Hagane no Renkinjutsushi - Volume 1 - Chapter SS

THE PHANTOM 

OF WAREHOUSE 13

THE TIME: High noon.

The place: Eastern Command HQ.

“Warehouse 13?”

Two lacquer-black eyes blinked suspiciously from beneath a shock of hair. The man who spoke was Colonel Roy Mustang, the Flame Alchemist, and chief officer of Eastern Command. He lifted his eyes from his documents to look at Second Lieutenant Jean Havoc standing in front of his desk, nodding his head enthusiastically, a cigarette dangling from his mouth.

“What are you talking about?” Roy asked. “We have only twelve numbered warehouses in Eastern Command.”

He glanced out his office window. He could see all the warehouses on the base from here. He counted twelve warehouses in a row, aligned perpendicular to his line of sight. At the far end sat three more warehouses, marked with the letters “A,” “B,” and “C.”

“You’re forgetting one more,” said Havoc, raising a finger. “Warehouse 13, in other words … Aren’t you interested?”

Jean Havoc was the sort of fellow who struck people as odd at first glance. He always did good, skilled work, but his attitude was abysmal. Regardless of whether he stood before an officer or a Master Sergeant, he always held that cigarette in his mouth. When people protested, he wouldn’t even respond, swinging general opinion against him even further. He merely let the comments wash over him. He was slippery that way. No matter what reprimand or complaint was made, nothing seemed to stick.

In an unusual display of consideration, Havoc poured Roy a cup of coffee, and then, sipping at his own cup, he pulled up a chair and began to smoke. Roy didn’t bother reprimanding him for smoking in his office. After all, he wasn’t exactly being a model officer himself, wasting time with this ridiculous banter. Pointing a finger at Havoc would merely be pointing a finger back at himself.

“So what if there is a Warehouse 13? Is that a problem?” Roy’s tone of voice and disinterested expression made his disdain for the topic clear. The sooner Havoc agreed it was ridiculous and left him alone, the better.

Across the desk, Havoc knew quite well that his story gave the colonel a much-desired opportunity to waste time. So, he sat back in his chair and slowly sipped his coffee. “Oh, there’s a big problem.”

“Explain.”

“Well … if you pass by this Warehouse 13 in the middle of the night, you hear sounds, noises—someone weeping, someone digging in the dirt.”

“What is this, some kind of ghost story?” Roy scowled and turned his gaze back to his documents.

“Not fond of ghost stories, Colonel?”

Roy glared at the thinly veiled challenge in Havoc’s voice. “I’m not scared.”

“Oh, that’s too bad.” Havoc seemed deflated, deprived of a chance to scare his superior officer.

“There’s nothing ‘too bad’ about it!” Roy put his hands on his temples. “Alchemy is a science. We must strive to be logical in all things. I suppose that’s why I’ve never been one for ghost stories.”

“Quite the opposite for me, I’m afraid,” said Havoc. “I love a good ghost story. Can’t help but tell them, in fact.”

Havoc sighed.

“I’ve found that most scary things, when you take a good look at them, turn out to be nothing much at all.” Roy looked up at the window and waved Havoc over with his hand. “Look,” he said, pointing. “There’s your Warehouse 13.”

Havoc looked down the row of numbered warehouses, his eyes eventually coming to rest on the three warehouses facing them at the far end.

“See those lettered warehouses? There’s your Warehouse 13.”

Havoc gave Roy a perplexed look.

“Picture a moonless night. You’re walking down the row of warehouses, and when you get to the end, you look up … at Warehouse B.”

“Oh, I get it,” said Havoc. “If it were dark enough and you were scared enough, that ‘B’ would look like a ‘13.’”

“And the weeping sound was just the blowing of the wind, no doubt,” said Roy, satisfied. “The night can make you see and hear things that aren’t there. Besides, there’s nothing to be scared of, Warehouse 13 or no. If there’s a ghost out there, it’s trespassing on military property. You go out there with that attitude, and nothing can touch you. The only reason people get scared is because they expect to be scared.” Roy’s voice rang with the authority of a true commanding officer.

Havoc nodded and smiled. “Well said, sir. That makes perfect sense to me—look at things with a fearful mind, and of course you’ll be frightened!”

“So, who is it that’s been spreading this ghost story around, anyway?” asked Roy. “Someone who jumps at every shadow doesn’t belong in my unit. I’ll go tell them that this ghost is just some dry bush out there whistling in the wind.”

“Maybe you could say something, sir? Please, it would be good for morale. Everyone’s jumpy enough as it is. Ah, and it’s almost time for lunch.”

“That late already?”

The time had flown. If First Lieutenant Hawkeye saw them wasting time like this, she’d be furious, but she was off base today. Hence the leisurely pace. The two made their way down the hall toward the central room where the whole base crew would be gathered. There were no emergencies of note, and things were lazy, so they all took advantage of the relaxed schedule to eat lunch together and shoot the breeze. Roy looked out through the large windows that lined the hallway to the central green, where a black and white dog frolicked in the grass.

“Look, it’s Hawkeye’s dog.”

The dog was still only a puppy. Master Sergeant Fuery had brought it in one day, even though pets were forbidden in the base dormitory. Hawkeye had admonished him, but they couldn’t find anyone to take care of the dog. Unwilling to get rid of the dog, Hawkeye eventually took it in herself.

“Be warned: I’m a cruel mistress,” she had said as she picked the dog up in her arms, and Fuery began to weep. The general opinion was that he had started crying because he was so happy that someone had taken in the dog, and they wouldn’t have to get rid of him. However, some people whispered that it was the rare sight of Hawkeye smiling that had moved him to tears.

Soon after, Hawkeye declared that she would spend time with the dog as part of an experiment in training animals for military service. Though she hadn’t wanted it on base, claiming a “mixing of public and Master Sergeant concerns,” Roy had said he didn’t care, and now the dog was sure to be at the base on days like today, when work was slow. Whenever Hawkeye had an early shift or late shift, or spent the night, the dog would run freely on the grounds.

“I suppose it could be a watchdog,” said Roy. When they were looking for someone to take care of the dog, Roy was one of the first ones declared unfit for the task.

