Freefall Page 5

  Chapter Five

  “Five more minutes,” the commander warns us.

  “I’m picking up a very strong aura off of you,” Number 7 says to me as she sits up.

  I risk a discreet sniff of my underarms. The smell almost knocks me out.

  “You’re a Taurus, right?” she asks.

  “Yes.” My voice sounds tentative and suspicious.

  “Taurus is ruled by Venus.” She smiles. “That’s the planet Noga, the one I’m named after. It represents love and desire.” She gazes off into the distance. “Taurus are known to be stubborn.” She nods her head. “If this”— she turns both palms upward and spreads them in front of her—“is what you want, you’ll find the power inside you to overcome all obstacles. Taurus are survivors.”

  “And I’m sure right now I look like death.”

  Noga tilts her head to the sky. “Yes, but isn’t it great not to have to care how we look? We’re out here in the sun with nature and at one with the land.” Noga’s smooth light skin is dotted with dust freckles. She could be a poster girl for wholesome living if I hadn’t just watched her polish off a can of meat.

  “You sound like you’re enjoying this.”

  “I could do without the sandbags.” She pauses. “And I’d prefer being barefoot than wearing these clunky things.” She struggles to lift her booted foot off the ground.

  The commander whistles impatiently. “Lunch break is over. Number Six. Collect the garbage in that bag and put it by that pole.”

  “Why me?” she asks. “I brought the food. Someone else can collect the remains. It’s not fair. I’m just as tired as they are. Why don’t you make one of them do it?”

  I’ll do it for Number Six,” says Amber.

  “My name’s Sonya. And thanks.”

  “No you won’t,” says the commander. “You’ll run up that hill and back, seeing as you’ve got all this extra energy.”

  “That’s harsh,” Lily mumbles.

  We wait, wondering what Sonya will do. She looks at us, and the realization dawns that whatever she chooses will affect us.

  Less than a second passes before Sonya picks up the garbage bag and begins to collect the trash.

  I exhale.

  “You five over there!” shouts the commander, pointing also at me.

  Pigtails, North Carolina, Argentina, Amber, and I are given a stretcher. Doesn’t look like a very sturdy thing: two long poles with a flimsy canvas in the middle. Still, I’m hoping that they’ll volunteer me to lie on it, since I’m probably the lightest. And I could use the rest.

  “Your sacks of sand. On the stretcher. Now!”

  We heave our sacks on the stretcher. I can tell the other girls, like me, are feeling hopeful. Maybe we’ve finished this part of the exercise and it’s time to pack in the sandbags and move on to something else. Anything would be better.

  We slap the dust off our hands and grin at one another. The other girls stand beside their sandbags, looking disgruntled and jealous.

  “You girls want to go into the field?”

  “Ken, Commander.”

  “Then you’ve got to be able to carry each other out. When we’re under enemy fire and you’ve got a man down, you’ll do everything in your power to take him home. This is the army, but now”—she pauses and looks at each of us—“it’s also your family. We never leave a soldier behind. You got that? Never. Now, lift it up!”

  “Lift that?” says Argentina, pointing to the stretcher loaded with the sandbags. “But nobody weighs that much.”

  “Not even Lily,” says Sonya.

  “Hike the poles onto your shoulders. You four will hold it, and you,” she says, pointing at Amber, “will run behind ready to switch off. The rest of you girls will carry the spare water canteens in those packs. Get moving. Keep it sturdy. Dropping an injured soldier could mean a life.”

  We each grab a side of the stretcher and heave it onto our shoulders. It seems to weigh more than everything I have ever carried in my whole life put together.

  “Don’t drop it,” the commander warns. “It could be you up there one day.”

  I’ve cursed these sandbags and wished I could throw them into the sea. Now I’ll do anything to keep the stretcher balanced on my shoulder. I don’t want to be the one who drops it.

  “My shoulder’s killing me,” says Carolina. “I can’t do this much longer. Can someone switch me?”

  “Who’s on the stretcher, Private!” the commander shouts, running up to her.

  No one answers.

