“Well, we should let you get your flight sized up, looks like we’re going to eat soon,” she says, backing away and basically pulling Darla with her.
“Bye,” Darla says, waving.
I don’t say goodbye to either of them. there probably is something wrong with me. I don’t have much time to ruminate on what, however, because this happens:
“Leavitt, over here, now,” Ebbel says, from remarkably close behind me.
“Sir, Cadet Leavitt reports as ordered,” I say standing at attention in front of him.
“IA needs to talk to you about breakfast, come with me,” he says.
“Yes, sir,” I say.
“Wait---have you eaten yet this morning?” he asks.
“No, sir, I’m not hungry,” I say.
“I don’t blame you, come on,” he says, shrugging.
I line them up for our meal. Logan looks like he’s going to expire from hunger. His flabby stomach is growling. Tom looks lean and brown, we’ve had so many runs this past week, we’re all getting quite tan. She doesn’t look at me specifically, but we are supposed to have our eyes forward. Tsegi is just barely back in time from flirting with Leavitt. I don’t know what the girls see in him---all right I know exactly what they see in him but I don’t have to like it.
The remaining Tim looks sad, Peter looks blankly forward. He’s not in shock anymore, so that’s good. I shall have to see if I can wear the brainwashing out of him a little, if he’s a complete robot they’ll be bound to notice.
Wilde goes to march Leavitt’s flight---I wonder why? Where did they take him? No matter, I’ll ask Kip later. I have no doubt I’ll be in detention duties and the brig again tonight.
I’m terribly groggy now that the thrill of being hooked up to a lie detector has worn off. it’s far too early to mucking about in the woods. This place is getting increasingly insane. doctor’s mutilated, cadets baked into pies---I asked Ebbel if that happened apparently it totally happened. I seriously needed a transfer. Or to get out completely. I don’t care anymore, this is becoming frightening, the cadet dying was one thing, but somebody doing that to the doctor? Even if he is crazy? No, this is dangerous. As soon as Liesel graduates, I am meeting her, telling her who I am. and I am quitting and being there whenever she gets back from leave or whatever she wants to do, she can come and I will always be in my flat waiting for her ready with a meal or to have a chat. Because this—this is not real this is some bizarre version of reality where short scrawny acne covered people with shaved heads ate meals out of brown packets in the forest lest they eat each other. I looked around for Liesel, but in all the shaved heads I couldn’t find her. I sigh. I should really get better at identifying her that probably makes me a horrible parent---who am I kidding? I already am a horrible parent, or I would have actually spoken to my own child before---well now. and she would know who I was. I wondered if she’d missed me last night. I hadn’t messaged her. she was probably fine, I’d said my job was weird. she just had no idea how weird. and the way this week was going, neither did I.
Thorn looks better, he’s stopped spouting random prophesies about the apocalypse, which is a definite improvement on things. Hawking messaged saying that all he’d said as he was cross with me but he would take me if she got tired of me because I was a good woman, and that just because he was drunk didn’t mean he was wrong. So I took that to be a good sign.
“Cadet Leavitt,” so now I know what an IA investigator looks like. Good to know for my future career if I make it out of this bloody school alive.
“Yes, sir,” I say, sitting squarely in the chair. The guy is old, he’s in SBUs and he’s got an awful lot of stripes. I can’t count how many without leaving the position of attention.
“You testified yesterday that you suspected something was wrong with the pies, is that correct?” he asks, leaning forward, “At ease, I just want to talk to you.”
That can’t possibly be good.
“Yes, sir, I did,” I say, shifting to be marginally more comfortable in the chair.
“Do you remember what you said?” he asks.
“That there was somebody baked in them---or something to that effect,” I say, my stomach turning at the memory.
“What made you suspect that?” he asks.
“As I told Sgt. Ebbel, it was because my brother was a cannibal,” I am so dead I wish could just evaporate or be blown up right now and it would be so much quicker than what I’m having to go through I’ll probably get blown up by the end of the week anyway way things are going.
