Army Brats

by Daphne Benedis-Grab

  Tom let out an epic screech of doom.

  Blinded by a powerful stream of water, he swerved directly into a tree. He fell off his bike, choking from the water that had gotten into his mouth and hoping that it had muffled the screech. Because when he finally wiped off his face enough to see what had happened, he saw Chase, a hose in one hand, his phone in the other, laughing his head off.

  “Very funny,” Tom said, trying to sound dismissive. But his voice was wobbly, he was still kneeling in the grass, and he was wet and bedraggled from the spray.

  “It was funny,” Chase agreed, dropping the hose so he could wipe his eyes too. Though in his case he was swiping away tears of laughter. “Man, you’re a real wimp, screaming like that over a little bit of water.”

  It had been more than just a little bit of water and it had hit Tom hard, but he knew there was no way to say that and not sound like an even bigger wimp. So he stood silent and sopping, unable to think of a way to defend himself at all.

  “My dad’s going to be pretty angry about that detention,” Chase said. “So I wanted to find a way to thank you for it.” His eyes were glinting, like a snake inspecting its prey before going in for the deathblow. “I’m just glad I got a photo of it”—he held up his phone—“so everyone else at school can see it too.”

  Tom’s knees were weak. Once his classmates saw that, he’d be a complete laughingstock.

  But Chase wasn’t done with him yet. “See you Monday, Sergeant Wimpy,” Chase said, grinning at his new name for Tom.

  There it was, the deathblow. Because Tom knew, no matter how he plotted or strategized, no mission in the world could save him from his fate now.

  Blinking back tears, Tom grabbed his bike and took off, away from home so he wouldn’t have to face his family wet and humiliated. At the edge of their neighborhood he turned left down Washington Street, passing the park and rec center and then the pool. At Patrick Boulevard he turned right, heading toward the woods and the lake beyond. It wasn’t that he wanted to go to the lake, really; he just wanted to go where there weren’t kids or neighbors or anyone else, just the road in front of him and the wind at his back. The trees shaded him as he rode, only a few cars passing and all of them careful to give him a wide berth. Sweat ran down his back, or maybe it was water from the drenching he’d received. Either way it made his skin crawl. When he reached the boathouse he didn’t stop but instead went in a wide circle and headed back to the main part of post.

  But then at Crimson Drive, when Tom stopped at the traffic light, he realized he wasn’t ready to go home, not yet. So he turned right, riding along Crimson Drive until he reached a road so narrow he nearly passed it. And as he looked down the small tree-lined street, he felt something other than misery: curiosity. Because on a base alive with activity at all times, this little alley seemed completely remote. So Tom pedaled over to check it out.

  There was only one building on the quiet, wooded one-way road. It was a large wooden structure with two floors and a big yard out front that wasn’t exactly sloppy—this was an army base after all—but it wasn’t as neatly kept up as the area around the other buildings on post. The bushes grew a bit higher, and it had been a little while since the lawn had been mowed. There were no cars in the driveway, and the trees close to the building shaded it so completely that no sunlight fell over the house or the yard. The windows were dark and several on the second floor were boarded up.

  Tom was even more curious now, so he parked his bike at the end of the drive and approached the building. The air was still and it was quiet—no birds flew overhead and no little animals scuttled through the yard. Tom slowed as he reached the steps to the front porch. Despite the heat of the day it felt chilly, perhaps from the thick cover of trees above. And then Tom saw a slight movement through one of the panes of glass in a small side window, a flicker as though someone or something had walked past. Goose bumps prickled his arms.

  A sound came from inside the house, a moan so faint Tom wasn’t sure if maybe he was just imagining it. But after a moment it came again and Tom jerked back, picturing a zombie or banshee wailing as it clawed its way across the basement floor toward him.

  Just then Tom felt a sharp tap on his shoulder. He leaped in the air, screeching the screech of doom, then turned and saw a soldier, sweaty in his fatigues and not the least bit zombie-like or scary.