“Look at him playing out there, so innocent,” said Havoc, standing next to Roy. Havoc was the second to be deemed unfit for dog-sitting. Something about an offhand remark he had made about dogs “going well with gravy.” He had been joking, of course, but he had said it with such a serious look on his face that no one trusted him with the dog after that. Even now, weeks later, Fuery refused to leave the dog alone with Havoc for any length of time.

“I’m hungry,” said Havoc suddenly. “Let’s eat.”

Maybe his stomach had growled because it was lunchtime, or maybe it was because he saw the dog. Had Fuery been there to hear him, he surely would have assumed the latter, grabbed the dog, and run several kilometers before stopping. Havoc had earned a bit of a reputation for his poorly timed comments.

The dog had grown since the day it joined them on the base, and these days it was more playful than ever. It ran around the central courtyard in endless circles.

“Well? Has it become the ultimate loyal, unwavering hound? Forever in perfect harmony with its master?” asked Havoc.

“Not yet, though he does shake without me asking now.” Roy held his hand out to the dog. The dog gave him a perplexed look and sat perfectly still, like always. Roy had been clear up front about his preference in dogs: faithful, diligent, hardworking. But there was something in his face that said what he really wanted was someone to do all his work for him, so he could live a life of ease. This contributed greatly to the decision to remove Roy from the list of possible candidates to care for the dog.

“He’ll need a little more training before he can sign papers for me,” said Roy glumly.

“You’ll be waiting your whole life for that,” said Havoc, promptly dashing his hopes.

The two had reached the door to the main hall. Roy grabbed the handle and opened the door with a click. On the other side, he was greeted by a loud voice.

“Everyone, rejoice! The colonel has decided to lead tonight’s mission!”

With a start, Roy realized it was Havoc. He had snuck past him when he opened the door and now held the door wide open for the unwitting Roy.

“Huh? What’s this now?” Things were happening too fast for Roy to understand what was going on, but when he saw everyone standing in the lunchroom, sandwiches clutched in one hand, eyes looking at him expectantly, he knew something was up.

“I wouldn’t be frightened of any ghosts if the colonel came with us!” said Falman. Falman was warrant officer on the base—a scrawny fellow with squinty eyes that now shone in Roy’s direction.

“The more people, the better!” said Breda. Like Havoc, Heymans Breda was a second lieutenant, and he was Falman’s direct opposite. He was as brawny as they came and looked like the last person in the room who would need the colonel’s help for anything, least of all a ghost.

“Colonel! Please do something! I can’t go out at night, I’m so scared!” said Fuery, running over to cling to Roy’s sleeve. He was on the verge of tears. Fuery was a serious-looking young fellow with short black hair and large glasses. He looked even younger than his already young age. He was often mistaken for a junior high student.

Roy still had no idea what was going on, but he didn’t like it. Pulling his arm out of Fuery’s grasp, he whirled to confront Havoc. “What do you mean ‘tonight’s mission’? What’s going on here?”

“Why, whatever do you mean? It’s what we were just talking about! The Eastern Command Haunting, sir! Didn’t you say you’d help find out the truth?”

“Huh?”

Indeed, Roy had claimed he would prove that this ghost was nothing more than the product of idle fears, but that had been a casual conversation. He had never imagined that Havoc might twist it into an offer to lead some harebrained spook chase.

“Well, no … I said I’d tell the truth to whoever was spreading this rumor, but I didn’t say a thing about any mission!”

“You mean … you aren’t going to help us out?” asked Fuery, worry in his eyes. Fuery’s hands were quaking. He looked miserable. Roy realized he had to do something.

“Well, it’s not that I won’t help … It’s just, this mission, I …” Roy didn’t want to just say ‘yes’ and commit himself to this scheme.

“It’s okay, Fuery,” said Havoc. “It’s not you. He’s this mean to everyone.”

Havoc laughed and Roy steamed.

“Look who’s talking! And here I thought you’d just come to my office to waste time telling ghost stories!”

Havoc raised his hands to the sky in a mock prayer for pity. “What are you saying? Me? Waste time? I lead a life of utmost diligence!”

“Liar,” Roy spat, but Havoc wasn’t listening.

Havoc pulled out a chair for the colonel and spread a map of the base grounds on the table. “Okay, mission leader. Let’s get all the details straight.”

“Who are you calling ‘mission leader,’ and what’s all this about a ‘mission’ anyway?”

“Why, our mission to reveal the truth behind this haunting! I’m the strategist, and you’re our leader!” he said, pointing at Roy.

Roy knocked his hand aside.

Breda stepped over and ran his hand over the map, counting out the warehouses. “Here are the numbered warehouses, one through twelve, and then there’s one more—”

Before Breda could point out the nonexistent Warehouse 13, Roy grabbed his hand.

“Here’s your Warehouse 13,” he said, pointing at Warehouse B. “The truth has been revealed! Our mission is a success!”

He stood up triumphantly, but Havoc put a hand on his shoulder.

“We’re not letting you get out of this, Colonel. We’re really scared, and we really need you to do something about it.”

“You just want one more person for your group so you can throw me at the ghost first.”

“Of course we do! We need as many people as we can get. Strength in numbers, and all that.”

Havoc’s voice was as jovial as always, but his eyes looked unusually serious. Roy realized that with Fuery on the verge of tears and even Breda looking pale, he wouldn’t be able to let the subject slide. He didn’t want to get involved, but he had no choice.

“Fine,” said Roy, sighing as he sat back down in his chair. “Tell me what happened. From the beginning.”

The first mention of something odd going on at Eastern Command had come almost a month before. Falman heard it first. Someone from town told him about it when he was out on a shopping mission.

“You’ve been busy nights at the Command Center, haven’t you?” they had said. Falman had brushed it off as small talk. But five minutes later, another person said almost exactly the same thing. When he asked why, he learned that people had heard digging noises from the base. They assumed it was some kind of official project. He inquired further and unleashed a flood of reports and speculation.

“I heard digging sounds there the other night.”

“It sounds like one person digging … but why would they dig at night, with no lights?”

“The guards say no one on base has been working nights outside …”

“But nobody who’s not in the military is allowed onbase … ”

“Maybe it’s not a person at all!”

“Maybe it’s a ghost!”

“Didn’t the base used to be a prison?”

