Gasoline | Ben Parish

30

GRADUATION day. It starts off as pretty much every other day does. We get up, prepare for morning inspection, go for the typical run, and then eat breakfast in the mess hall. Then we trudge back to the barracks.

Of course, Zombie and I are at the rear of Squad 53 as we enter Barracks 10. His hand is tightly wrapped around mine. He's got his eyes on the moping Nugget, who walks with slumped shoulders and a pout. Every twitch of his fingers seems to give away the worry he has over the small boy.

Zombie dropped the bombshell on the kid when we got back from the morning run. If there's ever been a more awkward moment than that, I don't want to know about it.

Everyone else heads in. I stop in my tracks, causing Zombie to lurch to a stop beside me. "What is it?" He asks, brow furrowing. "Are you okay?"

I find myself biting back a smile. It's just like Zombie to be majorly upset and still wonder if I'm doing all right.

"Are you?" I ask, raising an eyebrow. "You look like you've just watched Marley and Me for the first time."

He shuffles awkwardly and stares down the hall. "He just..."

"Yeah, he's upset." I gently bring my hand up to his face, directing his chin to look at me. "What else did you expect? Nugget tap dancing from excitement?"

"Of course not," Zombie rolls his eyes. "But I thought that maybe he would understand-"

"He's five, Zombie. The only thing he understands is that he's having to leave someone who has become like a brother to him."

I start to drop my hand. Zombie stops me, guiding my hand to rest against his cheek. He closes his eyes and relaxes into my touch. "I know," he says softly. He lets out a deep breath. "I don't know how to help him."

"Talk to him," I encourage. "You're the only one who can make him feel better. You have a connection with him that the rest of us just... don't."

"I already talked to him this morning." Zombie's lips brush across my palm as he speaks, sending shivers down my spine. "And you see how well that went."

"That was delivering the bad news. It'll be different this time around," I argue. "Pump him up. Make him feel like this is important – that he is important."

Zombie nods, letting out a deep breath. "Okay. Let's go."

We walk into the barracks holding hands. Flintstone notices, and he raises an eyebrow. I roll my eyes at him, not wanting to deal with his shit.

"Croak, come check this out!" Teacup calls me over.

I come to stand beside our shared bunk, eyes following Zombie as he makes his way to sit beside a disheartened Nugget. "Sup, Cup?" I turn to look at her. Then my jaw drops.

She looks like a complete badass. She's wearing an all-black uniform with a helmet. Attached is a maneuverable eye piece.

Teacup's little hands settle on her hips. "Cool, huh?" She pushes her flyaway hairs out of her eyes.

"Beyond cool," I laugh. "Seriously. Holy shit. This is awesome."

Ringer passes my bunk. She's already dressed in her new gear. "Bathroom's all yours."

She hasn't even finished her sentence before I'm stripping off my ugly blue uniform. "This piece of shit." I throw it to the center aisle where everyone else has deposited theirs. "Good fucking riddance."

Ringer snorts and looks away. Teacup says, "Hell yeah," and gives me a high five.

The black fabric is stiff against my skin, but I welcome it. That's what tells me that my uniform is new. My uniform, brand spankin' new.