“Mark my words, we will all pay,” Thorn says, jogging to join Harris at the front.
“Isn’t he certifiable yet?” Ebbel asks.
“I thought it was the drink, but no, yeah, he’s getting there,” I say.
I walk to the edge of my flight, my heart pounding. Please don’t talk to me. please don’t talk to me. of course, they are all supposed to be lining up for our turn to run, and stretching, and such, but they aren’t, they are whispering and so on. Of course, they are supposed to be paying attention to Harris, but they aren’t. please just don’t talk to me.
I walk the back and stand there, anger burning in my chest. I’m afraid to talk now. terrified. Terrified of talking and them not hearing me. never. Never hearing me. even as I scream, they can’t hear me, they can’t hear me begging them for help.
Just leave me alone, like you always do.
Okay, no problem, they don’t look at me. they don’t care. This is how a person goes for years without realizing they aren’t making a sound. One whispers to me but I don’t answer they think I haven’t heard so they move on it doesn’t matter that much.
And so I don’t make a sound. And I don’t answer. And I stare straight ahead. The perfect soldier.
“Do you want to race?” I ask Titus, as he rubs his head with the heels of his hands methodically. I mostly want to get him to stop, it looks like he’ll hurt himself, and his eyes look so distant when he does that.
“Yes---with you?” he asks, moving his hands and looking at me quickly.
“No, stupid, with the wind,” I say, as Ebbel fires the starting pistol.
I like her use of irony. Hell, I like her. and I like liking her.
I hate running. Like fifty feet and my breath hurt and my feet hurt and it’s bloody ridiculous we’re spacemen, not land running people. And the children are bound to be much quicker than me, look, they’re passing me already, it’s stupid and it’s boring and it hurts and I don’t see why I had to run at the front anyway.
“Are the cadets passing Harris already?” Ebbel rolls his eyes, as we jog behind the cadets to make sure they don’t fall and get knocked out by their own oxygen tanks or something random and unlikely like that.
“Yes,” I say, craning my neck to look, “Thorn’s ahead of them, though.”
That idiot Harris can’t even run. I’m the alcoholic and he’s the one getting beaten by the little devils. The card is like lightning, but the other taller ones like Tom are easily keeping pace with him. His very little legs have to make two strides for every one of the taller ones, like Leavitt he’s in the front easily, nice rolling gate. I like watching them run, like a pack of hounds. It’s good they learn how to run. They need to know how to run. We all will soon if we are to save our souls. I doubt if we’ll succeed though. I should really just resign myself to that. That we’re all going to be dragged into hell.
I don’t like running that much. It hurts and I’m never the fastest. So I just keep pace with the slower ones in my flight. Wendy’s up there with Leavitt and Card. Oh well, I probably won’t get paired with her for combat, then. I’ll get my kiss another day.
I am almost keeping pace with Leavitt, damn him. he’s still faster than me after all the nights I’ve spent sneaking out to run I’m still not the fastest. But I will be once I chop his legs off. which I will do, sometime. Just not right now. I’ve still got Ebbel to deal with I’m rather disappointing myself on that front. I really need to get things done tonight.
I just close my eyes and I run and I don’t think about speaking or noises or voices or being heard or bodies or nooses or mothers crying or beer or anything I just think about how my whole body is burning and how nice and squishy the shoes feel under my feet and I most definitely don’t think about how much I hate it here.
“Logan’s falling behind,” Tom whispers to me, as we run near the front. Thorne is ahead of us, but Harris has already fallen well behind.
“He’ll get held back a few weeks if he fails this one,” I say, glancing over my shoulder to see that Logan is predictably puffing far behind us.
“I tried to help him as well,” she says, shaking her head a little. She knows I talked to him. but the talk didn’t do him any good. I do need to work on my experiments for this week. And I just recently added being nice. I’ll see if I feel happy like people appear to and the psychology textbooks say I should. And I don’t need to win. I don’t need to beat Leavitt today. I will tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow and the next hundred years when I am immortal and remembered and powerful and he is crippled and destroyed and alone. so today I will be nice.
