INTO THE BELLY OF THE BEAST: Pt2 The gilded Cage
I was sitting in the cab of a deuce-n-half, a 6.5 ton military truck, waiting in a parking lot near the service entrance of St Stephen Martyr Hospital. I had orders from my boss, companion and assistant driver Gunnery Sergeant Abby Meyers to stay with the vehicle and prevent it from falling into "opposing force's" hands. "Opposing forces,"
No, we weren't at war. Swept up along with my husband Jerry in a draft to curb youthful unemployment, I had drawn a local assignment in Support Services to the Induction Center; Jerry had been shipped out, returned to the Marine Corps.
I often joked with Sergeant Meyers that hell in this non-war was missing Jerry. Otherwise, with Meyer's help, I had permission to live off -- the installation in my house. I slept in my own bed, was driven to work in Meyer's official vehicle and drew rent money for renting rooms both to myself and to Meyers. In effect financially I was better off, with Meyers having replaced Jerry. While transporting our cargo of Rejects to SSM Hospital, Meyers warned that I was about to pay for all my blessings.
Ever the cynic, my husband Jerry said of this massive call -- up, "Ach, the politicians are engaging in social engineering, splitting up couples and spreading money around. They figure that splitting up couples will reduce the birth rate and political elites will be rewarded with freshly printed money for their own incompetency."
I remember so well what Jerry taught me from the way he put it in cute ellipses: "Social engineering // severing couples endearing // to render fecundity // a nullity."
Though Jerry was sent away, I resolved the two of us would not become an evolutionary dead -- end. I might have preferred having six inches of Jerry shooting warm man juice inside me. Jerry wouldn't touch me after we go those call -- up notices, but I knew how to collect, store and administer Jerry's man sap. Before the economic collapse, I had worked in a Fertility Clinic.
I would not have long to bask in the glow of having financially benefited from the call -- up in large part with Meyer's aid navigating the system. With our ebullient cargo of Rejects joyously singing on their way to processing at SSM Hospital, Meyers reiterated her warning that the time to pay for all my blessings approached.
This warning came at a time when I, along with Sergeant Meyers, was within two weeks of release from Service Support to complete my degree in Industrial Psychology, at government expense. "I'm sure your husband Jerry the Marine taught you that good invariably comes with the bad," sighed Sergeant Meyers.
"A dark cloud covers every silver lining," I quipped.
To get that release, Meyers and I had to give a commitment to serve 10 years. "Likely, the crisis will have died down by the time you get the degree and you probably won't be required to serve," the Commandant at the Induction Center told me as she approved the transfer. "The call -- ups give me more people than I can use. All this does is clear you and Meyers off my books."
The rejects I had carried in the back of the truck were also being written off the books.
On the drive to St Stephen Martyr Hospital's 13 story concrete tower with a cargo of naked Rejects, two women and a man, who thought they could avoid national service by simply laying on the ground and refusing to qualify, Meyers was uneasy.
"Listen up, Gunny," I deliberately used military slang for her rank when I called Meyer's attention to the chant from the rear, "you're morose but our cargo's spirits are undaunted. In their undampened spirits, our giddy cargo won't offer much resistance."
From the back we heard the cargo celebrating impending discharge -- prematurely: "Jumping off a deuce -- n -- half // bursting out with a belly laugh // escaping servitude our craft // waiting to beseech, implore // the doctor for an autograph // to send us out the door."
Chuckling Meyers commented, "I love the way you put things. You're writing my papers when we return to school. Taking a deep exasperated breath, Meyer through gritted teeth revealed, "Still, something in my gut tells me we're walking in on the exercise. Our cargo is short one cunt ..." Meyer's voice quaked as it trailed off.
I winced. Meyers may have used harsh language talking to inductees, but I never heard her invoke the most offencive word in the English language. "We pulled that stuck -- up chick -- a -- dee out of the shipment because she was such a bitch," I reminded Meyers.
"Ehhhr," Meyers growled, "Ehhhr -- I suppose losing that third female couldn't be avoided. Still, why did the Induction Center cuff naked rejects?" Meyers looked toward the back, "Rejects who think they're headed home should willingly cooperate. Besides we ship all the rejects raw; chances are few will want to run."
I chose calming words to reply, "Like you said, someone has to be taught a lesson."
"The lesson may be for you," Sergeant Meyers warned me that before my release, I faced one final test: Survival Escape and Evasion.
