The Cadet by Doug Beason

Author:Doug Beason [Beason, Doug]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Literature & Fiction, Genre Fiction, war, Contemporary Fiction
Amazon: B00UJZYLJC
Publisher: WordFire Press
Published: 2015-04-07T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty

“All Shook Up”

February, 1957

United States Air Force Academy

Lowry Field, CO

My near’st and dearest enemy.

—William Shakespeare, Henry IV, Part I, Act III, Scene 2

“Hey, Fred, got a minute?”

“Yeah.” Fred closed his book. He rubbed his eyes and looked up from the homework he’d been doing for the past hour and a half. “Man, am I tired.”

Rod drew in a breath, trying to ignore the knot still in his stomach. He felt miserable and his mouth tasted sour. After returning from his walk around Lowry, he’d spent the past half hour in the latrine, on the floor in front of the porcelain toilet vomiting his guts out because of what he was about to do.

He felt chilled, but it wasn’t because of his long, snowy walk. He didn’t think anyone had missed him, and he’d changed his card back to AUTHORIZED when he returned. Now, he wished more than anything else in the world he didn’t have to confront Fred. It cut him to the core, but he knew it would be a thousand times worse if he kept it to himself. He just couldn’t believe that one of his classmates would break the code.

If Fred had really done it and Rod didn’t confront him, then Rod would be just as guilty as he. Rod would be tolerating his classmate breaking the code, and then he’d be living a lie, saying that he adhered to that standard when in fact he didn’t; it was the cancer Lieutenant Ranch had said would eventually tear down the honorable foundation the Academy was trying to build.

He remembered the sick feeling he’d had watching that blonde-headed woman pawing his father outside the hotel door in Washington, D.C. When he’d finally confronted his father about it a few months ago, it was too late to make a difference; he should have confronted him years ago, but because he hadn’t, Hank had just gotten angry, blamed Mr. Delante, and denied it.

Now he swallowed, trying to keep his hand from shaking. He’d given this enough time so that he knew he wouldn’t be acting on impulse. He wished there was some other way, but he kept coming up with the same answer. He had to do the right thing.

What if this was all some sort of misunderstanding? What if Fred had really injured himself in the library and hadn’t been in Janet’s car?

But he knew it wasn’t true—Mr. Ledbetter’s irate call had substantiated that.

And about the other matters: Fred lying about where he had been last night; stealing Sly’s and Gould’s money; lying about being in an AUTHORIZED place when he wasn’t. What if all this was simply a giant misunderstanding? What if Fred was really innocent?

But in the hours Rod had debated it within himself, he knew that wasn’t true.

The door to their room was open only a sliver, and aside from one or two cadets passing by, the hallway was dead quiet during academic call to quarters.

Fred pushed back his chair. “Where you been?” His eyes were rimmed with red, and the bruise on his face had turned a nasty blackish-blue color.

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