“I am. Thank you.” My face burns under the attention. “So what’s the news?”
Drill grits his teeth and his arm muscles tense and relax, tense and relax. “Cross is dating Evers.”
I turn around in my chair. “She’s been dating him since . . . Parents’ Weekend.”
Drill closes his eyes, letting out a sigh.
“Sam, we need to know who is helping you figure this stuff out. The one who thought it might be a secret society, who drew the link with the blood wings.” When Tim speaks, I can see exactly where Drill got his commander’s voice.
It’s hard for me to question him, but I don’t want to bring Jax into this now. “What? Why?”
“I might have a lead. I need to find some information, though.”
“Tell me. I’ll get whatever you need.”
“I’m not sending this information over email. I need to meet with whoever is helping you.” He leans in toward me.
“I’ll be fine. It’s okay. Nothing’s happened other than scribbling in my KB.”
“You’re forgetting the near-concussion you’re getting over,” Drill says, walking around the chair and bending down in front of me. He takes my hands in his, squeezing them. “Not to mention that we’re about to start the Weekend Warrior competitions. Look at me, Sam.”
Finally, I move my eyes to him, scanning his face before locking on to his eyes. It’s Drill. I trust Drill. The last thing I want to do is pull Jax into this anymore than she already is, but I don’t think I have a choice anymore.
When I’ve given them a history of Jax and her email address, the meeting is over. Tim will get anything new to me through Drill. Operation Guard Sam will continue as planned, and Rev will work his confessional magic to try to talk to Jonathan and get our meetings back on track.
Drill walks me out of the office. Ritchie’s snores greet us in the chapel. “My fearless guard for the day.” I nudge Ritchie and he jumps awake.
“Hey, Mac.” He clears his throat, rubbing his eyes, then jumping to his feet when he sees Drill. “Drill Sergeant, good morning, Drill Sergeant.”
“I’ll walk Mac to her next class. Go on and grab lunch. You can pick her up after class.”
“Drill Sergeant, yes, Drill Sergeant.” Ritchie pats my shoulder and jogs out the door.
“You don’t have to walk me yourself.”
His eyes scan the chapel. “If it were up to me, I’d be next to you twenty-four/seven.” He moves closer and I take a step back, pressing against the wall. Resting an arm up by my head, he leans in.
I can’t tear my eyes away from his face. If I can just kiss him once, I know everything will be okay. That we’ll make it through. I’ll be able to wait until the end of the year if I can just take one second for myself right now.
A cough makes us both jump. I take a step away from Drill before I even look to see who it is.
“Dude, I could have been anyone. How stupid are you?” Tim smacks him on the back of the head.
“That’s my cue to leave,” I say, unable to meet Tim’s eyes as I skirt around both of them and head to the door.
“It won’t happen again,” Drill says.
“It better not, dill weed. If you lose your position as her drill sergeant, there’s no telling who they’ll put in your place.”
Drill holds his hands up in surrender. “I said it won’t happen again. Let’s get to class, recruit.” He holds the door open for me, giving me a conspiratorial wink.
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THIRTY
“THE WEEKEND WARRIOR COMPETITION. THAT’S WHAT WE’RE all out here for on this cold-ass March Saturday.” Matthews rubs his hands together as he paces back and forth in front of our company. “You’ll have a total of four of these challenges between now and the end of April.”
“That’s right,” Julius picks up.
While Julius is talking, Matthews moves to stand in front of Kelly, who’s been looking worse lately, like he’s not getting much sleep. Dark circles outline his eyes and he’s lost weight. I’ve told Bekah I think he’s getting sick, but she gets defensive and says it’s nothing. I don’t like how close they’ve gotten lately.
Drill stands in front of us now and I try to focus on the instructions. “Each of you will have a chance to go through the obstacles laid out for you. Your speed and success at each will determine the company score. This will, of course, go toward our Company of the Year score. We’re slightly behind Charlie since the snow battle.” Drill glances at me, then continues. “We’ll definitely be able to make it up, though. So, first platoon, choose your order and get ready. When the gun goes off, your time starts.”