  “You okay?” the soldier asked. He was looking at Tom with concern. “Sorry to startle you. But this is a restricted area. You need to move along.”

  Tom did not need to be asked twice. Whatever was inside that building had him completely spooked, and he was not sorry to leave it behind as he hopped on his bike and pedaled away.

  But as Tom biked through the central plaza, stopping to let a line of soldiers marching in formation pass, the ugly name Chase had called him came back to him. Sergeant Wimpy. And Tom couldn’t help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, the name fit.

  Help!!!

  Charlotte looked down at the text that had just arrived on her phone, then grinned.

  What can I do? she typed quickly to Sophia, then leaned back in her desk chair waiting for a reply. After a brunch of Dad’s blueberry pancakes and sausage, she and Tom had headed upstairs to take care of their homework, a Saturday routine in the Bailey home. Charlotte was almost done with math, which was her last assignment, and welcomed a break, especially one that involved her new friend.

  Advice needed, came Sophia’s reply and a moment later a photo followed. Charlotte carefully examined the shot of Sophia’s nails. She was clearly trying to do gold stripes on her rose-colored nails, but they were uneven with raggedy edges.

  The answer you seek is tape, Charlotte typed, then paused before sending it. That was the way she joked around with her siblings, but it sounded kind of babyish, kind of like the dollhouse she planned to hide if Sophia and Mari ever came over. She deleted the text and started again. Use tape, she wrote instead.

  You’re a genius!!!! came the reply, followed by a string of excited emojis.

  That made Charlotte’s grin even wider, though she wasn’t quite sure how to respond. She couldn’t say thank you to something that was obviously half a joke, but then what should she say? After considering for a moment, she sent back her own string of emojis, including her two favorites, a jaunty snowman and a scarlet poppy, and hoped that was all right.

  Got to go with my mom to the px but come to the pool tmrw, Sophia wrote.

  Will try, Charlotte texted back. The words were casual, but Charlotte’s insides were delightfully fizzy from the invitation and the whole exchange. Being friends with Sophia and Mari was so much fun! Of course Charlotte had liked Brynna and Daisy back in Pennsylvania, and her friend Ella in Vermont before that. But they were girls like Charlotte, the kind of girls who sat near the garbage cans in the cafeteria, who talked about homework and their hobbies, and who passed through the halls unnoticed. Which was fine, perfectly fine. But it wasn’t exciting, not like Sophia and Mari, who sat at the best table in the cafeteria, who made funny jokes about classmates, and who couldn’t walk two feet down the hall without people calling to them, wanting to see and be seen with them. Charlotte was a part of that now, a girl people noticed. Even though she was new, everyone already knew who she was. And she liked it more than she ever would have dreamed.

  “Are you done with your homework yet?” Rosie asked.

  Charlotte startled slightly—she hadn’t heard her sister come in.

  “Pretty much,” she said, stretching a little and then standing up. The math would only take another ten minutes—she could finish it later.

  Cupcake, who had been dozing in a sunny spot on the rug, ran over to greet Charlotte and Rosie as though she hadn’t seen either of them in weeks.

  “Dad says we can go explore,” Rosie said. She bent down to cuddle Cupcake and the big dog wriggled with joy, her short tail wagging furiously.

  “Sounds good,” Charlotte agreed. She reached over to scratch Cupcake between her
ears the way she loved. Cupcake rewarded her with an affectionate lick on the hand.

  “Cupcake’s lonely,” Rosie said. “She needs me to find Buddy.”

  Charlotte tried not to sigh at this, at least not out loud.

  “Don’t worry, Cupcake,” Rosie crooned to the dog, who looked perfectly happy to Charlotte. “I promised I’d find your friend and I will.”

  “Want to get going?” Charlotte asked, standing up. It would be fun to check out more of the base.

  “Okay,” Rosie said. “Let’s get Tom.”

  Charlotte followed her sister out of the room, wondering how Tom would react. Normally she’d assume he would be as eager as she and Rosie were, but he’d been weird the past few days, quiet and distracted, but denying anything was wrong when Charlotte asked.

