Freefall Page 6

  “You three stand guard first,” says Argentina.

  “Why me?” says Sonya. “Why don’t you stand guard first with Lily and the skinny girl?”

  “My name is Aggie,” I say. “And it was my idea to begin with.”

  “I’ll guard first instead of Sonya,” says Lily. “Just do it quickly, okay? I’m dying here.”

  Facing the ravine we unzip and crouch.

  “All clear.”

  We switch. I keep an eye out. “Done?”

  “Done.”

  “Done.”

  “Done.”

  Turning around, we tiptoe back up to camp, the mood a lot lighter. The others crawl into their sleeping bags. I slide between the shirts, sweaters, sheets, and pillowcases that were tossed my way.

  “Are you okay Sugarpear?” asks Lily.

  “Just me and the stars, but yeah, I’m okay.”

  “Hear oh Israel—”

  Sonya groans. “Hey, how am I supposed to sleep with that racket?”

  “I’m praying for us,” says Noga.

  “Pray for yourself. Preferably in silence.”

  “I was only going to ask Him to watch over us.”

  Sonya mutters something.

  “Just because you don’t believe,” says Amber with a slur that can come only from a dental retainer, “doesn’t mean you should be disrespectful.”

  “Thanks, Mom.”

  No one answers.

  Argentina’s raspy smoker’s laugh is impossible not to recognize.

  Then someone else joins in. Soon we’re all laughing.

  “We should get some sleep,” says Pigtails. “Or we won’t be laughing much tomorrow.”

  “Good night, Noga,” says Sonya. She pauses. “I’m sorry I snapped at you.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” says Noga. “It’s all in the stars.”

  Rolling onto my back, I peer out through the flap up at the stars. The sky seems so vast and far away. We must appear so little and insignificant from above. Who knows?

  For now, I’m trying to think of all the right reasons to be here—but only the superficial ones come to mind.

  If I make it through, Grandma will have something to boast about to her friends.

  If I make it through, Mom—well, Mom will go berserk.

  If I make it through, Dad will be impressed.

  Hila will realize she’s not the only one who fights for what she wants.

  Ben and Ron will think it’s sexy.

  Shira will think it’s dangerous and crazy, and that I’m out of my mind.

  And Noah. If he were even to stop and think about it, he’d probably want to know how many constellations I saw.

  saw.

  “Big Dipper,” I whisper, pointing at the sky.

  “Are you sure?” he’ll quiz me.

  I’ll explain to him how Grandma taught me to stargaze. After dinner on warm summer evenings she’d point out the Big Dipper, see if I could locate the northern star, and then she’d always have a word to add.

  “Aggie, baby, remember that though we are small, nothing in this universe is insignificant. One drop of water can’t create a flood. One grain of sand doesn’t make a dam and one star can’t form a constellation, but without the one, there would be none.”

  I whisper into the stuffed bunny’s ear, adding, “And one soldier doesn’t make an army.”

  Curling up with my knees to my chest, I try to conserve body heat. Sleep seems almost impossible …but just as I start to drift off, I am wrenched back with a shove on the shoulder and a cold burst of air as the sweater is yanked right off of me.

  “Aggie,” a harsh voice jars me awake. “Get up!”

  Chapter Seven

  “Hey!” I cry, tugging back the sweater.

  “Get up already. I’ve been standing here for an hour trying to wake you.”

  The impatient whisper is unfamiliar. I try to ignore it by hunkering down deeper and falling back asleep, but the voice won’t let me. My neck crimps. I knead the knot, tugging aside the steel fibers of the sweater draped over me. A gust of wind breezes down my shirt. Chilled. Hungry. Tired. Sore. Can’t figure out which comes first.

  “Go away,” I grumble.

  “I’m not going anywhere. Get moving before I turn you into a mufletta.”

  The visual comes back to me in full force. How could I not have recognized Lily’s boom box?

  I know it’s her hulking over me, despite the dark circles rimming her eyes and the pinched scowl on her lips.

  “Don’t give me that look. It’s your turn.”

  “Don’t give “My turn?”

