Feral Recruit (Calm Act Book 5)

by Ginger Booth

  Cam nodded. “So we’re not ready to make a decision? On delaying Basic. It starts in two weeks.”

  The major sighed. “That isn’t enough time to cycle them all through physicals and follow-up. Maybe we should answer it that way, sir. Extend fitness camp one week because physicals were delayed, and we need to see the results.”

  Cam nodded. “I like that. Let’s do that. OK, I have another meeting. Quickly, sergeants – are there recruits you sent home, that we should revisit? The camp already kicked out twenty-six percent. That’s a lot.”

  Sergeant Clarke raised his hand. “I’ve kicked back fifteen percent, sir. My platoon is half Jersey, half Apple Core. Some asked to leave. Some belonged in jail. But a couple – I wish I knew how to reach them. One girl, she went catatonic. I didn’t realize at the time. But sending her home was practically a death sentence. But what could I do?”

  “Dima,” Cam said. “Soho Ville.”

  Clarke’s eyes widened. “You knew her, sir?”

  “No, sergeant. We were perturbed. Margolis, MacLaren, and myself. Dima was successful in the ville. A top candidate. And she came home destroyed.”

  Clarke sat stricken.

  “Twyla?” Cam asked.

  “I’ll send someone from LI to investigate, sir. We’ll see if we can save her, sergeant. I’ll keep you apprised.”

  “Thank you, LT,” Sergeant Clarke said. “Like the major said. We’re glad you’re here.”

  “Officers?” Cam prompted. “Could you review everyone you’ve sent home, and see if any other cases merit review?”

  The captains looked to the majors. Major Thurston shook his head, and spoke for them again. “Our records will be open to Lieutenant Harper. We will cooperate with her fully if she has questions about past decisions.”

  “That works for me, sir,” Twyla Harper said.

  “Outstanding,” Cam said. “I’d love to talk to you all day. I’d love to say each and every one of you was welcome to contact me any time. Unfortunately, I’m too busy running Long Island. But Twyla Harper has a direct line to me, and colonels MacLaren and Margolis as well. You have our ear, and our complete support, through her. In the unlikely event you have a problem with Harper, your majors can also reach us directly.

  “What you’re doing here is crucial to the future of our young nation. In the Apple Zone, we have a million of these feral kids. I truly believe that you’re training their future leaders. Our future leaders. They’ve been through hell. If I could put them all back into high school today, you know, I wouldn’t do it. We cannot stuff chickens back into their eggs. But we can build them into citizens and leaders, instead of criminals and failures. Yes, you’re training only a handful. But they will come back into our communities, and lead. Thank you, and God bless.”

  Sergeants Clarke and Calderon were on their feet with the rest, to give Colonel Cameron an ovation.

  23

  Interesting fact: The new Hudson Constitution was unveiled, and Hudson formally declared a nation, in September, a couple months before the first Hudson Basic Combat Training cohort entered West Point.

  The largest gym at West Point was packed with fourteen hundred recruits and their sergeants, invited to this special afternoon program. Ava didn’t spot any officers in the crowd, but at her height it was hard to see. As she and her squad slipped into place, among the last to arrive, they took up marching in place, in time with the music. She couldn’t hear her own stomping sneakers separate from the throng, as though she herself had become a giant who pounded that noise out of the gym floorboards.

  On a raised stage she could see over the throng, barely, a familiar cafe au lait man led the marching. He wore jaw-length dreadlocks and T-shirt over militia pants, his torso even more buffed than Calderon. He hammed it up, with a dancer’s flourish each time he turned at the edge of the stage.

  He returned to the center, and declared, “Time! Let’s begin! No, no, don’t stop marching. Keep those bodies moving! In fact, I want you to spread out a little. Do we have room for that? Arm’s length between everybody! Oh, yeah! Beautiful!”

  Ava’s group backed up nearly to the contracted bleachers to aid the spread. She was disappointed when she heard this circus was happening this afternoon. Between furlough, and coming back to the Point yesterday, she hungered to get back to routine. But she was growing curious. This event was far from the usual military stand-and-be-lectured scene she expected.

  “Keep moving! Yeah! Hello. I’m Captain Dwayne Perard, Resco of ELI – that’s Eastern Long Island.” Cheers came from the Long Island section, readily recognizable for being bigger than the rest of them on average.