“Let’s not let him fail,” I say, “Can you help me?”
“Yeah, how?” she asks.
“Peter, run ahead, create a distraction,” I say to him, he’s at my other shoulder, keeping pace, loyally.
“Okay,” he says, and he sprints ahead.
“Come on, we’ll carry him,” I say slowing my pace drastically to allow Logan to catch us. Tom does the same.
“I can’t,” he’s sobbing.
“Yes, you’re right, you can’t, shut up,” I say, hooking arms with him and driving my shoulder under his armpit, so that he’s hoisted almost off the ground, Tom does the same and we both doubled our speed, dragging ourselves and him back to the front of the pack.
“Wha---what?” he can barely breath.
“Just hold on,” Tom grits her teeth he’s really heavy, by the way, and he is almost dead weight at that point, his feet hindering us more than helping.
My vision starts to go black as I feel the air running out of my lungs. It’s really awful to feel like that running, and I hate that. My stomach is sick and bile is in my mouth, I can run but he’s dead weight pulling me backward and all I can think about is---to---run.
“We’re past the finish,” Tom slows her pace and the two of them slow me.
“I don’t feel anything,” I mumble, spitting and walking, tugging Logan with me so he doesn’t cramp. I did something nice. I tried.
“But---but if they see they’ll disqualify me,” Logan mutters.
“Nope, still don’t feel anything,” I say, looking around at the trees and Leavitt who crossed about five minutes ago standing there passively staring at the sky. “Oh well, now I know. Not worth doing that again.”
“What are you talking about?” Tom asks, wiping sweat from her forehead.
“Oh nothing,” I say.
“Thank you guys but they’re gonna disqualify me,” Logan hangs his head.
“No, they’re not, they didn’t see,” I say, as Wilde finally looks over to take note of who is crossed and who is still running.
“Why not?” he asks, “Weren’t they watching?”
“No, Peter set himself on fire,” I say. Card school of Brainwashing definitely requires improvement. Oh well, practice makes perfect.
“What?” Tom asks.
“I just asked him to create a distraction,” I say, shrugging innocently. I don’t do the innocent thing very well. I do really need practice at being me. Sixteen years isn’t enough to achieve greatness. I’m hoping eighteen will be. then I can be perfect for a solid forty before my mind starts to go like my fathers must have otherwise he would have seen what a significant person I am and never would have left.
“Come here, come here, you don’t need to do that, huh? You’re not gonna do that,” I say, holding the boy so he won’t burn himself again. the skin on his arms and chest is red and bubbly. He’s crying and trying to dive to get the lighter which fell into the dirt.
“I need it,” he whispers, struggling.
“No, no you don’t, baby,” I say, rocking him back and forth and pressing my face against his head, “Shh, just stand here with me, shhh.”
“Humanity had a good run,” Thorn says, nodding and looking unsurprised as I hold the badly burned cadet.
“What the hell happened? What was on fire?” Ebbel asks, running up to join us.
“Nothing much, this one just tried to set hi
mself on fire,” Thorn says, very calmly.
“The rest are accounted for, and I’ve sent for the medics,” Wilde says, jogging back. The cadet is sobbing in my arms now, struggling less which is good because his skin was crumbling when he was thrashing like that.
“Yeah, we’re not gonna do that,” I say, continuing to rock us back and forth, “Go ahead and cry, just cry.”
“What do you mean nothing much?” Ebbel asks Thorn, as though it’s his fault.
“Well, he’s still alive. much worse things will come to pass,” Thorn says.
“Will you quit with the end of time shit???” Ebbel hisses, annoyed.
“Cannibalism and mutilation yesterday, self-immolation today---oh wait, you’re right, everything’s totally fine. my bad. This sort of thing happens all the time,” Thorn laughs. I think he’s legitimately crazy.
“Ebbel don’t engage him---Thorn quit predicting the apocalypse for a minute we need to take care of this Cadet,” Wilde says, picking up the lighter and put it in her cargo pocket.