  We trudge on a bit faster, maybe thinking we can get away from her. I don’t know what she wants. We don’t have anyone up there, just our sandbags. Heavy, shoulder-crushing loads I’d like to toss over the next ridge.

  “Who’s on the stretcher, Private?” She waits another second. “The people who care about you the most, and who you worry about, are sometimes the heaviest ones to bear. The ones we’d like to rid ourselves of are the ones who give us strength. Who’s on the stretcher, Private?”

  “My ma,” says North Carolina.

  “Your mother?”

  “Yes, Commander. My ma’s been on my back for eighteen years.”

  No one speaks.

  Her accent gets thicker. “Shouldn’t you be studying, Hadas?” She pants and struggles for breath. “Shouldn’t you be reading something more intellectual?” Her breath comes in short bursts. “Isn’t that boy a bad influence on you? I’ve seen bathing suits with more material than that shirt you’re wearing. ”

  The commander motions to Amber to switch off with her.

  “Tough stuff,” mutters Argentina.

  “Who’s on your stretcher, Private!” the commander shouts at Argentina.

  She staggers but catches herself. “My brother, Commander. My brother the Navy SEAL. My brother the genius. My brother the serious, successful one.”

  She switches off with Sonya.

  We shuffle on.

  I’m hoping she won’t ask me. But she reads my mind.

  “Who’s on the stretcher, Private!” she hollers at me.

  I don’t know. My mind is blank. I can’t think. Everything I’ve always wished for? Everything I’ve always wanted to be though I’m not even sure what it is. My head is reeling. The stretcher tears at my skin. My knees can no longer support me.

  “Who’s on the stretcher, Private! I can’t hear you.”

  I trip on a stone, stumble, and the stretcher almost tumbles. Lily rushes forward and slides in, taking my spot.

  “Good,” she says to Lily. “That’s how it should be done. Who’s up there?”

  The crunching of our boots, our labored breaths, and pathetic whimpers are the only sounds to break the silence.

  “All one hundred sixty-five pounds of me, Commander—and that’s before eating the calorie grenade we got for lunch.”

  Argentina laughs huskily. “We’re lucky we’ve just got to carry the sandbags and not you.”

  The rest of us grit our teeth and keep moving. I can’t help thinking that it takes a lot of guts to admit out loud that the thing that weighs you down the most is yourself.

  We march on.

  Twilight creeps in.

  The commander whistles. We halt.

  “Your duffel bags, tent, and sleeping equipment are waiting for you at the top of the next hill!” she shouts. “That’s where you’ll camp for the night.”

  “Up there?” whispers Amber.

  “At the top of the hill?” says Pigtails.

  We start the climb. My limbs don’t feel like they belong to me anymore. Like used parts of some old machine that have been tossed together, they don’t work in unison. My knees wobble. My boots slip on the gravelly dirt. My ankles quiver.

  I’m walking behind Lily, putting my feet down in the spots where she put hers.

  She starts to slip.

  The top of the hill is in sight. Lily groans.

  No! She’s going to go down. I can’t let that happen.

  “Come o
n, Lily!” With a last burst of strength that comes from someplace inside, I bend my head, put both hands on her big round butt, and shove. I shove her as if she were a stalled car at the entrance to Jerusalem. Like all those cars that come so far and conk out so close to the top.

  “Not after all you’ve done!” I shout at her. “We’re almost at the top of our Jerusalem.”

  “Come on, Lily!” we shout in unison.

  Chapter Six

  We reach the top of the hill.

  The sandbags fall to the ground with the stretcher.

  “Good riddance,” says Argentina. “If I never have to lift one of those again, I will be eternally grateful.” She massages her neck.

  “Amen,” says Noga. She groans and sighs. “Look, a quarter moon. But no stars yet.”

  We glance up. The moon’s glow begins to illuminate the distant hills. The heat, which had toasted us during the day, has burnt off. In this light the desert looks mysterious with the odd rock formations that curve in curious shapes.

  “It’s getting cold,” says Amber. “What I wouldn’t do for a hot shower.”

