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Chapter 3

           Shethumbedhernoseatthelabcoatswho’dspentsleeplessmonthsrefiningtheJackets’polymerpainttoabsorbeverylastradarwavepossible.Hersuitwasgunmetalred-no,morethanthat,itglowed.Inthedarkitwouldcatchthefaintestlight,smolderingcrimson.Wasshecrazy?Probably.

           Behindherbacktheysaidshepaintedhersuitwiththebloodofhersquad.Whenyoustandoutlikethatonthebattlefield,youtendtodrawmorethanyourshareofenemyfire.Otherssaidshe’dstopatnothingtomakehersquadlookgood,thatsheeventookcoverbehindafellowsoldieronce.Ifshehadabadheadache,she’dgoapeshit,killingfriendandfoealike.AndyetnotasingleenemyroundhadeversomuchasgrazedherJacket.Shecouldwalkintoanyhellandcomebackunscathed.Theyhadamillionstories.

           Yourrankandfilesoldierendedupwithalotoftimeonhishands,andlisteningtothatsortoftalk,passingiton,embellishingit-thatwasjustthesortofthingheneededtokilltimeandtokeepthesubjectoffdeadcomrades.RitahadbeenaJacketjockeyeatingandsleepingonthesamebaseasme,butI’dneverseenherfaceuntilthatmoment.Wemighthaveresentedthespecialtreatmentshegot,ifwe’dhadthechancetothinkaboutit.

           Icouldn’ttakemyeyesoffthelineofherhair-sheworeitshort-asitbobbedinthewind.Therewasagracefulbalancetoherfeatures.Youmightevenhavecalledherbeautiful.Shehadathinnose,asharpchin.HerneckwaslongandwhitewheremostJacketjockeysdidn’tevenhavenecks.

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