“Shhh, shh,” I say, the cadet is sobbing harder now, he turns around to hug me, which mushes his burned up the skin into my fatigues. Somehow I know that it would do him far worse to stop him, so I hug him back, even as I feel his skin peel off onto me. “It’s okay now, you’re okay.”
“We’ve got nobody in IDMT since Morrow got fileted,” Ebbel says.
“Good, he needs an actual doctor,” Wilde says.
“He died, I saw him die,” the boy sobs, thrashing in my arms. I keep him still and close to me.
“Shh, I know, you know what baby? It’s okay,” I say, holding him in a vice-like a grip with one arm and stroking his hair with the other. “it’s gonna be okay, we’re gonna take care of him, just like we took care of you.”
“Who? Saw who die?” Ebbel asks.
“I’m not asking him,” I say, in a sing-song voice, as I rock the boy back and forth, his sobs are subsiding and he’s having trouble breathing. Thank god I got the oxygen tank off of him before it exploded. Or do oxygen tanks only explode in films? Not worth risking it, I’d figured, but now he’s not breathing well. “Let’s get you some air, okay? We’re gonna get you something good air to breath, nice and cool, okay?” I ask, kneeling down in front of him, a hand still on his shoulder.
“Uhuh,” he nods, tears running down his red face.
“Okay, we’re gonna put this on,” I say, unlooping my own oxygen tubes from around my head and putting the little tubes up his nose. “Breathe in and out for me, okay. You’re gonna look at me and we’re just gonna breath---good very good, good job mate I’m so proud of you. you’re doing really great for me.”
“You,” he says, taking it out and pushing it at my face.
“No, no, you need it right now, you keep it,” I say, looping it back on him carefully, “Just breathe with me for a little bit, okay?”
“Where did the inbred moron get so good at comforting people?” Ebbel asks.
“I did hear that,” I say, my voice still soft and soothing, “Now, it’s gonna be okay. You’re gonna breath with me, and then we’re gonna go and get you fixed up, okay?”
“You too,” he says, tears in his eyes again. I don’t know if he wants me to breathe the oxygen too, or if he wants me to stay with him.
“Yeah, me too, I’m going to stay with you,” I say, wiping soot and dirt from his cheek with my fingers, he closes his eyes as he cries.
“Not okay,” he says.
“No, no it’s not okay, is it? I’m gonna be here, though,” I say. I am vaguely aware of ambulances and the hum of engines. Paramedics are kneeling next to us. they see he’s clinging to me and they don’t try to move him.
“He’s burned himself,” I say, as though that isn’t obvious, “His name’s” I don’t know, they all look alike with their crew cuts and none of them have name tapes of course or dog tags not yet.
“Peter, his name’s Peter Long,” Liesel says, pressing something into my hand. I don’t know what and I feel her next to me then they are herding her away to be with the rest and I realize that’s the first time she’s actually spoken to me I didn’t even say anything not thank you nothing. it doesn’t matter. She’s all right, he isn’t. Some man’s son. Just easily mine as she is. I stand, and he sort of leans into me, not complying as the medics try to get him loaded onto a gurney.
“Peter, we’ve got to go to the hospital, for me, all right? Will you come with me? It’s going to be all right, my man,” I say, putting my hands on his shoulders, “Just going for a ride now.”
“No,” he says shaking his head and staring off, “Don’t let them take him.”
“We’re not going to, we’re just going to go for a ride, now make you feel a bit better,” I say. he’s still kind of leaning against me. and we need to get him loaded up if we do they can get the IV in him and knock him out. “Come here,” I pick him, up, quickly as I can, and set him on the stretcher. He moans, so I’m sure it hurts him, but he wasn’t letting them do it and it is for the best.
“Can you come with?” one of the paramedics asks, as I stand by still holding Peter’s hand as they begin to strap him in to get him loaded into the van.
“Yeah—yes,” I say, looking around for approval from Ebbel, but he’s busy with validation that Peter needs to be removed. I don’t give a damn. The boy is still holding my hand and sobbing softly, and he wants and needs me. I’m breaking the rules and will be probably court-martialed as it is, I might as well go for gold.