“They executed people there!”

“Eastern Command is haunted!”

“The ghost wanders the base at night, looking for unwitting souls to eat!”

The rumors grew and grew.

Roy laughed. “This is ridiculous. This is nothing but rumors feeding rumors until they got out of control.”

But no one in the room was smiling. Roy looked around. Fuery and Falman, in particular, seemed grim. They were looking down at the lunch table with pale faces.

“What?” asked Roy. “Don’t tell me you heard it too?”

The two nodded. Falman was the first to break the resulting silence. “We pass by the warehouses on our way to the dormitory. Just the other night, I had to make that walk after my shift let out. I’d heard the rumors, and that got me thinking about the warehouses. I walked quietly and then—”

“You heard it?”

“Someone digging … scraping in the ground.” Falman gulped and turned even paler.

“You too, Fuery?”

Fuery nodded. “On my way back to the dormitory at night. But …” Fuery’s voice was trembling and goose bumps appeared on his arms. “I heard weeping.” Fuery screwed his eyes shut, as though he didn’t want to remember it.

“… Weeping?” Roy thought it must have been the wind, a trick of the ears, but he couldn’t just outright deny what Fuery was saying.

“So, how far has the rumor gotten in town?” he asked at last.

“Well, here’s the story right now: There used to be a Warehouse 13 in Eastern Command. A woman died there long ago, which is why the warehouse was destroyed, and her remains along with it. Now she comes back at night, searching for her bones.”

“That’s quite the story to get from some overheard digging noises,” said Roy, impressed.

“Please,” said Fuery, “you have to do something. I’m too scared to go to the dormitory.”

Roy was at a loss.

“Was there ever really a Warehouse 13?” asked Breda.

“Not that I know of,” said Roy. “Though I do know that the three lettered warehouses were built first. The numbered warehouses were built later, all at once, to meet storage needs during the civil war. So, there was never a space at the end of the numbered warehouses for a thirteenth.”

“So Warehouse 13 is probably Warehouse B after all.”

“That’s what I think … but I don’t know about this digging and weeping,” said Roy. “Has anyone gone to check it out?”

“Why, that’s what we’re going to do tonight!” said Havoc. “You’ve got a late shift—just stay a little later and do some overtime.” He was already checking work schedules.

“At night?” asked Roy incredulously. “You’re going at night?”

Roy had said that ghost stories didn’t bother him, but after hearing Falman’s and Fuery’s accounts of the sounds they had heard, he began to feel a little nervous. “Why not just go now?”

“Because the ghost comes out at night!” said Havoc. “We won’t find anything if we go out now! The Eastern Command Paranormal Investigation Squad leaves from here at 0100 hours sharp.”

“Wait, we can’t just do stuff like this on base! If we get caught …”

Roy didn’t have to tell Havoc who would get mad if she found them running about like schoolkids in the dark.

“Hawkeye gets off early tonight. We’ll be fine.”

“Yes, but …” Roy felt less and less enthusiastic about going out at night to the very spot of the rumored haunting. Plus, it was starting to sound like a pain in the rear. “One in the morning? This weeping’s probably just the wind blowing through some cracks in the warehouse siding.”

Havoc was not to be dissuaded. “Colonel, your men are frightened! Are you just going to let them be? Your poor, poor men …”

“Bah,” said Roy. “You just want to get me involved in your little farce.”

“Oh, I didn’t want to go either, but when Fuery came to me, well, I knew it was time to pluck up my courage and do the right thing,” said Havoc.

“Me too.”

“Same here.”

“And I did hear the digging too, after all …”

The master sergeant must have been truly frightened. He had gone crying to everybody. He looked up at Roy now, and his eyes were watery with tears. “Please … please don’t leave us! I’m so scared.”

I really don’t want to go, thought Roy, but he couldn’t figure out how to say it.

“Colonel!!”

A few moments later, Fuery was hanging on his arm, pleading with him to go.

“All right! All right, I’ll go!” said Roy. He sighed and looked down at the map of the base.

IT WAS ONE O’CLOCK in the morning. Roy had finished killing time under the pretext of working late and began walking the hallway down to the central room. Falman and Havoc were on shift, and Fuery and Breda had been wasting time like Roy.

“What a pain.”

Roy had finally given up trying to get out of the mission. It was the only way to settle this matter once and for all. Roy thought about his men. Poor Fuery was so scared of the ghost he couldn’t go back to his dormitory, but even he agreed to join the mission. It was either that or wait in the lunchroom by himself, and that was no option with a ghost about. He had asked Hawkeye for permission to keep the dog on base. Roy figured he’d probably be clinging to the poor pooch for dear life until the mission started.

Falman, who had heard the ghost digging, wanted the mystery solved as well. Breda was joining just to say he had, and as for Havoc, he said he was scared, but no doubt this was all just an excuse for him to have fun running around at night without getting in trouble.

“If you let this slide, it’ll definitely have a negative effect on morale, Colonel …”

Not to mention that if word of the rumor reached Central Command, they’d definitely get a reprimand. Worse, Roy knew the officer in charge at Central, and there was a better than good chance that he’d take a personal interest in their rumor for one of his publicity schemes. Eastern Command would become an entertainment facility—a tourist destination for boggle-eyed recruits to come see the famous haunted warehouse—and Roy had no intention of letting his base become a fairground. He decided that it was in his best interest to get to the bottom of this rumor and resolve the whole situation quietly.

“It’s tough being a mid-level manager,” he grumbled as he came to a stop before the door to the main hall. He would clean this matter up quickly and quietly, so that no one at the top would hear so much as a whisper about it. Roy reached out to open the door, and his eyes opened wide.

“What’s this?”

Someone had pasted a giant piece of paper on the door to the main room. In giant letters, it read:

Eastern Command

Paranormal Investigation HQ

Roy ripped the sign off the door and stormed into the room, the tattered paper clutched in his hand. “Don’t hang up this crap! What if somebody important saw this?”

“Aw, and I just finished making that,” said Havoc, woefully collecting the ripped bits of paper that had fallen.

“Stop making this a bigger deal than it has to be!”

“Now, now, sir,” said Havoc. Havoc tried to calm Roy down, while Breda and Falman busied themselves with pieces of bread on the table next to him.

