EIGHT

In spite of the long day and being tired, Susan could not sleep. She turned over and over, flipped her pillow to the cool side any number of times but still could not fall asleep. It was like that sometimes, except when she was at home she could get up and turn on the TV and watch a movie or talk to Ethan, here there were people trying to stay asleep.

She sat up. The only light was coming from the monitors as they picked up every sound and movement in the night.

This was when she heard the wail. A few lines spiked on the computer screen. It was close, someone was in pain. As she got out of bed, she looked around at her friends; all were in their bunks.

Finally she was going to make contact. She unzipped the tent flap and stepped out into the night.

Susan could see them clearly now and wondered how she could have missed them before. They were tied down to the ground; some by only their legs, some were staked out -- spread eagle, their hands clenching and unclenching in fear. If they had been allowed to move about, they would have been pacing and wringing their hands. Those bound by only their legs seemed to be less of a threat; the wounded and the dead.

But that was not right, Susan thought, they were all dead. Was this an echo of an event that the land held? Or did the men not know? Neither felt right -- there was a power that held the spirits here -- like a magnet -- Susan shivered as it came to her: like a command.

The thought chilled her. These men were solders, they put that first -- before home, before love, before everything that would otherwise make them able to connect to anything that was not their commander's voice. They were told to torture these men but they were never told to stop. So they stayed and tortured. Long after their bodies gave out from lack of sleep, food, water, and common sense, they continued to wander the field sticking the enemy with swords and threats of such cold hearted promise that the men cried out as if it had already happened. There was a figure on the edge of the action, it was a partially dressed woman. The skirt of her dress was torn and dragging behind her while the top was nearly shredded. The figure stumbled back and forth, not part of the unit, but unable to completely leave.

Susan stepped into the field, walking past the bloody shells of men. As she moved, she spoke to them.

"You don't have to do this. You have a choice and can leave this land, this pain. You all died long ago -- you are free to move on."

Some of the men looked up from the mud, tiny glimmers of hope in their pained filled eyes.

"You are free to leave this world."

Some of the captors looked hopeful, too. The woman on the edge had disappeared, Susan hoped that she had moved on.

This was when The Commander appeared. He seemed to push aside the fabric of reality, duck through as if it were a tent flap, and stride toward Susan.

He's just as dead as the rest, she thought as he got closer.

"You are free to leave, " she told him. "You have the choice."

"I like it here, " he said as he reached out for her.

Spirits almost always felt the need to touch -- not that they ever could. They were insubstantial as a sigh. This was why it was so astonishing when The Commander took a firm hold of her braid and twisted it. The pain dropped her to her knees.

* * *

Don felt cool air on his skin and opened his eyes. There was a shadow moving above him. As his eyes adjusted to the limited light he realized that the covers have been thrown back and someone was lowering themselves on top of him.

Alarmed at first, he was shocked to realize that it was Susan whose face was an inch away from his. She smelled vaguely of freshly over turned earth, she must have been outside before coming to him. Not that he minded, there was something very real about the smell of a newly planted garden and this is the scent that came from her.

He put his arms around her then stretched up to kiss her. Her lips have been cooled by the night but her tongue was warm and quick.

The movement of her sitting up caught him by surprise, for some reason he expected her to want to kiss longer but she was sitting back on his stomach, her legs straddling him. He could feel skin and her pubic hair tickling his belly; she had come to him wearing only a T-shirt.

"Susan . . . " he started.

"Shhhh! You'll wake the others," then she pulled the shirt off over her head.

There was some light, Don could see her somewhat, but how he wished they were in sunlight. He cupped her breasts and gave them easy squeezes, pleased how they felt, not as firm as some, but they were large and here and Susan's. She was taking one of his hands away from her and turning his palm up. Disappointment turned quickly to delight as she slid his hand between her legs. Then she was moving above him and whispering, "Put your fingers inside me," in a deep voice.

* * *

The Commander reached out with the hand that was not twisting her braid and keeping her on her knees and cupped her right breast. It was as though his cold touch sank thought her clothing to chill her bare skin.

