I am happy to be out of the brig, and if I’m not mistaken our MTIs are in good spirits as well. well, Ebbel’s never in good spirits, but he got to pull a 314 on Titus so that cheered him up. Titus was marching his flight while he waited to line up for the DFAC, and he succeeded in having them march in such a way that his initials are, it appears permanently, pounded into the gravel holding area outside the DFAC. That isn’t specifically against the rules but that didn’t bother Ebbel. Wilde is a bit tired, but she seems pleasant enough, laughed at Titus’s shenanigan and just told him “What’d you think was going to happen?” he said “Ma’am, I really couldn’t say,” which made her laugh at him again. I don’t think he knows how really funny he looks in those SBUs that don’t fit right and his baby fat cheeks, and then, of course, he uses all those big words which Ebbel pretends he can understand. Harris is in a much better mood as well, he let Quentin get out of marching his flight to the DFAC, and he called cadence quite nicely for them as well, which seemed to please Quentin who’s probably still recovering from the fall he took yesterday. Harris is usually so gruff and Titus thinks he’s stupid, maybe he just had something going on because he’s in much better spirits than usual.
Thorne isn’t here, one of the cadets in Titus’ flight is missing, so he’s been sent to find him and see where and when the boy was last seen. Not an easy task apparently because according to Tom, he was sent as soon as they all woke up, and he still hasn’t returned.
I try to catch sight of Wendy but I can’t. she’s in Leavitt’s flight and they’re far ahead of us. it doesn’t matter, anyway. it’s not like we can say or do anything in plain sight.
I lean over and kiss Titus’ soft little cheek, which is cut from attempting to shave hair that isn’t there. he jumps nearly afoot, which is just the best reaction I could’ve possibly hoped for.
“Has anybody told you how profoundly stupid you are, Titus Card?” I whisper, before taking advantage of his shock to step out in line to go and collect our trays.
He doesn’t dare respond because Ebbel prowls over, no doubt having seen the tail end of our exchange, but not knowing what to make of it. But Titus grins broadly, with a sweet, happy smile I don’t think I’ve ever seen on him. like the good in him just waiting to come out.
I smile back, a little, as I stare down at my tray. The server puts on two meat pies, like usual, and a lump of potatoes. Titus is busy collecting his two glasses of milk.
I never eat the pies. But now if I don’t take them then it will look as though I know something is wrong. Not that anybody will ever find out what happened to the unfortunate Tim. But it bears being careful. I accept a pie from the server. Then I notice Tom is doing the same. I can’t enjoy kissing her mouth later if I’ve made them cannibal’s lips.
“Just drink the milk,” I say, pushing her pies onto my plate and giving her a glass of milk.
“What?” she hisses, but I shake my head. I’ll think of something logical to tell her, later.
They’ll never guess. I seriously consider not taking a pie. But that would look bad. And I might want to taste it. oh look, Card has and he only ever drinks the milk. I’ll have to then, won’t I?
(why didn’t you tell me you were in the brig?)
shut up, Ginny. The last thing I need is a commentary this morning. I really don’t feel like it. arguing with my baby sister is annoying enough, especially when I can’t actually argue back.
I walk over to take a seat with my tray. The food smells tantalizingly good but of course, I can’t eat it till the other sit down at my table.
(you knew I’d know so you should have told me)
Yes, I probably should have but I didn’t feel like mum knowing and it’s hard to explain because I didn’t do anything wrong but I was punished anyway and as we all know that’s the way the world works even if we don’t want it to.
“What?” Tom asks me, the moment we sit down. we have tight meals but we are pretending to pray so it’s all ok.
“I think it’s bad,” I mutter, “I’ve got a good sense of smell and it smells off.”
“What?” Tsegi asks. Holding her hands in the proper position as well, but frowning at us. she looks like she’s been crying all night. huh. I wonder what that’s about.