  That’s why he looked familiar. Ava had seen him on the news, with his even more famous husband, the lead Resco of LI, Cam Cameron.

  Dwayne shook his head. “No, no, guys, guys! You’re embarrassing me. When I say ELI, I want to hear you scream, ELI!”

  “ELI!”

  “Yes, thank you! Much better. And when I say CLI –” That one was pronounced sea-lie.

  “CLI!”

  “And –”

  “NASSAU!” Western Long Island’s Nassau County automatically tried to out-yell ELI and CLI.

  “Alright, now you’re making me proud! LI rules!”

  “LI!” That one was pronounced ell-eye, and nearly deafening.

  He pointed at the LI half – more than half – of the gym. “Keep it up! But now I want to hear from you other people. Don’t stop marching! In fact, let’s march a little higher. I want to see ankles at knee level. Yeah! Now I hear there’s people here from the Apple Core!”

  Ava yelled, “Apple!” Some tried ‘Core.’ Some both, some neither, plus a fair smattering of ‘New York City,’ ‘Fuck you,’ ‘Fuck that,’ and ‘Fuck off!’ Compared to even the first cheer from ELI, it came out a muddle. The only intelligible word to emerge was ‘Fuck.’

  Dwayne pointed at them and grinned. “I hear a lot of ‘Fuck’ from the Apple Core! Perfect! You anticipate me. Yes, gang, that’s what I’m talking about today! Sex! But, you’ve got to work on your self-esteem, little green apples. Everybody from the Core, give yourselves a big reassuring hug.”

  “FUCK NO!” Ava yelled it as hard as all the rest.

  “Much better! Alright, that’s our cheer for the Apple Core, ‘Fuck no!’ And how bout Joisey, my sweeties?”

  “JERSEY!”

  “Yeah! I’m from Hoboken myself. Guess that’s part of Fuckno these days. But screw that. I say I’m from –?”

  “JERSEY!”

  “Jersey! Now some of you are from Upstate, suburbs, got lost at Grand Central, whatever. Keep marching, keep that heart rate up. Let’s call you burbs. Let’s hear it for burbs!”

  “Burbs!” Fifty voices could not rise above fourteen hundred marchers.

  “You shall be mighty when Basic Combat Training starts, burbs! But for today, I want you to yell with the Apple Core, OK? Because those guys? They still need work on their self esteem. Let’s have another self hug, Apple Core.”

  “FUCK NO!”

  “That reminds me! What are we doing here? We’re getting your endorphins sky high. That’s so we can have a sex talk! Yeah! I bet you’re thinking of those lame lectures you got back in middle school, right? Back when you were a virgin? Let’s hear it from all the virgins!”

  Stomp, stomp, stomp…

  Dwayne laughed. “Yeah, like you’d admit that. Apple Core, are any of you virgins?”

  “FUCK NO!”

  “Yeah! So we brought you here! Our tired and huddled misfits, yearning to eat free. And you ate and you ate. And heavens to Betsy! You’re starting to feel a little better, huh? Maybe you’re starting to remember what it’s like to be a teenager! Can you say ‘Horny?’ ”

  “HORNY! HORNY! HORNY!” Ava laughed out loud and yelled with the best.

  “Yeah. Thought so. I mean, when you were starving to death, you probably didn’t think much about sex.”

  The endorphins of the marching and yelli
ng let Ava look at that without even a twinge. She and Frosty had kept up a sex life, through the worst of it. But to be truthful, months came and went without much more than intimate cuddling. She hadn’t really admitted it to herself until now – yeah, she was horny. Those often naked men’s bodies surrounding her, were getting a bit distracting. Was that why she went to see Frosty? Not missing all of him, exactly…

  “Now, you’re healthy teenagers again!” Dwayne congratulated them. “Horny. And are you allowed to have sex here, with your buffed and naked squad mates?”

  “FUCK NO!”

  “Exactly. Yeah, that’s a bit of a problem, isn’t it? And just now, back home for Solstice furlough, you were free to get sweaty. But you’ve got some other crap in your heads, too. Because not all the sex during the Starve was good. Was it.”

  Dwayne paused as though for a response. None was offered. He’d invited them to think. They kept marching, and considered it.

  Not even all the sex with Frosty was alright. Ava and Frosty were both physical people, surrounded by violence, meting out violence to keep their gang in line, and defend it. More than once, that spilled over into their tiny apartment. When they fought one on one, Ava could only lose. With him as gang leader, she could only submit, in the end.