"What do we do to women on the battle field?" The Commander asked as his grip on her flesh tightened.

Susan opened her mouth to cry out in pain but no sound would come.

"Take her in order of rank, sir!" the solders answered in one, flat voice. They did not want this but they would do it and somehow she would feel it. Every man in the company would be with her in a way that no living man had. Starting with The Commander and if this crushing grip was anything to go by she might not survive.

These thoughts came to her all at once in an instant, still she could not make a sound to voice her terror.

* * *

Mesmerized by her and the way she was moving against his hand, Don felt lost, as if he was not a part of this coupling. To take back some control, he sat up. The movement made her slide down onto his lap. He ducked his head down and licked her nipples. She was reaching down and trying to put him inside her.

Don put his arm around her and flipped her over and laid her back, he wanted to be on top. She showed her acceptance by wrapping one of her legs around his waist. As he entered, and then sank inside her, he wondered how he could have been so wrong about her. She was not shy at all about in letting him know what she wanted from him.

He was trying to be quiet, the bunk was making a complaining squeak but he was keeping his voice silent behind gritted teeth. Her skin was so soft that it seemed as if it might give way to his fingers.

* * *

The Commander was bending down, his hand having released her stinging breast was reaching to touch her between her legs, when Ethan hit him with all his strength. He and The Commander went flying. The spell was broken and the men faded from sight. Susan toppled to her side, unconscious before she hit the ground. The Commander disappeared from Ethan's hold almost immediately -- the element of surprise would only work once. Next time he would have to be prepared to fight.

* * *

As he burrowed his face into her neck, something hit him behind his ear and ran down his cheek. He wiped it away, but it was sticky on his fingers. It was blood. It stopped him cold. Froze him in shock.

She clambered on top of him, drenching him in blood and flesh that seemed to be falling off of her in slabs. He could hear it hitting the floor with splattering chunks. Her face was bone and shining eyes as she leaned down to him.

"Got you."

Suddenly he was all movement; he shoved her away, scrambled up off of the bunk and away. As he got to the tent flap he turned back to see if she was giving chase. She was gone. He looked down at himself; the blood was gone.

He had been dreaming. It had been vivid enough to make his body react -- he might never see his balls again -- he still felt like he might scream or be sick.

Everyone was still asleep, Susan's bunk was empty, but that did not mean anything, she could be in the port-a-potty or checking the computer for contact. Don checked around and under his bunk before he got back in and attempted to sleep.

* * *

Ethan leaned down over Susan. She was out cold; her breath was shallow and her skin pale and shiny with sweat. She looked sick. Going for help was pointless, Susan and The Black Cat were the only ones who could see him. He did not want to leave her alone anyway. This was the first time since he died that he had felt so out of control and helpless. He tried The Whistle a couple of times without success -- not that he had expected anyone to be able to hear it but he had to try.

He stayed with her -- a frustrated vigil -- throughout the night.

The sky was becoming light when he saw movement in the tent.

* * *

Owen was the first one up, he was trying to be as quiet as possible as he left the tent. There was a chill in the early morning air that made his skin rise up into goose bumps. As he went into the port-a-potty, he was thinking about how the plowed field looks particularly bumpy this morning. It was not until he came out again that he saw Susan. She was curled up on her side turned away from him in the middle of the field.

He cried out her name and ran toward her. The others came stumbling out of the tent, saw Owen, saw Susan and ran out into the field. Judy stepped back into the tent long enough to get the first aid kit then ran out after the others.

Owen dropped down next to her and touched her bare arm. She was slick with morning dew.

"Susan?" Owen said as he checked her pulse. He looked up at the expectant faces. "She's alive." He gently rolled her over onto her back as the others began to breathe again.

"Susan, can you hear me?"

"Someone go back and turn up a couple of blankets."

Don ran back to the tent. As he was preparing a warmer for her, Owen was picking her up and carrying her across the rutted ground.

The electric blanket was put on the cot and turned on high, the second Don had turned on and held, as he stood by waiting to lay it over her.

As Owen laid her on the warming blanket, Susan started to shiver. The shivers became violent shaking that stayed with her until the blankets warmed her completely.