The little mission we have to go on is simple, really. We’ve got to move through a mock town to get to a rendezvous point. Once we’re all there, we low-crawl through a mud pit covered in barbed wire to get to the safe zone.
I try to ignore how this could be what my dad is going through right this very second. How scared he might be. It’ll do no good to lose my focus and bring the company down. If I can just get through this without screwing up I’ll be thrilled. The gun goes off and first platoon is gone, Wilson leading the charge. They yell and scream support to each other as they work their way through the challenge.
It seems like the entire Corps is out here watching. Ropes are set up to keep them separate from us. Evers stands over to the side, whispering to Matthews. Kelly and Bekah stand together, though they’re not talking. Their eyes are focused on first platoon. Almost too focused, like they’re specifically trying not to look anywhere else.
“Second platoon, get ready,” Matthews says, stepping away from Evers and handing a clipboard to Rev, our supervisor for today. “Kelly, you’ll lead the charge. Cross, you’re second.” He assigns Ritchie, Nix, and Dove their places. “And you can be last, McKenna. See if you can lead from the rear.”
“Corporal Matthews, yes, Corporal Matthews.”
I wait until Dove reaches the wall we’ve got to get over, and the second he jumps, I take off.
Imaginary foes and traps wait around every turn. I press my back against the wall, glancing around the corner, and wait until the “explosion” goes off, sending green smoke up into the air. Running and diving to the ground, I let my momentum carry me, flipping over once then returning to my feet at a run. Thank God I’ve recovered from the snow battle.
The next obstacle is jumping across the roofs of two “buildings” they’ve built. They’re only a foot off the ground, but the leap requires a running start and I barely clear it, the heel of my combat boot not even on the second roof. Luckily the forward momentum helps pull me to safety and I don’t lose any points. I jump down on the other side, where my platoon waits for me.
“Good job, Mac,” Ritchie says, patting me on the back. Nix and I trade fist bumps.
“We’ll celebrate later, guys. We need to move now.” Kelly doesn’t look at me; his eyes are fixed on the mud pit. “Same order. Let’s go.”
One by one, my platoon aims themselves for the mud pit and dives in, pulling themselves frantically under the barbed wire. Blanks fire overhead and when I hit the mud, I keep myself as low as I can. They’re simulating live fire and, just like Declaration Day, I’m not going to be one to “die” in my company. I keep myself as close as I can to Dove’s boot, pausing only long enough to be sure he’s not going to kick me in the face. Globs of grit get in my mouth before I remember to keep it closed; the exhaustion of the run makes breathing hard.
But then something slams into my side. It feels like a rocket has split me right open and I scream before I can stop myself, the pain in my ribs so excruciating it sucks all the air from my lungs. I look down, clutching my side. The mud doesn’t turn red, though. The gaping wound is all in my mind. But I can’t breathe. No amount of forcing will make my lungs work.
Dove crawls on, oblivious to what’s happened, s
o I know whatever it was only happened to me. The crowd is cheering as I try to suck air into my lungs to yell for help. Black spots dance in front of my face. Am I going to die, right here in the mud pit while the rest of the Corps watches and cheers?
I finally take a breath. Then another. Pain stabs at my side and tears blur my vision. But the thought of Matthews celebrating—of all those boys out there celebrating right along with him is enough to spur me on. I can’t give in to the pain and let him win.
I force myself to move, put one arm in front of the other and pull myself inch by inch through the mud. It hurts like hell every time I inhale.
A black circle surrounds my vision. Dove looks miles away. He turns back. His mouth opens. He stretches his arm out to me.
It all happens in slow motion, like we’re stuck in some movie and have to keep going until the director yells cut. So that’s what I do. Using my left arm only, I pull myself on in a slow, stuttered movement that gets me barely anywhere. Then I reach out and do it again. And again.
