Recoil (12 page)

“I think the Civil Libs are full of crap,” said Bruce. “And if
you agree with them, then so are you.”

“I think my brother would agree with you, Quinn,” I said, wanting
to give him some support.

“Would he?” said
Leya
.

I nodded. “My mother wouldn’t though. She’s completely obsessed
with the virus and keeping us safe. She would say losing some privacy and
freedom in exchange for gaining security is a good trade.”

“Your mother is right. Safe is a darn sight better than sorry,”
said Bruce, licking the last shine of gravy off his fingers. “I agree with
Sarge
. He says those Civil Libs are a bunch of pansy-assed,
rat-loving, terrorist-protecting traitors!”

“Bit of a sweeping statement, don’t you think?” said Sofia.

Quinn was pinching his lips together, as if to stop himself
giving Bruce a piece of his mind.

 
“
Sarge
says, one of these days those spineless maggots are going down. Ever since the
plague began, this nation has been stronger and more united, we’re better for
it.”

“What?” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.

“Not the deaths and stuff — like, obviously that’s majorly bad. I
mean that before, whatever the one side of the political field said, the other
side disagreed with on principle. And vice versa. We couldn’t get anything
done. We were an easy target, man. A nation divided.” Mitch nodded along to
Bruce’s rant. “But now we’re all focused on the same thing. Nothing unites a
nation like a common foe, that’s what —”

“—
Sarge
says!”
Leya
and I finished for him.

“What do
you
think?” I asked
Leya
.

She shrugged and looked at Quinn then back down at her own
report. “I think I need to spend some more time doing weight training if I ever
hope to stop Cameron whooping my ass at arm-wrestling.”

Cameron’ face went pink, and the rest of us let the topic slide,
though from the way Quinn ran a finger under his collar, he was still bugged by
the conversation.

I could see his point. It was not only our weekly physical
measures that struck me as excessive. Between theoretical lectures and
practical exercises in observation, camouflage, observation skills and memory
training, stalking, weapons care and sharpshooting, we got way more training
than could be strictly necessary to take out the odd infected rat.

My theory was that
Sarge
thought he had
something to prove. It turned out that our black unit was the newly established
division that Roberta Roth had been speaking about in her welcome speech, and
Sarge
was no doubt determined that his new unit be the
best, fastest, strongest and most highly trained of all the divisions. Either
that, or the population had been protected from the full truth about the plague
rats. From the way we were being trained — as if for a full-out war — I figured
the problem was way worse than we knew.

Part Three

Chapter 14

The Choice

The Jinx in the mirror looked very different from the Jinx who
had started boot camp here at the Academy six weeks ago.

I was leaner, my muscles more defined, and multicolored bruises
marked my arms and legs and hips. There were calluses on my fingers and palms
from constantly holding, loading and firing weapons, and I held myself
differently — straighter and more alert, as if I was expecting something and
was ready for it. My lips looked swollen. Of course, that was a consequence of
Quinn and my continued exercises in aerobic capacity rather than a function of
the daily drills in the vast gymnasium or shooting practice out in the woods
surrounding the compound.

I pulled on a freshly laundered black jumpsuit, wondering if we’d
be wearing the things for much longer now that we’d finished basic training. It
would be such a relief to wear something — anything — different. Maybe we’d all
be able to switch to civilian clothes soon; it would be so good to wear jeans
and a T-shirt again.

Mom and Robin would be coming in for the graduation ceremony this
evening, and I was looking forward to seeing them. I’d last seen them two and a
half weeks ago, on the one and only family visit we’d been allowed. It had been
kind of awkward — I had loads that I would have liked to share, but I wasn’t
allowed to tell them anything about my training. And they didn’t have any real
news since nothing much ever happened in the James household. So I’d told them
about the cafeteria food and how fit I was getting, and Mom (who was wearing a
half-face-piece respirator and had made Robin do the same, even while almost
all the other visitors were merely wearing E97s) fretted about whether it was really
safe for us to go about without protective gear and told me every detail of the
decon
process they’d gone through before being
allowed in for the visit. Robin rolled his blue eyes — the mirror image of mine
— while she spoke. I grinned. I’d missed him. Then I realized with a pang of
guilt that I hadn’t missed my mother very much at all. In the six weeks since
I’d come here, I hadn’t had more than a few fleeting moments of homesickness.

But that was good really, because I had no intention of returning
home any time soon. I planned on being selected for sniping missions outside in
the world, although
Sarge
had warned me that if I
didn’t up my game, I’d never get that far. Before the last family visit, he’d
summoned me to his office — a small room, sparsely furnished with a desk, three
chairs and two filing cabinets. A collection of miniature cacti in terracotta
pots was arranged on the windowsill behind his chair. They reminded me of him:
bald on top and prickly all over.

He sat behind his desk, bouncing his chin on his
steepled
hands while he stared at me for long moments. I
tried hard not to squirm under the intense focus of those dark eyes.

