“Not so tough now huh!” Daniels gloated throwing the IV rod down. Ignoring the echoing clatter it made he quickly closed and locked the hatch before grabbing Russell’s ankles and dragging her limp form across the floor. Turning her over, he straddled her body admiring his prize. He thought about all the times she’d waved her perky little ass at him, begging him to grab a handful and treat her right. Leaning down he placed a forceful kiss on her lips tasting blood. Pulling back a red smear covered her mouth. A quick wipe of his own reminded him of the head-butt that had broken his nose. With a sick sneer he ripped open her shirt before tearing away her belt and began vigorously tugging her trousers down. It was a beautiful sight to behold. He’d often imagined the shape and color of Russell’s legs. Gingerly he caressed her thigh, relishing in its smooth supple tone. A trail of blood followed his hand lending the skin a pinkish glow. It only made the image more enticing to him. Working his hands up he was about to explore her most intimate of regions when a pounding at the door startled him. Jumping back, he bumped a cart spilling an array of jars and tools to the floor.
“You okay in there Doc?” a muffled voice called from the other side. It was Emerson. Fucking nigger was probably walking his rounds. The fool couldn’t stop playing soldier for a single day. He was as devoted to the corps as that old coot Pierce and Captain Butler were.
Cursing his bad luck, he hollered some incoherent gibberish. He hadn’t thought this through. Hadn’t thought how he’d get out of this once the madness took over. Scrambling to his feet he spied Wisniewski still sitting on the nearby cot, his empty eyed gaze still blankly starting into nothingness. Lurching towards the shell-shocked private he screamed, “Wisniewski no!” and threw the man towards Russell. With no compunction for his actions he pulled his side arm delivering a series of rounds into the private’s back sending him sprawling to the floor. Shaking from nerves, or maybe the thrill, he rushed to the door unlocking it before dashing for the intercom.
“Commander Grant,” his voice shook as Emerson practically tore open the door.
“What the fuck happened?” he said dropping to the floor to check the corpsman’s pulse.
“Wisniewski went ape shit. Attacked me and the doc.”
“What’s the situation?”
“Uh, I don’t know. I don’t know there’s a lot of blood.”
“She’s dead,” Emerson called across the room, “crushed her fucking skull.”
“Take a deep breath Private,” Jeff’s voice sounded tinny through the speaker. “Is anyone there with you?”
“Yeah Emerson,” Daniels said turning to the man, “He’s checking her out.”
“You okay?” Emerson asked looking him up and down.
“Yeah I’m fine. Bastard sucker punched me.”
Daniels and Emerson locked eyes a moment. He could see the wheels turning in the dark man’s face. He stood frozen, his thumb still depressing the talk button, as Emerson took on a challenging glare. “You son of a bitch,” he grated moving at Daniels in a flash.
Daniels reflexively raised the pistol. Unfortunately Emerson was too fast for him. Grappling his hand, the larger man pushed the muzzle aside before it went off then thrust a shoulder painfully into his chest knocking him down. Daniels pulled the muscled marine with him. Two solid whacks off the floor later Emerson succeeded in dislodging the weapon from Daniels hand. Reaching for his own sidearm, the big man released his grip. Daniels took advantage throwing a quick punch making solid contact. With Emerson off balance he wrestled the man down driving a knee repeatedly into his kidneys before diving for his pistol. The large marine was quick to grab his legs slowing his progress. No matter, he had the weapon in hand. Kicking back, Daniels dislodged an arm and twisted attempting to level the gun. But Emerson’s powerful hands where there again holding the weapon aside.
Pushing his arm back Emerson leaned in close. The man’s fetid breath filled the air as he grated, “Why’d you do it Daniels?”
“Cause she wanted it!” Daniels spat. “You’ve seen how she rolls those hips of hers. Those looks she throws around. I’m surprised you couldn’t keep your hairy paws off her.” With a glib laugh he added, “Monkeys have urges too don’t they?”
With a growl Emerson cocked back and delivered a powerful head-butt showering Daniels vision with bright flecks of light. Dazed he held his hands to his pounding skull. The cold steel of the pistol felt good. The pistol, he’s not holding me down. Though his vision danced he attempted once more to level the gun on his attacker when a thunderous pop followed by searing pain in his shoulder forced him to drop the weapon.