Peter is sitting there looking pale and in shock and like he’s not slept and not doing or saying or doing anything. he may be a problem.
“He said not to eat the pies,” Tom says.
“They smell off is all,” I say.
“Yes, yes don’t,” Peter looks like he’s going to vomit. He’s probably thinking bits of hand might’ve gotten in there. he’s right. I’m certain they did. hand and lots of other things.
“Right, then, but I’m starving, how off?” Tsegi asks.
“Eat them if you like,” I say. I’m not that committed to this.
“Well well are we having a group prayer over here?” the MTIs are well aware that we talk during prayer time. they are also aware they can’t really stop us if we’re clearly praying.
“And God I also want to ask you for guidance, guidance on how to be free from sin, free from the burdens of this earthly flesh---I thank you for—”
“Card I know for a fact that is not what you were saying,” Harris says.
“---good friends. And for MTIs, dear God---”
“You’re not even praying right. That’s not even how you pray”
“---even when they disrespect this holy sacrament and miss shaving part of their necks—”
Harris slaps his neck on cue God I love meal times. Tsegi and Tom are biting their lips to stop from chuckling.
“And I thank you for this meal---this wholesome singularly unique meal, which is laid before us today---”
“Get done with it so they can eat,” Harris storms off, he’s the only one stupid enough to come near me when I’m pretending to pray.
“And I thank you for the joys of prayer,” I say, taking a drink of my milk.
(something’s going on) Ginny says.
Something is always going on I wish she would occupy herself with something other than me for a while---no I don’t. I would be lonely. I look down at my half-eaten pie, suddenly wishing she were there to eat with me. I spent too many dinners too drunk to eat, already curled up in my room with a bottle, staring at blank walls. not scrabbling and bickering of the last bit of crust or sharing a cookie.
(no really I can tell when you don’t, believe me, I’ll tell you what it is and I’ll be right and then you’ll believe me)
yeah, whatever. something’s always going on at this place.
I actually want to eat it. I might as well. all of them are cannibals now. I shall join them. and I’m the only one aware. But is Card? Oh, no, the coward. He took it. but he’s only drinking his milk. I lock eyes with him.
Damn Tyrell, it’s a challenge now. he picks up the pie raising it to his lips and then hesitating. I truly don’t want to. humans carry any number of disease that is transferrable by bodily fluids. However, if this is an affront to my masculinity, a dare if you will, I am tempted to accept. He’s not my friend, not really, I don’t care what he thinks. But if I don’t accept he’ll know it, and he’ll think I think I’m superior to him and he won’t want to talk to me anymore---and then he might give away my involvement and that would be trouble.
I pick up a pie as well, slowly raising it to my mouth. He does the same, ever so slowly.
“What are you doing?” Tom hisses.
“An experiment,” I mutter.
He’s not bitten into it yet. I might not have to. he might lose his courage at the last minute.
Or not. he bites in, as much as his mouth will take. Nothing to stop it now. I have to. I take a bite as well, smaller than his, but I can’t bear to chew it thinking of what sort of maladies might be in therein. but I’m going to have to swallow. There’s no way I can be free---
“OH DEAR GOD, THAT’S HUMAN FLESH!!!”
Then there’s that. I spit it
out instantly, entirely relieved, washing my mouth out with milk and spitting it out as well as everyone else leaps up and acts upset.
“What?” Tom asks, leaning to look at the commotion.
“Just drink the milk,” I say.
“That’s---that’s a person---oh my god that’s a person,” I trip and stumble backward, falling over a chair as vomit fills my mouth and bubbles past my lips. That actually relieves me because I don’t want it---any of it---him, her it—the thing the person, still in me. I crawl away, still vomiting, as hands pull me up.
(oh my god they put somebody in there I’m so sorry just throw up it’s okay)
“Leavitt! Pull yourself together what are you talking about?” Ebbel pulls me up, causing me to vomit onto the blouse of his SBUs. That is a memory I actually think I may cherish.