“I’m wondering about you, Blondie.”

It set my teeth on edge when he called me that. Or Goldilocks, or
Princess. But I kept my face blank. I figured he’d only do it more if he knew
how much it got under my skin. I fidgeted with the silver earring Quinn had
given me, turning it through my ear.

“And do you want to know what I’ve been wondering?”

I suspected not. “Yes, sir.”

“I’ve been wondering whether I made a mistake with you, whether I
backed the wrong horse. What happened to that streak of cool blue that shot me
in the neck the day we first met?”

“Sir?” I was confused. Was he talking about my hair?

“What am I supposed to do with you, Blue?” he asked.

“I don’t
understa
—”

“You could be our top cadet, Jinx E. James. You could be our
ice-maiden angel of death, our ace in the hole in this war. We could use
someone with your unique combination of skills and attributes.”

“Thank you, sir.” I smiled, relieved that he wasn’t about to chew
me out.

“I said that you
could be
, not that you
are!”

My smile disappeared as quickly as one of his own.

“Because you are worse than useless at shooting live targets.
When it comes to doing precisely what we recruited you for, you are about as
much use as a vegetarian at a barbecue. You have not improved in that skill-set
at all, and we got no use for slackers here.”

“I’m not a slacker! Sir.”

“You need to piss or get off the pot, soldier. If you can’t shoot
rats, there’s no point in continuing with this training.”

“I can shoot rats.”

“
Coulda
fooled me, Goldilocks!”

“Just not, you know, healthy ones. And with live rounds.”

“If you think we’re going to let infected rats run around the
grounds and the compound just
so’s
you can feel
better about shooting them, or if you think we’re going to turn you loose in
the world without having practiced with live ammo on live targets, then you’re
sadly deluded, girl. And we’re wasting our time here.”

I stared down at my feet while he pinned me with his glare. A
squished bug, a spider perhaps, smeared the tiled floor near my right foot. It
looked like how I felt.

“
Are
we wasting our time with you, Blue?”

“No, sir.”

My mouth was dry. Any minute now, he might dismiss me from the
program. I’d be sent home. Back to Mom and our house and my tiny bedroom. Back
to playing games while the real war waged on outside and people like Bruce got
to fight it.

“Because if you can’t shoot a rat, how in the hell are you going
to be able to shoot the infected cats and dogs and other tangos that are
running around out there?”
Sarge
tilted his bald head
in the direction of the world beyond the window.

I grimaced at the very thought of it.
Sarge
leaned forward with one of his sudden movements.

“No one is making you do anything you don’t want to, Princess.
But you need to choose. Here and now.” He tapped the desk with a down-pointed
index finger. “What’s it to be: shoot the freaking rodents — and let me be
clear as crystal here, Blue, by “shoot” I mean shoot to kill — and be prepared
to shoot other infected creatures and plague-spreaders, or go home with your
momma this very afternoon?”

It was a no-brainer. No way was I going back to that house, to
Mom hovering over me, nagging me, keeping me inside every moment she could. No
way was I letting the rest of the unit advance while I went home with my tail
between my legs. I had a shot at freedom, at really getting out, beyond the
confines of the Academy which was now beginning to feel as stifling and
constricted as home ever had. And I was going to grab it with both hands.
Failure was not an option, and I would not quit over a bunch of mutant
critters.

I looked
Sarge
in the eye and spoke
firmly. “I’ll do it, sir.”

“Good man!” he said and shook my hand.

And I did do it. I took Mitch’s advice and forced myself to stop
thinking about what I was doing. I listened to
Leya’s
encouraging pep talks and made myself believe her when she reassured me that
what I was doing was right, that I had a gift and I should use it in the
service of my country, that my skill and dedication were an example to her. I
practiced until I could shoot those rats with as much accuracy as I shot the
paper targets. I cringed and winced every time I did it, but only after sending
the round down the barrel. And every time that peculiar mix of pride and guilt
crept through me afterwards. At heart, I was not a killer, even of diseased
rodents. But if it came to a choice between the mutants and me, then their days
were numbered, because I was also not a quitter.

Now, as I closed the door of my quarters behind me and met up
with Quinn outside the entrance to our wing, I hoped I’d be sent out on a
ratting mission soon. How awesome it would be if sniper units like our own
could really help stop the spread of the plague, if we could take the whole of
our society a step closer to being free again.

“Where should we meet afterwards?” asked Quinn as we made our way
to the foyer, where we’d be meeting our families before the graduation ceremony.

“Secret staircase?”

We often met in a small space under the staircase to the second
floor that was located directly outside the entrance to Quinn’s wing. I liked
it because it was private — sheltered from the hallway where cadets and
instructors were always walking past. Quinn liked it because it was out of the
sight lines of the security cameras. Sometimes we’d take our cups of coffee and
donuts there — the top of the fire alarm box made a useful surface to stow them
while we had a quick hug or a kiss.