“Did he tell you this?” he asks.
“Yes, sir, he did---after we’d eaten some of it---I spit it right out,” I say, dying a little more on the inside.
“Okay---you don’t have to say, sir, I really just want to talk to you,” he says, more kindly, I wonder if it’s false. It probably is. “I looked you up a bit. But I need you to confirm some things for me. what was your brother’s name?”
“Ian,” I say, my lips burning. I realize I haven’t said his name aloud in years.
“All right, and what happened to Ian?” he asks.
“He died,” I say. I don’t dare say more.
“How?” he asks
Don’t think about it.
“I don’t know he just died,” I say, looking at my hands.
“Okay,” he says, standing up, “You see, we didn’t know any of the things your brother did. we were the government.”
“I figured you did,” I say.
“Is that why you never told anyone?” he asks.
“I guess,” I say, “I told Sgt. Ebbel. I thought my mum told the police everything. He’s dead now. so I don’t suppose I thought it really mattered to tell people.”
“That’s fine,” he says, “You really can’t tell us how your brother died?”
“He hung himself,” I say, closing my eyes, “He hung himself on the stairs in our house. and I watched him. I heard his neck break.”
“Okay, that’s fine if you don’t want to tell me,” he says.
I open my eyes and stare at my hands. They are just shaking.
“Why can’t you hear me?” I ask.
“We’ve sent for your mother, she’ll be here tomorrow,” he says.
“Don’t,” I say, standing up, “I’m fine this isn’t my fault. It’s nothing to do with me and it’s nothing to do with Ian. It’s just something I knew. Please. She’ll be worried.”
“Go ahead and sit down, you can wait here,” he says, going to the door.
I slump back in the chair, burying my head in my hands.
“Why can’t you hear me?” I whisper.
“It’s all right, we’ll bring your mother for you,” he says.
“Why can’t anyone hear me?” I ask, but he’s gone now. so it doesn’t matter that no one can.
“I can’t stomach meat,” Logan says, sadly, as we look at our MREs, sitting cross-legged under the tall trees surrounding the PT field. We’ve done our first run which he failed miserably at, by the way.
“Nor can I,” Tom says, staring at hers.
I’m methodically searching mine for the packet of milk that usually comes with it. I find it and tear it open with my teeth, happily.
“Here,” Logan hands me his. I look, up surprised.
“It’s yours,” I say.
“You always drink it,” he says, “I don’t like to.”
“Oh—thank you,” I say, taking it before he can change his mind. I don’t remember anybody ever gave me their food before. My brothers always stole mine that’s why they’re bigger than I am.
“Sure,” he says, putting his peanut butter on a cracker.
Titus drinks the milk hungrily, like a starved puppy. I wonder if he’s ever had enough to eat he is awfully thin, and I know his family was poor. Maybe that’s why he’s cruel half the time it’s how he was treated.
“Do you know if they found out what happened to Tim?” I ask.
“No, they didn’t tell us flight
leaders anything except to ‘keep morale up which reminds me I need to make a speech---’I’m going to do my best to ensure none of you get eaten---end of speech’—thanks for reminding me,” he says, to me, nodding, like the rest of the flight stares at him, not sure if they should laugh.
“They took Leavitt away for questioning again,” Tsegi says, looking toward Denab flight which Harris is now in charge of.
“Titus, do you know why they would’ve?” I ask, he’s been staring off and he just put his hands to his head like he does when he’s really thinking hard. I don’t really want to know or care about the answer, but I think he doesn’t like it that other people see him doing that, and I’m not entirely sure if he always knows when he’s doing it.
“Yes, they said they might need to ask him more questions about what he said yesterday,” I say, pulling my hands away from my head at the sound of her voice. I don’t want her seeing me do that---it makes me look---more abnormal. And if I want to look the least bit normal for anyone, it’s her. that’s odd. This must be love. I want to look normal for her.