“We’ll need two more pieces,” said Breda. “And more sausages. And then when Fuery gets here, we’ll be ready to go.”

“Why are you making lunch bags?” Roy stared at the two, dumbfounded.

“Why, if we’re going on a field trip, we’ve got to have some fun!” said Havoc, innocently.

“Here’s your midnight snack, Colonel.” Breda walked up and handed the colonel a small brown paper bag. Roy’s hand shook with rage.

“Look, I’m only going out here because I don’t want to see Eastern Command turn into some kind of tourist destination. And I don’t want everyone here to get a severe drop in pay because high command has to do an investigation of us. This is no field trip, so don’t make it one.”

“Colonel, it’s just that Fuery was so scared, we thought we’d try to lighten things up a little. Wiener?”

Havoc held out a small luncheon sausage to Roy. Roy scowled. “We don’t need lunches!”

Havoc put a hand on his forehead in mock pain. “Oh, to see our poor master sergeant in such distress …”

“Stop pretending to be concerned.”

“You could tell?”

As Roy and Havoc were exchanging barbs, Fuery arrived. He didn’t so much as look up at the other people in the room, and his face was as pale and quiet as that of a prisoner on death row. Every motion he made seemed to scream I don’t want to go. He looked much worse off than he had at noon.

“Here, I made you a midnight snack,” said Falman, handing the quaking master sergeant a lunch bag in an attempt to cheer him up.

“Th-thank you.” Fuery grabbed the bag tightly, like a man accepting his last supper, and held it in his arms. “I-I’m not going to run away or anything, b-but I’m so scared.”

“Don’t worry,” said Breda, gently. “There’s really no such thing as ghosts. And besides, we’ll be next to you the whole way.”

“B-Breda …” Fuery’s eyes filled with tears, and he went to hug the second lieutenant. “Thaaank yooooou!”

“Whoa! Hey!” said Breda, running off to the far side of the room. “Keep those dog-touching hands of yours away from me!” Breda was far more scared of dog hairs than ghosts, it seemed.

Roy tapped Fuery’s shoulder. “Master Sergeant Fuery, really, there’s no need to be frightened. We’ll get to the bottom of this, and you’ll see that it was nothing all along. The weeping you think you heard was mostly like wind through some building materials piled up in one of those warehouses. I’m sure of it. There’s no such thing as ghosts.”

“Th-thank you, Colonel.” Fuery seemed a bit more at ease.

“Well, shall we go?” said Havoc, eagerness evident in his voice. “Our first encounter with a real ghost!”

With those words, Fuery’s newfound ease disappeared in an instant. Havoc truly excelled at saying the wrong thing at the wrong time.

WHEN THEY OPENED THE DOOR to the outside, a strong, chill wind blew in their faces, making the warmth of the day seem like nothing but a figment of their imagination.

“Nasty weather,” muttered Roy. The moon lay hidden behind dark clouds, and the sky was a sullen black. They looked up at the dark silhouettes of the warehouses that Roy had looked down on from his office. Falman closed the door behind them with a loud click, and the light from the room was cut off. The darkness around them grew deeper. Everyone had wanted to get this over with and maybe to tell a joke or two to lighten things up, but now that the task was before them, no one wanted to go. Huddling together, they slowly made their way down off of the main hall’s patio and onto the unpaved dirt road that led down the line of warehouses.

“Stop pushing!” said Roy. The others were crowding behind him, pushing him to the front of the line.

“Sorry, just didn’t want to walk in front of a ranking officer,” said Havoc, crouching behind Roy and using him as a human shield against the terrors of the night.

“I’m scared, I’m scared,” whispered Fuery.

“You’re only scared because you think there’s something to be scared of,” said Falman in a cold, calculating voice from where he was hiding behind Roy’s back.

Breda made the suggestion that they sing something. They were all trying unsuccessfully to hide the fear that had snuck into their very hearts, leaving them cold and shaking.

“Eeeek!” Breda shrieked suddenly, and everyone’s stomach jumped through his throat.

“What? What is it?”

“Ow!”

“Is something there?”

“Who stepped on my foot?”

One scream had set them all off, and now they were jumping like a pack of nervous animals. Only a few moments had passed since they stepped outside, and already, the fear was an epidemic. The only one even slightly calm was Roy, and so it fell to him to get everyone else back in line. Breda’s shriek had panicked him for a moment, but the boot coming down on his foot brought him painfully back to his senses. “Second Lieutenant Havoc, your foot.”

“Oh, sorry, sir.”

“Why was your foot all the way over here?”

“Accident, sir.”

“What’s going on here? Breda, what was that scream about?”

“Nooo … keep it away!” said Breda. “Bad dog! Stay back!”

The black-and-white puppy was nipping at Breda’s feet. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief.

Fuery smiled. “What’s wrong, boy? Want to come with us? Colonel, can we take him?”

Before Fuery could finish, Breda shouted from behind Roy and Havoc, whom he was using as a shield against the dog. “No! No way!”

“But … he says he’s lonely.”

“Don’t interpret for the dog!” cried Breda. “No, no, no!”

“Master Sergeant Fuery, tie up the dog and come along,” ordered Roy. Sullenly, Fuery nodded and went back to tie up the dog outside the main hall. Now that everyone had calmed down, they began to walk again. Now they could hear the dog, tied up, howling behind them. They all froze. The one success of Hawkeye’s training had been to keep the dog from barking. Now it rarely made a noise without reason.

“Quiet down!” hissed Fuery back at the dog.

“Did you feed him?” asked Roy. “Maybe he’s hungry.”

“No, I fed him—and he’s never howled like that before when he wanted food. Maybe he’s lonely after all …”

“No, that’s not it,” said Havoc. “Haven’t you ever heard that dogs have the power to sense the supernatural? Some people say they can even sense the future …”

“I’ve heard dogs bark when their owner is in danger,” noted Roy.

“That’s it. Soon, something horrible is going to happen to one of us. That’s what the dog is saying. He’s close to Fuery. He must be trying to warn him of danger.”

“Are you trying to scare us?” said Roy, scowling, but it was too late. The nervous tension that had left them momentarily when the dog first arrived now came back with a vengeance.

