Cold gusts of wind whip through the open door of the Black Hawk, the chopper that flies over ours heads in the yard. I'm squished right between Teacup and Dumbo, breathless from the low temperature.

I should be scared. I'm being sent to the battlefield to fight aliens that wiped out 97 percent of the population in 6 months. Chances are, I won't make it back to base alive. They'll probably leave my rotting corpse in the snow, miles from Wright-Patterson and the rest of the squad, depending on if they die today, too.

But I've spent little over a month training with this squad, with these kids that are just like me— a broken past, a withering future— and I know we're ready. We're going to take this sons of bitches out.

Ringer holds up two fingers. Two minutes until the drop.

Teacup between Zombie and I, clutching her rifle and staring out of the open doors at the trees just below us. Her eyepiece keeps slipping. I tighten the strap behind her head and she gives us both a thumbs-up. Zombie's face twists into something of anger and annoyance and horror, and then he leans down to shout in her ear, "You stay right next to me, understand?"

Teacup smiles, shakes her head, points at me. We're sticking together, I told her the minute we got back to the barracks after the graduation ceremony. You don't leave my side unless ordered to do so by me, is that understood? She asked what she should do if Zombie told her to move. I told her to flip him off.

Down on top of the river, the rushing water covered by the screaming of the chopper. I press my rifle between my thighs and help Dumbo with his inventory. Gauze, rubbing alcohol, medical tape. Bandaids, survival blankets, gloves. Not much at all, but it's only four hours until the chopper returns and we're whisked away to Wright-Patterson to be fixed up by Dr. Pam or one of her comrades. We just needed Dumbo to get us there in one piece if anything happened.

The chopper descends. Anxiety swoops into my stomach as we go down, like I'm ten-years-old on my very first amusement park ride all over again. Zombie mistakes my green face for nerves, hand dropping to my thigh to give me a comforting pat. I almost laugh. Yes, Zombie, thank you for petting me. I feel much better now.

Ringer unbuckles her harness and steps across the aisle, placing her hands on Zombie's shoulders and shouts in his face, "Remember the circle! We're not going to die!"

We drop quickly. The chopper hovers above the frozen ground. Zombie unlocks his harness, then moves to the open doors to help everyone out. Ringer first, then Flintstone, Oompa, Poundcake, Dumbo. Teacup struggles with her harnest so I reach down and unhook the strap with one flick. She grins at me and hops out of the chopper. I'm the last to go beside Zombie. Halfway through the hatch when a hand smacks against my back. I turn back to Zombie with a scowl because I almost topple out. A sheepish smile and a mouthed 'Good luck'. I roll my eyes. Don't need it.

When I'm around Zombie, I'm a mix of Ghost and Sofia. I'm soft and I'm tough and I'm badass and I'm sincere. But out here, on this battlefied with the very things that slaughtered my entire family, I'm purely Ghost. I placed the barrel of my M16 between Sofia's soft brown eyes and I pulled the trigger. She's dead out here. Maybe she'll return when we get back to Wright-Patterson, maybe she won't. All I know is that right now, Ghost is who I need to be to survive. So Ghost is who I will be.

The Black Hawk disappears in to the night sky a moment later. I turn away, happy to be out of the metal beast, and find myself looking at the statue of a Korean War veteran. It looms over us, a huge shadow in the contrast of the night. A monster in the light of the moon.

I force the thought away. Things in the dark, things of my nightmares before the Arrival, they're not the threat anymore. The threat is the Others, and we're here to kill them.

We're immediately on the move. Ringer is in the front with the best eyes. Then Flint, Dumbo, Oompa, Poundcake, Teacup, and Zombie, with me covering our rear.

We move over the bridge to the left of the statue and stop behind an SUV just twelve feet from Patterson Boulevard. I peer over the front of the vehicle for a look at one side of the road while Ringer looks from the bumper. It's hard to see-- the snow covers most of the road. We can only see down half a block-- but I can make out the tanker truck that stops in the middle of the intersection twenty yards away. We're blind on the left side because of it.

I glance at Ringer and shake my head firmly. She nods and lifts her chin; cover us.

What the hell does she think I've been doing this whole time?

Zombie lifts his hand, gesturing for Ringer to keep to the right side of the road. We're blinded from the left-- going right is really the only option.

Back at Wright-Patterson, in the middle of a training session using these high-tech virtual field tests, I got shot. The mission was pretty simple— terminate all offending personnel and don't die— but we were caught in the middle of the woods, surrounded by what must have been four virtual Silencers. It would have been fairly simple for them to leave my virtual dead body, especially considering we lost because of my death anyways, but Ringer stayed with me and called for our medic.

The virtual field test had pain simulators. I felt every second of having that wound, every single second it took for me to die. But Ringer didn't leave until my avatar was gone and we officially lost.

That's why I trust her to lead us now. She didn't leave me behind then, even when we had everything to lose. And I firmly believe that she would do the same here.

Ringer ducks beside the tankers bumper. We're all on the ground a second later, following her lead. Zombie scoots from in front of me to her, his voice too low to hear over the blow of the wind and snow. But judging by the mild concern etched into Zombie's face, something's wrong.