I keep doing it until Dove and Ritchie grab hold and pull me out from under the barbed wire. “You okay, Mac?” Ritchie’s voice is quiet, the ground spinning as I try to figure out where I’m supposed to be headed.
“Fine,” I manage. “Just go.”
Then I see the end, my company standing in a semicircle ten steps in front of me, waiting. I’m going to be last one in the company to cross the line. Ritchie stays with me but at least he knows enough to let me finish on my own.
“What the hell happened, Mac?” Ritchie bends down, whispering in my ear despite the cheering going on all around us.
I put a hand protectively over my side and that’s when I feel it—a lump the size of an egg near my ribs. “Get Drill and Rev, but don’t tell anyone else,” I say through clenched teeth. “Rubber bullet. I’ve been shot.”
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THIRTY-ONE
“HAVE YOU HAD ENOUGH, SAM? YOU NEED TO LEAVE.” Jonathan’s been at this for fifteen minutes in my hospital room but he won’t give up. My ribs, though not broken, are pounding, and my throbbing head can’t take much more. I glare at him from the hospital bed but don’t bother to respond.
“You’ve got bruised ribs from a training accident. Your grades are slipping—”
My head whips around to look at him.
“Don’t look at me like that. Of course I know your grades. I’m in charge of everyone. Not to mention you’re my sister.”
“Oh, you’ll claim that now, will you? If you could control your cadets maybe this wouldn’t have happened,” I spit out, then instantly regret the outburst. My side throbs and getting frustrated has set off firecrackers in my eyes.
“That’s enough, Recruit McKenna. He may be your brother, but he’s still your colonel and you’ll treat him with respect.” Drill moves slightly, coming into my peripheral vision. He hasn’t left my side since it happened.
“The colonel might get respect, but my brother doesn’t.” I continue to glare at Jonathan, daring him to do or say anything right now to piss me off.
Drill meets Jonathan’s eyes and continues, his words cautious, guarded. “Right now, they’re one and the same.”
I realize I’ve messed up. We’ve got to walk a fine line with Jonathan. If he’s involved with the Society, I could be in more trouble than I thought. “Colonel McKenna. I apologize on behalf of my recruit. She’s hurt and needs to rest. Can we continue this conversation later?”
Jonathan doesn’t say anything, but he’s looking at Drill, sizing him up and trying to figure out what’s going on. All Jonathan knows is that I got hurt. I hinted that I had been kicked in the mud pit by a recruit brother. It could have easily happened and Jonathan doesn’t care enough to ask too many questions.
“Did you call Mom? Let her know I’m in the hospital?”
“I did, but she can’t come. She’s got other things to deal with right now, Sam. She’s headed to Landstuhl.”
I clench my hands beneath the blanket so I don’t reach for Drill. Landstuhl is the military base in Germany where injured soldiers are taken before being sent back to the States. That means they found him. “Dad?” My heart pounds, tears sting my eyes. “When did you hear? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I heard right before the challenge. I didn’t want to distract you. I was going to tell you after.”
“How is he? Is he okay?” I know the question is stupid. If he were okay, they’d just patch him up and send him back out in the field. Sending him to Landstuhl means he’s hurt. Bad.
“We’ll know more once Mom gets there.”
“You’re kidding, right? Tell me what’s wrong with him.” But now that I’ve said it, I’m not sure I want to hear. The look on his face—it’s the same look people gave me at Amos’s funeral.
“He was missing awhile. He’s sick. He’ll be out of the Army when he gets home.” He chokes on the words, looking for the first time in a long time like something’s affecting him. “Can’t be a Ranger with just one arm.”
Searing pain shoots up my side when I jerk back. My stomach heaves. I slap my hand down over my mouth and Jonathan pushes the trash can closer, sliding his arms under me to help me turn onto my side. I don’t know if it’s because of the pain or because of what he just told me, but I can’t stop myself.
When I’m done puking, I glare again. “Get out.”