  Dwayne clapped his hands to shock her attention back. “Yeah, we need more endorphins! That’s brain chemicals, to get you sky high! You know runner’s high by now. But you want to get yourself really, really high? Crank the tunes and dance!” He signaled the interminable marching beat to end. The music started with a bang with I’m in Love with Your Body!

  Before Dwayne Perard married Cam Cameron, they sat down to have that little money chat. Cam, a successful Army officer, was chagrined to learn that his bouncy young hubby-to-be earned more money. Dwayne helped support his sister and mother, and had more retirement savings than Cam to boot. His weekend warrior job quelling riots with the Jersey National Guard was just pocket change. Dwayne made a killing as a personal trainer and teaching exercise classes, raking in $20,000 in Christmas tips alone. Today he proved why.

  Leading the dancing on the stage, leaping into the crowd to dance along, shouting over the music, Dwayne was high as a kite. He easily lifted the crowd right along with him, and kept them at that altitude. He used cardio kick-boxing for slow-down segments, and a soundtrack perfectly tuned to the audience.

  Ava was glad now they’d stripped down to their workout shorts and T-shirts, and left their uniforms in the dining hall after lunch. She thought they were nuts at the time. She ran across campus to the gym with bare legs and arms. The Arctic winds had arrived, bringing the coldest weeks of the year to Hudson.

  The only old song on Dwayne’s playlist was YMCA by the Village People. Naturally Dwayne invited any Village people in the audience to join him on the stage to demonstrate the arm moves, spelling out the characters Y-M-C-A. Ava was one of them, of course. She had the moves down pat for Soho Ville’s anthem. She pranced, she danced, she had plenty of opportunities to prove her regional spirit by yelling, ‘Fuck, no!’

  Dwayne kept up a steady patter throughout it all, booming above the music. He joked. He told stories. He pointed out the sex content in every song. He introduced the new resource aides from Long Island. He brought them onto the stage for a chorus line number. He got everyone’s hearts pounding to the beat, and kept them there for nearly an hour.

  With the cool down to some hip hop, Ava was back to marching, dripping with sweat in the chilly gym, and grinning ear to ear.

  “You were divine, you cuties! Thank you for playing!” Dwayne boomed out. “What a very pretty collection of bodies! You have come so far, so fast! If you love your body right now, give me a yell. Let’s hear it for Hudson!”

  “HUDSON!”

  “Those sexy bodies are ready to serve –”

  “HUDSON!”

  “I can’t hear you! Who you gonna call?”

  “HUDSON!”

  “Yeah, that’s what I’m saying! Love those bodies! Alright, listen up. The next part of this program is optional! We’re going to talk about sex. Gay sex, near and dear to my heart. Most of you are not gay. That’s cool. I love your bodies anyway! And I know that even if you’re not gay, in the past couple years, you’ve had experiences. Some of them sucked. Like the kind of sucked that screws with your head.

  “We’re going to talk about that. So if you’ve been raped. If you’ve sold your body for food. If you’ve been a rapist – and I know some of you have. If you have friends with that experience, and you want to understand. You’re invited! And we will have a good time. Yeah, get some of that crap out of your heads. And now a word from your sergeants. Let’s end with a cheer for your sergeants!”

  “NO SERGEANT!”

  Dwayne laughed out loud and bowed to an LI sergeant who joined them on the stage. He ordered everyone back to the dining hall to retrieve their clothes, because it was cold out. After that they had a choice of returning to their regular afternoon schedule, or returning here in 20 minutes for the gay sex talk. He firmly advised that no disruptive b.s. would be tolerated during the talk. He specifically disinvited anyone who had a problem with other people’s sex lives.

  “This is a special event for the people who need it. Don’t spoil it for them. Come to participate civilly, or stay away.”

  “I’m not going,” Fakhir announced to home table, as they scrambled gratefully back into their uniforms in the dining hall.

  The wind howled across the Plain, with desiccating 20-degree air under a cobalt blue sky. Temperatures were expected in the single digits by midnight, with wind chills fifty degrees below the merely freezing. Ava was infinitely grateful to be out of the urban canyons, safe in the slightly heated Pershing Barracks tonight, with the killing cold of January only days away. Her past two Januaries had been infinitely worse. Her wardrobe renewal in Midtown included a khaki shaker sweater to wear over her uniform, that hung nearly to her knees, with matching chunky-knit hat. The quartermaster hadn’t supplied winter coats for fitness camp. Their sergeants declared any outerwear close in color to the camouflage palette was fair game.