“Poor thing,” Tsegi says.
“He’ll be all right,” I say, so they won’t talk about him anymore, I don’t like him. and it’s probably too much to hope that he’ll come back legless. Anyway, I’m still processing Logan offering the milk. He hasn’t looked at me or done anything that says he wants any sort of reciprocation and it tasted fine it wasn’t a trick. So why do it? he didn’t get anything in return. I wonder if he feels good because he did something nice like in those children’s books and videos about morality they used to show us in school. I don’t recall ever trying to do something nice for somebody without doing getting anything in return----for that matter I can’t recall doing anything nice for anyone. Not intentionally. And if I did unintentionally I certainly never noted their reaction. I shall have to try. Until I murder Ebbel tonight, I’ve got nothing going on anyway.
Chapter 19
“T
he trains are delayed, do you want to go and run with your flight and come back and talk to us some later?” the IA guy is trying to be very nice. I don’t hate him nearly as much as I thought I would.
“Yes, I like running,” I say, looking straight ahead.
“Your MTI tells me you like running, do you want to? You can just nod,” he says.
I squeeze my eyes shut to stop from crying and nod my head, “Yes, I’d like to run.”
“Okay, we’ll walk you back so you can do the run with them,” he says, “That way you won’t miss any of your training.”
“Thank you, did they tell my mum I’m okay?” I ask. I don’t know why I bother. But I do.
“Do you want anything to eat? Just shake your head for me,” he says, going to the door and opening it.
“No, no I’m not hungry,” I say, shaking my head.
“Okay good,” he says, he leads us down a hall. Wilde is waiting for me.
“Well?” she asks him.
“He’s clearly traumatized at the mention of his brother, it’s noted in his file that he’s not able to talk about it. His mother is on his way, we’ll see if she can help us question him,” the IA guy says to her, “Just let him run and do combat with the others, then bring him back here. he seems to want to go.”
“Yes, sir,” she says, looking at me. I follow her, praying she doesn’t ask me any questions. I never get what I want in life. I should know that by now.
“Thank you for helping us out, Leavitt,” she says.
I have to try. “Yes, ma’am.” she looks over sharply at me. she clearly doesn’t hear anything. I nod. I think I’m crying. I can’t get thrown out. I don’t want to be even if it is hellish here. I can’t. I’ll go home and---and I don’t know what. I don’t know what I’ll do.
“You all right, Leavitt?” she asks.
I nod vigorously.
“Okay, come on now,” she says, a bit more gruffly. She sees something is clearly wrong with me but she doesn’t know what.
“I’m going to come in dead last,” Logan says.
“It’s not a race,” for anyone but me and Leavitt if they bring him back they’d better. I want to beat him this time.
“It’s not a race for anyone but him and Leavitt if they bring him back,” Tom says. Now, you see why I love her? It’s not just that she’s the most gorgeous creature to walk the face of Kepler, or that I’m a hormonal teenager, but she really is honestly perfect for me. I truly deserve her and she knows it. if she has as un-polarized a moral compass as I, we’ll conquer the universe together. As it is I may have to do it myself then convince her it’s a good idea.
“I know, but I hate being last. And if I fail again, I might have to re-take training,” he says, hanging his head.
“You’ll do fine, just breath, ignore how much pain you’re in and how sick you feel, and focus on the back of Titus’ head, that’s what I do,” Tsegi says, kindly.
“Peter, you’ll run well today,” I say. he’s acting really robotic. I’m thinking I really need to prompt him to do things he didn’t eat this morning until I told him. hopefully brainwashing wears off or something, or I’ll have to reverse it.
“Yes,” he says, flatly. Damn. Card Theory of Brainwashing needs perfection apparently. I didn’t give him any clear goals, I think that was the problem.
“He’s not speaking,” I say to the IA guy, as soon as Leavitt goes to rejoin his flight. He stands on the edge saying nothing.
