White Heat Beast

by Steven Jennings

  That’s when they put the drill sergeant hats on and start yelling and barking orders and all sorts of madness.

  They do everything short of actually punching you in the jaw and knocking you the hell out. You do push-ups and sit-ups and soon you learn about a temporary physical condition the military calls, “Muscle Failure”. I had this one Black Drill Sergeant who was really riding me hard.

  I never even knew his name, but he just came around me starting shit, out of nowhere! He had a serious problem with me. On day one, he told me, he didn’t like White boys who acted Black. All I was allowed to reply was, “Drill Sergeant Yes Drill Sergeant!” Then I pissed him off by telling him, I wasn’t acting.

  It really seemed to make him angrier, like mad enough to fight. The situation between me and this dude got so bad that it seemed to be strong enough to call a personal issue. I told my superior officers about this situation, and they told me don’t worry about it.

  I guess this Drill Sergeant was a new guy and he was trying to build his reputation at my expense.

  I was the strongest guy in my Battery, and as a result, I couldn’t make any friends. Everybody was jealous of me, and thought I was a big show off. I could do 118 push-ups in only two minutes, 116 sit ups in two more minutes and run two miles in 11 minutes. Then I would go do 50 pull-ups on the pull-up bar like a piece of cake. Being strong was something I never had to work hard at. Shit, in High School I would walk in the weight room and even though I rarely lifted weights, I would plop down on the Bench Press and throw up 320 pounds.

  I was naturally built, and naturally strong. It was just good genetics I guess. So training went on for a week, just like clockwork. It was the same shit every day, they kept us on a tight schedule, and we slept five hours a night. Until one night things started getting really weird. It was quiet as the deep blue sea, when suddenly we heard some arguing going on. When I sat up and looked over the bunk beds into the Drill Sergeants office, I saw one of the Drill Sergeants talking to the same Doctor who pointed at me, back at the Military Entrance Processing Station.

  They were arguing and it spilled into this room next to the Drill Sergeant’s office, which had these big windows all around it, with no curtains. They used that office to watch what we were doing all night. When the Doctor left, I ducked down under my sheets. I was thinking, what the hell was he doing here? But it didn’t really raise my suspicion to any alarming levels at the moment, but in retrospect, it should have. The next morning, I was a beast on the obstacle course.

  I was always the first guy finished, and the Drill Sergeants seemed kind of amazed with me, except that one mean ass Black Drill who don’t like White folks. After I climbed the wall, did the monkey bars, the tires, swung over some shit on a rope, did some other crazy shit, came under the barbed wire, and splashed through the mud finishing first, the mean Black Drill Sergeant walked up to me, called me a honkey ass show boater and punched me in the nuts so hard, that I dropped to the ground vomiting with tears streaming down my face. I couldn’t believe he did that shit? The other Drill Sergeants turned their backs like they didn’t see it, but I’m sure they did, It was way too obvious to miss. These dudes didn’t know who they were fucking with.

  I was trying hard as I could to do a good job, I was avoiding all trouble, keeping to myself and minding my own business, and that’s what I got for it? I started tearing up even more, and I hate to cry, so that’s when I snapped. I stood up, and almost out of reflex, I punched him in his throat. I was aiming for his chin, but he lifted his head for some reason. He wanted me to fuck him up, and it didn’t make sense? But before I knew it, a parade of punches and kicks came from every direction.

  Later, I learned that 23 Drill Sergeants where in the area, and within 28 seconds, 14 of them where kicking the shit out of me on the ground. They beat me for 11 minutes non-stop. All I remember was the first 40 blows. After I blacked out, they threw me in jail. I was barely approaching my second week in the military, and I was already in a disaster. I was quickly transported to a maximum security military prison without ever seeing a Judge or a Lawyer.

  I contemplated what I would say in court. After a few hours, a military police officer named Captain Mclloyd appeared in front of my cell and broke the whole situation down to me.

  “Hey kid” he said in a deep raspy grumble.

