Page 107 of To Save Him

“It’s a combination of things…but they think I’m on their side.  When we first signed up for the program, they put me in charge of you guys.  I was the highest ranking officer—and so I was involved in a lot of the shit.”

I couldn’t keep my mouth closed anymore.  “So what the hell was this program anyway?”

He turned to me.  In his sharp green eyes, I could see only a glimmer of regret—but it was there, just the same, and I gathered that his mission now was one of penance…of making up for all the wrongs he’d done before.  “A weapons corporation that goes only by the name of UVNW around here approached the government.  They wanted to make the perfect soldier.  Yes, that idea surfaces every once in a while and I don’t know if it’s ever really been attempted on people before, but we were one of three groups to volunteer.  They recruited from our base and two others.  They wanted Marines, because they know what we were made of.  But they only took guys who’d reenlisted, and we were actually discharged from the services before we went to work for the program.  The U.S. needed to be able to disavow any knowledge of the program, and the only way to do that was to give us up, to let us go.  But when Corporal Morton died, they closed up shop.  They’d gone too far, beyond their parameters.  The injured men before that were bad enough, but a death…”

Corporal Mortonwas my sweet Gabriel.  My eyes welled with tears again and there was no stopping the flow.  Brandon’s hand squeezed mine, though, letting me know he was there.

The man kept talking.  He was aware of the effect his words had on me, but time was of the essence.  And maybe he didn’t care, either.  I had no way of knowing.  “I’m staying here, though.  I’m claiming some trauma, but I’m also viewed as a company guy, so they’re treating me for trauma while having me work.  Your file, the files of all the soldiers who’ve been given the bum’s rush out of this place—they were destroyed shortly after you left.  Yes, they gave you discharge papers.  They did that with the first few guys they sent away before realizing that was a bad move.  They wantyou, Sergeant, even more than some of the others because you have documentation of your presence.  I’ve been trying to get them to realize they can make trumped up files that say whatever they want.  This hospital doesn’t treat mental disorders, but a slight change could make it so, and then they could make all kinds of crazy files.  ‘Yeah, Abbott, you talked about this supposed program while you were here last year and we were treating you for schizophrenia.  Have you been taking your meds as advised?’  Simple.  But they view all of you as a liability, especially now that they’re realizing the mind wipes didn’t work as well as they’d hoped.  And, in the meantime, they’re recreating the hospital.  They’re changing the basement from the program room into a cancer treatment facility…and they’re hiring new staff who don’t know shit except for a few key players.  I think they’d burn this place to the ground if they thought they could get away with it, but this place—the original concept of the actual medical facility—was some senator’s pet project.  There’s no way they can do it without drawing suspicion.  It’s easier to deal with the dazed soldiers coming back looking for answers.”

Brandon asked, “So what now?”

The man’s jaw clenched and he took a moment before answering.  “Live your life.  Try to find happiness.  I know there’s no forgetting the shit that happened here, but you can’t fight it.  The corporation’s too big and it’s too easy to put the rumors to sleep.  You come out with a tell-all story?  It’s easy to discredit you.  You’re a crazy man with a conspiracy theory.  That is if you even live to tell the story.  Instead, just leave.  I’ll make sure they don’t find you.  Just go live your life.  Be happy.  And take care of yourself.”

“But—”

“Man, you gotta gonow.  They’re actively searching for you.”  Bush opened a metal locker behind him, pulling out two sets of what looked like light green scrubs used for surgery.  “Put these on.”

I didn’t question it.  Brandon’s pants were a little tight, but everything on me was too big, so I tucked the waist of the pants into my jeans, and then I put on what looked like a shower cap before covering my mouth with the mask.  “I know you have more questions,” he said to Brandon, “but I don’t have all the answers and we don’t have time for a cup of coffee.  Hopefully, they’re not looking for your car in the parking lot, but the scrubs should buy you some cover.  If they’re around your car, then just walk away and keep walking and then run like hell once you’re out of their sight.”  Brandon acted like he wanted to say something, but the man said, “Go.  Up the laddernow.  When you get there, you’ll turn a wheel counterclockwise until it stops and then push up.  I’ll be right behind you so I can lock it after you’re out.”

Brandon nodded and then said to me, “I’ll go first so I can open the door.”  He moved up the rungs quickly, making little noise against the metal.  Once he had stepped up enough rungs equaling the height of my body, I started climbing.  The metal was cool against my hands and unforgiving, and I wondered just how far we’d have to climb.

I also wondered if we could trust this man, but I felt like we were out of options.

And I found that I believed it all.  That realization alone fueled me to fight everything screaming inside me and climb for dear life.  I heard the man start walking up the ladder below me, but I was afraid to look down.  The light grew dimmer as we climbed and, after another minute, Brandon stopped.  I looked up and could only see his shadow, but I could tell he’d reached the top and was turning a large wheel.  I could hear the smooth metal as it moved in response to his hands and, in less than a minute, he was pushing on the large disc, opening the door.

I hadn’t known what to expect, but light flooded the hole and cold autumn air rushed in.  Brandon walked the rest of the way out and then held his hand down for me.  I took the last few rungs before taking his hand and stepping out.  The green scrubs he wore stood out like a sore thumb against the brown, red, and yellow forest surrounding us.  Behind some trees, I could see the white brick of the hospital.  If we spoke loudly, I knew anyone outside there would be able to hear us.  Even though it seemed bright out here after being in that dark hole, I realized that it was actually cloudy and gray, befitting my inner emotions.  I looked down the hole again and saw Bush at the top, reaching out for the door.  “Godspeed.  Get the hell out of here and don’t look back.”

Brandon nodded.  I couldn’t see his jaw underneath the mask, but I imagined it was set like stone.  “Semper fi.”

Bush gave one nod of his head and repeated back the sentiment before slamming the round metal cover shut.  It was black and rusty looking, blending into the surrounding rocks and dead vegetation of the forest floor.  Brandon pulled me by the hand and led us behind the trees but back toward the hospital where the car was waiting.  As we ran, I noticed a chain link fence around the back of the property, perhaps making it harder to escape out the back way.  And that was fine, because we were going to take our chances going out the way we came.

Still hiding behind the cover of trees, we made our way past the building to where the parking lot was.  It looked quiet, just as it had when we’d arrived, but I knew that didn’t mean a thing.

It wasn’t until we were in the car, driving normally at first but then speeding like a bullet down the county road until we were sure no one was on our tail, that I was willing to believe we’d escaped.

And then I breathed.

 

---