***
Setting a brisk pace, Jeff was trailed by Corporal Speight and another marine he’d picked up on the way. He ignored the questions peppering him from the entourage and gritted his teeth thinking about what new hell was upon them. Even though it was ultimately Sergeant Pierce’s call, he blamed himself for allowing the men to become too lax in their duties.
“Lieutenant Commanda,” Pierce growled falling into line from an intersecting passage. “What’s this business Lieutenant Jacobs was stammerin about?”
“Your guess is as good as mine Gunny,” Jeff grated maintaining his rapid gait. “All I know is Russell is hurt.” Before he could continue his thought a gunshot rang out. Jeff stopped dead in his tracks, the two privates trailing him immediately making themselves small along the corridor walls. Frantic yelling echoed down the hall and Jeff broke into a sprint. Drawing his weapon, he was harshly pulled to a halt just shy of the hatch. He was turned about roughly to see Speight holding a finger over her mouth as if shushing him before following her partner to take flanking positions on either side of the entry.
“You’re crazy Emerson,” Daniels stuttered in a frightened tone.
“Shut up!” Emerson bellowed in reply. “Give me one good reason not to splatter your brains all over the deck you little cocksucker!”
Pierce slipped past Jeff placing a hand on Speight’s shoulder. In a hushed tone he said, “Mejia take point,” to the marine on the far side of the hatch.
Like a well-oiled machine the two marines leveled their rifles and moved into the room; Mejia shouting, “Drop the weapon!”
Jeff crept forward behind Pierce who squared himself in the hatch saying, “Emerson you slack jawed knuckle dragga. What in the hell is goin on here?” From where he stood Jeff saw Corporal Speight crouch down to check Russell’s pulse. He could tell from there it was a useless gesture.
“He killed Doc Gunny,” Emerson pleaded. “He killed Doc and Wisniewski.”
“You sure of that?”
“She’s definitely dead Gunny,” Speight grunted.
“I’d stake my life on it!” Emerson growled. From where Jeff was standing, it looked as if the private was digging his knee into Daniels shoulder. The smaller man whimpered under the weight. “In fact, I’d stake this little shits life on in too,” he added pressing the pistol into Daniels forehead.
“You stand fast Private!” Pierce ordered.
“Plug him Emerson,” Speight encouraged with bile in her voice. “I never did like the little scrotum licker.”
“Keep outta this Corporal,” Pierce bit harshly. “You pull that trigga an there’ll be a shit storm here you ain’t neva gonna believe! Now I want some annsa’s”
“He’s crazy Gunny,” Daniels whined.
“I thought I told you to shut up?” Emerson spit, his grip noticeably tightening on the pistol.
Jeff placed a hand on Pierce’s shoulder easing himself into the room. “Emerson,” he said trying to diffuse the tension. “How do you know? Did you see it happen?”
“No Sir,” Emerson growled. “The door was locked. I heard what sounded like scuffling and was trying to get in. Not long after this gutter trash hollered Wisniewski and started popping off rounds.” Tapping Daniels roughly on the crown with the muzzle of his pistol he continued, “Maggot let me in after that but I didn’t get a look at his face. Only saw Wisniewski sprawled at Doc�
�s feet and that Doc was pretty bloody. The rat was talkin to you at the time. When he turned around I saw his busted nose. Don’t take much knowhow to put that together.”
“I’ll say,” Speight once again instigated getting a harsh growl of disapproval from Pierce.
“I was trying to give her CPR,” Daniels protested.
Emerson told the room what he thought of that defense. “Bullshit!” he bellowed lifting his knee up long enough to ram in back into Daniels shoulder with force. “Why’d you pull your gun on me then? You was doing something you little prick and it weren’t no CPR.”
“The both of you shut up,” Pierce shouted. “As of right now I don’t care who’s tellin the truth. What I want is for you to throw down your weapon and let the runt up.”
“Fuck that Gunny,” Speight said sourly. “He’s already proven himself a liability. Let’s just rub him out.”
“Speight!” Pierce growled turning to the Corporal, “One more comment like that and I’ll lock yo ass up too. Ya hear?”
“Gunny, it’s obvious Daniels pulled this. We can’t just let the little shit off!”
