Read Online Walking Ghost Phase by D. C. Daugherty - Free Book Online
Authors: D. C. Daugherty
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miserable crawl and joined the rear of a mile-long convoy. When the truck entered the base gates, the three girls leaned forward and stared at the landscape. Razor wire fences stretched around the miles of Kentucky blue grass. Every fifty feet or so, a guard tower loomed, manned by a single, rifle-wielding soldier. The name of the asylum passed in the form of raised black lettering on a granite sign— Greaver Advanced Infantry Training. Prison probably appeared just as welcoming to new inmates. Then Emily saw the heart of her new home. Or more welcoming…
The walls of the structure seemed to bleed darkness. It stretched almost a half mile in width and an unknown distance back. Zigzagging stars-and-stripes banners hung from the roof ledge of the monstrosity. The few windows, tinted jet-black, cast a perfect reflection of the chest-to-back line of young men and women who waited to enter a set of double doors that swallowed persons into the void.
Vasquez rushed to the rear and slapped the tarp. “A through M. Heath, Holcomb, McDonald, that's you. Move it.”
Raven, who was closest to the rear, exited first, each of her careful baby-steps slower than the last.
“Move it, rich girl. No one here gives a damn about your dress.”
Emily made her way to the exit next, already looking for something to hold for her climb down to the road. “Take your time, why don't you,” Vasquez said, and slapped her back. She stumbled forward, her arms flailing, reaching for anything to grab, but before she could, her shoe found an abrupt stop against Vasquez's boot. She sailed out of the truck with only pavement before her. Then a strange arm dug into her stomach, and the cracked cement retreated. When she managed to get upright and spin around, she met Matt's eyes and saw a brief glimpse of a subtle smile.
“ Get off my transport,” Vasquez shouted.
After Emily climbed down, she waited in the driveway for Matt. The transport then pulled ahead, taking Vasquez out of her life. Forever, she hoped.
“He could have killed you,” Raven said. “And would he have cared?”
Emily stood in front of Matt, trembling. “Thank you.”
“ No problem.”
No problem? She thought. That's all I'm going to get? Wait. Why would I expect more? Why do I feel like I should expect more?
“ You okay?” he asked.
“ I'm fine.” She took a deep breath and surveyed the sidewalk crowd. “Where to?”
“ The end of the line.”
“ Easier said than done,” Raven said.
There on the sidewalk, the three-deep line hugged the wall for half a mile or so until it vanished behind the corner. Standing near Emily, a petite, red-haired girl eyed a sliver of daylight between four polo-shirt-wearing preppy boys and a group of girls in their summer dresses and fake tans. She seemed to be gauging the best time to sneak in line, when an obese guy, clad in black leather and with tattoos covering his arms and neck, snarled as if he dared her to try. The outcast girl sighed and headed along the sidewalk.
As Emily made her own way to the end of the line, more cliques welcomed new arrivals into their fold, but those who couldn 't find a group—the plain and unremarkable—tried to disappear in the crowd or behind the noise of a hundred mounted fans, which seemed pointless in the autumn breeze. “Just like high school,” Emily said.
“ Yours must have been the most diverse place in the world,” Raven said. She motioned ahead to a section of the line where a group of Indian girls, who were wearing colorfully patterned ankle length dresses, chatted with one another in their native language. A few Arabs behind them fidgeted as they inched closer to the doors, while a Hispanic girl and two young Japanese men closed the newly formed gap. “I wonder if they got to go home.”
“ Do they even remember their home?” Emily asked.
Halfway down the left side of the complex, they found the end of the line. Ther e, Matt leaned against the wall, and Raven stood beside
The walls of the structure seemed to bleed darkness. It stretched almost a half mile in width and an unknown distance back. Zigzagging stars-and-stripes banners hung from the roof ledge of the monstrosity. The few windows, tinted jet-black, cast a perfect reflection of the chest-to-back line of young men and women who waited to enter a set of double doors that swallowed persons into the void.
Vasquez rushed to the rear and slapped the tarp. “A through M. Heath, Holcomb, McDonald, that's you. Move it.”
Raven, who was closest to the rear, exited first, each of her careful baby-steps slower than the last.
“Move it, rich girl. No one here gives a damn about your dress.”
Emily made her way to the exit next, already looking for something to hold for her climb down to the road. “Take your time, why don't you,” Vasquez said, and slapped her back. She stumbled forward, her arms flailing, reaching for anything to grab, but before she could, her shoe found an abrupt stop against Vasquez's boot. She sailed out of the truck with only pavement before her. Then a strange arm dug into her stomach, and the cracked cement retreated. When she managed to get upright and spin around, she met Matt's eyes and saw a brief glimpse of a subtle smile.
“ Get off my transport,” Vasquez shouted.
After Emily climbed down, she waited in the driveway for Matt. The transport then pulled ahead, taking Vasquez out of her life. Forever, she hoped.
“He could have killed you,” Raven said. “And would he have cared?”
Emily stood in front of Matt, trembling. “Thank you.”
“ No problem.”
No problem? She thought. That's all I'm going to get? Wait. Why would I expect more? Why do I feel like I should expect more?
“ You okay?” he asked.
“ I'm fine.” She took a deep breath and surveyed the sidewalk crowd. “Where to?”
“ The end of the line.”
“ Easier said than done,” Raven said.
There on the sidewalk, the three-deep line hugged the wall for half a mile or so until it vanished behind the corner. Standing near Emily, a petite, red-haired girl eyed a sliver of daylight between four polo-shirt-wearing preppy boys and a group of girls in their summer dresses and fake tans. She seemed to be gauging the best time to sneak in line, when an obese guy, clad in black leather and with tattoos covering his arms and neck, snarled as if he dared her to try. The outcast girl sighed and headed along the sidewalk.
As Emily made her own way to the end of the line, more cliques welcomed new arrivals into their fold, but those who couldn 't find a group—the plain and unremarkable—tried to disappear in the crowd or behind the noise of a hundred mounted fans, which seemed pointless in the autumn breeze. “Just like high school,” Emily said.
“ Yours must have been the most diverse place in the world,” Raven said. She motioned ahead to a section of the line where a group of Indian girls, who were wearing colorfully patterned ankle length dresses, chatted with one another in their native language. A few Arabs behind them fidgeted as they inched closer to the doors, while a Hispanic girl and two young Japanese men closed the newly formed gap. “I wonder if they got to go home.”
“ Do they even remember their home?” Emily asked.
Halfway down the left side of the complex, they found the end of the line. Ther e, Matt leaned against the wall, and Raven stood beside
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