I lift my rifle to my shoulder and peer through the scope at the building in front of us. It takes a second for my eyes to adjust to the blinding light, but then I see them. Three orbs glowing green, right in front of us. Three Teds that need to be taken out.

I hum in surprise. These stupid headbands actually work.

I drop my rifle and turn back to Ringer and Zombie. Ringer is waiting, rifle at the ready, for Zombie's order. But something stops him from making it. He's overthinking his options, I'm sure. He'd explained to me earlier that he was worried about making the wrong call, about bringing reinforcements down on us if he gave the wrong order at the wrong time.

I gave him some very simple advice: don't overthink and you won't have this problem. He didn't find it very comforting, but I've never been the type to make people feel better.

He looks at me, wondering what I'm thinking. I press my lips into a thin line and tilt my head towards Teacup, because I know that'll show him. Think about what will happen to the kids if you don't, Zombie. Zombie shakes his head. But Ghost, think about what will happen to them if I do.

I roll my shoulders and turn away from our silent conversation. Ringer would have to convince him.

A shot goes off but it's not from Ringer. The bullet lands in the snow two feet in front of Ringer's face, blowing it apart. That's convincing enough for Zombie; he orders Ringer to take out them out.

Bam! one goes down. After the second shot is processed, the remaining two try to escape death. One takes off to our right, Ringer takes that one out too. The last one turns into a tiny ant as he takes off down the street, away from us.

My eyes flicker back and forth between the crack in the concrete and the building the Others came out of. I glance at Ringer and know she's already thinking the same thing as me— that shot was impossible from inside there. It had to have come from somewhere else.

A fourth infested, probably on the roof to the left. Damn it.

Zombie springs up to chase the man, Ringer latches onto his wrist and pulls him back down, hard. "Damn it, Ringer, what are you do—"

"What is it?" Teacup whispers from beside me. She's visibly shaking from the cold. My heart twists in my chest at the thought of her getting killed. I shake my head, tossing out the thought. She wouldn't. Not on my watch.

Nodding to the concrete the bullet attacked in front of us. "It didn't come from any of those three Teds, Cup. Couldn't have. The sound came from over there," pointing at a building to the left and across the street from us, "Probably a sniper, judging by the angle. It had to have come from high up."

"Oh," she whispers. "That fucking sucks."

Her strap is loose again so I reach up and tighten it. "Yeah, Cup. It does. But we'll be fine. We got two of the best shots in camp with us."

Ringer glances from Zombie to me, and Zombie turns his head. We're all thinking the same thing— none of this makes sense. It was obvious that the bullet came from high up, a sniper, but the sniper would have seen us come over the bridge. He didn't warn his men, his alien-buddies, that we were coming.
Why wouldn't he do that? Too confusing, too fast.

Did Vosche have another recruit out here? It didn't make sense for him not to tell us-- or at least Sergeant Zombie over there-- but the Ted not warning the other Teds that we were coming to kill them didn't make sense either. I shake my head. Too confusing to think about. Whoever it was shot at us which means, recruit or not, he's going down.

"I guess this is what they meant by 'the fog of war,'" Ringer says.

"How'd he see us cross?" Zombie asks.

Ringer shakes her head. "Night vision, has to be."

"Then we're screwed," he says. He's right. Too many variables: the gasoline in the truck we hide behind, the sniper on the roof, the possible reinforcements already on their way thanks to lucky Ted number three. "He'll take out the truck."

Ringer shrugs. "Not with a bullet, he won't. That only works in the movies, Zombie."

We all turn to Zombie, waiting for his orders. He doesn't know what to do, that much is obvious, but none of us do either. We stay, we die. We run, we die. Either way, we're all dying today.

"Trapped," Flintstone states with a scowl. "We abort now, right?"

I immediately shake my head at Flint's request. "No way we can now. We'll have to stick this out until the chopper gets back."

"Speaking of night vision," Ringer growls, off in her own world, trying to figure out what we can do to get out of this, "They might have thought of that before dropping us on a night mission. We're totally blind out here."

Zombie blinks. He's got his thinking face on— brows furrowed slightly, lips pursed. He orders us to close ranks around him, whispering, "Next block, right-hand side, attached to the back side of the office building, there's a parking garage. Get up to the third floor. Buddy system: Flint with Ringer, Poundcake with Oompa, Dumbo with Teacup, and Ghost with--" a sharp glare from me has him changing the way he wanted to end it, "Ghost with me."

I lift my chin up slightly. Damn right. Whatever the plan was, we do it together. Or, at least he does it with Ringer. I trust her enough to let her go with him, to keep him alive.

"A zombie and a girl hiding from ghosts," I say, nodding at Ringer. "An excellent alien-fighting duo."

She's still not convinced. I don't know what else to say so I move away from them and towards Teacup, who shakes with either fear or cold. Or both. I reach a hand up, tighten the buckle in her braid. "Ready to watch me die, private?"

She nods, looking at me with rosy cheeks. "Yes ma'am."

Something stirs in me. I turn to Dumbo. "Get her to the garage, Bo." He nods. "I'm serious. You have to do this."

"I got this, Ghost," he says. I hesitate, then nod firmly and turn on my heel.

These kids are going to be the death of me.