“Are we going to be okay?” Falman asked, pointing up. They had just arrived at the first warehouse, and its silhouette stood pitch black against the sky. They were all wondering the same thing.

“We’ll be fine,” said Roy. “The dog’s probably wrong, anyway.”

“Bah,” said Breda. “How is a creature that can’t even control its own saliva supposed to predict the future? It’s baloney, pure and simple.”

Unconvinced, Fuery looked up into the darkness, trembling. “What’s out there … ?” he said quietly.

Everyone fell silent. The warehouses were lined up along the left side of the wide path along which they walked. Other buildings lined the right, a good distance away from the warehouses. The light from the building they had left barely lit their way now, and the darkness grew even deeper ahead.

Like a virus, Fuery’s fear had begun to spread and infect the others, starting with Roy, whose sleeve he clutched, then moving on to Havoc cowering behind them and Breda and Falman behind him. All of them walked in a huddle, with nervous little steps, trying to hide behind Roy’s back in the growing darkness.

“Why do I have to be in the lead?”

“Ranking officers first, sir,” said Havoc gently, but the hand he put on Roy’s shoulder to push him forward remained firm.

“Why is this the only time rank seems to matter around here?” grumbled Roy.

Havoc’s reasons for dragging Roy along on this crazy mission were becoming all too clear. Without him here, either Havoc or Breda would be the one in front. It grew darker around them as they passed the first warehouse, then the second, and by the time they reached the fourth warehouse, they couldn’t see a thing, even though their eyes had grown accustomed to the dark.

“Anyone bring a light?”

“Oh, yeah,” said Falman, bringing out an old lantern. Havoc lit the wick. The flickering yellow-orange light spread from the lantern, a diffuse glow in the darkness. After a brief silence, Falman muttered, “For some reason, that makes me even more frightened.”

The lamp was a classic box-shaped lantern, and despite its glass windows, every time the wind blew, the flame would shake. The shimmering orange light made their shadows leap and quiver in a terrifying dance on the warehouse walls.

“Well, we can’t do anything about that. They’re just our own shadows.” Roy straightened up, and his shadow bent with a sudden gust of wind.

“Hey, you’re right. Look at this.” Falman held up his hands together in front of the lamp and made shadow puppets on the warehouse wall. “Look! A cute dog!” The dog-shaped shadow on the wall twisted in the flickering light.

“I appreciate the idea, but I’m afraid I have to ask you to stop, Falman,” said Roy. The flickering flame had transformed Falman’s shadow-dog into a writhing wolf with gaping, tooth-filled jaws.

“Let’s keep going. At this pace, we’ll never get there.”

“Yeah. Let’s get this over with so we can go back and drink some hot coffee.”

Even though they’d stopped at every twitch of the lantern flame, they had reached Warehouse 6.

“What was in this warehouse?” asked Breda, holding up the lamp to see the number stenciled above the main door.

“Uh, well,” began Roy, “these warehouses all hold desks and other materials like that, things we aren’t currently using. Anything we’re likely to run low on often, we put in Warehouse 1, less often in Warehouse 2, and so on. We hardly ever use Warehouse 6 and the others. They’re mostly filled with odd parts and junk we never use but can’t justify getting rid of. For all I know, there might not even be anything in there.”

“You mean you’ve never seen inside?” asked Breda.

“Just once, when I first arrived on base.”

“So you don’t really know what’s in this warehouse?” Those words, which normally would have been innocent enough, now sounded darkly ominous. Everyone gulped.

“What would we do if we heard someone scream from inside?” Breda joked, but his own fear echoed clearly in his voice, and it ended up sounding nothing like a joke at all. Everyone edged over to the right to get as far away from the warehouse as they could.

“You know, they say that ghosts like places where the air is stagnant, where no one’s been for a long time,” said Falman, half to break the nervous silence.

Now the idea had been planted in everyone’s mind, as clear as scientific fact: a warehouse with stagnant air equals a warehouse with a ghost. Their footsteps became like those of cattle being led to the slaughter. At this pace, they would all catch cold before reaching their destination.

Roy sighed and walked up to the next warehouse in line, Warehouse 8. “Well, let’s check it out. If we shine that lantern through the window, we should be able to see inside.”

The other four pressed back against the wall of the building opposite, shaking their heads.

“No way!”

“No, please, no!”

“Colonel, please!”

Roy walked over and physically dragged them back towards the warehouse. They resisted him like children, digging their heels into the ground. “Listen,” he said. “We’re here to investigate the truth behind this ‘Warehouse 13’ and those digging sounds, but now we’re so scared about what might be inside this warehouse that we can’t go any farther. Let’s just check out everything that scares us and get it taken care of.”

“No!” said Fuery, shaking.

“Keep saying that, and you’ll be too scared to get anything out of the warehouse even if you have to for work. Look, I’m not coming out here on another one of these fact-finding missions. Let’s get this over with tonight. Second Lieutenant Havoc, get Master Sergeant Fuery over here. Officer Falman, no running.”

The four shuffled over reluctantly.

“Havoc, bring a stepladder. There’s one over by Warehouse 6.” Roy asked him because he seemed to be the least scared of the bunch, but Havoc refused immediately.

“No way, no, sir! I’m not going there by myself!”

“Very well, then,” said Roy. “I’ll go. You all wait here with Breda.”

“No! Please don’t leave us, Colonel!” moaned Fuery.

“Please!” said Havoc.

“We need you!” said Falman.

Roy was unusually popular this evening. The three were grabbing on to him so tightly he could barely breathe. In the end, they found an empty crate by the warehouse wall they could stand on to see through the lowest window. All of them clambered up onto the crate and peered in through the window.

The inside was completely dark. They could faintly see the outline of a window on the other side of the warehouse.

“See? Look. No ghosts, and no screams.” Roy was victorious, but by the time everyone had calmed down again, it was already past two o’clock in the morning.

“I THINK we’ve already gotten as scared as we possibly could. We’ll be fine now no matter what happens,” said Roy, biting into a sandwich. The five had decided it was time for an early morning snack, and so they sat down in a circle, in the middle of the path. In lieu of a campfire, they placed the lantern in the center of the circle; it was their only protection against the horrors that lurked in the cold night.

