Chapter 8 The Shadow in the Cave

If you stand at the edge of the abyss, sword in hand, facing a dragon, you might worry about whether you can really defeat the beast. But the world isn't worried about your odds—they worry you might become the dragon.

They say a shadow is closest to the soul. But when there's no light, there's no shadow. So how do you see a man's soul—his truth—when the darkness is absolute?

Name's Specter. Ghost Squad, point man. I'm a soldier.

Since I signed up, I've met a thousand challenges. I take every one personally. Sweat, blood, scars. I climbed to the top. But there's always another hill. Maybe all those battles are what built me into who I am.

If you ever see me fight a bear, pray for the bear. Doesn't matter if I'm a rookie or a monster.

The wind out here makes you feel small. Sheets of white sand and ice whip my face. I don't give in. I hang on. Maybe I'm a fledgling here, but I'll pick up my blade and fight anyway.

Reaper was the first to find me. Face like granite, but something in his eyes wasn't so cold.

Next was Buzz, rolling over with a rope linking him to Reaper. Both of them crawling, tracking through the whiteout.

Reaper looped the rope around my waist and gave it a hard tug. I spotted Buzz—he was fine. Relief, sharp as a bullet graze.

"Bro, you good?" Buzz knelt, knuckles white on the rope.

I shook my head, stiff, trying to pry my hands off my rifle.

Over the comm, everyone was calling my name. The usual chaos.

"You hold on to Specter, I'll break trail," Reaper grunted, stabbing his knife into the snow ahead.

Buzz clipped his rope to mine.

Reaper crawled forward, Buzz anchoring against him, both dragging me through the drift like dead weight.

The others caught up. Seven of us, moving as one, pushing against the storm.

"Big Brother, you okay?" Bolt asked, crouching beside me. Only Bolt ever called me that. One word and I always knew it was him—no one else in the squad would dare.

Castor, Nox, Reaper, and Anchor were lined up, arms linked, bent low to the wind. Buzz and Anchor took the lead, crawling, knives out, clearing a path. Behind them, Reaper and the rest. Me and Bolt at the back.

No clue how long we pushed on. My body was gone, but my mind kept score. Bolt muttered to me every step, and I heard every word.

We finally dragged into a cave—entrance a mess of toppled stone.

Inside, it was black, even with someone sparking a fire. Anchor stripped off my gear, hands fast and methodical, the others crowding in. I could hear everything, but it was like I was underwater.

Anchor worked at my thermal layers. "Get water boiling!" he barked.

Soon I was in nothing but thermals. Hands rough and hot worked my limbs, trying to bring the feeling back.

Oxygen tube in my nose, firelight flickering. No drugs—they knew my heart couldn't take it. Wrong move, I'd bleed out.

I was only thinking about two things: Am I wounded? Is Snow dead? The answer would tell me if what happened was real—or just the ghosts in my head.

Couldn't talk. Couldn't move my jaw.

Buzz eased warm water into my mouth. I couldn't swallow.

I tried, but nothing happened.

"Don't force it, his mouth's full," someone said.

"Specter, you're okay, you're here…" someone else muttered.

"How did Big Brother get hurt?" Bolt asked. Nobody else in Ghost Squad would ever use that name. I could pick his voice out in a hurricane.

If I had wounds, then what happened was real.

I forced the water down. Felt like swallowing razor blades.

Nose finally cleared, oxygen flowing for real.

"Hit him with the shot!" someone called.

I felt hands, strong and sure, working my muscles, pushing life back into them.

I tried to speak.

"What's wrong, Specter? Pain?" Anchor asked, peering close.

"Where's Snow?" I asked.

Anchor looked over at Buzz, his face suddenly blank. He didn't answer, just stood there for a second, then handed me the straw in silence.

Snow's dead? Everything that happened was real? But I shot the figure in white and he just vanished. That doesn't track. No way...

"I'm right here," a voice answered.

I turned, slow and stiff, and there she was—no helmet, brown hair tied back, green eyes steady, smile like dawn.

"You finally admit you're Digits?" She wrapped a bandage around my shoulder, her hands warm.

I didn't answer. Just shut my eyes.

If Snow was alive but I was wounded, that meant the attacker was real. Snow getting killed—that was the hallucination. But did Snow actually stand by me in the blizzard? Probably not. She wouldn't be here alone. That was a ghost, too.

Thinking about it, I slipped under.

When I came to, everything was black. I shifted.

"Specter, you're awake?" Anchor was right beside me.

"Water?" My voice was weak.

"Yeah—hold on." Anchor hurried off.

I sucked in breath. My chest felt like it had a cinder block on top of it. I felt my bandages—chest, shoulder, waist, all the wounds I remembered.

Footsteps, soft as snow.

"Digits, you up?" That voice. Only Snow ever called me that.

"They all call you Specter. I still like Digits."

A chill gust. Someone sat next to me.

"How'd you end up working with our team?" I asked—the question that'd been burning a hole in my head.

Just then, Anchor came back with a torch. Bolt behind him. Reaper and Buzz watching from the dark.

Snow put a finger to her lips. Shh.

Anchor didn't even see her, just handed me the water. Anchor just stood there for a second, then handed me the straw in silence.

"Get some in you first, melt the ice in your blood," Snow smiled.

"You with Iceman? Or some other crew?" I ignored Anchor.

Snow shrugged. "Neither. Don't let me get in your way." She started to leave.

Anchor just stared at me, straw in hand. "Drink, Specter. That's an order."

I sipped. Watched Snow's shadow disappear. Who was she, really? Why did she walk like that?

"Snow been in the cave this whole time?" I asked Anchor quietly.

He hesitated. "I… I don't know. I was outside with Reaper and Nox, waiting for you and Buzz."

Her silhouette looked like my attacker's. Maybe I was losing it. Maybe it was all just ghosts.

"Don't lose it, Specter. Think," I told myself.

The white figure attacks, Snow appears, white figure kills Snow, I kill the white figure, he vanishes. I'm hurt—so the white figure was real. But was Snow ever really here? If so, who did I see get killed? Who's this Snow now?

No, something's off. When the white figure killed Snow, I felt blood on my hand. But when I shot him, his body disappeared—and my hand was clean.

That can only mean Snow getting killed was a ghost—just another hallucination. Everything else fits. The attacker was real. Snow tried to save me. Maybe she was the wind, maybe just a memory.

"Who was in the cave?" I asked Anchor.

"Bolt and Castor. I was outside with Reaper and Nox, waiting for you and Buzz."

"Get them in here. Now."

"Copy." Anchor gave me a look, then left.

A minute later, they showed up.

"Big Brother, you good?" Bolt asked, voice low and worried.

"Bro, what happened to your wounds?" Castor said, stepping in.

I reached out my hand.

Bolt slowly closed his hand around mine.

I tapped his palm in our code.

"Did Snow leave the cave?"

Bolt looked at me, then at Castor.

Castor just blinked. I took his hand, tapped the same way.

"Did you see Snow?"

They looked at each other.

Bolt shook his head. "Didn't see anything. I was just thinking about you and Buzz, Big Brother."

I stared at Castor.

Castor's eyes were distant, as if sifting through smoke.

"Did Snow leave the cave?" I pressed.

Castor was silent for a long time. Then, finally, he nodded. "Yeah."