Jonathan nods. Guess he’s happy for a reason to get away from me and back to his Society. “I’ll leave. But you’ve got to, too. You’ve made your point. You can do it. But think about Mom. She’s lost Amos, Dad’s . . . What would she do if something worse happened to you? Go home.”
Leave? After everything I’ve been through? I can’t. The weight of this moment presses down on me, making it hard to breathe. If I leave, Mom will be happy. I’ll be able to help with Dad. But next year, when a new class of girls comes in, they’ll be forced out, too. I won’t let another girl go through this. If they fail to run me off, they’ll have to stop.
It has to stop.
My head is swimming. Jonathan’s face wavers in front of me and I’m not sure where to focus my eyes.
“I can’t,” I manage, then close my eyes, moving slowly to roll onto my other side, facing the window, with my back toward Jonathan.
I don’t bother looking at him again even though he stays a few moments longer. He bangs the trash can against the side of the bed when he picks it up but soon the door closes behind him and the smell of vomit recedes. The room is silent, and so is the hallway.
“Say something.” My voice is weak and shaking. It doesn’t even sound like mine.
Drill pulls the little vinyl chair over next to my bed. When he sits down, he finally meets my gaze, his eyes full of pain. “What am I supposed to say?”
“I don’t know.” I breathe the words out and hope inspiration will strike. When it doesn’t I move my hand slowly, reaching for him.
He sighs, leaning into my touch and resting his head on the mattress near my side. Slowly and gently he moves his arm so it’s hugging me around the waist. “When Ritchie told me . . .”
“I told the doctor he couldn’t tell anyone what really happened. Not even my mom, though I don’t know if that will work if she can find the time to call.”
Lifting his head, he nods. “Good. We’ll keep it quiet. Let them know that you’re not the kind of person who is going to run off and tell.”
I don’t want to think about the Society. If they did it, and Jonathan’s part of it, that means he let it happen. “It could have been an accident. . . .” I let my words trail off because I know how stupid they are. “Matthews and Evers were talking before we started. Kelly and Bekah wouldn’t even look at me. You don’t think they knew—”
“I don’t know.”
I don’t press it because the thought that any of them—Kelly, Beka
h, or Jonathan—knew about this but didn’t stop it is too much to take in. “What happens now?”
He tightens his arm, squeezing me in a small hug. He looks so tired. “Tim’s on his way here. He called Jax—she’s watching their emails. They’ll take shifts staying with you. I’m heading back to campus. Huff and I need to put some feelers out, see what’s going on.”
I don’t want him to go. I don’t care that his brother will stay here with me. I want it to be Drill.
“I know,” he says, even though I haven’t voiced any of this to him. “I’ll stay until Tim comes, okay?”
But Tim is here too soon. Within a matter of minutes, Drill stands, scooting the chair back where it was. Before he leaves, he moves in close, his words just a whisper of breath against my ear. “If you need me, call. I’ll be here in a heartbeat.”
I nod, tears burning my eyes. I don’t know if they’re for me or Dad right now, but it doesn’t matter. He kisses my forehead and I close my eyes, determined to remember the feel of his lips on my skin, of the strength he’s pouring into me.
“Stay safe,” he whispers. When he pulls away his eyes look watery, too. But Drill is Drill. He won’t let them fall. “I’ll be back soon.”
I try to give him a smile, something to let him know I’m okay. But all I can do is sit there and watch him leave.
Sometime in the middle of the night while Tim is here, trying to sleep on the stupid little chair they say turns into a bed, they come in and take my vitals and give me more pain medication. I can’t get back to sleep, so I’m awake when Jax comes in after five to take her shift. Around six, after she’s fallen asleep, they bring breakfast.
Jax is curled up in the chair and I let her sleep, even though her phone pings every few minutes with new notifications. I don’t want to know anything yet.
Sunlight streams in the window above her head, haloing her in a soft gold morning ray, but she’s got to be uncomfortable and sore as hell. “I can feel you staring at me.” She doesn’t open her eyes but stretches out one leg, then the other.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”
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