“We’re not letting anyone off,” Jeff interjected into the bickering. “If the little weasel’s guilty we’ll find out. He’ll stand trial and get whatever’s coming to him.” Turning to Emerson he continued, “But first you’re going to have to let him up.”
Emerson shook his head. “No. No there ain’t no fixin this with a court martial. I’ve seen it before. They’ll just lock his ass up for a while then let him loose again. There’s only one way to deal with a little shit who can’t keep his pecker in his pants.”
“Killing him won’t bring them back,” Jeff countered.
“It would make me feel better,” Speight cut in snidely.
Emerson Ground the muzzle into Daniels head. The young private whimpered under the weight on his shoulder and cried, “Don’t let him kill me.”
“Emerson,” Pierce shouted. “Think about that angel you got waitin at home.” That seemed to get through to him. “If you do him you’ll be endin your career. How you gonna take care of her?
Visibly fighting his anger Emerson groaned in frustration. Slowly and shakily he rose keeping his gun trained on Daniels. The private scurried back a few paces to lean against the wall nursing his shoulder. “Fucking bastard,” he spat.
“Shut yo hole Daniels,” Pierce grated, “you in enough trouble as it is.” Directing Mejia to detain the private, Pierce stepped up to Emerson holding out a hand. “Now gimme the gun.”
Releasing his grip Emerson allowed the pistol to hang loosely from the trigger guard. “Sorry Gunny,” he said handing over the weapon. “Just don’t have a stomach for rapists.”
“That’s ’cause yo a good man.” Pierce smiled at him. “Like the son I neva had.”
“Ow!” Daniels whined being dragged to his feet.
“Stop being such a pussy,” Mejia was saying to him, “it’s just a flesh wound.”
As he was hauled away Daniels spit at Emerson in passing and said, “I’ll have your nigger ass for this.” Speight was quick to step over and deliver a solid punch to his wounded shoulder. The shot seemed to cause Daniels to faint into the Corporal. Mejia had a loose grip on the privates injured arm allowing him to slip right into her. The momentum brought them both to the floor.
It was too quick for Jeff to register. In quick succession Daniels was lying atop Speight then he was raising her pistol at Emerson; pumping rounds into him. Emerson crumpled dragging Pierce with him. Before Jeff could even pull his own sidearm Mejia had swung the butt of his rifle cracking Daniels solidly aside the head. Speight scrambled to her feet and began kicking the unconscious private spouting a litany of curses. Behind them Sergeant Pierce wore a visage of shock. Bellowing a scream of inhuman rage from the very depths of his soul he pulled the dying private up into his arms. His eyes looked like those of a wild beast. His voice resembled a guttural roar, spit and drool pouring from his mouth as he wove a tapestry of obscenities that blanketed the room in a shadow. The woeful screams cut through Jeff’s soul in their anguish as tears streamed down the sergeant’s face.
Grabbing fistfuls of hair Jeff tried to process what just happened. Slowly backing away from the door his head spun. Sergeant Pierce’s painful lament washing over him, Jeff for the first time in his life was at a complete loss. Things were unwinding far worse than he’d feared no more than ten minutes ago.
“Lieutenant Commander,” a disconnected voice called to him. “Lieutenant Commander,” it repeated finally snapping him briefly back to reality. Mejia stood before him, lost in the spectacle of the whole mess, his eyes pleading Jeff for direction.
“I don’t know,” Jeff answered woodenly. He turned staggering away from the carnage, his head a tempest of doubt. Absently he said, “Police the bodies, and do what you can for Pierce.”
“Then what?” Mejia called after him. Jeff kept walking.