  Sonya groans. “A bubble bath,” she says. “With lots of scented bubbles to soak my feet.”

  The chill reminds me of the stuff I brought from home, the shower that I won’t have but at least a clean T-shirt and a toothbrush.

  “My teeth feel glued with grime,” says Lily. Rinsing off her finger, she rubs it across her teeth.

  I follow her lead, glancing over at the commander, who is talking with her scribes. We wait to find out what they have planned for us next.

  Lily slaps me on the back. “You know, you did great today. How come you’re so fit?”

  “Jerusalem hills,” I say, not sure if I’ve been complimented or insulted.

  “There’s got to be more. You’re holding out on us.”

  I try and laugh it off but feel that the other girls are waiting to hear as well. I’m afraid they’ll tease me, though there’s no way to wheedle out of it now. “I dance.”

  Lily swivels her hips. “You don’t look like the mambo type.”

  I roll my eyes. “Mambo? Me? No. Modern dance, some jazz, ballet.”

  “Now, that I can see. You’re one of those Sugarpear Fairies.”

  Carolina giggles. “Sugarplum Fairy,” she says. “I danced in The Nutcracker when I was in grade six. One of the toy soldiers.” She does a few steps.

  “And from the way you’re still going, I’d say they left the windup mechanism inside you,” says Argentina through a cloud of cigarette smoke.

  Carolina bats at the smoke.

  “Okay, girls,” says the commander. “It gets dark pretty fast around here. Number Eighteen will bring back the stretchers. The rest of you find your gear and start setting up camp. I’ve arranged a schedule of your shifts of guard duty throughout the night, which you will pass from one to the other. I expect you to be at your post on the hour assigned, and don’t let me find one of you even thinking of drifting off while on duty. Understood?”

  I straighten up the equipment and then head over to the pile of duff el bags.

  “I actually brought The Alchemist with me,” says Carolina. “As if I can keep my eyes open long enough to read.”

  “Or have the energy to lift the page.”

  The pile gets smaller. I’d borrowed Hila’s navy blue backpack. It was the biggest one we had in the house. She used it when she went to camp. Navy blue is hard to see when there’s so little light.

  There are three bags left in the pile.

  Lily takes one and trudges off . “It wasn’t that heavy when I packed it this morning.”

  Pigtails takes the next.

  Carolina grabs the last one. “Whew,” she says. “For a second I thought it was lost.”

  There is none left.

  But that’s impossible. My bag has to be around somewhere.

  Mine must have tumbled off to the side. Pigtails lends me her small keychain flashlight. The wind has picked up from the east. It’s a sharp, thick wind carrying sandy grit. I raise my arm to shield my face.

  “Did anyone see my sleeping bag?” I shout. “Or my backpack?”

  There are a few mumbled replies; none of them sound encouraging. It’s got to be here somewhere. I’ve got everything inside my bag. My toothbrush. A hairbrush. Hila gave me a pack of antiseptic wipes.

  “Didn’t anyone see where my stuff went?” My voice quivers on the edge of hysterics.

  The tent is up. Noga struggles with the last pole, trying to straighten out the peculiar slant. Like moles, the girls have buried themselves inside. I’m alone. It’s dark. There is a chill in the air that seeps in through my shirt and inside me. It must be dangerous to be out here on my own.

  “Commander?” I tap on her tent.

  “Commander?”

  “What?”

  “My backpack is missing. I don’t have a sleeping bag, a sweater, not even my hairbrush. What am I supposed to do?”

  She pokes her head out of her tent. I see she has already rolled out her sleeping bag and unzipped it. Her two scribes are lying down.

  “What do you want me to do about it?”

  “I don’t know.” I can hear my voice breaking. “I put it on the bus with everyone else’s stuff. How am I supposed to sleep?”

  She looks at me with her cold, green glare.

  I clench my teeth to keep from trembling.

  “What do you want me to do about it?” She reaches for her radio. “I can call the base and tell them to come get you and take you home, if that’s what you want.”

  She stares me straight in the eye. She doesn’t even say it as a challenge. She doesn’t care if I stay or go. Why should she? There are others who can take my place.

