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.

"Ever wonder how they did it?" Ringer changes the subject as a Black Hawk swings off to our right toward the landing zone. "Got everything running again after the EMP strike?"

"No," Zombie says at the same time I say, "Who cares?"

He sends me a look that says 'humour her, Ghost', and so I do, turning to her with a sarcastic lift of my eyebrow. "What do you think, Ringer?"

Ringer gives a tiny shake of her head. "Underground bunkers, it has to be. That or..."

"Or what?"

"Too crazy," she says, shaking her head. "Come on, let's see what you've got, football star."

I slap him on the shoulder when he passes me. Flintstone raises a brow at me when I fall in next to him but I don't tell him the deal made between Zombie and Ringer. If it works out, he'll hear about it later.

Zombie beats her. Barely, but he does it. And when he falls in next to me it's hard to keep the proud smirk off of my face, especially when a pissed off Ringer falls in next. I bite the inside of my cheek, hard, until I taste blood.

Don't show emotion, Ghost. No matter how close you are to Zombie. Keep it hidden. Always.

__

At free time we go straight to the firing range. The air is cold and the wind is icy, my breath coming out in puffs in front of me. It doesn't help that all I get to wear is underwear and a t-shirt, but I don't dare complain. I could be naked.

I operate the controls, the reason for my being here. I keep flipping up targets at a normal speed because I know he'll miss them anyways. Zombie would miss an injured two hundred pound man stood three feet from him — he's terrible.

Zombie fires off a few rounds, misses each time. Ringer crosses her arms over her chest, scowling. "You're horrible," she tells him.

"That's the problem," he says, giving us his best smile. "My horribleness."

This must be the thousandth time I've rolled my eyes today.

"Your technique is good," Ringer continues. She doesn't return Zombie's award-winning smile. "What's going on when you shoot?"

"Generally speaking, I miss."

One thousand and one.

"I mean between you and the target," she says. "And no more jokes. You can flirt with Ghost later."

I scowl. He flirts with everyone — I'm pretty sure he said a pick-up line to Flintstone when fighting him today — it's not just me.

Zombie doesn't get it, but he turns and grins at me like he does. "Well, when it pops up--"

"No," she says, voice firm. "I'm talking about what happens between here," touching his hand, "and there," pointing at the target sixty feet away.

He shakes his head. "You've lost me, Ringer."

Me too, man. Me too.

"You have to think of your weapon as a part of you. Not the M16 firing; you firing. It's like blowing on a dandelion. You breathe the bullet out."

She swings her rifle off her shoulder and nods to me. I salute her and initiate the target to pop up thirty yards away, hidden in the grass. It doesn't matter anyways, the targets head blows back before it's even all the way up.

"It's like there's no space, nothing that isn't you. The rifle is you. The bullet is you. The target is you. There's nothing that's not you."

"So basically what you're saying is I'm blowing my own head off."

The corner of her mouth twitches, a hint of a smile. Zombie's almost got her.

"That's very Zenlike," he tries again, still smiling.

She furrows her brows, deep in thought. She must be wondering the same as me — why the hell Zombie still tries to make her smile even after everything that's happened to her, him, the world. How can he ever expect anything to be normal again?

I sigh and drop my gaze. Zombie and Ringer look at me, then back to each other. I ignore them and keep my eyes on the controls. Too many deep thoughts today, Ghost. Push them away before you go down the yellow brick road like Tank.

"It's more like quantum mechanics," Ringer replies.

Zombie nods. "Oh, sure. That's what I meant to say. Quantum mechanics."

She turns away, then looks back at him with her eery stare. "Do you want to graduate?"

"I want to get the hell away from Reznik," he says, serious now. Angry.

"That isn't enough." She points across the field at a target. "What do you see when you sight a target?"

"I see a plywood cutout of a person."

"Okay, but who do you see?"

"I know what you meant. Sometimes I picture Reznik's face."

"Does it help?"

"You tell me."

"It's about connection," she says. She glances at me, then waves me over and for Zombie to sit. I don't budge. I'm not doing that. She rolls her eyes, sits in front of Zombie, grabs his hands. "Close your eyes. Oh, come on, Zombie. How's your way been working for you? Good. Okay, remember, it's not you and the target. It's not what's between you, but what connects you. Think about the lion and the gazelle. What connects them?"

"Um. Hunger?"

"That's the lion. I'm asking what they share."

I snort and have to turn away as Ringer sends me a glare. Clearing my throat, my finger falls to the blue button on the control panel and begin fiddling with it to look busy. Kind of like before, when you would stand in the middle of a big party and pretend to be texting someone so no one would speak to you, or at least they would think you weren't some poor loser with no friends.

Damn it, Zombie. You got me thinking about my past.

"Fear," she tells him. "For the gazelle, fear of being eaten. For the lion, fear of starvation. Fear is the chain that binds them together."

The chain. What's my chain? Reznik knows, Wonderland told him. And Pam, and Vosche. It's the little boy who died in my arms six months ago, the one who clawed his way deep inside of my body and left nothing but pure anger. He's my chain. And I know Zombie's, too. Sissy, his little sister. The one whose locket he wears, whose guilt he carries.

"I don't know what your chain is," Ringer goes on. "It's different for everyone. They know. Wonderland tells them. It's the thing that made them put a gun in your hand, and it's the same thing that chains you to the target. It isn't a line, Zombie. It's a circle."

Zombie opens his eyes. "There is no distance."

She nods and pulls him to his feet. "It's almost dark."

He brings his rifle up, tucks it into the crevice of his shoulder. Ringer lifts her hand and I slam my finger down on the blue button--like it says execute and there's an alien strapped to some head gear behind the glass in front of me-- and watch as the target flies up. One tenth of a second before the targets head explodes in a wave of splinters.

I start jumping, throwing my fist in the air with a loud Woo! and watch as Zombie does the same. Ringer nods, impressed or happy we won't go down in the ranks anymore. Zombie grabs me by the waist, then, when I run to congradulate him, and lifts me off of the ground, twirls me around. The giddy feeling in my chest completely disappears when I remember where I am, who I am.

He sets me down quickly. I take three steps back and tuck my hair behind my ears out of habit, biting my lip. He's breathless, glancing between me and Ringer, eyes wide. His cheeks are pink, from the cold or the embarassment I'm not sure.

"That was out of line," he finally says. I can't get myself to nod or shake my head. It was and it wasn't. If this was in the bathroom my hands wouldn't be shaking, but it wasn't and Ringer is still silent beside us with no emotion on her face.

"Do it again," I say, looking straight at him. I wonder if he thinks I'm mad. I wonder if I'm mad.

"Shoot or twirl, which one?" Grinning again.

My mouth twitches. I shake my head. "You know which one."