Rule of Four (Damned of the 2/19th Novella)

MacReady & Childs

"It's never over."
John Rambo, First Blood

I dropped the little metal bead in with the others for a total of nine from the big chain, one from the little chain. It clinked into the little peg hole at the end of the bed.

Nine days. Nine days we'd been trapped in William's room.

William was an NCO, like me, but unlike me, he'd moved up to the Third Floor, to the Lobotomy Ward, meaning he had a room to himself. That left us one bed, and we'd kept sleeping in shifts, keeping to a tight schedule.

There were three chemlights going. We'd crack a new one every hour, set the oldest on the desk, keep rotating them so we had decent dim light in the room. It wasn't much, but our eyes had adapted over the long days and nights.

The Specialist had run a fever the first three days, but it had broken and he'd been fine since.

We were all on our third box of MRE's. The water still worked, we even had hot water, but the barracks had gotten worse.

Every day I looked out into the hallway. Each time the frost got thicker. Now it was ice on the walls, icicles hanging down from the suspended ceiling. The hallway was only lit by the red emergency light.

Nine days.

"It's the twenty-fourth of October, 1988, if it matters to anyone," I said, leaning against the headboard of the bed and sliding slightly over so my left shoulder was pressed against the side of the dresser.

"You think we've been declared overdue yet?" The Private asked.

I shrugged. "If this goes like it does every other year, we're making the checkins," I said.

"How?" The Private asked.

"Don't know. Same every year though. We lose contact, but Group and ChemCorps and V Corps still gets the checkin calls," I said. I picked up the chocolate bar from my MRE and took a bite of it.

"I'd call bullshit, but..." The Specialist said. He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Joke."

"Whaddya call an Ethiopian with buck teeth?" the Private said quickly. "A rake."

That got groans, but the Specialist did nod. "Better. Thanks."

"You all right?" I asked him. "You've been calling joke quite a bit the last two days."

He shook his head. "I don't know. I keep getting irrationally angry for no reason. Bad angry."

His ears were turning red, anger pushing the blood into his face too.

He looked up at me, anger on his face. "Why the fuck you riding my ass, Sergeant?"

"Six is scared of seven because seven ate nine," The Private tried.

"Enough with the jokes!" The Specialist snapped.

My hand reached out, picking up my pack of smokes. I lit one, closing my eye, and snapped the lighter shut. I took a deep drag and exhaled the smoke slowly.

"We need to get out of here. We aren't keeping shit secured, we haven't for a month. The whole building is frozen over, we have no power, no lights," The Specialist said. His eyes were glittering with rage. "We need to stop hiding and get the fuck off this mountain."

I shook my head. "I checked, the blizzard's still going on," I told him, again.

"You've hiked off this mountain in a blizzard. We can do it. The three of us," The Specialist said. He wiped his mouth. "What, are you waiting till we're all dead before you decide to leave?"