Walking Ghost Phase by D. C. Daugherty Page A

dangling above his unlocked gun holster.
    Alone near the exit, Raven stared at the road as she rubbed tears from her cheeks. A black patch of eyeliner on her dress, where she wiped her fingers, had swelled to the size of her hand. At the other end of the transport, Damon smiled as he checked out the MPs, seeming to find some admirable quality in the two men. Then Emily looked farther down where Matt sat in the darkest shadow of the tarp. Besides saying his name, he hadn 't made a peep since they left his house. She wondered how long it would have taken someone to notice if he disappeared or if the MPs even remembered he was with them in the first place.
    Why 'd you come? What did you have to lose if you ran?
    Sometime later Vasquez grumbled awake. He checked his watch and stood, puffing his chest outward in what Emily assumed was perfect military posture. “All right, soldiers, nap time is over.”
    Emily bumped Sarah, who shook her head and watched the passing road with wide eyes. She wiped her mouth and smiled.
    “ Listen up because I'm only going to say this once,” Vasquez continued. “We arrive in ten minutes. After you leave my glorious presence, you'll head to your designated area. Those are set up based on the first letter of your last name. The check-in officers will assign you a room number and give you a duffle bag. Take the bag to your room, change into the gear we have so graciously provided and report to the barber ASAP.”
    Emily and Sarah stared at each other, their eyes w ide circles. “Barber?” they asked in unison.
    Vasquez leaned forward “That's right, princesses.” He stroked his fingers along the side of Sarah's temple. “They'll make you high and tight. I'm going to request a lock of yours so I'll never forget this moment.”
    The blood drained from Emily 's face, and Raven's complexion lost all memory of the sun.
    “ Any more questions, princesses?”
    When Sarah shook her head, Emily 's stomach eased.
    “ Good.” Vasquez sauntered toward the rear and stopped in front of Raven. “After you leave the barber, report to the mess hall for chow.” He tugged on the strap of her dress and let it recoil and smack her shoulder. “And I'm sorry to say, rich girl, they don't serve caviar or wine.”
    Sarah 's cheeks filled with air, and she slapped her hand over her mouth.
    “ Don't do it,” Emily whispered.
    But the short chuckle burst through Sarah 's lips.
    Vasquez whipped around and stabbed his finger in the air toward Sarah 's feet. “Twenty, now.”
    Sarah gazed at Emily, her expression confused, as if she waited for the translation of some foreign language. “What?”
    “ Now you owe me thirty pushups.”
    She spun and stared at his silver belt buckle, which was now an inch or so from her face. “I can't do thirty p—”
    “ Make it fifty, and one more word, you'll do them with my boot up your ass.”
    For a moment Sarah was silent while Vasquez tapped his boot against the wooden floor. When no one delivered the punch line Sarah seemed to expect, she sighed, slid off the bench and rolled on to her chest.
    “ Count off, soldier.”
    K nees against the floorboards, she lifted her body. “One.”
    Vasquez kicked his boot into her ankle. Sarah screamed, and her chest smacked the floorboards. “This isn't gym class, soldier. You females want gender equality? You want to show you belong outside the kitchen? Here's your chance to prove it. Knees in the air.”
    Sarah straightened her legs, digging the tip of her shoes in the wood, and she pushed. The first ten pushups seemed to pass with ease. Then eleven came , and her arms trembled. “Twelve.” Tears dripped below her face. “Thir—” A spasm rolled through Sarah's shoulder, and in mid-lift her elbows shot out from her body. Her left cheek and chest planted against the floorboards.
    “ Thirteen? Thirteen pushups? That's it? You have to be shitting me.” He leaned over, grabbed a wad of her shirt and lifted her off the floor.