  “Well?”

  I don’t know if that’s what I want. I’m too tired to think straight. My head hurts. My mouth drops open but the words stay stuck inside.

  “When you decide what it is you want, you come and tell me.” She pops her head back in the tent. “I’ve had a long day.”

  She’s had a long day? I find North Carolina outside the tent in a yoga pose. “Did you see my bag?”

  “No.”

  I hesitate. “Do you think we could share a sleeping bag?”

  Silence. “Sorry, but if I don’t get a good night’s sleep, I’ll be hopeless tomorrow.”

  I get the same reply from the rest of the girls.

  “Sugarpear,” says Lily, “if I were to roll over accidentally, I might turn you into stewed fruit. Is that what you want?”

  No, it’s not what I want. I want to go home! I want to sleep in a warm bed with clean sheets. I want Mom to make me a cup of steaming hot chocolate. I want to hear Hila singing in the shower. I want Dad to tell me that everything will be okay. “Strength, Aggie-doll, is built from the inside out.”

  But I’ve had enough.

  I head back to the commander’s tent. The camping light she had on a few minutes ago is off. She’s probably asleep. I stand outside working up the nerve to knock—but I’m too afraid to wake her. There’s no one to ask and I don’t even know which way it is to the army base.

  I’m stuck!

  I go back to the tent and slip inside. Lying on the rocky ground next to the open flap of the tent, I curl into a small ball. I’ll wait for morning and then I’ll have to leave. I feel something inside me beginning to snap.

  Peeking up at the sky through the tent flap, I feel so small and overwhelmed by the vastness around me. I try not to whimper but can’t stop myself. Something hits my foot. I scrunch up tighter. It lies near me. I kick it away. It doesn’t move. Shining a light on it, I realize that someone has tossed out an old shirt.

  I’ve become a dumping ground for dirty laundry.

  Picking it up, I consider throwing it back, but the shirt is soft and smells clean, and rolled up, it works as a pillow, cushioning the rocky soil beneath my head.

  A few moments later something itchy lands next to me. A wool sweater. I
t’s not a blanket, but draped over my shoulders it keeps out the night chill.

  For the next few minutes odds and ends fly my way. Soon I’ve got a somewhat comfortable patch beneath me and am covered on top as well. The final thing lands with a jingle.

  A stuffed bunny.

  I can’t believe someone brought a stuffed animal. Wrapping it in my arms, I snuggle down for the night.

  Only I can’t sleep.

  It’s the pressure.

  I roll onto my side. I roll onto my stomach.

  I try thinking about dry cleaners, dry crackers, dry toast, but nothing works. I have a sandbag inside me weighing down on the very spot where all the water that I drank but didn’t sweat out is about to burst its dam.

  I’ve got to go.

  But it’s dark.

  I’ve got to go.

  But it’s too creepy to go alone. I’m bursting!

  “Lily?”

  Silence.

  “Lily?” I say louder.

  “What?”

  “Don’t you have to pee?”

  I wait. A few minutes later her head pops out of her sleeping bag. “Enough to flood the Jordan River.”

  Pigtails sits up. “Can I come, too?”

  “Where are you going?” asks Argentina.

  “To irrigate the desert,” says Lily.

  “Are we allowed?” asks Amber.

  “What do you mean?”

  We look at one another.

  “We might not be allowed to leave here.”

  “We’re not going out bar hopping,” says Argentina.

  “Maybe we should wake the commander and ask her.”

  “You wake her.”

  “Uh-uh. I’m not waking her.”

  “We could use a can and pass it around,” Noga suggests.

  “You want to take up a collection?”

  “We’d share the can not the—”

  “Disgusting.” Lily wiggles out of her sleeping bag.

  “They can try and control my head, but there are parts of me that no one’s going to ever control. Are you coming?” She says to me.

  “I’m right behind you.”

  “Don’t stand too close.”

  As we start walking, I hear movement behind me.

  Soon eight of us are tiptoeing away from the camp, down the hill, trying not to crunch too loudly in our boots. We scout the area for the most secure terrain.