Chapter Two
Samantha
“How much longer do we have to stay here?”
Harper’s voice was dangerously close to a whine, and I cut her a look. She hastily straightened her shoulders and corrected herself.
“I mean, how much longer do you think we’ll be? I was just asking. You know.” She bit down on her lower lip and quirked one eyebrow at me.
Sighing, I shrugged. “Why don’t you head home now? We’re only going to be here about another half hour or so, I’d think. We just want to make sure all the personnel who go off the clock and leave post between four and five see us here. It’s important that they understand we’re not going to let the Army get away with protecting that son of a bitch.”
Harper nodded. “Okay. Well, at least you already got some media coverage, right? That reporter from Channel Ten News seemed really interested.”
I grinned. “Oh, yeah. That was a big coup. She told me she thinks their national news might pick up the story, too, if not tonight, then definitely by tomorrow morning.” I paused. “Unless, of course, something more newsworthy comes along that bumps us off their radar. Or the government hushes it all up.”
“Does that really happen?” My roommate’s eyes widened, and I tried not to roll mine.
“Yeah, it really happens, hon. I wish I could say it doesn’t.” Harper and I had been living together in Petersburg for about eight months now. We’d met through a mutual friend, Jeff; he’d grown up in Lexington, Virginia with Harper, while I’d met him at Brown, where we’d both gone to college. When I’d nabbed this job with National Park Services at the Petersburg Battlefield, Jeff had told me about his friend who’d been working as a chef in the same area and was looking for a new roommate.
My parents, bless their hearts, had helped me move into the small apartment Harper and I now shared. After we’d spent two hours carrying in boxes and furniture, listening to my new friend’s happy chatter, my mother had pulled me aside.
“Honey, this girl needs her consciousness raised. Badly.”
I’d fastened my mom with a steely glare. “Please don’t scare her off, Ma. I need her to share this place with me, okay?”
My mother had affected an expression of total innocence. “I never would do anything of the kind! I’m just saying, living with you is going to be a good thing for her. It’ll be life-changing.”
Now, as I watched Harper gather her bag and the sign she’d been carrying, I thought that my mom had been right, apparently. Even though I would never change the way I’d been raised, there was part of me that envied my friend’s natural state of accepting the world as it came. She rarely questioned the intent or motives of anyone in leadership, whether that was at the restaurant where she worked or the federal government. I wondered what it was like to have that lack of cynicism, that sunny view of the world. As long as I could remember, I’d been suspecting conspiracies around every corner.
Thanks, Ma and Dad.
“Hey, I’ll have dinner ready when you get home,” Harper offered, hiking the strap of her purse onto her shoulder. “How does risotto sound? With fresh asparagus, of course.”
“Yum.” My mouth began to water. The girl really did have a gift in the kitchen. “Do I need to pick up anything to go with it?’
She considered and then shook her head. “Nope. Just don’t get arrested, okay? I’d hate all my hard work to go to waste.”
I gave her a mock salute. “You got it. I’ll keep my head down and won’t throw anything at anyone.” At my friend’s questioning gaze, I laughed and shook my head. “I’ll tell you that story later. See you back at home.”
“Be careful.” Harper wrapped me in a quick, tight hug and turned to make her way back across the street, where we’d left our cars.
The man standing next to me watched her go. “That one doesn’t seem like a pro at this, huh? Not the way you are.”
I winced. Being labeled an expert at protesting somehow didn’t sound like a good thing to me. “She’s fine. She’s a beginner, that’s all. Today was only her second protest.”
He nodded. “Well, this is definitely a worthy cause. I’ve lived here all my life, and I can’t tell you how many times we’ve had trouble with guys from this post. They come into our town, get drunk and then start fights or destroy property—or both. The command here tells us the same thing they’ve been saying for generations. They boast about how much better they make our economy and how many jobs they bring to the area.” He snorted. “But at what price, I ask you? Ask that poor guy laying in the hospital if he’s okay with getting his head bashed in, as long as it means his friends aren’t unemployed.”
“Yeah. I haven’t lived here very long, but I know how heavy-handed the military can be. The soldier who did this should be held accountable, and not just by the Army. He needs to face justice the same way the rest of us do.”
“Exactly.” The guy glanced over my shoulder, and his expression perked up. “Hey, it’s four-thirty. People are starting to leave post. We should look lively.”
I picked up the sign that rested against my legs. “Yeah, let’s remind them that we’re here to make sure they can’t get away with covering this up.”
* * *
An hour later, I trudged back to my car, feeling every one of my twenty-six years. “It didn’t used to be this way,” I muttered to myself. “I used to leave these things feeling uplifted and energized. I was ready to take on the world, or at least to go out and have dinner with friends. Now I’m just exhausted and want to crawl into bed.” I grimaced as my shoe rubbed against a nasty blister growing on one heel. “This must be what getting old feels like. I’m starting to lose it. Hell, I’m even talking to myself.”
My ancient Ford was the only one left in the grassy field where we’d all parked earlier in the afternoon. I reached the driver’s side and dumped my heavy backpack and the sign I’d been lugging around onto the ground as I dug in my pocket for my keys. When I found them, I unlocked the door, tossed my bag and sign into the backseat and collapsed behind the wheel before I turned the ignition.