  And when they walked into his room he wasn’t even working—he was just sitting at his desk staring into space.

  “Tom, we’re going biking around the post,” Rosie announced, brushing her bangs out of her face. “And everyone needs to make sure to look for Buddy,” she added.

  Charlotte was seriously getting tired of hearing about this dog Rosie was so worked up about. She was sure Cupcake was just fine without this new friend. Tom had to be as impatient with the whole Buddy thing as she was, but he didn’t seem to have even heard. Cupcake nuzzled his hand and he patted her absently.

  “Hurry up,” Rosie said cheerfully.

  Tom cleared his throat, then stood up. “Okay,” he said, but his voice sounded far away.

  “Are you all right?” Charlotte asked for possibly the hundredth time since the first day of school.

  And for the hundredth time Tom nodded mechanically. “Yeah, fine,” he said.

  Charlotte bit her lip as she looked at her brother. What was he keeping from them? And why? Tom was never one for secrets; none of the Baileys were. But Tom was clearly holding something back as he brushed past, not meeting her eyes.

  Charlotte sighed, then went after him.

  After saying good-bye to Dad and Cupcake, the three siblings grabbed their bikes from the garage and pedaled down Bingham Road, heading toward the main plaza. They stopped at a light on Washington Street and Patrick Boulevard.

  “Should we turn here or keep going?” Charlotte asked. All directions seemed promising since the base was hopping with activity.

  “Keep going,” Rosie decided.

  They waited for several army jeeps and a civilian car to pass, then rode toward Gettysburg Drive. Charlotte was in the lead and she didn’t stop until they’d reached the obstacle course next to the big training field on Adams Drive.

  “Who do you think is going to win?” Charlotte asked her siblings as they pulled up next to her. A platoon was coming to the end of the course, all of them dripping sweat as they raced to be the first one done.

  “I think that woman is the best,” Rosie said, pointing at the soldier leaping over a pit of mud before landing gracefully, securing her weapon, and lowering to her belly to shimmy under a maze of razor wire.

  “Yeah, she’s good,” Tom agreed.

  The other members of the soldier’s platoon were close behind, but she was clearly in the lead. Their sergeant, whistle in hand, supervised.

  “She’s almost as strong as Mom,” Charlotte said, shielding her eyes from the bright sun as she watched the soldiers climbing up and over a wooden wall. She was hot and sticky just standing there watching—the soldiers must be sweltering, yet none of them slowed.

  They watched as the sergeant ordered the last soldier over the wall to drop and do twenty push-ups. “Can Mom make people do that?” Rosie asked.

  Charlotte smiled. “I don’t think so,” she said. “Mom works in the Military Intelligence Training office, and I don’t think they have people do push-ups there.”

  Rosie brushed a stray lock of black hair back from her face and crinkled her nose. “That’s boring,” she said.

  “Teaching people how to be super-spies and stop the bad guys is not boring,” Charlotte pointed out.

  Rosie considered this and then nodded. “I’m thirsty,” she announced. “Can we get juice?”

  “Sure,” Charlotte agreed. Her lips were dry and a cold drink sounded great.

  The Baileys got back on their bikes, and Tom led the way down Adams Drive. They passed several administrative buildings, an indoor training center, and a group of soldiers marching in crisp formation across a wide green field. The sun beat down as they passed the barracks where new recruits lived and the mess hall next door.

  “We should get library cards,” Charlotte called as they passed the big brick library on the corner.

  “Roger that,” Rosie called back.

  They turned on Patrick Boulevard, passing the movie theater and a pizza shop before coming to a stop in front of the small deli that sold newspapers and snacks.

  The chill of air-conditioning wrapped around them as they stepped inside the store, cool and delicious after the sun.

  “Are you getting yucky grapefruit?” Rosie asked. She was reaching for a bottle of apple juice.

  “Definitely,” Charlotte said. She knew it was strange, but she loved the way it made her lips pucker and quenched her thirst on a hot day like nothing else ever could. She was pleased to see a row of fresh-squeezed juice and selected a container of pink grapefruit, slick with condensation.