"You're being sent into the belly of the beast. You'll be taken without notice,"
Meyers informed me, "When and where, I don't know for sure," Drawing a deep breath, Meyers advised, "Your test is one of intelligence, integrity and commitment. You must escape from captors. Your task: the eh--warrior's duty: escape with your companion if you can. How you escape is up to you."
"My husband Jerry the Marine never spoke of this," I told Meyers.
"There are dangers," Meyers informed me, "The people you're dealing with may not know this is a game--expect them to fight back--"
"Maybe I shouldn't have spent my paycheck on these new boots," I quipped, "I'd hate to lose a new pair of boots -- They say this winter will be brutal.".
"As serious as things are," Meyers chuckled, "You can still make me laugh. Listen up: Bust out -- with your companion -- that's me and you'll have release papers in your hands and mine too. And we'll be back in school together."
As I turned into the parking lot, I noticed short perky, golden haired Dr Edna Velour, my former boss in "real life." A white lab coat with silver eagles on the shoulder straps hung over a simple white frock. Meyers snorted, "You know the Sadist of St Stephen's?"
"I used to work for her when she ran a fertility clinic before the economic crash," I recalled, "When I first met her, I thought her too pretty to be a doctor."
"Pretty?" Meyers questioned. "Things can get pretty ugly for our cargo, under her command," Meyers reported.
"Velour is a bit of a strange duck. She insists on examining patients, ungowned, naked. My pre -- employment physical actually was a stimulating encounter. I was on the verge of cumming after Dr Velour bent me over for a little finger fucking," I paused, "In polite society, that's called, a bimanual pelvic examination," I recounted my pre -- employment physical. "I was pissed -- she was nasty. She abruptly pulled out."
"Worse than a man," Meyers nervously laughed as Velour disappeared into the service entrance.
As soon as I had pulled the vehicle into the loading zone of the hospital, usually calm and impassive, Sergeant Meyer tensed up as if a bolt of lightning shot through her body. Her voice quivered. I touched her shoulder; her body shook. "I don't like this," Meyer's voice trembled, "No one on the loading dock to receive the delivery." Handing me the keys to the truck, nothing more than a cardboard card with an electronic disk in the center, small enough to fit in a wallet. Meyers reminded me, "Do not surrender the keys. Secure the property; keep it from falling into hands of 'opposing forces.' I have to take the rejects inside. Lose a prisoner, you serve their term."
I could feel Meyers shudder when she clinched my arm. Speaking in a calm reassuring tone, I reminded Meyers that I, not she, was being tested. "Let me help you off-load cargo."
"Stay in the cab. I'm sure it's going down," Meyers declared. To my protest that she might need help, Meyers informed me, "If we were taken together, `opposing forces' would have both of us and the vehicle too."
"`Opposing forces?'" I questioned.
"Whoever it is that will take you." Her voice was quivered, her hand shook. Pointing a finger, me, Meyers reminded me, "You can't allow our property to fall into hands of opposing forces. Hide the keys -- somewhere. The vehicle will be searched. So will you. After I off -- load the rejects, park the vehicle, hide the keys, stay with the vehicle, and wait for me. Remember to pass: not only must break yourself out, you must get me out and keep our property, this vehicle, from falling into hands of opposing forces."
During the wait, I carefully surveyed my environs, the parking lot. There were cameras everywhere. I started walking around looking for a place to hide the key, my wallet, and my phone too without being observed. If I were challenged by a guard or asked about it later, I'd say I was looking for a quiet place to pee.
I found a trash receptacle near a corner of the building out of the range of the cameras. Standing on feet, the trash bin provided a narrow space underneath in which I could secrete my phone and the key could be secreted. To cover my tracks as it were, I found another quiet spot to take a leak. "Damn, Jerry," I thought aloud addressing my absent husband as I squatted, "guys have it too easy."
Seconds later, I climbed back in the cab watching the service entrance and waiting. The man who had been on the back of the truck with the female rejects, tapped on the driver's side door. "How do you like the new duds they issued me to go home in?" The reject, modelling the white frock and booties of Humanitarian services, boasted, "I got my discharge."
"Full of glee // foot loose and fancy free!" I looked suspiciously at his frock, "you are a sight to see // you don't need to hear me preach// Liberated, why bother me // your instinct should teach // you'd better flee." A lot more of Jerry rubbed off on me, than I might have expected.
The reject climbed on the running board and rapped on the roof of the cab, answering in a lyric, "I'm off and gone. For me it's goodbye, but the black sergeant lady wants you inside."
The message sent a shiver went through me. Before I could press the Reject for further information, the Reject had disappeared. I walked up to the canopied rear entrance.