“It’s---it’s human flesh,” I say, past the lumps of barely chewed up food still stuck in my mouth. I spit them out with absolutely no care for his uniform whatsoever. “I---I know it is.” I vomit bile now, so it’s all out. thank god.
(it’s okay you spit it out)
“What on earth makes you think that?” Ebbel asks, still holding me upright as I stagger. I could stand on my own but he’s not trusting me and I did just throw up on him I’m not his favorite person.
“I know, sir,” I say, finally regaining some composure. It’s not okay. but I am now I threw it—him, her---it onto Ebbel, so at least it’s not in my stomach anymore.
“Sit down,” Harris barks to everyone else, who have ceased eating with the exception Tyrell that sociopath. The others is staring at us in horror and fascination or in Titus’ case sipping milk and watching. I survey them, they don’t believe me.
“What’d you say?” Thorn asks, coming over. he doesn’t smell of alcohol, thank god, I’d probably throw up again.
“Sir, there’s somebody---in the pies,” I stutter.
“Oh, yeah, we were missing a cadet,” Thorn says, nodding, as though it makes perfect sense.
“What? You don’t actually believe him?” Wilde asks, she’s come up as well, stepping neatly around a puddle of vomit.
“Ah, kind of, what’d I tell you? A dark cloud,” Thorne says, shrugging, “I’d have it tested anyway. might want to give everybody MREs in the classrooms.”
“No—no, I am in charge here, and you are going to answer me as to why you think that there is human flesh in those pies,” Ebbel says, his face inches from mine.
Well, the truth that my little sister is psychic certainly won’t do. so I’ll just go for the most outrageous lie I can think of, “My older brother was a cannibal eventually he got arrested, but he used to kill people—homeless people, come home and bake them up into things. He tricked me and my little sister into eating it once. That’s just what it tasted like.”
“And that makes perfect sense,” Harris says, nodding.
“All right,” Wilde says, nodding.
“No, it doesn’t----get him to IDMT,” Ebbel says, dropping me basically into Harris’ arms, “For once that prick and his truth juice can help us out.”
“What, does nobody else want to talk about what a clearly horrible childhood this kid has had? No? Okay, fine,” Thorne asks, actually concerned which is sweet.
“Sir, I feel well now,” I say.
“My SBUs say otherwise report to IDMT with Sgt. Harris before I pull a 314, and you will have much more than a 314 if you’re wrong and this was some sort of stunt,” Ebbel growls.
“Don’t worry, I’m sure you’re not lying,” Thorne says, wiping the vomit from my SBUs with a napkin. “I would actually be surprised if something like this hadn’t happened.”
“Just, help me get the cadets outside, Thorne,” Wilde says, steering him away from me.
“Come on,” Harris says, eyeing me suspiciously as though he thinks I might throw up again.
“Yes, sir,” I say, following him out past the other cadets, who are looking rather ill and staring at me.
“The milk is quite refreshing this morning,” Titus says since the no talking thing pretty much went out the window a few streams of vomit ago.
“That explains why you thought it smelled odd,” I say, as Peter begins to throw up.
“I’m sick,” Tsegi says, “What he said was horrible, you can’t make stuff like that up. Do you think it’s true?”
“Could be,” Titus says, shrugging.
“Oh God,” Tsegi puts her finger down her throat to make herself gag, she’s not the only one who thinks of it.
“We have not determined---oh my God, that’s it, if you’re all going to do that, outside, everybody,” Ebbel shouts.
Good, Leisel’s throwing up with the others. What sort of sick person would make all of these cadets unwitting cannibals? If it’s true---it probably isn’t. this kid is probably psycho. But I’m still glad she’s making herself be sick, just in case. And I’m glad I haven’t eaten yet. just in case. But it’s probably not true. but just in case.
“Sir, could I have some water?” Leavitt asks as we march out of the DFAC which now reeks of vomit.