  “I’m going,” Ava replied. “I think all of us should go, Fakhir.”

  “I am Muslim. Religious objection.”

  “Yeah, I get that,” Ava returned. “But you know people. Even in Al Kebab, your gang, you know guys who’ve been raped. You sleep every night with guys who’ve been raped.”

  Fakhir looked offended. “If I sleep with people like that, I don’t want to know it.”

  “Cool, stick your head up your ass,” Doc replied. They all paused and stared at him. Ava couldn’t recall hearing an unpleasant word before from the Rastafarian, the most genial voice at their table. “I don’t want you there.”

  Ava stared at him, then slowly nodded. “I’m with you, Doc.”

  Yoda looked away. “I’ll just listen. But I know people. Their heads got screwed up from this stuff.”

  “We all do,” Marquis assured him.

  Ava leaned down from her chair to tie her high-top sneakers. She gave Yoda’s calf a brief reassuring squeeze. “We all do.”

  After an invigorating plunge back through the arctic gale to the gym, they settled in on the floor. Sergeants stood sentinel, gathering their platoon flocks to sit by their feet, using much less of the vast gym floor than they’d used for dancing. Sergeant Awalo reserved them a spot with only one other platoon between them and the stage. He insisted they clump up for warmth, shoulder to shoulder, allowing close crowding for other platoons to push in. Ava guessed that more than half the recruits chose to attend. The new resource aides sent from Long Island were also there in full force, standing against the wall, watching the crowd carefully.

  Dwayne opened with a short lecture, showing the Kinsey scale. He explained that homosexuality and heterosexuality were a continuum, not either/or. In general, males were about 12% bisexual, and 10% purely homosexual. Females fell on the same continuum, with somewhat lower percent
ages gay.

  “There are a whole lot of other complex factors. But basically, you’re born this way, somewhere on the continuum. The majority is straight heterosexual. That’s true. But some people, like me, are just different.

  “Now what happens if someone is raped? Homosexually, or heterosexually. That someone is not changed, in terms of who they are. But what can happen is that their attention gets stuck. You ever have an argument that you just need to win? You can’t let it go? Like that.

  “Where this gets really ugly is if you refuse to know it. Unh-uh, no way, I am not going to think about that. Never happened, I don’t want to deal with it. The truth is, boys and girls, that almost every child molester? Was molested himself as a kid. Rape – rape isn’t about sex. It’s about power and violence. It isn’t true that rapists were raped first, like child molesters. But they were brutalized. If they don’t face it, they perpetuate the cycle. They beat on their wives and kids, the same way they were hammered. And maybe they’ll rape. Men or women, it doesn’t matter.

  “It’s hard for a woman to rape, you know, physically. They tend to go to the other extreme. They may re-enact the nightmare time after time, by seeking out someone who brutalizes them. And they can’t see it. They’re bruised and bloody. Their kids are abused. And they go right back to it like a moth to a flame.

  “Or, they’re actually hetero. Completely straight, honestly attracted to guys. Most women are. Yet they can’t deal with the idea of touching a guy, being vulnerable in bed. They may try to find to find physical comfort with another woman, but it doesn’t work. Because they want a guy. They conclude they just can’t have anybody. That’s a lonely road. But it’s better than getting beaten to a pulp, right?

  “People, sweet boys and girls. You’ve got to deal with this crap. If you’re a guy who’s been raped by a guy? If you’ve turned tricks with guys? That does not make you gay! Seriously, peeps. It isn’t contagious. But you know, maybe you keep thinking about it. Well, truly, did you think about it before you were raped? I mean, as puberty hit, I was seeing these gorgeous guy bodies all around me. The girls left me cold. I’m gay. Some other people I have known – we are not outing our friends here, we are respecting privacy – are truly bi. They’ve fantasized about sleeping with guys and gals from day one. A friend of mine even came here to West Point, trying to cure himself of being bi. Figured bi meant he could decide to be either way, and the Army could help him beat himself straight. Hadn’t quite considered that meant he’d be getting naked and sharing barracks with a few thousand gorgeous male bodies. Little distracting!