Free Carly by Lyn Cote Page A

taught her, was always unattractive. Besides,
     it was still too early for gloating. Time after time, she had been disciplined for situations Alex had created.
    “Private Gallagher, it has been noted that you obviously have had track and serious martial arts training.”
    “Yes, ma’am. Nearly seven years.”
    “It would appear, Private Reseda,” the commander said, looking directly into Alex’s eyes, “that you chose the wrong individual
     to harass. Private Gallagher can outrun you, outfight you, and has displayed extraordinary fortitude in the face of your harassment.”
    “The rich witch wins again,” Alex sneered. “I’m not surp—”
    “Shut that smart mouth, soldier,” the first sergeant snapped.
    The company commander tapped a stack of papers on her desk top. “Fighting is not permitted on base. And for violating that,
     Private Gallagher will be disciplined. But Private Reseda, you will be scheduled for counseling sessions over the next four
     weeks. Also you will be encouraged to visit the chaplain to discuss how you can change your self-destructive behavior. It
     is not our goal here to end military careers. Our goal is to train soldiers for successful military careers.”
    “But—” Alex objected.
    “Silence!” the officer commanded. “This meeting is finished. If there are any further incidents between the two of you, Private
     Reseda, you will be facing an Article 15. You two, return immediately to your barracks, get your weapons, and join your platoon.
     Dismissed.”
    Both Carly and Alex saluted, turned, and exited the room. Carly didn’t want to speak to or look at her adversary. She began
     jogging toward their barracks. Alex began running too. Carly increased her speed. Alex followed suit. Carly poured on the
     gas. She left Alex far behind.
    “You witch!” Alex called after her, “I hate you!”
    Carly raced to the barracks, intent on reaching the firing range before Alex. Even though she still faced punishment for fighting,
     vindication was sweet, very sweet. But it left a sour aftertaste. Why did any of this have to happen in the first place?
    A week after the incident at the laundry, Carly, along with her platoon, waited in a large gymnasium to go into the gas chamber.
     She couldn’t remember a time when the mood of the whole group had been this tense and somber. Even Alex, who always tried
     to appear unconcerned, looked petrified. And why not? They’d just endured a full-day training session on biological and chemical
     warfare. Carly hadn’t been aware of all the horrible means people had devised to kill other humans.
    Each of them in the platoon had been given an NBC—a nuclear biological chemical defense suit. It was a two-piece suit that
     felt rubberized, with gloves, boots, and a gas mask that made her feel as if she had been trapped in a nightmare. Fortunately,
     they hadn’t been ordered to wear the full defense suits there in the heat of the day. Each of them carried merely the mask.
     That was bad enough. Carly tried to keep a distance between Alex and her. She didn’t want to think what Alex might try if
     they hit the gas chamber at the same time.
    “Now,” the DI barked, “in small groups each of you will enter the gas chamber. The door will be shut behind you. Tear gas,
     CS, will be released in the chamber. On command, you will remove your gas mask—”
    Carly’s mind stuttered at this.
Remove my mask?
They were going to gas . . . to gas them?
    “You will remain in the chamber until the door opens and you are ordered to leave.”
    Well, even though Carly had scrubbed her whole barracks bathroom with a toothbrush, her true punishment for fighting had come.
     And in a way, it was more dreadful than she could have predicted. Surely the gas chamber test was intended for more than instruction;
     it had been designed to defeat her. Just donning the gas mask panicked her. She tried to think why this was true, tried to
     protect herself.
Get a grip
.
    The