They were a giddy bunch, rejoicing in the respite from terror that the familiar sandwiches and warm soup gave them. Havoc nodded at Roy’s words and bit into a wiener. “Yup, once you’ve hit the bottom, you can’t go any deeper.”

“So … we can’t get any more scared than we are now?”

“That’s right.”

Not even Roy seemed willing to question the idea that fear could have some kind of limit.

“You know, I feel pretty good,” said Falman.

“I’m fine, too!” said Fuery.

“All right, then, how about a ghost story?” said Havoc, grinning. They all laughed like they had a screw loose. It was Falman who stopped the laughter.

“Okay. Has anyone heard the story of the flower-seller’s wife?”

As appropriate to someone telling a ghost story, Falman spoke in a low, quiet voice. Everyone fell silent.

“Once, there was a couple who ran a flower shop. They did good business, selling a variety of well-grown flowers to happy customers every day. But one day, the wife fell sick and died. The florist was very sad, and he put the flowers they had grown together at her grave. He realized then that, even though he sold flowers, he had never given flowers to his wife before that day. It was the least he could do, he thought, and he set her gravestone with a glorious selection of bouquets to honor her memory.”

“That’s a nice story.”

“Yeah.”

Everyone smiled, but Falman shook his head. “Wrong.”

“Huh?”

“That night, the wife came to the flower-seller’s bedside.”

“To thank him?” asked Fuery.

“That’s what he thought, too, but he was quite mistaken.” As he got into the telling, Falman’s voice had grown quite soft. Everyone leaned in to hear.

“The face of his wife as she stood at his bedside was filled with sadness. For you see, though they had lived together for so long, he had never given her flowers, and now, only when she was dead did he finally give her a bouquet.”

“But … he did give her flowers! I mean, she couldn’t be mad at him for that!” whispered Fuery.

“Yes, he gave her flowers … but not her favorite. He gave her the wrong kind!”

“W-what happened then?”

“On the next day and the next, the florist picked flowers and brought them to her grave, but the face of his wife grew more and more unhappy with each passing night. The florist had spoken with her many times about which flowers she preferred, but he couldn’t for the life of him remember which ones they were. They handled so many different flowers every day at the shop that he had forgotten.”

Everyone sitting around the circle listened intently. Falman continued.

“Soon, his wife stood at his bedside all night, from dusk till dawn, whispering in a low voice: ‘You did not love me at all. You never loved me.’ And the florist grew ill from lack of rest. Finally, on the day after he had given her every kind of flower in the shop, he went out to the front of the shop and picked the wildflowers growing there. The summer had been hot, and the flowers were all dry and withered, but these were the last flowers he had to give her. That night was the first night she smiled. ‘You did remember,’ she said. ‘You loved me after all—and such healthy, vibrant blossoms. These will bring me good company on my lonely road to the afterlife.’ She smiled at the florist and gave him many thanks, and then she disappeared. And the next day—”

Everyone gulped.

“—The next day, the florist was found cold in his bed. When the townspeople went to her grave, they found the wildflowers he had left there in full bloom, as though they had drained the very life from the florist.”

A long silence followed Falman’s story. A chill wind blew, and the light from the lamp shivered and quaked. The story had been worse than they expected.

“That’s a scary story.”

“Scary is right!”

“You know, even when you’re scared, a scary story is still pretty scary …”

“No kidding.”

It wasn’t the most convincing ghost story in the world. How could anyone have known what the florist and his wife’s ghost talked about alone at his bedside? But no one was in a state of mind to point out its obvious flaws. They had all hoped that a story might pass the time, but now they were frightened out of their minds.

“I want to go home,” said Breda, but nobody moved—no one wanted to leave by himself. They had thought they were at the sticky bottom of fear, but now they found that they were digging a hole in the bottom and going even deeper. Just sitting there in the circle made them even more scared. As one, they all stood up in an attempt to break the spell. They grabbed on to one another’s sleeves and slowly resumed their walk toward whatever lay beyond Warehouse 12. They had all worked on this base for quite a while, but something about the night wind and the fear in their minds made the familiar scene around them look like another world. It was as though they were wandering through a strange, foreign land, and it wearied them in mind, body, and spirit.

They passed by Warehouse 9, then Warehouse 10, then Warehouse 11, pushing and pulling one another along, each walking as closely as possibly to their reluctant leader.

“Ohh …” moaned Fuery, grabbing onto Roy’s sleeve. He hadn’t meant to say anything, but as they got closer to the last warehouse, the groan came unbidden from his lips.

Finally, they arrived at Warehouse 12.

“See? Nothing,” said Havoc. Beyond Warehouse 12 was only open space, and then the three small, lettered warehouses, A, B, and C. “No Warehouse 13,” he said pointing with his chin. “When it’s dark and you’re scared, that ‘B’ looks like a ‘13,’ that’s all.”

Indeed, in the darkness they couldn’t see anything clearly at all. Breda lifted the lantern until they could make out the ‘B’ of the middle warehouse.

“But what about the digging noises? The woman searching for her bones?”

“Yeah! The digging sounds … and the weeping! Are you saying those are lies?” whimpered Fuery, clinging to Roy.

“You almost sound as if you want there to be a ghost,” said Roy, scowling.

“No, it’s just …” began Fuery. None of them wanted to come this far and then just go home without being 100 percent certain there was nothing there. They all perked up their ears and listened. They held their breath, trying to make out the sounds of weeping or digging, but they heard nothing, only the faint whistle of the wind.

“I don’t hear anything.”

“Maybe she’s not digging tonight?”

“Possibly, but if we’ve come this close and we still can’t hear anything, maybe it was just the sound of the wind after all. Falman, Fuery, you heard the sounds from outside the warehouse complex, right? So you were on the other side of that wall. Noises can sound strange at a distance sometimes.”

Roy’s explanation did seem rather persuasive.

“True, it’s no proof, but if you think about it, it was most likely a trick of the ears.”

“I suppose,” said Fuery, fighting the fear inside him. Then he lifted his eyes and looked at Roy. “I guess … if we can’t find the source of the sound here, it’s nowhere to be found. It was just a trick of the ears. It was the wind.” Fuery had conquered his fears.

