Full Dress Gray

by Lucian K. Truscott

  “Ash.”

  He awoke with a start. “Jace. What’s up?”

  “I got put on Guard tonight.”

  “That can’t be right.”

  “I haven’t got time to explain. We’re going to have to put off our little visit to you-know-where.”

  “You’re sure there’s not some mistake.”

  She held her finger to her lips. “Sssh. I’ll call you later and tell you about it.” She cracked the door and peeked down the hall. There was a plebe delivering laundry a few doors down. She stepped into the hall and closed his door softly behind her.

  THE GUARD Room was a spare ground-floor room in Washington Barracks down at the west end of Central Area. As the ranking member of the six-person Guard Detail, Jacey set the tours for the night. Everyone went to early chow, and then it was two on and four off, pulling two-hour shifts until Reveille Saturday morning. One guard had to man the phones at all times, so the second person on the two-person team was given the responsibility of patrolling the area of barracks. Guard Duty at West Point was largely a ceremonial task, although when Jacey had been a plebe, a large number of computers had been stolen out of the barracks during a weekend when the entire Corps was away for a football game. After the computer thefts, locks had been put on the doors of cadet rooms for the first time in West Point history. The Rutgers game the next day in nearby New Jersey was another weekend when the entire Corps would be gone. It would be necessary to supplement the increased Military Police patrols that had been ordered for weekends.

  Jacey’s shift began at ten P.M. She began her rounds in what they used to call the Lost Fifties, a section of barracks tucked into a narrow corridor between a sheer rock cliff and the gymnasium. She continued through MacArthur Barracks and moved across North Area to do a turn through Scott Barracks. She thought of going through Washington Barracks, but reasoned that the presence of the Guard Shack on the ground floor would discourage intruders, and headed down Brewerton Road toward Grant and Lee Barracks instead.

  It was dark behind the mess hall and very quiet. The clanging and banging of huge pots and pans you usually heard from the kitchens had ceased after the cleanup of the evening meal. Even the lights over the loading docks had been turned off. She was about to make the corner that would take her behind Central Barracks when she noticed something move in the shadows. She had just picked up her pace when she felt a hand grab her left arm. Then a thick blanket was thrown over her head and she began to scream, but she knew with the barracks empty, no one could hear her. She felt another set of hands lifting her from her feet and heard a voice say, “Gag her” then something that felt like a belt was tightened around her head, covering her mouth. Someone reached under the blanket and grabbed her wrists. She felt the sting of rope wrapping them tightly together. They grabbed her arm, wrenching her elbow backwards. She cried out in pain, but the blanket and the belt muffled the sound.

  She was dragged up concrete stairs. She heard a car engine and a trunk pop open. They pushed her into the trunk and slammed the lid shut. She was tossed violently to one side as the car turned sharply and accelerated up a hill. The car jerked to a stop, banging her against the seat back, and then accelerated again, turning left and then right, still going uphill.

  Only a moment or two had gone by since they grabbed her, and now an icy chill of fear set in. She knew from the hands that grabbed her and the muffled voice she heard that they belonged to young males. Then it came to her. They were cadets! It had to be! Rose? Ivar? No, he was already down at Rutgers, getting ready for the game. Favro? These idiots actually thought they could blanket-party her and scare her? Fools!

  She heard the wheels of the car leave pavement and begin to claw their way along a gravel road. The gravel gave way to a rutted, bumpy surface, tossing her around inside the trunk. Finally the car came to a stop. She heard the doors open. Footsteps. She could hear muffled voices. The trunk popped open, and they pulled her roughly from the trunk to her feet. They grabbed her arms and she stumbled forward. The ground was rocky and she fell. They yanked her to her feet and pushed her. Her back hit something. A tree. She felt a rope. They pulled it tight around her waist and legs. She couldn’t move.

  She heard footsteps rustling leaves, breaking twigs. They were somewhere in the forests surrounding the Academy. Not far. She’d been in the trunk only a few minutes. She heard them whispering, just out of earshot. Footsteps. Moving away. A car starter. The engine fired. Tires spun, spitting rocks into the bush. The engine, fading away.