  “Your shift to guard. Come on. I’m exhausted.”

  And cranky. Her irritability is infectious. Sitting up, my motley beddings fall aside. “You don’t have to hover,” I snap at her. “Go on. You can see I’m ready.” I stand up fully dressed, looking like I’m ready to march across the desert. We’ve all gone to sleep in our uniforms, including the boots on our feet. I wiggle my toes. I’m awake and now my toes decide to fall asleep.

  Lily shuffles up dust and rubs her arms. “I’m not taking any chances that you won’t bury yourself back under there. My shift ends once you’re in place. Hop to it.” She snickers, looking at the bunny still wrapped in my arms.

  Tossing the stuffed animal back on the lump of bedding, I scoop up the ends of my hair and rein them in with my now-blackened scrunchie.

  “Noga’s after you, at two o’clock,” says Lily. She points to the guard post, which isn’t much of a post. All that marks the area is a flat rock on a mountain rise. Inside, a burning burlap sack sends up fumes.

  “Now I could use some sun,” I say. My army-supplied jacket is together with the rest of my gear: lost. The scorching desert sun has gathered up all its heat and left a dark chill behind.

  Lily shrugs and hands me the list. It’s already two minutes past her hour. She yawns. Her whole body judders, all the way to her tonsils.

  “Whatever you do, don’t fall asleep, or you’ll get tossed out of here—fast.”

  I look around. Night has turned the desert upside down. Above, the sky stretches endlessly, and now it is too dark to see even a meter beyond where I am standing.

  “Is it dangerous?”

  Lily shrugs. “Don’t know. It’s a bit creepy being alone. I tried not to think about it too much.” She starts to walk back to her tent. Stops. Groans and turns back. walk back to her tent. Stops.

  “What now?” I ask.

  “Here,” she says, shirking off her jacket. “You’ll freeze without this. Just give it back to me in the morning. I’m not getting fined because you can’t hold on to your things.”

  “It’s not my fault they’re missing.”

  But she’s already gone, hurrying off to the tent.

  Grateful, I swaddle inside the oversized coat, thinking how Lily is like one of those sour candies with a sweet, chewy center. I lick my lips and dig into her pockets. Jackpot! Contraband jelly beans.

  I pop a few, hoping that Lily either won’t notice them missing or won’t mind. She had to have known she’d left them behind. The loan of the jacket came with the pockets.

  Quiet. I’ve never heard such quiet. No sirens. No neighbors. Eerie, like Lily said, but also peaceful.

  A jackal howls.

  I toss a few more jelly beans in my mouth, but the sound of my chewing is too loud. Rather than feeling frightened, for the first time since arriving, a sensation of calmness settles over me. All the tension of the day seems to drain into the land. It feels almost biblical. I imagine how Abraham must have felt out here.

  Holding a palm full of jelly beans, I pick out the black licorice ones and eat them first.

  A wind breezes by. I tuck strands of loose hair behind my ear. The ends prickle me. My skin bristles. Exhaustion is turning my body into an inverted cactus.

  According to my watch, only ten minutes have passed. I check to make sure it’s working.

  In the distance, a snore. Have
to tell Hila about this. She’ll flip. Alone in the desert after a grueling day, no sleeping bag, no sleep. I hardly believe I’m still standing!

  The jackal howls again. No point in looking for it. The darkness is like an opaque veil allowing only bits of starlight to shine through.

  Stretch. On my toes. Heels. Yawn. An unfamiliar tune pops into my head. The American girl was humming it earlier. “An indie group,” she’d said.

  I do a few pliés and relevés. Roll my shoulders. Point my toes. Flex. Five minutes pass. All’s quiet. A few more snores and some murmurs from the tents. What now? Wonder what Noah thinks about when he’s standing guard. Haven’t told Shira about Noah, or even about what happened with Ben. Will she be annoyed, jealous?

  Twenty minutes left. First forty already gone.

  Had Ben made a move back in junior high, it would be different. But now there’s Noah. Noah …Just thinking of him is like having a sweet swig of hot cappuccino.