“Right. We all happy?” said Roy, turning around. Havoc, Breda, and Falman all smiled, nodding. “Right! Mission complete,” said Roy, the relief in his voice apparent. He had no desire to have a paranormal encounter himself. While he had always doubted things like ghosts existed, the night air and the ghost story had gotten to him, too, and he was glad that it was over. In the end, there was nothing to worry about.

With the same kind of uplifting feeling one gets after completing a long journey, they all turned to go back the way they had come. The adventure was over. Just then, the moon peeked out from between a crack in the clouds. The area around them was bathed in cool, pale moonlight, and then—

“Arrrgh!”

“Eeeek!”

“Nooo … !”

They saw it: a pile of freshly turned earth, glistening with dew in the moonlight—right in the space between Warehouse 12 and the lettered warehouses. The black mound of dirt stood before them in the pale blue light, daring them to run screaming.

Havoc took a step back, and Fuery began to shake uncontrollably. Behind him, Falman’s hand on the lantern and Breda’s legs also began to quiver. The truth none of them hoped to find now stared them in the face. Roy, cursing his own quaking legs, began to walk toward the pile.

“No, don’t go, Colonel!”

“What if the ghost attacks you?”

“L-let’s come back here when it’s light!”

The fear in the group had reached new heights, but Roy still walked forward. As commanding officer, he had to get to the bottom of this. He dragged the four behind him, still clinging to his arms. When they reached the edge of the dirt mound, they saw it. There, in a shallow pit by the mound, a white bone lay glinting in the light.

“I didn’t think it would really be there,” said Roy, in shock. He didn’t want a ghost haunting his base, his home away from home. Bones, buried here! It was worse than any ghost story. Looking closer, he saw more bones, scattered in the dirt. It was all real. At the moment when his fear of the unknown became a horrifying reality, Roy felt another feeling: responsibility. He had to figure out whose bones lay here. For the others, especially the two who heard the sounds at night, it had only increased their fear.

“That sound, that sound …” repeated Fuery.

“It’s really here.”

“It’s probably out there looking at us!”

They all looked around, fearfully. Every single one of them believed in ghosts at that moment. Roy gave them a stern look. “First things first. We’re burying these bones.”

A chorus of pleas rose up in response.

“If we touch the bones, she’ll be mad!”

“She’ll haunt us till our dying days!”

“Please, Colonel, it’s too dangerous!”

Seeing his men all quaking in their boots, Roy stooped down and picked up a fallen branch. “Then fine, I’ll do it myself. I don’t know why it has to be me—you were the ones that got me out here in the first place.”

The four of them grabbed onto his arm, trying to keep him from deepening the hole with his stick.

“No, please, sir! Don’t they say to let sleeping bones lie?”

“If you anger the ghost, Colonel, she’ll haunt us all!”

Roy growled. “What are you saying? I’m just going to bury them until we have time to do a formal investigation. We can’t just leave them lying out here.”

“But the ghost collected all these herself! She’ll get angry if we touch them!” pleaded Fuery.

“Colonel, what if a ghost comes to us every night, just ’cause we were here with you?” said Havoc and then added in a spooky voice, “What if she says, ‘Why didn’t you stop the colonel from touching my bones?!’ ”

“Eeek! That would be really scary!” wailed Fuery.

Roy tried to calm the panicked men. “If that happens, I’ll take the fall for you. Just tell her I did it, okay?” But it wasn’t enough to ease their fears.

“No way, Colonel, I know you—you’ll tell her go haunt us, not you!”

“Yeah, you’ll just save yourself at our expense!”

“Fine,” said Roy, “I hereby swear that I’ll take all responsibility for this, supernatural or otherwise, okay?”

Havoc shook his head. “We can’t go on just your word, Colonel.”

“So what should I do?” said Roy, exasperated.

In the end, Havoc pulled a scrap of paper out of his pocket, and on it, Roy wrote an oath swearing that if anything negative came out of this, he would assume full responsibility. Now they had something to show the ghost if she chose to haunt them. Something official. The four seemed to accept this, so they went about gathering sticks to help Roy dig. They had a large hole in a few minutes. They tenderly picked up the bones, laid them in the pit, and reburied them.

So ended the first Eastern Command Paranormal Investigation.

“Let’s go home.”

“Yeah.”

They were all exhausted. Tossing down their sticks, they made their way back to the central hall.

“Let’s bring some flowers out here tomorrow,” suggested Havoc, walking next to Roy.

“Good idea,” said Roy. The rest concurred.

“I wonder what flowers she likes,” said Breda.

Everyone looked at the others. Even Breda stopped short. They all thought back to the story of the flower-seller’s wife.

THE NEXT MORNING, the men disappeared behind the warehouses, each carrying as many flowers as he could. Hawkeye watched them suspiciously. “What’s going on there?”

“Oh, nothing,” said Roy, looking sheepish. They hadn’t mentioned either the rumors or the late-night investigation to Hawkeye. Saying something would only get them chastised for running around like schoolboys at work. Then again, they had found something, so maybe it would be okay. Regardless, Roy couldn’t bring himself to talk about it. What they found last night had been such a surprise, he wouldn’t even know where to begin. In the worst-case scenario, the military might have been involved in this. Maybe someone had been secretly killed, or there was a conspiracy of some sort.

Roy planned to bring his findings to his superior’s attention later that day and request an investigation. Until everything was cleared up, he wanted to leave the ghost alone. “I’ll tell you about it eventually,” he told Hawkeye at last. Although there was little chance Hawkeye would accept such a brush-off, after a brief pause, she thankfully turned the conversation back to work matters.

Roy took some documents from Hawkeye and looked out the window. He could see the line of twelve warehouses, looking as they always did. Beyond that, the place where they had found the bones was buried in flowers. The total cost of the flowers had been more than 10,000 cens, but they thought that if that would calm the ghost even a little, it was a small price to pay.

At noon, the members from last night’s mission ate together in the central courtyard. After having the rest of the night to calm down, they were all quite proud of themselves for being so courageous.

“It was pretty scary out there, but I’m glad we got to the bottom of it.”

“We couldn’t just let the rumors go on—that would have annoyed that ghost more than anything else, I bet.”

“I think we did the right thing.”

“You’re right.”

