Shoes: Tails from the post
Page 5
She looked at her six-feet-tall husband. “He’s taller than you, Thad.”
“Aunt Abby, Aunt Abby, I got accepted to VMI!”
He almost danced around the middle-aged woman who ran the little antique shop near the business district in Lexington.
“That’s wonderful, Donnie. Now, listen up, boy. I’ve heard the stories yer pa’s told about the school. You do the best ye can, understand?”
“Yes, auntie.”
“All right, now, don’t forget to stop by and show me what ye look like in yer soldier outfit. Understand, boy?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She watched as he threw her a mock salute and raced out the door.
She dabbed at her eyes before turning away. He looked so much like someone else, someone who had left her almost nineteen years ago to fight in the fields of Southeast Asia.
He never returned.
“Hey, Ashburn, got a minute?”
“What’s up?”
“I need some help with a Psych/Sociology project.”
“Help? You know I can’t do your project for you.”
“No, no, it’s not that type of help. Here, stop by my room this evening and I’ll go over what it is, okay?”
“Okay.”
“So, that’s my outline. The school wants to see whether the Honor Code is truly relevant in today’s Post culture. They want to see if fellow students truly believe in it and will turn in those who …you know….”
“So, you need a plant to do things against the code to test it? And the professors are all in on it?”
“Would I ask you if they weren’t?”
“What do you want me to do?”
“Pretend to cheat on an exam.”
Rollout
“Is he conscious?”
She stared up hopefully at the lanky rescue squad tech.
“No. He’s in status.”
“What’s happening to my dad?”
“He’s having seizures, Ms. Belmont.”
The EMT from the county rescue squad was barely twenty two, but he had seen this before: cancer patient, brain metastasis, status epilepticus—non-stop convulsions. Not good. He didn’t have the heart to tell her.
The young tech was inserting needles in Gus Belmont’s forearm veins, while his partner was on the squawk box with the ER at University Hospital in Charlottesville. The ER doc was giving the first responders directions.
“Give him 5 milligrams diazepam and 4 milligrams dexamethasone IV. Let’s see if that holds him. And guys, don’t forget to get the number of his personal doctor from his daughter.”
The first tech stretched his six-feet-two lanky frame after the IVs were started and the drugs given. Within seconds, the total body twitching had stopped.
“Ms. Belmont, we’ll need you at the hospital for information … the usual stuff. You want to ride with us?”
Kristin Belmont was running on adrenalin. She shook her head.
“I … I’ll follow you in our car.”
It can’t be happening this fast. Dad said six months. This can’t be happening!
“Uh … I don’t recommend that, Ms. Belmont. Tell you what. You ride with me, and then we’ll come back later for your car. Okay?”
His smile seemed genuine. Somehow it comforted her.
“Okay.”
She sat in the back of the ambulance, her eyes not straying from her father. His body no longer shook. His skin was pale
The tall EMT, “call me Beau,” held her hand.
Where the hell am I?
“He’s seizing again!”
Beau grabbed the microphone as his partner navigated the circuitous mountain roads toward Charlottesville.
“Two more of diazepam and decadron,” the radio blared back.
Am I dying?
No , Gus . You’re being taken to the emergency room.
Who are you?
You know me, Gus.
Why can’t I see you?
Not yet, Gus.
Why can’t you give me a straight answer?
You’ll know soon enough.Here, maybe this will help. Take a look.
The gray slowly cleared.
Is that me?
Yes.
Geez, I didn’t know I looked that bad. That can’t be me lying on that cart. And, by the way who or whatever you are, Voice, I’m no prude but I wish they’d throw a sheet over me. I don’t want Kristin to see me like that.
She won’t.
Why not?
Look over there.
He saw his daughter and a young man in rescue squad uniform on the other side of the emergency room wall. He could see through it. Kristin was crying.
Come on, Gus, you’ve got work to do. Your Honor Court needs you.
Once more, the room dissolved into gray.
He ran down the barracks stairs, crossed the courtyard and exited through the Washington Arch.
It was evening.
He crossed the two lane road and entered the building opposite. Once more he ran, this time up five flights of stairs.
This can’t be. I’m not even winded!
He opened the door without windows.
“Cadet Belmont.”
“Yes, sir?”
“Please take your seat.”
Four other cadets already sat at the long wooden table against the right wall.
Holy shit, I’m back at school!
The windows were blacked out.
Flickering fluorescents cast shadow-free, blue-white light on the tile floor of the small classroom in Maury Brooke Hall.
He stared down at his hands. They were unwrinkled, the hands of youth. He moved them over the white ducks and gray shirt that covered a twenty-one-year-old body then looked at the others.
She was the fifth at the table. She turned slightly and a fleeting smile crossed her face.
Lauren!
Don’t turn. Don’t look at her!
Three years of discipline kept his eyes forward. But the trick he had learned as a Rat came in handy. Peripheral vision filled in her details.
The knock of a gavel directed his attention to a center desk.
