The Green Rising

Chapter Forty

The humvee bounced over potholes, nudging me against the soldiers then thrusting me towards the dash. The soldier with the gravelly voice, who I’d heard addressed as Major Sanders, yanked me back onto the seat. He maintained his grip on my shoulder and I clenched my jaw to avoid screaming out in pain.

“Can’t have that pretty face scratched up,” he said before returning to his conversation.

I tuned out the soldiers’ remarks and pondered ways to escape, ways to bring Abi to her knees. Every so often, words like “steak,” “champagne,” “promotion,” and “president” caught my attention and I would swallow the anger. How could they speak of celebration while so many of the people they’d previously counted as friends starved, or were dead? These were distractions I couldn’t afford.

Memories of Luc’s promotion bubbled to the surface and I felt my lips curl into a smile.

“Hit him hard,” I had whispered to a four-year-old Rosie and a twenty-month-old Maggie. “This is the only time it’ll ever be okay to hit your daddy, so make it count. We want that promotion to stick.” It was customary for the pinner to strike the pin for good luck. It also was a way to inflict pain upon the soldier, or at least it was when the insignia was still a sharp pin. They’d switched to patches a few years before, but the custom hadn’t been tossed.

The girls beamed, their eyes dancing with excitement.

“Jessa, do you want to carry Maggie? I don’t think I can handle both of them, and this’ll be a way you can participate, too.”

Jessa smiled with surprise and seeming desire to help, but she hesitated, looking to her mother for approval. She’d clearly believed that Sheila or her grandmother would be assisting me. A perfectly-coiffed Sheila nodded, and handed Maggie to her daughter, while Jessa mouthed, “Are you sure?” to me.

“Absolutely,” I had answered. “I want you to be a part of this, and your uncle will be tickled you’re up there. You know that we love you like a daughter, right? So it only makes sense for you to be involved in the ceremony, too.”

Jessa whispered something to her mother. I hadn’t been able to discern it, but it sounded like her wishing for her own father, rather than the one she had in her uncle who she saw maybe twice a year. Sheila’s eyes pinched to slits, and Jessa stood to join me.

We started walking to the podium, the girls’ giggles eliciting a smile from the general while Luc somehow maintained a straight face.

The general began to speak and Maggie leaned toward him and reached for his rank, interrupting the speech with a squeal of the word, “star.”

I cringed and said a quick prayer that Maggie would remember that it was her father she was supposed to slug, and not the general. Thankfully the general and audience of soldiers, our friends, and family laughed and distracted Maggie from whatever course of action she’d planned to take. Red-faced, she shrank into Jessa’s arms and I breathed a sigh of relief.

When the appropriate time had come, Maggie removed the double-bar captain’s insignia from Luc’s chest. I lifted Rosie to her daddy’s chest and she replaced the patch with one that had a golden maple leaf embroidered into it. Rosie then walloped her father with a punch that widened the general’s eyes and Maggie followed it with her own that hit Luc squarely on the chin.

“Wow. They can hit! Did I flinch?” a pink-chinned Luc had asked when we were out of the general’s earshot.

I’d laughed at him before answering that he hadn’t even blinked during the pinning. He pulled me into an embrace, careful not to show too much affection while in uniform. I frowned.