CHAPTER 23:
ALONE IN THE DARK
Stumbling down a dimly lit passage, Jeff shielded his eyes from narrow shafts of light that pierced the gloom in sparse patches. Dusty hot air assailed his throat and an almost rhythmic dripping sound echoed in the distance mocking him. Drip… Drip… Drip... Parched, he tried working moisture into his mouth. He couldn’t recall the last time he had a mouth full of water. Time itself was vague at that. How long had he spent shuffling through the maze? Losing his balance, he extended a hand to catch the wall. It was gritty. Looking at his hand briefly he tried to focus on it before absently wiping away the feel of grime on his leg. Was there a fire in here? He couldn’t remember and pressed on through the labyrinth following the sound. Where was it coming from? He coughed, his throat crying out for the relief the infernal noise promised him. Stumbling again he crashed into a small table or bench, he couldn’t be sure. Pushing himself back it toppled from the wall scatting small instruments as it tumbled to the floor raising a cloud of dust that choked him. Coughing again he fell more than stepped backward landing in a heap. His throat raw from the terrible thirst and rasping bout of coughing was continually insulted by that sound. Drip… Drip… Drip...
Slowly, and quite dizzily, Jeff pulled himself to his feet. Looking about in a daze his eyes latched onto what had tripped him. Squinting, he peered down in the dim light finding the body of a marine sprawled on the floor. A young face covered in filth stared back blankly. “Marine,” Jeff rasped in a scratchy voice swaying over the man, “that is one filthy uniform.”
“He’s dead Lieutenant Commander,” a voice echoed from behind him. Turning slowly towards the sound Jeff squinted. The blurry vision of the figure before him continued, “This was Private Nichols. He wasn’t with the squad too long…such a shame.” Blinking, Jeff finally focused his eyes, eyes that gazed upon the face of Private Emerson. His fatigues were still stained with blood from his violent demise. The private however appeared not to notice. “Captain Butler saw a lot of dedication in him. He was the corps through and through.”
“Emerson?” Jeff asked bewildered. “Emerson, you’re dead.”
The vision erupted in laughter as if Jeff made a great joke. “Stop playin Lieutenant Commander!” Emerson, or whatever appeared to be him, said with a smile. “The last few weeks have been rough. But they weren’t that bad. Glad to see you got your sense of humor back though.” The apparition twisted pulling a canteen from its belt. “You look thirsty,” it said offering the container to Jeff. “Why don’t you have a drink?”
Hesitantly, Jeff reached out grasping the vessel. It felt cool and real enough. His hands felt sluggish and awkwardly fumbled the cap off. Closing his eyes, he tilted his head back to take a long pull. Nothing, there should be cool water caressing his throat. Opening his eyes, he found his hands empty. Frantically he looked about the empty passage. “Emerson!” he called out, his rasping voice echoing around him. He raked his hands through his hair in frustration. I’m losing my mind. Dear God I’m losing my mind.
Drip…
Drip… Drip, the tantalizing sound called out to him once more. Jeff lurched forward forgetting what he was doing; recommitting to his search for the elusive sounds source. It seemed to be buffeting him from all directions. Stumbling blindly in the vain escaped; he rounded corners at random, always returning to where Private Nichols body lay. Drip… Drip… Drip, the water teased.
Screaming what sounded more like a haggard growl in rage he kicked wildly at a helmet lying on the floor. The momentum sent him tumbling to his side landing awkwardly with a sharp crack. Wincing in pain as his shoulder throbbed he struggled to crawl to the nearest wall. With whatever will he had left, he levered himself up leaning against it. “So this is how it ends,” he wept silently, his breath coming in ragged gasps. “Tormented by phantom soldiers, phantom water.” A sound of distant voices, distant footfalls echoed through the empty hall. “I hear you ghosts,” he rasped trying to will tears that would not come. “Leave me be.” The darkness of the passage weighted oppressively upon him. Or was it really even dark at all? It mattered not in his mind. If he was seeing things, hearing things, he very well may just be slipping away. Insanity it seemed could be cruel, filling him with a false hope of rescue as that last spark of life slowly drained from him. Were the voices getting louder? I must be crazy, he thought bitterly. But if I was, would I know it? Or am I just dreaming? Dreams can seem very real.
A sharp clanging sound brought him out of the thought, if only briefly. The distant voices were getting louder. Were they really there? Summoning whatever strength he had left, Jeff tried to raise his voice. The pathetic sound was nothing more than a wheezing whimper which reignited the coughing fits. It was pointless to call out to ghosts he decided, pointless to even bother playing their game anymore. With half lidded eyes he prayed that the peace he sought was finally upon him when a shaft of light passed across them. With a strained breath Jeff wearily squinted into the light. Take me now, he pleaded to it.
In the Blink of an Eye Page 24