  Ten minutes to go.

  Need some sleep before tomorrow.

  Tomorrow. Will I make it through another day of sandbags and stretchers? Someone is bound to break soon. Which one of us will drop? Lily? No, she’s carrying a lot of extra weight, but she’s so determined, nothing will stop her.

  Sixty seconds left. Thirty-nine. Twenty-four. Twenty-three. Twelve. Eleven. Yes! Done! Did it!

  Almost skip back to the campsite. Just want to put my head down, close my eyes. Hug my bunny. Sleep the last few hours before they wake us.

  “Noga.” I jiggle her shoulder.

  No answer.

  There’s a sour smell about her.

  “Noga. Your turn. Get up.”

  She groans. “Can’t.”

  “Come on, Noga. I need to get some sleep.”

  I feel that same pinched expression that Lily wore when she bent over me.

  “Can’t move,” she says. “My stomach.”

  “Get up and you’ll get over it.”

  “But my stomach hurts.” She moans. “It must have been that non-vegetarian food I ate.”

  “You mean the meat.”

  She groans again. “Meat,” she cries. “I think I’m going to be sick. Canned meat. I think I’ve got food poisoning. Get someone else to take my spot.”

  “Are you out of your mind?”

  She groans and starts to rock.

  “You’re no sicker than the rest of us. You’re tired. Now, get moving.”

  “Aggie, please. I can’t.”

  What am I going to do? The shift after Noga’s is Sonya’s. I know she won’t start before three o’clock. And even if she does, we’ll still be missing someone for the last hour. Noga pulls the sleeping bag over her head.

  Glancing longingly at my makeshift bed, I trudge back to my post.

  Just do it, I tell myself. Noga would have done the same for me, were the situation reversed. After tomorrow I’ll sleep for a solid week.

  Stretch. Jiggle my limbs loose. Sing a few bars of the Shlomo Artzi song Shira loves, about waiting for the Messiah, who’s taking his time in coming. I stop in the middle as a sound disrupts the silence.

  Footsteps.

  They crunch. Boots moving in my direction. My breath catches in my throat. Every nerve tenses. I wait as a figure takes shape through the darkness.

  “Private.”

  “Ken, HaMifaked!” I answer, snapping to attention.

  I “Identify yourself.”

  “Abigail. I mean, Jacobs. Jacobs.” I pause. “Abigail.”

  “Number.”

  “Eighteen.”

  She looks at the list in her hand and scowls. “This isn’t your shift.”

  I shake my head. “My shift was last hour.”

  “Where’s Number Seven?”

  “Not feeling well, HaMifaked. Stomach cramps.”

  The commander looks at me. “Who told you to replace her?”

  Her tone is heavy with accusation. I’ve taken something upon myself. I’ve made a decision without consulting her.

  “No one,” I mumble.

  She looks at me. “You weren’t tired enough and so you decided to do an extra shift?”

  I shake my head. “No. It’s—it’s,” I stutter.

  “What is it?”

  My throat, like the desert, feels dry. “I thought—I thought it would be worse to leave the post unguarded.”

  She looks at me. Her shoulders squared. Her lips pulled tight. And her eyes, tiny slits of greenish gray beneath her sharp brows, seem to ask a different question.

  Why am I doing this? Am I trying to prove something? Who will know? Sonya will know when I wake her. So will Noga, tomorrow. Will they thank me? Or resent me? Confusion jostles with anxiety. This is the army. I’m not allowed to make decisions. What if she thinks I’m trying too hard. What if— But what should I have done instead?

  The commander pulls out a cigarette, lights it, and squints at me through the smoke as she slowly exhales. “We aren’t carrying the stretchers anymore, Number Eighteen.”

  I lower my eyes. She has seen through me.

  She flicks away the cigarette. It hits the ground, glowing. She pulls out a Thermos from her backpack and carefully unscrews the top. The steam rises in little smoky wisps. I watch the trails of steam, wishing I could catch them. There is a hollow pit in my stomach made worse by exhaustion and hunger. She pours herself a cup of hot coffee.

