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One week after Ringer's arrival and the squad gets bumped up from tenth place to seventh place. On the third week we make it to first. Now with only two weeks left, we slam into a brick wall. We made it to fourth place, lost sixteen points, went back to fifth. It was heartbreaking for the entire squad. We were so close.
We all know what the problem is, too. It's Zombie's inability to hit a target standing two feet away, completely still. And he knows it, because he requests free time to practice. Reznik gives it to him, but our numbers don't go up. He still sucks.
I try and help him because I know Ringer won't without something in return, and even then it doesn't go up. I'm a decent shot, but a terrible teacher. Especially when we're alone and Zombie stands so damn close to me. I can't concentrate.
Ringer falls back with us during the morning run one day, and neither of us even look at each other when she speaks.
"I've got a proposition for you," she says. "I'll help you, on one condition."
"Does it have anything to do with chess?" Zombie, grinning. Ringer, emotionless. Me, bored.
"Resign as squad leader."
My muscles tighten. The proposition has my head spinning. Ringer as squad leader? No fucking way. Judging by the side eye Zombie gives me, he's thinking the same thing. Or maybe he has a cramp from running. I'm not really sure.
"You didn't ask for it, you don't care about it, why not let me have it?" She keeps her eyes on the gravel in front of her, away from us.
"Why do you want it so bad?" I ask. I keep my eyes on the billowing smoke of the incinerator and briefly wonder whether it's human or paper they're burning. It's grey today. Paper, then.
"Giving the orders is my best chance to stay alive."
Zombie laughs. I manage a roll of my eyes. We're both thinking the same thing: squad leader, sergeant, commander — none of it fucking matters. On the battlefield aliens won't look at your rankings, they'll just kill you. Being squad leader doesn't change the fact that you're going to die. None of this does.
Zombie's hand brushes mine, though I'm not sure if he meant to do it or not. Either way he pulls me out of my dark thoughts, brings me into reality. Ringer doesn't notice, doesn't care even if she does. The squad obviously knows something is happening between Zombie and I (a thought that still makes my stomach churn) — they're not stupid.
I shove the thought to the back of my mind and focus on keeping my balance.
"How 'bout this," Zombie replies, "You help me, we win, I step down."
I let out a quiet, shaky breath. He can't be serious, can he? I don't care if he doesn't want to be squad leader — he's a damn good one and there's no way Ringer could ever top him, no matter how flawless she was at everything she did.