“Stay,” Peter says, staring off blankly into the trees.
“I’ll stay with you,” I say, holding his hand, wiping the tears from his eyes as best I can.
“Did that simpleton know what his name was?” Titus asks, leaning against a tree and watching disinterestedly as they load Peter into an ambulance.
“No,” Liesel says, “I don’t think so, but then he was all sooty and burned, and we don’t have our names on.”
“Downright shame,” Tyrell says, equally disinterestedly.
“Poor Peter,” I say, hitting Titus.
“What? It’s not my fault,” he says.
“You literally asked him to!” I say, shoving Titus’ shoulders.
“I asked him to create a distraction I said nothing about setting himself on fire!” Titus says, holding his hands up as I hit him.
“He’s probably going to die,” I say, tears in my eyes, “He’s definitely expelled.”
“He was standing up, and I didn’t say to do that I’d never think of him doing that! There was clearly something wrong with him,” Titus says.
“Not before you got involved, I hate you,” I say, hugging myself and sobbing, “Everything weird keeps happening here, first Tim, now this.”
“I had nothing to do with Tim or this and if you don’t believe me—fine I don’t care,” Titus says, walking away. I hug myself, sobbing. Gentle arms go around my shoulders and I realize Tsegi is hugging me. she’s crying too.
Let them be mad at me. I try to do something nice and this happens. I hate them too. Let them all burn. Let the fire burn.
Long must’ve told Tom something. Now I shall have to eliminate both of them if my secret is to remain safe. This evening is looking better and better.
And now someone’s tried to burn himself up. Of course, he did. what else would happen down here in hell? In hell where all is silent. Here in hell where my voice makes no sound. Here in hell where we die and slowly consume each other as our very souls are consumed. Here in hell where my voice makes no sound.
“Card get back here!! You’re spending the night in the brig!”
“What the hell for?”
“Wandering off, and now, talking for back, do twenty laps.”
Cool. Murder time. thanks, Ebbel.
“Are you okay?” a girl asks, taking my hand. I look over at her, stupidly. She’s the one who got Darla off of me earlier. I thought she was nice.
I nod.
“Do you think Peter will
be okay?” she asks.
“No, no I don’t,” I say, taking a deep breath. She continues to stare at me, so I just shake my head.
“He was nice,” she says. she’s still holding my hand. I don’t quite mind.
I nod again.
“I think you’re nice too,” she says, and she kisses my cheek. I look at her, startled, and she backs away. “My name’s Tsegi.”
“Mine’s Quentin,” I say. she backs away smiling a little, and then turns and runs back to her flight.
“Did you hear me?” I call.
“Yes,” she says, laughing a little. And she turns around and smiles, blowing a kiss. I find myself smiling back, laughing actually. And I’m not thinking about nooses or dead brothers or cannibalism. I’m thinking about how all right it felt to have her hold my hand and kiss my cheek. How all right it was to have someone there who cared about me.
Twenty laps? Does he truly think he can break me? He is no match for me. none of them is a match for me. I wish they were. it would make this more interesting. Maybe you are? Care to participate? No? You never do anything. you’re just there, always there watching me. Am I more interesting than the others? With their boring little lives and thoughts and love affairs? I certainly hope so, I offer you revenge murder true love duels and murder and glory and honor, and of course, spacemen. I hope you’re enjoying the ride. I don’t always.
Chapter 20
I stand by the edge of the path, as Titus runs past. Damn it he was sick after carrying Logan like that, how can he keep running? I feel terrible. He wouldn’t have walked away if I hadn’t yelled at him and now he is having to do this he has to be dying. I never should have shouted at him. but Peter is one of my best friends. But Titus was right, I’d heard him he hadn’t told Peter to do that. I was wrong of me to blame him. So it’s my fault he has to run like this.
I push through the pain. Pain means nothing I am a god among men. I am not cut from the same stuff as them otherwise I would not move. I would not breathe still if I were one of them. My oxygen tank ran out two laps ago. Yet I still breathe.
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