Carly by Lyn Cote Read Free Book Online Page B

silently chanted,
You can do this. You will not faint
.
    The blonde finished her push-ups and was ordered back into formation.
    The DI glared at all of them. “Now whoever spit into 89236108’s food, step forward.”
    Silence. No one moved. Carly found she could barely breathe. Waves of nausea still buffeted her.
    “I said, whoever spit into 89236108’s food, step forward!”
    Again, no one moved. Carly’s heart pounded in her ears and a cold sweat covered her. She stiffened her quaking knees.
    “The army is all about the team, all about becoming a unit. Now, for the last time, whoever spit into 89236108’s food,
step forward!
”
    No one moved. Carly stared straight da>, willing herself deeper into self-control.
    “All right, then,” the DI said in a voice pregnant with malice. “We were going to take just a short eight-mile hike this morning,
     but I think this refusal to speak up means that you’re all ready for a ten-mile. About-face!”
    Carly wondered if she would last for a ten-mile hike. Normally that wouldn’t be a problem. And as problems went, the main
     one before her was not merely how to survive today; she had an unexpected enemy. Why was this stranger, Alex-somebody, targeting
     her? What did Alex-somebody think she could gain? What was she trying to prove?

CHAPTER FOUR
    I n the dark and quiet night, a thread of sweat trickled down Carly’s back as she struggled to keep her eyes open.
Exhausted
didn’t even come close to describing how she felt. And she wasn’t alone. Nearly three weeks of basic had pretty much mowed
     down all of the recruits. That night they’d been awakened after about an hour’s exhausted slumber to do perimeter duty. They’d
     been ordered to don full combat gear within ten minutes—all to guard baked dirt and rocks. Or that’s what it seemed to Carly.
     After an hour’s duty, they’d been marched back to their barracks, where they undressed and climbed back into their beds, ready
     to sleep the night through.
    But within an hour, they’d been yelled awake for a second hour of perimeter duty. Carly trembled with fatigue. The 8.8-pound
     M-16 she clutched had never felt heavier. The breezeless, muggy night pressed close and wrapped around her like warm, wet
     papier-mâché. How long would this torment last?
    Carly felt herself sway as her knees tried to fall asleep on their own. A bead of sweat slid down her nose and dripped to
     the ground. She made no move to wipe it away.
    Not just her platoon, her whole company had been called out for this ridiculous, mind-numbing torture. In the ranks across
     from her, Carly could just see the top of Lorelle’s helmet under a yard light. She tried to make herself recall everything
     she could about Lorelle’s family—a mental exercise she hoped would keep her awake. It failed.
    Someone nearby cleared her throat. Carly knew everyone in her barracks so well that she easily recognized the sound. It was
     Alex Reseda—the girl who hated her for no discernible reason. Alex’s pursuit of her and vendetta had continued. With all the
     trouble Alex had caused Carly, she couldn’t collapse now, couldn’t call more attention to herself.
    In one of their few free moments, Carly had discussed Alex with Francie Rains, the petite blonde who had told the DI about
     Alex’s spitting in her breakfast. Francie hadn’t been able to come up with a reason for Alex’s nastiness either. Ever since
     that morning, whenever possible, Carly made sure to put as much distance as she could between her and “Crazy Woman,” her private
     name for Alex.
    Over the intervening days after the memorable first breakfast, Francie stuck protectively close to Carly, which was a little
     funny since Francie didn’t look as if she could do more than shout for help. Now, in the hushed darkness filled with human
     silence and the clicking and droning of insects, Carly’s mind brought up Francie. A country girl from Kentucky, she possessed
     an endearing