“Still, the colonel was the calmest of all of us. He did really good out there.”

“Bah,” said Roy, scowling.

“We all look up to you, you know,” said Havoc, smiling innocently.

The group cracked up laughing. They wore the easy smiles of those who have seen the same hardship and come through it victorious. The ringing laughter caught the attention of Hawkeye’s dog, who came bounding into their circle. Fuery cheered and greeted the pup with open arms while Breda shot up and ran as fast as he could to the other side of the yard. Everyone laughed again. It was a perfect, easygoing afternoon on base.

HAWKEYE CALLED OUT to them. “Did something happen? Why is everyone so cheery today?”

“No, no, it’s nothing,” said Roy. They all smiled. The dog wagged his tail enthusiastically, happy because they were happy. Then he raised his front paw and waved it in the air.

“What’s wrong? You hungry?” said Fuery, holding the dog’s paw and talking to him. The dog licked his face. “Ha ha, that tickles!”

“He wants his snack,” said Hawkeye, going into her office and coming back with a bag. From the bag she pulled a big, juicy, T-bone steak.

Everyone’s eyes shot to the steak. The bone looked horribly familiar.

“Y-you give him T-bone steaks?” said Roy, aghast.

“Yup! He loves them,” said Hawkeye, holding the steak out to the dog. “Eat up, doggie! You’re a growing boy! You need all the calcium you can get!”

The dog grabbed the steak out of her hand and spun around ecstatically in circles, then ran off down the path by the warehouses.

“Aw, he’s gone off to hide it again.” Hawkeye looked after the dog with fondness in her eyes. “Once he finishes the meat, he likes to race off and hide the bones. It’s so adorable!”

Hawkeye smiled a rare warm smile, but no one was looking. Their eyes were all fixed on the dog, running past Warehouse 1 … 2 … 3 … When it reached the end of the path, the dog suddenly turned and disappeared behind Warehouse 12.

“Oh no …”

“The bone …”

“Those bones … ”

“Behind the warehouse …”

Hawkeye turned to them. “Oh, yes, he hides them there all the time.”

“Why didn’t anyone notice?”

The group was huddled in a stairwell near the emergency exit of the main hall where no one would overhear them.

“It was so dark … and there were so many of them. I mean, we’re amateurs! How could we know the bones weren’t human?” said Havoc.

In subsequent investigations, they’d found out that the weeping noises were from the dog. He had recognized Fuery’s footsteps from the other side of the wall and had snuffled and whined for attention. The only reason the digging sounds came at night was because there were too many other normal noises during the daytime to hear them. Furthermore, it seemed that the reason the dog had howled that night was that he was afraid they would dig up his stash of bones. The truth was mortifying.

They were exhausted and red with chagrin.

“My hands …” whispered Breda. “I touched bones with dog slobber on them!”

“Oh, go wash them, silly,” said Havoc.

Breda ran off, moaning. Moments later they heard a rush of water from an outdoor faucet.

Falman looked at the paper he had just finished typing. “Colonel, about this investigation request …”

“Get rid of that this instant,” barked Roy.

M.Sgt. Fuery swallowed as Falman ripped up the paper. “Colonel, all those flowers …”

“Clean them up too!”

After everything that had happened last night, they couldn’t believe this.

Havoc held up a crumpled piece of paper. “Uh, sir, I took the money for those flowers out of expenses …”

“Hide it!”

BUT THINGS DIDN’T GO quite as planned. A few days later, Hawkeye called Fuery to her desk. “This expense for 10,000 cens, what was it for?”

Fuery gulped. “Umm …”

In an effort to avoid detection, Havoc had typed up the description of the expenses and passed it to Breda, who passed it to Falman, who passed it to Fuery. Fuery was to give the paper to Roy, and once he signed it and gave it to accounting, the matter would be settled. It was their terrible luck that just as Fuery had been standing up to bring the paper to Roy, Hawkeye happened by and saw him. She recognized the expense report and took it out of his hands as he stood frozen in place.

“I’m heading over to Roy’s desk right now. I’ll take this for you.”

She glanced down at the paper and stopped. She looked back up at Fuery. It was an unusually large sum for a daily expense, and of course, she wanted an explanation. Fuery looked around at everyone else in the room for support. In return, they gave him tense little smiles and encouraging nods. Sitting at the biggest desk, Roy glared icicles at Fuery, ordering him with his eyes to not say a word.

“What’s this?”

“Um …” If Hawkeye found out how they had used the money, their late-night mission would be revealed. Not only would they get chewed out, but they’d have to pay the 10,000 cens out of their own pockets. If he didn’t try his hardest now, he’d be letting everyone down, and the thought of the colonel being mad at him was scary indeed.

At the same time, he knew Hawkeye would never fall for a lie. In his heart, Fuery weighed which was worse: Roy’s anger or Hawkeye’s wrath. He looked up into Hawkeye’s clear brown eyes, staring back at him. It would be impossible to hide anything from her.

I’m sorry, he said to Roy silently, and then he began to speak, and the truth was out.

DAYS PASSED. Of course, the expense report was rejected. A dispute arose between the four enlisted men who wanted the guy with the biggest salary to pay. Roy thought they should split the cost evenly. He couldn’t understand why he had to pay at all, since they had been the ones who dragged him into their scheme in the first place. Fuery aside, the other three weren’t rich, but they weren’t exactly struggling either. Still, they liked having the cash for a night out every now and then. They wanted Roy at least to wait until their next raise. Neither side would budge, and so the stalemate dragged on.

Eventually, Roy lost. Havoc brought up that Roy had offered to take responsibility for “anything negative” that came out of their fact-finding mission, be it supernatural or otherwise—he even had written proof—and Roy had to pay.

“This is just a loan, you guys,” muttered Roy. “You’d better pay up your shares when you get the money.”

“Can I pay mine in ten installments?” asked Breda.

“Make it five.”

“I’ll pay you next payday,” said Falman.

“You’d better.”

“Can I wait until the payday after that?” asked Havoc. “There’s something I want to buy next payday.”

Roy sighed. “You’re the least trustworthy of the lot, Havoc! Why should I give you an extension?”

Havoc grinned and shrugged.

To this day, Roy hasn’t gotten any of his money back.