Chapter 18: Hiding
I shove a gasp into myself as I see the sergeant’s snarled face coming nearer and nearer. Next to me, I hear Peter’s uneven breath and my fingers gently touch his. He squeezes them tightly. Our green outfits blend well with the woods, and we are well hidden under many tree branches with their abundant amounts of leaves, but if the sergeant is close enough and if he searches, he’ll easily find us.
He gets closer and closer.
“Sergeant,” says a female soldier who had stayed with D412, “shouldn’t we take him to the hospital or something?”
“No!”
“He may have a concussion, sergeant, or something worse.”
“I don’t care! If he has the audacity of going against my orders and gets himself in a stupid situation then he’ll have to wait until we do what we have to do!”
“Yes, sergeant.”
A few short steps away from us, the sergeant stops to put out his cigar in the dirt. Stomping ferociously on the ground, I can just imagine what he will do to us if he finds us. Eyeing the fallen tree branches we’re in, once again he heads towards us.
I count backwards to keep calm.
Suddenly, his black boot is only a few short inches away from me. Peter clutches my hand tighter. I’m certain that not any of us are breathing.
The menacing barrel of his weapon is lowered to shove the leaves aside. We’re toast.
“Sergeant! Sergeant!”
He quickly pulls back his weapon. I start breathing again.
“What do you want, corporal?” he snarls.
“I think I figured out what happened,” she says excitedly, next to where D412 is still on the ground moaning.
“Well, what is it?! Out with it!”
“I can’t just tell you. I have to show you.”
“Show me?” the sergeant snarls unhappily.
“Yes, sergeant.”
“What am I?—a kid that needs to be shown!” His voice contorts in disgust.
“D412 got knocked out by a rock,” the corporal explains.
My breath grows ragged again.
“A rock?” the sergeant asks in disbelief.
“Yes, sergeant.”
“How? . . . What? . . .” His voice sounds confused.
“With all due respect, sergeant, that’s why I wanted to show you.”
“This better be good!” the sergeant snickers as his heavy boots move away from us. Peter’s fingers loosen their grip on mine.
When the sergeant is a safe distance away and grumbling loudly at the soldier, Peter whispers in a barely audible voice, “We need to make a run for it.”
Being so close to him, I can feel him ready to pounce.
“Stay still,” demands Royce.
“But—“
“Royce is right,” I say, surprised at my own words.
This seems to settle him because I can feel his body going slack next to me. I let out a breath of relief. We’re safe—at least for a few more seconds.
“So what’s the story?” the sergeant demands to know.
“D412 tripped.”
“Tripped?”
“Yes, sergeant.”
“I thought you said a rock did this to him?” he growls.
“He tripped on the vines underneath the tree there,” she states, pointing to the bottom of a tree next to D412. “Then he hit his head on that big rock next to him,” she finishes smugly as she shifts her index finger to the white, ankle-high sized rock embedded in the dirt.
“What a dumb jerk!” the sergeant retorts.
“His weapon must’ve accidentally gone off when he tripped.”
“How did I get stuck with a dumb idiot like him in my battalion?! How did he pass basic training is what I want to know?”
“His father is a colonel.”
“I should’ve known,” the sergeant retorts. “His daddy got him in!”
“The whole family is strange,” she remarks.
“I’m not having this in my troop! No!”
“Ahhhhh,” D412 moans.
“I’m transferring him out as soon as we get back!”
Soldiers start coming back with their weapons no longer in shooting positions but slung on their backs.
“We couldn’t find anything, sergeant,” states a soldier.
“Of course you couldn’t,” snarls the sergeant as he angrily eyes D412.
“Nothing seems to be out of place or suspicious, sergeant,” a soldier states.
“This worthless idiot sent us on a wild goose chase when we’ve got much more important things to do,” snaps the sergeant. “The idiot tripped over some vegetation and bumped his little head.”
“Tripped?” D412 mumbles as if he’s trying to piece his breath together.
“Looks like he’s finally awake, “ the corporal states.
“I . . . didn’t . . . trip,” D412 says haltingly.
Just when I thought we might’ve saved ourselves.
“What do you mean you didn’t trip?” the sergeant demands to know.
“I didn’t.”
“You didn’t?” the sergeant snaps.
“I don’t think so.”
“You don’t think so?”
“No.”
“What do you think happened?” smirks the sergeant. “Please tell us! We’re waiting to hear the story with baited breath.”
Laughter erupts as heads shake and sneering noises are made.
“I think there were two young guys and maybe a third person and—”
“And one of them hit you?” retorts the sergeant.
“No, they were in front of me, and I got hit with a blunt object from the back.”
“You sure about that, D412?” asks the corporal.
“We’ve combed the woods and have found nothing,” states another soldier.
“Nothing?”
“No.”
“Are you sure things didn’t happen another way?” the corporal asks.
“I’ve already told you what happened.”
“You sure about what you’re saying—about two guys and a hit to the head from the back?” she asks.
I think that’s what happened.”
“What did these two culprits look like?” the corporal asks.
D412 rubs his head. “I don’t remember. It’s still sooo foggy in my head!”
The sergeant shakes his head furiously. “I’m getting tired of this! You know what I think happened, D412?” the sergeant snaps.
“Sergeant—”
“Like an incompetent idiot you fell and banged your empty head on a rock!”
“No, sergeant, I—”
“Now you’re trying to save face in front of your fellow soldiers by concocting this ridiculous story!”
