It wasn’t that he hated the Army, he was just done with this phase of life and more than ready to move on. So they dropped him at the academy, throwing some obscure job title on a piece of plastic upon his desk and stenciled on the door. Begging and pleading, even offers of his firstborn, didn’t change the fact that he was being sent to West Point.

I’m being punished. That’s all there is to it.

He doesn’t remember what his job title is, other than it has something to do with admissions. But his office isn’t even in the admissions building. They’d stuck him in a cave on the upper floor of the library. Every so often, he’d receive a manila folder with papers that needed signing. They had something to do with requisitions, but he thinks that he’s mostly in charge of counting patches.

Brown turns his head toward a knock on his door to see two silhouettes behind the opaque glass in the door.

“Enter,” he calls out, wondering if he should remove his feet from the windowsill.

That was pretty much a no-no, regardless of whether he was at the academy or not. He moves his feet down and turns as the door opens. Two cadets in fatigues step through, closing the door behind them.

“What do you two numbnuts want?” Brown asks, recognizing Hayward and Clarke.

He knew the two of them were at the academy, having run into the same problem regarding available slots. Still responsible for their end of the bargain, the army sent them to the academy. Although the standards are more rigorous than with ROTC, Brown knows that the two cadets won out on that agreement. Graduating from the academy will help with their careers and they’ll join the ring-knockers club. If Brown was ever happy for anything, he’s glad that the two ended up with a better deal than they’d started with.

“We just wanted to see what hole they put you in,” Clarke answers.

“Keep that shit up, and I’ll go dig one for you right now. There’s a cemetery just up the road. Another hole there won’t be noticed,” Brown responds.

“But you’d miss us,” Clarke teases.

“I think you’d be surprised at how untrue that statement is,” he replies.

“Oh, come on. You like us,” Hayward throws his two cents in.

“Well, you two aren’t my least favorite. I’ll give you that. If those masks had a mute function, I might like you even more. Now, what brings you to this center of power? Are they not serving the right flavor of ice cream in the cadet restaurant? Are your pillows not being fluffed correctly at night?”

“The turn down service is adequate, even if the mints are left slightly off-center,” Clarke says, her voice faintly muted by the blue surgical mask covering her mouth. “Can’t we just come by to say hi?”

“No,” Brown states.

“Maybe we’re just bored,” Hayward comments.

“Well, if that’s the case, I have plenty of things that will unbore you.”

“Never mind. I don’t want to paint any more rocks,” Clarke says. “Can we have a seat?”

“Are you asking as to your ability, or my permission?”

Clarke just stares at Brown, while Hayward begins to stutter.

“Stop blubbering,” Brown directs his statement toward Hayward. “You’ll just end up hurting yourself. I’m gathering that your visit here is to waste some of my precious time. Sit down,” Brown directs.

“And your precious time is spent watching the river flow by?” Clarke asks sarcastically as she takes a seat across the table.

“Yep.”

“So, do you think this flu thing is in any way associated with, well, what happened?” Hayward asks, settling in.

“Hush, you fool! That never happened,” Brown sharply whispers, his posture becoming erect.

“I know, but this flu is everywhere. It has spread like crazy and everyone has it…like all at once,” Hayward comments.

“Be that as it may, does this look anything like what we witnessed? Do you see anyone running around trying to sink their teeth into others? This is the flu, plain and simple. A bad one, granted, but it’s still the flu,” Brown states, his voice lowering as he glances toward the door.

“Did you know that Emily was bitten?” Clarke interjects.

Brown scoffs at her, his thoughts trying to fathom what she is saying.

“What do you mean, she was bitten? She was with us the whole time, and although we had some close encounters, none of us were actually assaulted.”

“She was bitten by her mom. At least, that’s what she told her aunt as they were walking away,” Clarke answers.

“We don’t know that for sure,” Hayward responds.

Brown has the idea that this is a conversation the two of them have had repeatedly. Which, of course, doesn’t bode well.