  “Hey Sir,” I replied, “So am I going to be court marshaled?”

  Everything was still happening so fast that I could barely process the information. My head was still spinning.

  “Maybe, it depends,” He said.

  “Depends on what?” I replied.

  “Well, when you hit that Drill Instructor you crushed his windpipe. He’s in critical condition. Even though you look like your face was used for a basketball in the Olympics, you could really get screwed for that. But on the bright side of things, we’re very impressed you were able to get that punch off. The guy you hit was a 4th degree Black Belt and one of the toughest guys in the Special Forces.”

  I gasped, “What? Well he punched me in the nuts for no reason, what I did was self-defense!”

  “You’re damn right,” He said.

  “You must be an assassin type; people like you have a place in the Army. I can get you in a special unit.”

  “We’ll what if I say no?” I replied.

  “Well, for starters, you’ll spend about 15 years to life in military prison doing hard time, you poor stupid bastard,” He growled.

  Then he inched closer to my cell and whispered, “Listen, I’m not supposed to be telling you this shit, but you must have friends in high places, because you were specifically requested for this mission.

  Somebody doesn’t want you to rot in jail.”

  I quickly agreed, “Okay I’m in.”

  He laughed, “Hmm, I thought so kid. You’re no idiot. We’ll be in touch. So just sit tight, and someone will be around to speak with you in regards to you being transferred out to the program.”

  “Okay Sir and thanks,” I replied.

  “Shut-up,” He growled.

  Then he left my cell like a ghost in the night, and there was nothing but silence for hours. Nobody came to my cell to check on me. I think I was in a closed off area away from the general population. So for about 14 more hours, I had no food or water, and I spent my time trying to sleep off my fears and anxieties. From time to time I would hear a door open or close, and some faint whispering in the hallway.

  Finally after what felt like a couple of days, a guard came to my door with some cold cereal, a half-gallon of water and some pills.

  “Take this kid.”

  “Why?” I said.

  “Because it’s the Captains order and I have to be here to watch you take them and swallow, might I add,” He snarled. I took the 4 pills and swallowed them with caution.

  The guard reached in my mouth and checked under my tongue and behind my lips to ensure I swallowed them all. Then he pulled up a chair, sat down and just stared at me with a cold glare. He sat as stiff as a statue, with his hand on his weapon, nervously clutching it and loosening his grip in intervals. He appeared to be preparing himself for something that I was not aware of. After finishing my cold cereal, I sat down on my bed and stared at the wall, wondering what would happen next, until suddenly I blacked out. Then things really got fucking freaky.

  The following weeks would go by in a disorienting flash. Everything happened so fast, my life instantly spun out of control. I felt like I was living in a movie. A fucked up, and evil, dark and twisted movie.

  The next thing I know, I woke up on a noisy old dusty C-130 military aircraft. There were a lot of military vehicles aboard the aircraft, but I was the only soldier on board, with the exception of about 7-8 armed guards. I was neither handcuffed nor shackled, which I found to be somewhat odd, considering I was just in a prison cell. An old man dressed in civilian clothing approached me from the darkness.

  “Hello Mr. Brown.”

  “Who the fuck are you?�
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  “Watch your mouth son.”

  “Says who? You?”

  “Yes, say’s me. I will be your Master over the next lifetime”

  “Man you’re just an old man, you gotta be joking me.”

  He approached me with a twisted grimace on his face,

  “Stand up you little shit!”

  I said, “Watch your language master!”

  As I stood up he tripped my legs,

  “Come at me with all you got asshole!”

  I tried to swing on him and before my arm completed its full motion he was behind me, and I felt a dull sensation behind my ear. I blacked out again. I’m sure of it, because although it felt like only a split second passed, when I rose to my feet I was on an island coast with military gear all around me.

  The old man was fishing with his back to me.

  “Oh now that you’re awake, you can put your gear away.” I was astonished at everything that was happening around me.