  “Ready?” Tom asked. He was already up at the register with his lemonade and handing the clerk their money. Charlotte took a gulp of her juice and then followed her siblings to the door.

  Outside Charlotte saw Tash coming out of the café across the street with her mom. When Tash spotted the Baileys, she headed over.

  “Hey,” Tash said. She was wearing cutoffs and a green T-shirt dotted with musical notes.

  “We’re exploring the post,” Rosie told Tash importantly.

  Tash smiled at her. “Find anything fun?”

  “We watched some GIs on the obstacle course,” Rosie said. “Someday I want to try that.”

  “Me too,” Tash agreed. “Though it looks kind of scary.”

  Rosie snorted. “That’s not scary at all.”

  Charlotte laughed. “It takes more than a wall and some razor wire to spook Rosie,” she said, swigging on her nearly empty juice bottle.

  Tash’s eyes lit up. “Oh, I know what might do it,” she said. “Have you guys heard about the haunted house on the alley off Crimson Drive?”

  Rosie’s eyes got big. “No,” she said. “Tell us.”

  Charlotte smiled, impressed that Tash was so good with Rosie. And needless to say she was interested in the haunted house too.

  “It’s this old abandoned building, all dark and dingy, with spiderwebs and boarded-up windows,” Tash began, lowering her voice. “None of the adults will talk about it—they just tell you to stay away and not to ask questions.”

  With a start Charlotte realized that was exactly what Mom had said about the restricted buildings on post.

  “But all the kids on post know that years ago the army used to do experiments there,” Tash went on. “Top secret experiments.”

  “What were they trying to do?” Rosie asked breathlessly.

  “The story goes that they were trying to create some kind of super-soldier,” Tash said. “And then it all went wrong, and they had to close it up really fast. All the doctors working on the project just kind of disappeared.”

  “What about the soldiers they were experimenting on?” Charlotte asked, so caught up in the story she nearly shivered despite the heat of the day.

  “That’s the thing,” Tash said. “Some of them never made it out.”

  “So they’re still trapped in there?” Rosie asked, clearly rapt.

  “People even say some of them might have died in there,” Tash said.

  “So now they’re ghosts,” Rosie whispered.

  Any normal six-year-old would find that a scary prospect, but Rosie just looked excited to find out more.

  “No one knows fo
r sure,” Tash said. “But bad things happen when you get near that building. If you get too close, you hear noises like—”

  “Like moans,” Tom said.

  “Exactly,” Tash said, and they all turned to look at him.

  “How do you know that?” Rosie asked.

  “I biked by there the other day,” Tom said. “I didn’t know what it was, but it looked interesting so I stopped.”

  “You went exploring without us?” Charlotte asked, her voice suddenly squeaky, her feelings about to be very hurt if Tom said yes. The Baileys always explored cool new places as a team. Always.

  Tom had an odd look on his face, almost like he was embarrassed. “No, I didn’t get close or anything. I … I wanted to wait for you guys.”

  Charlotte let out a breath—that was okay, then—he’d waited for them before getting to the fun part.

  “Anyway,” Tom went on, “as I was leaving, a GI came and told me the whole place is off-limits.”

  Tash nodded. “Yup, that’s what they say, but—” She broke off suddenly as her mom came up.

  “Hi, Baileys,” Mrs. Wilson said cheerfully. “Tash, are you ready? I know you want to get in some practice time before dinner.”

  “Right,” Tash said, turning so she could give the Baileys a knowing look before heading off with her mom.

  “Do you think that house is really haunted?” Rosie asked eagerly.

  “I’m not sure,” Charlotte said. “But there’s only one way to find out—let’s go see it.” Charlotte wasn’t sure she believed in ghosts, but Tash’s story was pretty convincing. Charlotte definitely wanted to check out the house for herself and see what was really going on there. And judging from the gleeful expression on Rosie’s face, Charlotte knew her sister felt exactly the same way.