“For the record, this session of the Honor Court is now official.”
The presiding judge was his old roommate, Abe Saltzman. The prosecutor was a cadet he knew only in passing.
He saw the defendant sitting with his legal adviser at a similar table on the opposite side of the room. In the background were other cadets: witnesses for and against.
Saltzman cleared his throat.
“Cadet Donald Ashburn, you have been summoned before the Honor Court on a charge of violating the Honor Code of Virginia Military Institute. How do you plead?”
An older man, a civilian attorney, rose.
“Not guilty, Your Honor.”
The judge nodded and the prosecutor stepped forward and faced the table of jurors.
“Cadet Ashburn is charged with violating the Honor Code. He was reported by his peers and professors for cheating on examinations and plagiarizing the work of others.”
One by one, cadets were called forward, each noting specific times and places in which Ashburn was observed in the specified activities.
At each turn, the defendant’s counsel scrutinized the testimony and questioned them.
“When was Cadet Ashburn notified of the charges?”
“Has there been any discussion among the jurors outside this courtroom regarding the defendant?”
“Is there any reason to believe that those filing the charges are doing so out of personal vendetta or maliciousness?”
It’s a shame. He was a good cadet. It almost seems like he wants to be dismissed from school.
At last the arguments were finished. The judge turned toward the defendant’s attorney.
“Do you have any additional questions or evidence?”
“Your honor, my client wishes to make a statement.”
Ashburn stood but did not approach the witness chair.
/> “I was told that this was an experiment to test the Code process. I was told that the professors were aware of this test. I am not guilty of violating the Honor Code.”
“Cadet Ashburn, who told you this? Is that person here to substantiate your statement?”
“No, your honor.”
Saltzman sighed silently then turned toward the table of jurors.
“The jury will now deliberate.”
Gus Belmont filed out with the four other members into an adjoining room.
They weren’t sequestered for long, even though Lauren kept raising Ashburn’s final testimony. If what the cadet said was true, then….
The other four jurors, including Gus, countered with the lack of witness support. Besides, the prosecutor had done his homework. When the complaint was first made by the cadet’s professor, the prosecutor had arranged for several other cadets to observe and report. The evidence was damning.
“Why didn’t he name his witness,” Lauren countered.
It didn’t make sense.
They filed back into the courtroom.
The jury foreman handed the written verdict to the judge. He scanned it, nodded then looked toward the defendant’s table.
The defense attorney rose and assisted the young man next to him to do likewise.
Abe Saltzman paused. This was the sixth case he had presided over since he had assumed the responsibility at the beginning of his senior year. He didn’t like to do this to a fellow cadet, but the Honor Code was one of the reasons he had sought to become a student at VMI.
Without integrity, what separates us from the rest?
It was only a second but he had to steel himself.
“Cadet Donald Ashburn, you have been found guilty by a jury of your peers of violating the Honor Code. It is the decision of this Court that you be summarily dismissed.”
He watched as his former classmate slumped back in his chair.
Now the even harder part would begin.
Assuming the Commandant concurred, Ashburn would be removed from the Post.
Belmont and his fellow jurors felt the chill as well, as they heard the whispered “the Commandant concurs with the verdict.”
Those in the courtroom watched as the disgraced cadet was led from the room by a special cadre. They heard the door to the stairway open and close and the quivering voice of Ashburn protesting his innocence as he was led down the five flights.
There would be a car waiting at the building entrance. Donald Ashburn’s gear would already be loaded on it. Lights on low beam, the car would convey him to a motel room half-way between Lexington and Buena Vista, from which his family would take him home.
Gus didn’t want to go down those stairs. He waited for Lauren, and they walked slowly down the front stairway together.
It wasn’t over yet. There was still the 0330 procession led by the snare drummer into the barracks courtyard and the official Rollout ceremonial announcement.
Gus wondered if the drummer would cut another notch in his sticks. This would make six.
It was raining.
He hoped it would stop before Rollout.
Silently concealed in the shadows of darkness, another person had watched Ashburn loaded into the car and driven off.
The darkness concealed a smile.
“Donnie…”
The former cadet had just gotten back from dropping the letter in the motel manager’s mail slot. He lay on the bed, his mind still not comprehending the events of the past three hours.
“Donnie.”
The whispered voice was serpentine. He turned. “What are you doing here? Why weren’t you there to testify for me? You promised!”
“I never said I would be there.”
“Yes, you did.”
“Come on, Donnie, you didn’t really believe that story I told you, did you?”
“Go away!”
The other was taller, a shadow dressed in camouflage, wearing dark gloves and pullover cap.
“I had to see you. This completes my experiment. You know that, Donnie. I had to be sure that you didn’t do anything … uh … stupid.”
“Where were you? You promised to help me. You said the jury would understand after you testified that this was a special project that the professors knew about.”
“Take it easy, Donnie.”
“You said that the school was testing the effectiveness of the Honor Code.”