  The old man growled, “I am known as The Iron Bird. I served my country for 30 years before retiring to this island. But as you can see, I still supply special training for some of the military’s special exceptions, and other shit you don’t need to know about yet. Obviously someone felt you had either extraordinary potential, or they want to send you to your death.” I looked at him in shock and said, “Send me to my what?”

  He looked serious and repeated, “Your death! Because the types of missions I prepare people for are extremely deadly, to say the least. When you first went to jail, you were facing some years in prison for assaulting a Non-Commissioned officer. But what you don’t know, is the Drill Instructor you hit in the throat, is now dead. He choked on his own blood as a result of complications, caused by you.”

  My eyes got as big as dinner plates! I was totally shocked to hear that shit! He went on and said, “That means you are a dead man walking in the eyes of Uncle Sam, you owe them a life sentence and they own your ass until your last dying breath.”

  I immediately felt the weight of the world crash down around me, again. I wondered how I ended up in this situation.

  I escaped from the streets of The City, thinking I would change my life, and somehow I fell into this world of shit. I just wanted to create a better life for myself, and in the blink of an eye, life took me for a ride I didn’t want to pay for.

  “Where do I sleep?” I asked.

  “Walk over that ridge to the west, and you will find a large hut. That’s my hut, so don’t get happy asshole, you will be sleeping behind it in the tent.” He replied. I was thinking, why did he tell me to watch my mouth? He just called me an asshole?

  So I grabbed my bags and gear, and dragged them over the sand, up a steep ridge, cursing him out under my breath. I was stumbling, falling, weak and thirsty. I turned and yelled, “Hey Bird is there any food around this place?” He ignored my question and continued fishing. When I made it over to my tent, I began to unpack my gear. It was standard military issued stuff, very similar to what I received in basic training.

  I had a compass, a canteen, flashlights, maps, a shovel, you know, the regular stuff. Then I began to find knives, an assortment of empty handguns, a broken-down assault rifle, several books on martial arts, and even more shocking, books written in what appeared to be Arabic or something.

  The gear wasn’t painted all green or tan like regular army stuff. Most of it was painted black, covered with black leather casings, really weird stuff. Just as I was about to hide a knife beneath the sand I heard a voice behind me, “You know I can kill you if you try to escape. I have orders to terminate you if you do not cooperate.

  Bird walked around to face me, and he had a 9mm handgun pointed at my head. He said, “Put the knife back in the case. Don’t be a fool. I sat there, with a blank expression on my face, my body limp.

  I started to cry. Bird just turned and walked away, leaving me alone in my tent.

  “See ya tomorrow kid. Get some rest. Your new life starts tomorrow at O’Seven hundred hours.” All night long I had dreams of being dead in a casket, all alone in a dark candle lit funeral home.

  The next morning I awoke and Bird gave me my daily routine in writing. It began with my “Chemical Cocktail” which he said included a variety of vitamins and some kind of anabolic steroids.

  Next I would take my daily injections, which were never explained to me. It was always the same five shots, with two shots in both arms, and one in the ass. Then we went on a 10 mile run, Breakfast, intense weight training, weapons training, Lunch, martial arts, advanced combat self-defense, Dinner, foreign language class and guerilla warfare tactical training.

  We ended each day with Krav Maga, advanced anti-terrorist training. Bird had 10 assistants who were the size of NFL linemen, and they enforced every word on my schedule down to the minute. Within 14 days of training I could see and feel the effects of the Steroids. My body became more muscular, faster and considerably stronger. After 30 days, my bench press increased from 370 pounds to 490 pounds. In 90 days my bench press increased to 625 pounds. When I first started the program I couldn’t run 2 miles in less than 11 minutes. After 90 days I was running two miles in 8 minutes. But night after night, I had terrible nightmares, cold sweats and I felt like I was slowly dying.

  Every morning I awoke only to find that Bird and his military goons constructed another elaborate obstacle course for me to complete. But I ran and completed the course the same time of day, without fail. I started to wonder why they kept me isolated from other soldiers, and from the rest of the world.

