Gasoline | Ben Parish

7

THE next morning after inspection, I stop Zombie on the way out of the barracks.

"What the hell was that last night?" I demand. "Why did you drag me into that?"

"I just..." he rubs over the back of his neck. "I don't know. I just thought..."

"What?" I raise an eyebrow and take a few more steps forward, getting in his face. "What were you thinking, Zombie?"

"You're the oldest in the squad. You're kind of a role model-"

I scoff and shove his shoulder, putting some space between us. "That's the biggest load I've ever heard. You can't seriously think that's true."

His cheeks redden. "Look, Croak, I need somebody to have my back, okay?"

"Why me?" I spit. "Dumbo and Nugget practically worship the ground you walk on. Poundcake never says anything anyway, so you might as well throw him in with the other two. Teacup and Oompa are pretty cool with you, too. The only 'problem children' are Tank and Flintstone, and they're complete idiots, so who gives a shit about them?"

"I give a shit!" Zombie jabs a finger against his chest angrily.

I step closer. Normally it would look stupid – he's got about a foot over me, and at least 50 pounds – but the conviction in my tone and the fire in my eyes are intimidating enough to go up against his fury. "Why? Why do you give a shit about those thickheads, Zombie? They're assholes. They're going to die as soon as we get out on the field because they don't listen worth a damn."

"I'm not leaving anyone behind."

Okay, wait, what? The mood is totally killed. I furrow my brow and give him a 'huh?' look. "What the hell are you talking about? We're not leaving anyone-"

"Look, I'm not like you, Croak." Serious now. No bullshit. No anger. He's being real with me. His eyes are staring right into mine. "I can't just say 'whatever, they get what they deserve.' I may not have asked to be leader of this squad, but I'm going to be a good one. I'm going to make sure we graduate and no one is stuck with Reznik."

I cross my arms. "Oh, believe me, I know you're not like me. I don't drag other people into stuff like you did to me last night."

He sighs and presses the heels of his palms into his eyes.

I raise an eyebrow. "You're not going to cry, are you?"

"No, I'm not going to cry." He lowers his hands. "Croak, I'm sorry about last night, okay? I just need someone to have my back."

"You've said that already."

"That's because it's the truth."

We stand there and just stare at each other for a few minutes. I can hear everyone filing outside for the morning run and chatting. "I still don't understand why you want me of all people," I start to say. He opens his mouth and I hold up a finger. "I'm not done." He closes his mouth and lets out an exhausted huff. "I may not understand that, but I can understand wanting someone to back you up."

"So what you're saying is...?"

"I've got your back, Jack."

He seems relieved, and when I stop him from joining the rest of the squad in the hallway, I mentally kick my own ass. We've been through a lot in the past 24 hours. Dwelling on this isn't going to do any good, especially because there's not much we can do about it.