Page 21

TWENTY-ONE

CIPHER

About a week into Basic Training, I got called in to meet with Captain Crenshaw. Good news: she was no longer Rabid. Bad news: it looked like I’d have to be the one to explain what had happened.

I dreaded revisiting the scene of her office, wondering if I might find some remains of the horror I’d encountered there not too long ago, but the office was clean. The battlescarred desk shined with a new coat of wood polish, and a replacement coffee machine stood in the corner with a half-empty pot of sludge. The old musty carpet had been ripped out to reveal cold concrete, though it appeared the blood had soaked through in places and stained the concrete. Some things couldn’t be helped.

“Captain.” I saluted her in the way we’d been taught. Sharp. Precise. I still felt like a fraud every time I did it, but I did respect her, along with my other superior officers, so that helped.

“At ease, Private. Have a seat.” Crenshaw motioned to the chair across from her. I’d noticed she was using a wheelchair to get around and probably would be for a while, though I didn’t want to pry too much by asking questions. Kitten was still beating himself up about it, but it had been a good, clean shot. Of course, neither of us knew how she felt about it.

I took the seat across from her and placed my cap in my lap, finding myself in a similar situation as when we first met, and later, when I joined the United Forces, neither of us saying anything but steadily eying each other up.

“It looks like you and Joshua will be assigned to my squad,” she said at last, the first to break the silence.

“I’m glad,” I said and I was. I trusted Captain Crenshaw and Godara both. They hadn’t lied or misled us yet, and when the shit hit the fan, both had made the best of a bad situation.

“I lost a few of my own in the battle,” she said with a note of sadness.

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Many lives were lost, most of them prior to our arrival on base, but there had been some survivors too, and many of those who’d been infected by the virus were slowly coming back to the human side of things.

“It’s thanks to you and your friends that the base was recovered. I was told you and Joshua were the ones who found me.” She paused with a grimace, “In quite a state.”

“You were Rabid,” I said, having an uncomfortable flashback to when I’d found her. Godara would chide me for using the term, but there was no other way to describe it.

“I’ve been tasked with writing the report of what happened here at StarChem,” she said, not looking pleased by it. “So, if you could tell me exactly what you encountered from the time you first arrived back here.”

Here we go, I thought. I took a deep breath. Exhaled. Not exactly something I wanted to relive, but Crenshaw, like the rest of us, had a job to do. She had a tape recorder sitting on the desk to help capture my story. I was slow to start, not knowing exactly how much detail she wanted. I gave it to her as cut-and-dry as possible, listing out the various maneuvers as if it were a military operation, who was stationed where and with what weapons. A lot of the soldiers I hadn’t known by name at the time. And then came the hard part. “Kitten, I mean Joshua–”

“Private Perrin-Rogers,” Crenshaw said for the benefit of the recording.

“He and I entered your office–this office–with me in the lead. You were clearly infected and… disturbed by our presence. I tried to disarm you, but you attacked me and had me pinned against the desk. Private Perrin-Rogers shot you in the leg from behind as I’d told him to do in case of emergency, shoot to wound, not kill. Together we restrained you and he tied a tourniquet around your leg so you wouldn’t bleed out.”

She nodded and tapped a finger against the table. I expected her to offer some critique, but that wasn’t the reason for her hesitation. “And when you found me, what was I doing?” she finally asked, as if she had an idea already but was dreading the confirmation.

I heaved a sigh and, risking insubordination, said, “Does it really matter?”

“For my report, it does. Also, it matters to me.”

I nodded and braced myself for her reaction. “You were feeding on a soldier. I wasn’t able to determine his identity.” I made a motion to my face.

“I was feeding on his face?” she asked, again for the benefit of the recording, while trying to hide her disgust.

“Yes, ma’am, you were.”

She nodded and studied the desk, ashamed or embarrassed, I couldn’t really tell as she was a difficult one to read.

“You know we have no control over our actions when we’re in that state,” I said. I’d been lucky. Kitten had me locked down before I could hurt anyone. I felt ill just thinking about the possibility of attacking, or even worse, feeding on one of my own family, on Kitten.

“Yes, I’m aware. I just needed a moment. Please continue.”

I finished recalling the events of the day, ending with when Kitten and I finally went to shower and crash in the Humvee. Captain Crenshaw turned off the tape recorder and silence descended on the room like a shroud. I tried to think of something comforting to say but drew a blank.

“Joshua wanted me to tell you he’s sorry for shooting you,” I said.

“He did what was necessary.”

“Is the wheelchair temporary?” I asked.

“Unclear at this point. I’m taking it one day at a time.”

I nodded. “Wise.”

“I’m happy to have you on my squad, Cipher. You and Joshua both. The two of you could have walked away from here, chosen not to risk your lives at all, but you ran toward the danger. That’s the sort of quality we look for in a soldier and a leader.”

“We did what needed to be done.”

She nodded. “That you did. Thank you for your testimony. You may go now.”

I stood sharply, saluted, and headed for the door.

“Private Kanemoto,” she called.

I paused and looked back, my hand on the doorknob. “Yes, Captain?”

Without looking up from the report on her desk, she said, “Tell Private Perrin-Rogers I said thank you.”

“Yes, ma’am, I will.”

We finished Basic Training a couple weeks later. Our schedule had been abbreviated due to the high need for soldiers, but we were given extensive instruction on how to disarm and subdue Rabids in the field without getting infected. It seemed we were entering a new era in the war against Rabbit Fever, trying to capture and treat Rabids, rather than eradicate them.

The Assholes surprised us by showing up to our graduation ceremony. It seemed one of Crenshaw’s squad had tipped them off. It was heartening to see our family there on the training field, dressed in their best and waving small American flags, hooting and hollering when our names were called among the two dozen newly minted soldiers. I’d probably never call myself a patriot, but I was proud of what we’d accomplished.

“Thank you for doing this with me,” Kitten said, his sweaty hand gripping mine as we waved back at our friends and the soldiers who’d gathered to witness the occasion. His face beamed with pride, and he looked so sharp in his military fatigues, like a proper soldier. In the days and weeks after the Rabid attack, he’d proven himself more than capable as a field medic too. He’d be a doctor in no time.

“I wouldn’t want to do this with anyone else,” I told him and kissed his hand.

“We really did it, Cipher.” Suddenly he was in my arms, squeezing me tightly with his powerful arms wrapped around my shoulders. His voice was giddy with emotion, as if he couldn’t believe it either. “We survived.”

I kissed his forehead and pressed my face against his warm, soft cheek, speaking into his good ear out of habit. “We did more than just survive, babe. We are fucking thriving.”