a bit too short to reach it by himself and the fellow has the table awfully high.
“Do you now?” the doctor examines me through his glasses, stepping closer.
“Yes---I have a headache,” I say, dismissively, “I just didn’t have any in my bag, I’m up from Milton from doing Basic down there.”
“I see, I see, well, we’ll just be sure of that,” the doctor says, going over to a corner. There is a tray of syringes laid out.
“What do you mean? I have a headache---I’m hung overall right?” I ask, I considered not saying it but considering this cadet---King, already knows about my dead dog, my last girlfriend, and the fact that I think I’m being hunted by the Beast, it really doesn’t matter that he knows I’m hungover. What can I say? We spent a really long time in that waiting room and the kid sobbing into my arm was actually kind of therapeutic.
“Yes, yes, well, let’s just be sure now---this will make everything better,” the doctor says, coming back with a syringe in hand.
“I don’t need any sort of injection,” I say, disgustedly, standing up.
“Now now, calm down just the juice my boy, it’s just the juice,” he purrs, following me across the room.
“Are you insane? No!” I try to wrestle away.
“All right, we’ll do the little boy first, just some truth juice my boy,” the doctor says, turning abruptly and going for the cadet.
“Do I really need a shot?” the boy asks, sniffing back his tears and looking afraid.
“No, you don’t, we’re leaving,” I say, going over to take the boy’s arm to pull him away from the doctor. I realize the moment the needle goes in my neck that this was the doctor’s plan all along. Almost instantly my head starts to spin.
“There there, feeling better already? So hard the mighty fall, just the juice now, a little more juice,” the doctors say, as the floor greets me with a slam.
“Sir! Are you all right?” the boy is very far away but his hot little hands are on my neck. Then they have pulled away and I’m here floating with nothing.
“There there, just some nice truth juice, feeling better on the juice, aren’t you m’ boy?” I’m being lifted onto a gurney but I can’t feel my legs or my head all that’s left of me is my heart. And it’s beating. So fast, so fast here in space, I feel like I’m going to explode.
“Run don’t---” but I feel another IV in my skin I get up and run away but the real problem with that is I can’t move.
“Now, tell me what hurts, let the juice tell me what hurts,” the doctor is floating above me holding his tablet, a strange moss growing across him as the whole world is consumed.
“My head---my headaches, I was hungover---I was drinking because of---the end times are here, they’re coming for me, the Beast walks among us,” I am saying that or I may be silent I can’t hear myself so I can’t be completely sure.
“Good, very good, so what’s really wrong? How about you, little one?” the doctor floats over to the boy, who is strapped next to me, to another board. But why are we on these boards? So that we can surf amongst the stars?
“Logan, my name’s Logan and I don’t belong here,” the boy says.
“Yes---stop you do, we do we both do they’ll drive us out---they’ll kill us for it,” I say, I try to reach out to hold onto him but he’s swinging away and then back. I am vaguely aware that I should be recovering not getting worse oh good—there’s an IV in my arm that explains everything, absolutely everything.
“Logan, look at me, we’re going to get out this is too real, the façade is much better, much better,” I say, trying to stand up but then I remember I don’t have a body anymore.
“Where are you going?” I follow Titus as he veers sharply off the path, the MTIs, don’t notice, they are old and trying to keep up, Titus and I are near the front so veering into the trees is quite easy.
“Never leave a man behind,” he says, between quick breaths, “Logan got taken to IDMT, with your Dr. Truth Juice, let’s go get him out, eh?”
“We’ll get in trouble,” I say.
“I’m already spending the night in the brig,” he says, as we run back towards the base. “You can go on back if you like.”
“No,” I say. this is what I wanted, isn’t it? to do something different, exciting? To have real friends? Screw all the rules and orders and always being good? “I’ll help you. like you said, we never leave a man behind.”
“Thank you, Tom,” he says, smiling and looking down so he doesn’t see me smile back.
Titus just hit me in the side and said ‘you’re in charge’, what does that mean? And what makes him think he’s in charge? Of what? The flight? Because I certainly can’t carry the guidon and call cadence and nobody else certainly knows how to carry the guidon. Well, Tim might be able to, one of the Tims anyway I forget which but I remember one of them learned at the Academy. But still, what does Titus expect me to do? other than take the heat while he is gone? And how am I supposed to explain where he went when I don’t know myself?
how do the little things run so fast? And why do they all look alike all the time? I should just be happy, Liesel got off of the roof all right. But I really hate running. And it’s hot, and the oxygen tank is heavy, and I’m still mad that she was on the roof, to begin with. I’m going to have to have a serious talk with Ebbel about endangering cadets. That was dangerous, my personal bias aside it was still dangerous. Okay, I might not care if Liesel had not been up there but since she was I care and it is, ostensibly, quite dangerous. I don’t like it and Wilde was annoyed he let them up there and---oh I swear to god we left with more of them than there are right now. I just hope Ebbel doesn’t notice.
“Weren’t there more of them a few minutes ago?” Ebbel asks.
“No,” I say, shaking my head, “Definitely not.”
I am most definitely strapped to a tab
le I’ve worked that out. I’m doing well, working things out beautifully, see I can escape from here if I put my mind to it. if. Big if my mind’s in the way of things, seeing as how I don’t have a body anymore that’s all floated away I certainly can’t feel it.
“How are you feeling now on the juice, my boy?” a hand caresses my cheek ah so I still have one, very good.
“Let me go, I have to find them,” I mumble, trying to move away if I can feel him why can’t I move away from him? that doesn’t make sense. “Just let me go I don’t want the pain killers anymore.”
“Why? Is your head better?” voice grating haunting somewhere far away.
“No, no but it won’t be and I have to find them, the two of them,” I say, trying to sit up but it isn’t working.
“Who?”
“The two prophets, they alone can cast the Beast into the lake of fire and brimstone, he’ll kill me before then but I have to warn them, I have to---,” I struggle.
“Calm down now, have a little bit more of the juice, it’s just juice my boy, calm down.”
“No—no---no more, I have to go. As I said I have to go it’s urgent,” I struggle but to no avail. Avail. Titus used that word that’s how I got that word---he’s infecting my conscious. He’s everywhere, haunting me even now.
“You can’t knock out those nurses!”
“Clearly I can because I just did, now I thought you wanted to help?” I am annoyed with Tom, she’s being entirely too moral for this affair.
“They didn’t have anything to do with it,” she says, annoyed with me, hesitating to quid pro quo her blouse for the medic’s blouse, instead of propping the fellow’s head up on a nice pile of branches. The unfortunate pair were outside, smoking and having their break. Before I got involved. Now they are unconscious, I smothered them, one after the other, with their own SBU caps.
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