“It’s a date.”

“Look at that,” I said, pointing down a deserted hallway that
intersected with our own.

Leya
stood outside one of the now empty
classrooms, talking with CEO Roberta Roth. When she looked up and saw us,
Leya
said something more to Roth and then came jogging up
to join us.

“Not in trouble, I hope?” said Quinn.

“Nah. She only wanted to know how I’m getting along with the
job,” said
Leya
, smiling. “I reckon
Sarge
told her that I was the lowest-scoring cadet in our
squad.”

I rushed to reassure her. “Only in, you know, that one skill.”
She was great in camouflage and stalking and tops at observation.

It would be great when, in just a few hours, we could talk
freely.

“Yeah, but it’s the one that really matters,” she replied.
“Still, at least I’m good enough to graduate. Oh, seems like everyone’s here
already.”

The marble-floored foyer was full of people talking and laughing
as families met with the graduating cadets. Some were wearing short sleeves and
light dresses which spoke of a hot early summer’s day outside, but most wore
lightweight PPE suits. Quinn spotted his family at once and dragged me over to
meet them.

“Mom, Dad, Kerry — this is
Jinxy
James.
My
Jinxy
,” said Quinn. He sounded — there was no
other word for it — proud.

I smiled at them, searching what I could see of their faces above
their masks for a resemblance to Quinn. He nudged me gently, and I saw that his
mother and father had their hands extended. I hesitated — though they were
wearing gloves, I wasn’t. Then I reminded myself that they would have had to
pass through a serious decontamination process before being admitted to ASTA
HQ. Besides, Quinn had already hugged and touched all of them, so if they
weren’t “clean”, then neither was he now, and I didn’t intend to never touch
him again. I reached over and shook their hands, hoping they hadn’t noticed my
momentary awkwardness. Quinn beamed when I took his little sister’s hand and
shook it solemnly too.

“Are you Quinn’s girlfriend?” Kerry asked with a lisp. She was
missing a front tooth and had a sparkly temporary transfer of a sequined
dragonfly stuck on her forehead.

“Now, Kerry, don’t embarrass the poor lass,” said her mother. Her
lilting Irish accent was much more pronounced than Quinn’s.

“Are you?” Kerry persisted.

No escape from the awkward today.

“I don’t know,” I said, casting a desperate glance at Quinn. “Am
I?”

“Most definitely,” he said, igniting a small golden glow in the
region of my heart.

“You’re very pretty,” Kerry said, nodding at me in approval. “I
like the blue in your hair. I want to make mine purple all over, but Mom says
no.” Then she asked her brother, “Are you going to marry her and make a baby?”

“Kerry!” said her mother and father simultaneously. Quinn tugged
on his brow ring, looking half-embarrassed, half-pleased.

“I like babies, and I hardly ever get to see one,” the little
girl said, unabashed. “But my mother takes me to Freedom Park every day at four
after we finish schooling, and sometimes a lady comes to the play park with her
baby. She has yellow hair with green on the ends! We also go there on Saturdays
and Sundays in the morning, but the lady with the baby doesn’t come then. If
you make a baby, you can take it there, too.”

“Um,” I said to Quinn, desperate to change the subject, “Didn’t
your brother come today?”

Quinn and his parents exchanged a glance, and then Quinn said,
“No. No, he couldn’t come here today.”

“That reminds me, Connor sent a letter for you. Give it to him,
Kerry,” said Mr.
O’Riley
. He spoke softly.

I watched in amazement as Kerry took a tightly folded piece of
paper out of the side of her shoe and slid it into Quinn’s hand, taking the one
he handed her and stowing it in the same place. In the press of the crowd, no
one noticed the little girl crouching down to fiddle with her shoe. We were not
supposed to exchange letters directly like this, I guess because, as Quinn had
pointed out, they liked to check our communications for sensitive information.
But I had no time to wonder about it now. If I missed seeing my mom, she’d
never forgive me.

“It was nice meeting you all, but I’d better go find my brother
and mother now,” I said.

“Nice meeting you too,” said Mrs.
O’Riley
.

“And congratulations on making it through to graduation,” said
Mr.
O’Riley
.

“Goodbye,
Jinxy
,” said Kerry.

Quinn gave me a quick kiss, and then I was pushing my way through
the crowd, making for a head of fair hair that might belong to Robin. I spotted
Leya
on the way — alone and half-hidden behind a tall
potted plant. Didn’t she have any family here to support her? Nearby, Bruce was
introducing
Sarge
to his family. I could heard the
phrase, “
Sarge
says …” as I passed by.

“There you are,
Jinxy
! I was so worried
we wouldn’t get to see you. You look thin. Are you okay? Eating enough? It
looks like you’ve lost one of your earrings, honey. And shouldn’t you be
wearing protective gear — I don’t like to see you all …
exposed
like that!”