  Silence.

  She thought for a moment she was alone. She struggled against the ropes. Then a crack split the silence of the forest like a thunderclap. Dry wood breaking maybe. One footstep. Two. She heard a whistling sound and a jolt of white pain shot up her left arm. She screamed. Another whistling sound, a hard shot in the stomach, doubling her forward. She couldn’t get her breath. She could feel her mouth working desperately, trying for air. Finally, a wheezing sob, sounding very far away. Air rushed into her lungs. She knew the sob was hers. She sagged against the ropes, hanging limply from the tree. She could feel the wet heat of tears running down her face.

  A footstep. A twig snapped. She could hear him taking deep, slow breaths. He swung again. Her leg snapped back, a hot barb of agonizing pain shooting up her thigh. She cried out, “Stop! Stop!”

  She heard his breath quicken. A footstep. She felt him lift the blanket. The jagged end of something struck her bare thigh. She cried out in pain as he scraped it upward. She struggled, trying to cross her legs. He jabbed it into the soft flesh of her crotch.

  “No . . . no.” All she could do was whisper the word.

  She heard his breath, fast little gasps. In horror, she realized he was masturbating. The gasps stopped. He jerked the branch back and stabbed. She screamed out in pain, writhing against the ropes, trying to pull free. He jabbed again. She struggled, trying to turn away. He pulled back, she heard that whistling sound, and he hit her again and again, whacking it hard against her legs, her ribs. Then there was a loud snap as it broke. She heard it hit the ground a short distance away.

  A footstep. His voice, low, almost a growl. “Where’s your daddy? Why don’t you call for your daddy?” A footstep. Closer. Another. A rasping whisper. “I will kill you. Your daddy didn’t stop me this time. Think about next time.”

  Footsteps. Leaves rustling. Growing fainter. Gone.

  She struggled against her ties, burning her wrists with the rope. The pain in her arm was almost enough to make her stop, but she pulled and pulled against the ropes. It was no use. They were too tight. She screamed into the empty forest. “Help! Help me! Somebody! Help me!”

  A cold wind hissed through the trees, and then it stopped, and there was only silence.

  BOOK

  * * *

  THREE

  * * *

  CHAPTER 39

  * * *

  AT THE Guard Room, the midnight shift arrived a few minutes early. “Where’s Jacey?” asked one of the cadet guards.

  “Making the rounds. Have a seat. She’ll be here in a minute.”

  The cadets poured themselves cups of coffee from the urn in the corner and stood reading notices on the bulletin board. Finally one of them checked his watch. “Hey, man, it’s almost twelve-thirty. What’s going on?”

  “She’s late. Cool it. She’ll be here.”

  “I think we ought to try to find her. Maybe she tripped and fell down some stairs or something.”

  “Okay. You guys go ahead and have a look around. I’ve got to stay here.”

  “Maybe we ought to call the third shift. I don’t like this, man.”

  “Okay.” The cadet behind the desk dialed the phone. “Hey, you guys better get down here. Jacey never showed up at the end of her shift. We think she might have tripped and fallen or something.” He hung up the phone. “They’re on their way.”

  “Where’s the Officer in Charge?”

  “Checking Ike Hall.”

  “Be
ep him.”

  The cadet dialed the phone, listened, and punched in four digits. In a moment the phone rang. “Major Hall, Jacey Slaight never showed up. Yes sir. Right away sir.”

  “What’d he say?”

  “He’s on his way.”

  The Guard Room door opened and the third shift came in. “What’s going on, man?”

  “Jacey’s like thirty minutes late. You guys take North Area. We’ll start with South. Let’s go.”

  The teams of cadets headed out the door. One of them broke into a jog. The rest followed suit. Leather-soled footfalls echoed across the darkened area.

  “HELP! HELP ME! I’m over here!” Jacey’s voice was hoarse from yelling. It was useless. They had left her way out in the woods, probably off one of the firebreaks that crisscrossed the hills above the parking lots north of Michie Stadium. Everything ached. Her ribs. Her leg. Her hands. Her arm. Her stomach. Her vagina felt raw and burned with a fiery itch.