“What?” Ebbel asks, hearing us and coming up to investigate.
“No, it was noted in his file that he was mute for a time after witnessing his brother’s suicide, after the interrogation, he quit speaking, though he looks pained, incredibly so, by it, I don’t think it’s acting,” the IA guy says. I really hate him, for a number of reasons including this one.
“So you brought it up and now he can’t speak?” Ebbel asks, annoyed.
“Yes,” the IA guy admits, “Well, technically he brought it up---”
“He was helpfully informing us that one of our cadets was in the pies—you made him quit talking,” I growled.
“Wilde’s right, you’ve just cost us a cadet,” Ebbel says.
“We’ve sent for his mother, perhaps seeing her will---”
“Bring back more tortured memories of his clearly horrible childhood?” Ebbel asks, then he turns to me, “Wait, why did you bring him back to training if you knew he’s mute?”
“Because I thought to see his flight mates might help him to relax, that and running, he loves it,” I say.
“They aren’t his friends,” Ebbel says, “And he’s traumatized by being here, that’s the point, we traumatize them. you ought to have left him in a room.”
“One of the rather pretty girls is fond of him, and if during combat we let them spread themselves out, then she’ll probably try to talk to him,” I say.
“Oh, all right, that will probably work,” Ebbel agrees.
“What do you mean?” the investigator asks.
“When we let them do combat drills in the woods, they’re forever trying to sneak off to give each other advanced lessons in human anatomy; it’s a complete pain. But in this case, that sort of extracurricular attention might be what he needs. If the muteness is purely psychological, nothing will snap him out of it like a girl trying to get his attention,” I explain.
“No, Wilde is right, this is the best way to snap him out of it, even Card acts like something approximating a human being when he’s trying to impress his element leader,” Ebbel says.
“Yes, those two have a thing for each other,” I say, “We’ll have to keep an eye on them.”
“I’ve got Harris on it, he’s probably capable of accomplishing one thing today,” Ebbel says.
I’m clearly not capable of accomplishing anything today. My daughter just marched her flight better than I did mine. Well, it’s not my flight, it’s the kid who was raised by a cannibal or whatever. but I still looked like an idiot. I should get used to the feeli
ng. And now Ebbel wants me to prevent the inevitable woods-snogging-experience. And that’s after I have to run with them for the bloody run. I hate running.
“Why are you making Harris run ahead of them?” I ask, as Ebbel and I stretch before the run.
“Because, I hate him,” he says, with a sigh, “I try not to, every morning I wake up and think ‘I’m not going to completely despise Harris today’. But I can’t help it, I can’t stand the man.”
“Oh dear, I can’t stand him either,” I laughed, “I can’t completely hate him though, because the thing is---nobody hates the way Harris is, more than he does.”
“Really?” he asked, “I didn’t know that.”
“Oh, yeah, if you get cross with him, which I have, I’ll just be like, ‘Harris, you’re a moron, I can’t stand you,’ he’s just like ‘oh yes, I know, I do try not to be an idiot but I don’t seem to be able to manage,” I say, grinning, “So I can’t completely hate him. almost. But not completely.”
“Oh, I didn’t know that still he is an idiot, he can run ahead of all the hooligans and mark their time and all that,” Ebbel says, shrugging, “No doubt they’ll get into trouble.”
“They already rearranged the guidons, that should be enough, don’t you think?” I ask.
“That’s becoming routine with them, I don’t know what’s the matter with this group,” Ebbel says.
“I DO,” Thorn cries, hopping up from doing push ups.
“I thought you took a vow of silence?” I ask him.
“Oh, that’s only when Harris is around because I can’t stand him,” he says, “And I can tell you why we’re having cadets get eaten---”
“Just murdered I don’t think anybody ate him on purpose—”
“Guidons rearranged, and all else happening, it’s the end times,” Thorn says, seriously, “Dark cloud. I’m telling you. all of us will pay.”
“James—” I sigh.
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