  I wondered how many other soldiers could do or had done what I was doing. I had nobody to compare myself to. Bird would only tell me that my program was experimental, and somebody in the Pentagon was intimately involved in the process.

  My daily routine was pretty much set in stone. Every day we trained from sun up to sundown. Every day was uniform with slightly advancing milestones. I figured out the obstacle courses ran in the same weekly cycles, we were never early, and never late. I started to purposely lose track of the days, and the concept of time. I felt like I was doing a bid in prison, I didn’t want to obsess over time, because I had no control over it.

  I would rest in my tent sometimes at night and imagine being back on the block; Standing on a corner hollering at some girls

  We were crazy back in my freshman days in High School. Sometimes I would listen to the quiet of the night, and hear the ocean waves beat on the shore, and then listen to Bird's conversations.

  Bird was always up late at night on his Satellite phone. I guess he could talk to anybody anywhere in the world on that thing. He was normally talking about me, and the strange part was, he would always tell the person he was talking to, that I was still alive, like it was some kind of shock!

  He would also talk about some other people he just referred to as the ‘Other Ones’. I wondered who and where these other people were?

  And what’s this stuff about me not being dead or something. So one day I asked Bird about it during weapons training. I was breaking down my gear and I asked bird, “Hey what’s all this talk about me still being alive? Am I supposed to be dead?”

  He said, “When did you hear me, hey have you been listening to my phone calls?” I was like, “Well fuck, yeah I have, wouldn't you if you were me?” Bird looked angry I cursed at him, but he let me slide. He replied, “When I talk on the phone I'm about 500 feet from your tent talking in a low voice, you got some super fucking hearing. And yes, there is another team overseas. They're undergoing training similar to yours. Maybe one day you'll all meet, like one happy fucking family of retards.” he chuckled to himself. I looked him over and said, “We'll what about the he's still alive shit?” Bird walked over to me and looked me in the eye, “Listen kid, I'm gonna be straight with you.

  Those shots that you been taking, they do a lot of incredible shit to people. They do shit to your brain, your internal organs, your muscles; I mean you can see what it's doing right? It’s been good f
or you right? It’s called molecular nanotechnology, But most people can't, well they just don't respond to it very well,” he said. Suddenly I felt sick, and really uncomfortable when I heard that, so I blurted out, “What you mean, this shit kills them? It's messing with my brain? Internal organs? What the fuck kind of military fuck shit is this Molecular nanny technology? Fucking Bourne Identity or some shit? Fucking Captain America? I know what molecules are, that’s like my atoms or cells or some shit! What the fuck is going on here man? I thought those were some steroids and vitamins or some shit!” I started sweating, and the big bodyguard guys started popping out, from behind bushes, and inching closer to me. Bird looked at me real intensely, and then he waved his arm at the other guys, as if to say, no need. Then he walked away without saying another word. I knew what that meant, basically the conversation was over.

  We didn't say a whole lot to each other after that day. I just trained, and he just screamed and yelled at me. It was back to business as usual, until one day while I was training on the beach, carrying a 275 pound life-sized dummy on my back, Bird jumped in front of me and shot me in the chest with a rubber bullet.

  The impact of the bullet knocked me off balance. I looked at him with a grimace of confusion, and Bird screamed, “Keep moving forward no matter what! And don't drop the fucking dummy!”

  So I kept running toward him as he shot me round after round, until I spun around in a circle, threw the dummy at him, did a diving front roll, caught the dummy over my left shoulder, stood right in his face and hit him with a soft right cross in his jaw. Then I felt someone hit me with a Taser gun or something. I dropped down and said, “What the fuck?” As I lay on the sand, Bird stood over me and said, “Today you have become official. You finally got your chance to hit me back Kid.” His mouth was bleeding and he was looking all drunk, rubbing his jaw, because I accidentally knocked the shit out of him. I didn’t have a gauge on my own strength. That was the first time I smiled in a long time.