  She tried to yell, but her voice broke. What was the use? She knew no one could hear her. There was a thick blanket over her head, and a belt was tied around her mouth. It was hopeless. She tried to relax against the ropes tying her to the tree, but every time she tried, it hurt. She felt a numbness in her arm, and every time she shifted her weight from one foot to the other, one of her ribs popped, shooting a pain up her side. He must have broken it, she thought. She tried standing perfectly still, but that didn’t work either. It was getting colder. Suddenly, she began wondering if she was going to make it.

  Wait a minute. She heard the sound of tires on the firebreak, springs squeaking as a car crept slowly up the hill. She was about to cry for help, but then she thought it might be him coming back. She froze at the thought. There was no moon. Maybe it was so dark he’d forget where he’d stopped and he wouldn’t be able to find her.

  The car came to a stop. She heard a radio, then voices. A girl laughed. Silence. Then, “Jerry, wait.”

  It was a couple of kids parking in the woods! She struggled, trying to scream as loud as she could. “Help! Help! Down here!” She took a breath and tried again. “Help me! Help me!”

  An electric window rolled down. “Did you hear that?” It was the boy. “Somebody’s out there. We better get out of here.”

  “Wait! Help me! Down here!”

  The car started. “Wait, Jerry, I heard it that time. It sounds like a girl.”

  A car door opened. Footsteps. “Help! Over here!”

  “Look! Over there!”

  She heard them running through the leaves. She felt hands pulling at the ropes. They undid the belt around her head and pulled off the blanket. “Oh my god. I’m so glad you heard me!”

  “What happened?”

  Jacey gasped in pain. “Careful. My arm. It hurts.”

  “Sorry.”

  The ropes came free. She turned around and they loosened the rope tying her wrists. She could see them. They were teenage kids from the post. “Can you help me? I don’t think I can walk.”

  “Sure.” The boy reached for her arm. She pulled away.

  “Around the waist.” He wrapped his arm around her, the girl gripped her hand, and they struggled up a leaf-covered hill to the car. The boy opened the passenger door and she eased herself onto the seat. As she sat down, she cried out in pain. “Oh God!”

  “You okay, ma’am?”

  She was breathing deeply, trying to gain control of herself. “Get me to the hospital. Quick.”

  The boy started the car. The headlights picked out a narrow dirt road through the forest.

  “Where are we?”

  “Up above Delafield, ma’am. We’ll be at the hospital in a minute.”

  The car hit a rock, throwing her against the door. Tears filled her eyes, and she felt herself losing consciousness. She heard the car’s engine, the tires squealed, and then there was nothing.

  ASH LOOKED UP from a book as an MP car’s whirling red light flashed through the window on the wall. He leaped to his feet and opened the window. MPs were getting out of a squad car. “Hey! What’s going on?”

  “One of the cadet guards is missing,” an MP yelled.

  “Who? Which one?”

  “The Supe’s daughter.”

  He was in his drawers and a T-shirt. He pulled on his trousers, stepped into his shoes, grabbed his gray jacket, and ran for the door. He was running across Central Area toward the Guard Room when he saw the Officer in Charge getting into a staff car. He ran up to the car and tapped on the window. “Sir, sir . . .”

  The Officer in Charge rolled down the window. “We found her. She’s been taken to the hospital.”

  “I’m in her company, sir. I’m . . . her boyfriend.”

  “What’s your name?”

  “Prudhomme, sir.”

  “Get in, mister.”

  “Yes sir.”

  The Officer in Charge whipped the wheel and sped across the area. He flew down the pedestrian walkway in front of the Library and turned left on Cullum Road. Ash reached for the dash, steadying himself. “Sir, does anyone know what happened?”

  “She was kidnapped and beaten up.”

  “Oh, Jesus. Hurry, sir. Please.”

  “I’m going to put this thing in the ditch if I go any faster, mister.”

  “Yes sir.”

  LIGHTS. FLASHING LIGHTS. Lights flashing. Too bright. A face. A woman.

  “Can you hear me?”

  An echo, like thunder, somewhere over Storm King Mountain. A big white light. The face.

