Ribbon of Fate [Book 5]

Lifeline

"Foresight is not about predicting the future, it's about minimizing surprise."
~Karl Schroeder
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Chapter 6: Lifeline

November 19, 2004...

Bryn

"-no sharing, and don't come crying to me if you eat your half too fast!" I declared, strutting out of the room with my half of the cheesecake. It'd been sent to Murray after the last battle, but he was gone on sick leave, and rather than let it go to waste, Miranda and I decided to do him a favor and eat it for him. However, when Miranda went to the bathroom, rather than waiting for my comrade to start eating it with me, I went ahead without her. She didn't take kindly to it, berating me about it for ten minutes. Her rant fell on deaf ears while I munched on the dreamy dessert.

Cue one argument later, and we'd split it, taking our respective halves to our rooms. Unfortunately, the moment I stepped outside into the hallway, I tripped, and my cheesecake plopped to the ground.

Miranda's obnoxious laughter sounded behind me. "This is what you get for eating it without me! I'm just going to stand here and eat piece after piece of cheesecake in my mouth while you stand there and watch."

I stared angrily at Miranda, and as she shoveled a large bite into her mouth, I slapped the dish out of her hand. Her cheesecake joined mine on the floor.

We stared at the mess like idiots for longer than either of us cared to admit. After mild debating, we found ourselves on all fours, eating any piece of cheesecake we could see that wasn't touching the floor. We were grateful most people on base were still asleep, praying no one would find us in such a pathetic situation.

Someone did.

A pair of large combat boots stopped next to us. Miranda and I slowly looked up- cheeks stuffed to the brim with cheesecake- to find Whiskey staring down at us in concern. He asked, "Do I want to know?"

"No," we replied simultaneously.

Whiskey nodded. "Eat up and clean up then. We have a briefing in half an hour."

We saluted him. "Yes, sir!"

The moment Whiskey disappeared, Miranda and I burst into a fit of giggles, realizing how stupid we'd been and how silly we looked.

"You've got to call Lucky and tell him this story," Miranda insisted, going in for another bite. "Please? I want to meet your future husband."

"I will stab you with my fork."

"Yeah, but then you won't be able to eat the cheesecake."

"I'll use yours because you'll be too busy with my fork impaled in you to be worrying about yours."

"Jesus Christ, Ember. That's dark."

"I don't mess around with desserts or with Lucky."

"Okay, okay, but still, please call him?"

"Fine, fine," I relented, dialing his number, "but I don't know if he'll pick up. It's-"

"Ember!" Lucky exclaimed. He cocked his head. "What on earth are you doing?"

"Eating cheesecake," I replied, lifting up my fork to show him.

His brow furrowed in evident confusion. "On the floor?"

"Yes."

"That must be some damn good cheesecake."

"Oh, it is. By the way-" I motioned at my comrade with my fork- "this is Miranda. She wants to say hi."