“I said, take it easy!”
“No, I’ve got to clear my name. I’m going to the Commandant. I did this to help you.”
“Uh … Donnie, I wouldn’t do that.”
He saw the look on the shadow’s face. He saw him looking at what was on his bed.
“Put that down. That was my dad’s ceremonial saber.”
Donald Ashburn, former VMI cadet, stood up.
It seemed like the other person was moving in slow motion.
He felt the point of his father’s saber touch a spot just above his navel.
He felt the sudden searing pain as it penetrated his shirt and then his skin.
Nausea overwhelmed him as it pierced loops of bowel and then came to rest in his abdominal aorta.
It was only a few seconds, but the boy could feel the gusher of blood fill his belly cavity.
The last words he heard were: “You shouldn’t have threatened me, Donnie.”
The other stared down at the body of his classmate. He carefully positioned Ashburn’s hands in a grip around the top of the saber.
He looked around the room.
Nothing else to do. Good thing I wore gloves.
He wanted to whistle as he left the little motel room. He was too disciplined to do that. He was a planner. He knew what he wanted and how to get it.
It wasn’t a long walk.
He managed to make it back in time for lights out.
Hell, I’ll even make it to the stoop for Donnie’s Rollout.
Only one more loose end to tie up before graduation.
Loose End
“He’s still unconscious, Beau, but he’s not seizing.”
Jensen held the phone up between his ear and Kristin’s, so she could hear what the hospital doc was saying.
I’m not unconscious! I can hear every damned word you say, quack!
He doesn’t know that, Gus.
Ah, my invisible tour guide is back. Where to, now?
A time of happiness … and pain.
School, again, huh?
Come on, Gus.
It was cool that April. Not many weeks left to graduation.
“Wanna take a bike trip up to Bluff this weekend?”
“I can’t, Gus. I promised my roommate I’d go with her to her parents’ place in Richmond. We’re leaving right after parade formation today.”
“Darn, I wanted another chance to upset your father, Lauren.”
“Come on, you know he likes you, even talks about you like a son. I think he’s looking forward to us getting hitched after graduation.”
“Yeah, sure. Why does he keep fingering his revolver whenever I’m with you?”
“Stop it. He really does like you. Besides, he never aims Old Betsy at anyone unless he’s gonna shoot them.”
“Now she tells me.
“Do your parents know you’re gonna be away?”
She looked at the boy-man she loved so dearly and nodded.
“Hey, guys, did you hear? That kid killed himself!”
They were outside on the field getting ready for formation drill practice. It was a test run for graduation.
“What kid, Tim?”
“Ashburn.”
Gus Belmont felt the air sucked out of him. He saw Lauren turn pale.
“No, Tim. We hadn’t heard. That’s awful.”
Lauren had turned away.
He had to do something. He waited while the other cadet moved away then put his arm on her shoulder.
“We did our job, Lauren. It’s not our fault. He had a fair trial.”
“But he killed himself, Gus. Couldn’t there have been another way?”
He wanted to hug her. He couldn’t do it here. All he could do was repeat meaningless words.
They marched that early Saturday afternoon, their drill performance flawless. Some of the local parents sat in the bleachers and cheered them on. He knew Lauren’s parents were there. They always showed up.
“Hey, Belmont, good job.”
“Thanks, Sheriff Fletcher, Mrs. Fletcher.”
“You gonna let my daughter go away for a day without giving her an argument, boy?”
“She’s a big girl, sir.”
“Dad, it’s only until tomorrow. Come on!”
She was surprised when her father took her hand and then Gus’s hand and brought them together.
Sunlight glinted off their giant class rings, the nuggets they would wear and exchange at graduation.
“Listen, boy, you two have my blessing. Couldn’t ask for a better guy for my little girl. But … don’t forget, I’ll always have Ol’ Betsy … just in case. Understand?”
The big sheriff laughed, as he patted his holster.
Gus watched, as father and mother hugged their daughter. He wished school protocol would let him do that openly. It didn’t.
“Okay, guys, see you tomorrow evening.”
“Watch yourself, daughter.”
I can’t tell them. I gotta get away from here. Jesus, why did Ashburn have to go and kill himself?
She had to have alone time. At first it had been the building pressure of graduation. Now guilt weighed on her.
She changed out of her dress uniform then carefully removed the gold class ring and replaced it with the stainless steel one that seniors wore routinely.
Uh oh, it’s getting loose. Must be losing too much weight. Stress? Gotta eat more.
Yeah, right, this close to graduation. Suck it up, girl. Get it resized later.
She snugged the ring as best she could.
It was an easy cross-country jog for her. She could beat the pants off any guy at running. Off the Post and a short distance outside Lexington, she found the car she kept hidden off the road. Only Gus and her parents knew about it. It was her safety valve for the past three years, second best only to Gus.
She checked the back seat. The whiskey bottle was there, too. Not illegal—she was twenty one, after all—but on the Post? No way.