  I’ve made a mistake. Wanting this so badly, I’ve gone too far. And in trying to prove myself, I’ve messed up. I blink back the tears that would only mock me.

  The commander takes a sip. “Ahh,” she sighs. “That hits the spot. It’s with milk and sugar,” she says. “Just the way I like it.”

  “Ken, Commander.” My voice quivers.

  And then a smile cracks the corners of her lips, and she hands the cup to me. “Drink up, Private. You’ve earned it.”

  Chapter Eight

  Night merges into morning. The sun grows stronger as noon approaches. Not even a Bedouin woman or a stray donkey passes by to break the monotony. I have barely caught my breath from the last exercise before the next one begins.

  “Line up!” the commander hollers. “Now we’ll test your survival skills.”

  “I thought they did that yesterday with what they served for lunch,” Argentina mutters.

  “You will be given a map of your route. But not a tourist’s street map, a topographical map. See that hill we climbed yesterday? This is what it looks like here.” She spreads the map on the ground.

  She points to other spots, giving us a crash course in geography.

  “I’ve grouped you in pairs. You will be dropped off five kilometers from the army base you passed on the way here.”

  “We’re going back?” asks Amber.

  The commander gives her a look. “That depends on you.”

  I can tell by her tone that it won’t be as easy as it sounds.

  “You will learn the route. Memorize it. And trusting your memory, get back to base camp as soon as possible. You will be given a compass and water as well. But you may not look at the map. If you open the map, we will know. Use it only in dire circumstances.”

  She pauses and the corners of her lips turn up. “The first ones back will be the first to shower in hot water. The water gets progressively cooler as the tank empties.”

  I scratch at a black glob of dirt on my arm. Stubborn. I scratch harder. It’s a tick. I wrench it off and flick it away.

  The commander studies her clipboard. I’m hoping to be paired up with Pigtails. We worked well together on the last exercise. Besides, she has a flashlight. Someone with a flashlight surely knows how to navigate.

  “Number Eighteen.”

  I step forward.

  “Number Twelve.”

  Lily steps out from the end of the line.

  The commander looks at us both and hands me a map and Lily the highlighter. “You will begin here.” I follow her finger as it snakes its way along the map.

  “Lily—the hi
ghlighter.” I snatch it from her and start tracing the route.

  “Any questions?”

  I make room for Lily to go over it as well. She is picking at her thumb. “I think I’ve got a hangnail.”

  “I’ll give you ten minutes to memorize it,” says the commander.

  I focus on the route. “Lily, are you looking?”

  “I think it might be infected.”

  I want to tell her she’ll have more to deal with than just a hangnail if she doesn’t look at the map. Since I’m short, about two of my steps are a meter. According to the map, we go a hundred meters west—about two hundred of my steps—turn one kilometer north, turn west again for fifty meters, and then go straight the last bit—straight into the showers.

  “Fold it up and put it away.”

  I take one last look and then fold it. The commander seals the map with tape and tucks it into my breast pocket.

  “Let’s hope it stays there.”

  “Ken, Commander.”

  The scab on Lily’s thumb is bleeding. She raises her thumb to her mouth, thinks better of it, and wipes her hand down her pants.

  “Fill up your water canteens. Drink one full one now and then refill it for later.”

  We head to the water tank while the other girls get their routes. Lily strolls over like we’re going for a hike in the country with a stop first at the snack bar. When her canteen is full, she gives it a shake to show that she’s following the rules and knows to make sure no water is sloshing around, and then hops on the jeep.

  The jeep drops us off somewhere between where we were and where we’re supposed to get to. The driver spins the tires, spewing up dust and sand in case we weren’t covered enough to begin with. The sun beats on us from above.

  “South,” I say. Sun’s almost overhead. I double check the compass. “We start here.”

  “You think so?”

  “Yes, I do, because I was looking at the map.”

  Lily takes off her army shirt. She’s wearing only a tank top underneath. Rolls of flesh spill out from every side. “It’s so hot.” She fans herself.

  “Two hundred meters this way.” I start walking. “One, two, three …”