“Sergeant, I assure you that—”
“Private, you can’t assure me of anything!”
“But sergeant—”
“Stop your caterwauling!”
“Sergeant—”
“We’ve wasted enough time already!”
“But sergeant—”
“I’m personally holding you responsible, you idiot, for us deviating from training!”
“It’s not my fault that—”
“Shut up, private!”
“My dad—”
“Don’t you ever bring up your father to me—daddy’s boy!”
“I—”
“I already told you to shut up! That’s an order or do you want to be court-martialed for insubordination?”
“No, sergeant,” D412 says in a small, frustrated voice.
“We’ve got to be getting back to the fort,” snaps the sergeant. “We’ve got to get back not having accomplished our training!”
“Sorry, sergeant,” mumbles D412.
“How many times do I have to tell you to shut up?!”
D412 stares at the ground.
“We’ll have to be back tomorrow,” the sergeant mumbles furiously, his face contorted.
We q
uietly remain in place until the last soldier leaves and the three of us exhale ferociously at the same time. After a few minutes, we move our stiff bodies, trying to get the blood flowing to our limbs again. Royce tells Peter and me to stay put as he starts stumbling out of our hiding place.
“Where are you going?” asks Peter.
“I need to make sure no one’s around.”
“I’ll go with you.”
Royce shakes his head. “Stay here.”
“But—”
“Peter, stop fighting me on everything.”
“Okay,” he mumbles.
“Stay with me,” I tell him.
Peter rewards me with a smile. “It’ll be my pleasure.”
Royce lets out a small snort as he leaves us. I watch him expertly move without making much noise and diving into hiding places like bushes and foliage. After a while, I can’t see him at all.
“He’s gone,” I whisper to Peter.
“Not for long,” he retorts.
“What a day!”
“You can say that again.”
“It’s been one close call after another,” I state.
“I thought that when the sergeant came over, we were busted for sure.”
“Me too.”
“Good thing I didn’t make a run for it,” he mumbles.
“Something tragic might’ve happened if you had done it.”
“I don’t know what I was thinking.”
“You were probably suffocating under here like I was,” I comment, indicating the fallen tree.
“I really wanted to run out and get away from here.”
“Me too.”
“I felt so frustrated at not being able to do anything.”
“Luckily, your cousin didn’t lose his cool.”
“Yes, luckily,” Peter mumbles.
“He probably saved our lives with his quick thinking.”
“Don’t give him so much credit,” snaps Peter.
“But—”
“You saved our lives, Madrigal, with your quick thinking and your sling shot.”
“At first I doubted that I could make the shot, but then I told myself that I didn’t have a choice.”
“It was a great shot just like my cousin said it was,” he states.
“Royce is so cool under pressure,” I comment.
Peter grimaces at the small spikes of admiration in my voice. “Are you thirsty?” he asks, changing the subject.
“I’m totally parched,” I say as both of us grab our canteens from our backpacks and drink.
“Are you hungry?”
“I think we should wait for Royce to eat.”
“Why?” he asks with a grumble in his voice.
“It would be rude to eat without him.”
“Rude?”
“We’re civilized, aren’t we? And civilized people are considerate of others.”
“Why should he care if we eat?”
“Even when there’s a lot we don’t like about him, we’re still a team, right?”
“But—”
“Peter, we’re a team and need to act like one.”
“Yeah, I guess so,” Peter grudgingly says.
“We’ve got a long way to go—we have to work together.”
“He’s a jerk now that he’s made it to the top.”
“We’ve got to ignore his weirdness. We’ve got to get to the Freedom Headquarters. Remember what Constanza told us about working together?”
“Yeah.”
“Agreed then.”
“Yes, agreed,” he states.
“You’re starting to like him, right?” His tone has spiky and sad sounds at the same time.
“Not really,” I mutter.
Peter groans deeply. “If I could just get in your head . . . again . . . like when I was Arthur,” he mentions with trepidation. “I could see what’s really in there.”
“Arthur?” Saying his name fills me with strong emotions.
“I just can’t be him anymore, Madrigal. By some quirk of fate I was able to connect with your brainwaves, but now that you’re so physically close to me, I get completely depleted when I try.”
“You do?” I ask, surprised. I always felt more energized when I connected to him, but he’s the one who has to infiltrate my mind and not vice versa.
“That’s why I had to tell you good-bye that night—you remember, right?”
“Yeah, I remember,” I mutter, my voice shaky.
He pulls my chin up with his fingers. “Don’t be sad. I’m here in the flesh now. I’m here for you.”
“Thanks.”
“Come with me,” he says as he starts stumbling out of the hiding place.
“What are you doing?” I ask, baffled.
“I need out of here. My muscles are fossilizing.”
“Peter, get back in here,” I insist, upset. “Royce told us to stay in place.”
“Don’t worry, Madrigal. I just need to stretch my legs a little.”
“I really don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“What could happen?” he asks, moving further and further away from the fallen tree.
“A lot can happen,” I state, dryly.
“Madrigal, you should come out here,” he gushes. “There’s a great breeze!”
“Peter, I wish you’d get back in here.”
“You’ll suffocate in there. Come out with me.”
“Peter—”
It is then that I hear it—one of the strongest and most frightening noises I have ever heard.
R-R-R-ROAR!
A huge, fierce, black grizzly bear is moving swiftly towards Peter.
Supernova Page 16