“No, keep walking,” I say, trying not to inhale. I haven’t smelled this much sick since I was by Lt. Col.’s driver for a day and had to pick his kid up from a bar. A bar where a lot of people had drunk too much.
“You ought to make yourself sick, just in case,” Darla says to me. she didn’t eat any, she doesn’t like meat. I do. Like meat.
“Leavitt’s probably mental, you know he hit his head yesterday? He’s a pscyho,” Tyrell says, dismissively.
“You say that about all the pretty boys,” I say, leaning forward so that my breasts just brush his arm.
“What about me? Aren’t I pretty?” he asks.
“Yes, but you don’t have to say it about you---I know you’re psycho,” I whisper, letting my lips brush his ear on the last word.
If she only knew
“Poor Quentin going to IDMT again,” Tom comments, as we scrub vomit off the floor. I’ve ordered my flight to help clean, before Ebbel thought of telling us to. I really didn’t do it to be helpful, I really just didn’t want to hear his voice.
“Yes, he’s getting to be a regular, like me in the brig,” I say, scrubbing meticulously.
“You’re not---” she says, realizing I’m thinking about breaking him out again.
“You know Dr. Truth Juice, you’re the one who told me about him,” I point out.
“Yes but you can’t you’ll be in serious trouble Titus, Titus I know when you’re thinking of doing something wrong,” she hisses.
“How?” I ask, considering I’m always thinking of something wrong I doubt if she could tell.
“Because you always look like that and you’re probably always planning something rotten.” Okay, so she does know.
“Well, it’s sort of peaceful in the brig, get the pleasant little walk over there,” Ebbel’s still not dead, “Multitude of reasons, really.”
“SHUT UP OVER THERE,” speaking of Ebbel and why he doesn’t belong on this planet anymore.
Chapter 16
“W
ell well, what have we here, do you need a little of the juice, my boy?” the creepy dude who got a job here I don’t know how examines Leavitt through thick spectacles.
“No sir, I just want a drink of water,” Leavitt says, leaning away, “My throat hurts.”
“Never mind water---let’s give you some juice m’ boy,” the doctor says, going to pick up an intimidating syringe.
“Please sir, I don’t need it, I only want to have a drink of water,” Leavitt says.
“No, put that down, we need you to examine him, actually, he was very upset this morning and he needs to talk about his feelings and get something for his throat,” I say, stepping in front of Leavitt protectively.
“Are you impeding the flow of the all mighty juice, m’ boy,” the doctor asks, stopping in his tracks and narrowing his eyes at me.
“Yes, yes I am. and what are you going to
do about it?” I ask, two seconds before he shoves the needle in my arm. “Damn,” I say, as I pull it out. then my legs buckle under me and I don’t exist anymore.
“Sir, it’s all right,” Leavitt is holding me up under the arms, trying to lift me to a table to stop my head from hitting the floor he doesn’t know I don’t have feeling anymore.
“You are really, frighteningly, good at this,” Tsegi says, as she watches me clean the vomit-covered floor with love and care.
“I spent a lot of time in detention as a child,” I say.
“Oh, really, I couldn’t have guessed,” Tom says.
“We were poor; I tended to quomodocunquize,” I admit.
“And that makes perfect sense,” Tsegi says. I expect she is mocking me because she does not understand my eclectic speech but I am not sure.
“Are you really going to get Leavitt out of IDMT? Again?” Tom asks.
“I believe so if I can slip away,” I admit. I don’t want to lie to her obviously, she’s only just kissed me.
“You know what, I’ll come,” Tsegi says, “It’s not fair you get to have all the fun.”
“I’ll come as well, in fact, Titus, why don’t you stay behind and guide the flight? For a change?” Tom suggests.
“Well—” damn it I really was hoping to kill Ebbel tonight.
“Let us,” Tsegi says.
“Yes, let us girls get into trouble for a change,” Tom says.
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