  “Jacey! Can you hear me?”

  Somebody’s calling my name. The light. The light’s too bright.

  “Where are you? What’s your name?”

  Stupid. They’re asking my name. A face. It hurts. Hurts. Hurts.

  “Jacey! We’re going to undress you!”

  They’re calling the uniform of the day. Dress gray. Hurts. Hurts! “No! No! Stop! Stop!”

  “Jacey! We’ve got to remove your clothes!”

  “No! Hurts! Hurts!” Hands. Lifting. Dizzy. Swimmy little things, bugs up in the clouds, stupid bugs in the clouds . . .

  “She’s out. Get her dress coat off. Give me glucose IV, push. Get a cuff on her. Get a pressure. Give me oxygen. Now.”

  Major Vernon was pulling her third emergency-room overnight shift since she arrived at West Point. Her first two shifts had been uneventful. She had stitched up a kid who fell on some glass and administered pressurized Albuterol to a young girl having an asthma attack. Tonight they had wheeled Jacey Slaight into the trauma room, delirious, eyes rolled back in her head, floating in and out of consciousness. Vacation over.

  “She’s coming around.” An EMT shined a flashlight in her eyes. She blinked wildly.

  “Jacey! Can you hear me!”

  Doctor. I can hear her. “Yes.”

  “Can you tell me your name?”

  Of course I can. “Jacey. Slaight.”

  “Do you know where you are?”

  What is this? Twenty questions? “Hospital.”

  “Pressure eighty over thirty. Open the IV full. Let’s have a look at those wounds.”

  Major Vernon moved the overhead light closer. There was a large contusion on her stomach, another on her left arm. Neither was bleeding, probably because the dress coat protected her. She moved down to her leg. There was an open wound just above her knee, and a violet-colored scrape up her leg.

  “Jacey! Can you hear me?”

  Stop shouting. I’m right here. “I can hear you.”

  “I’m going to remove your panties.”

  “No! No! Hurts!”

  “Jacey, it’s okay. Look at me.”

  Open your eyes. Open them! There. It’s a woman. A doctor.

  “Jacey, I’m Major Vernon. You’re in the emergency room. It’s okay now. I’m going to remove your panties. You don’t have to worry. I’ll be gentle.”

  Hands, pulling. Hurts. Hurts. “Hurts!”

  “Morphine. One cc.” She slipped the needle into the IV and pu
shed the plunger.

  Warmth. Sun. Up on the barracks roof with Ash. He’s rubbing suntan lotion on my back . . .

  “How is she? Will she be okay?” Ash was at the foot of the trauma table, eyes wide, looking down at Jacey’s nude body as Major Vernon worked on her.

  “Get him out of here.”

  “No!” Jacey jerked her head, her eyes fluttering. “Stay.”

  “I’m her boyfriend, ma’am. My name is Ash Prudhomme. I’m in her company.”

  “Okay. Move back.”

  “Yes ma’am.”

  “Jacey, can you hear me?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m going to put some ointment on you. It’s going to be cold. It’s going to help you feel better. You tell me if it hurts, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  She gently applied an antibacterial salve to the raw areas of Jacey’s vaginal opening. “You okay?”

  “Yes ma’am.”

  “Are you feeling the morphine?”

  “It’s like a beach.”

  “There you go.”

  “Doctor. Am I going to be okay?”

  “You’re going to be fine, Jacey. You’ve got some pretty good bruising, but you’ll heal right up. What you need is some fluids and some rest, and you’ll be better than new in no time.”

  “Can Ash stay?”

  “Sure.”

  “It’s so bright . . .”

  “We’re going to move you. Step back.” Major Vernon and the EMT wheeled her out of the trauma room and down the hall.

  Jacey could hear voices all around her. She caught a glimpse of a green officer’s uniform and an MP armband. They turned into a room down the hall and pressed the stretcher against the side of the bed. She felt hands lifting her, and then she felt herself sinking into a soft mattress. She opened her eyes. There were two IVs next to her. Something was wrapped around her right arm. A blood-pressure thing. A sheet was pulled up to her chin. Ash moved close and took her hand.