by C C Sommerly
“No, you’re in the Naval Hospital and there are security guards right outside your door, so you won’t be leaving unless we transfer you.”
She leaned in and checked my monitor. “Vitals look good,” she paused and looked at me, “Be easy on the ribs, you broke seven of them and ruptured your spleen. Your nose is broken, and you have an orbital fracture on your right eye.”
I was floating on pain killers, so I only heard half of what she was saying. As sad as it may sound, I felt that being able to talk to anyone that wasn’t a guard was nice.
“I need to leave for a short bit to tell the warden and that handsome lawyer of yours that you are awake. That lawyer is lurking about practically haunting this place,” said Nurse Sarah. She pushed my dark brown hair out of my eyes and patted my shoulder before going to the door.
“Yes, I guess that is nice. He’s my lawyer.” I didn’t really see him as handsome. He reminded me of that android on Star Trek, the one who’s name I could never remember.
“What did he want?” I asked. He and I aren’t exactly on friendly terms. His job was getting me out of this mess and him playing the protector role screamed fake. Why would he even know, let alone care enough to hang out and “haunt” the hospital as the nurse said? I thought.
“He was looking after you. Practically a white knight that one,” said Nurse Sarah.
Okay, that was nice and all, but as much as I was appreciating a change in my normal prison cell, I did not feel comfortable out in the open. I felt exposed and vulnerable handcuffed to the hospital gurney. At least in my cell, I had the ability to walk around and pee in peace even if it was a bit lonely. The pain killers also dulled my reactions. If I needed to, I couldn’t defend myself.
“I’d like to refuse pain killers.”
“I don’t recommend that. With the amount of damage your body has experienced, it would be extremely difficult for you to function, let alone sleep to heal.”
“I’m refusing that treatment. I’ll sign whatever I need to, but I don’t want any more meds.”
The smile was completely gone by this point and her eyes held a frostiness. “I’ll tell the doctor.” She swept out of the room like a woman with a mission. She can be upset all she wanted. I need to keep my wits about me and laying here for anyone to attack me while doped out of my mind is not a good option, I thought.
Chapter 7
The doctor came in, a young man in a khaki Naval uniform with the typical white doctor coat thrown over it. He looked barely out of high school, let alone old enough to be a doctor. He came in and checked my vitals. Then he said, “So I hear that you’d like to stop the pain medicine Staff Sergeant Teagan. And, while I know you Marines are tough, it’s only been 2 hours since you were brought in here. Your pain levels will be unbearable without the pain medication.”
While still looking at me to gauge my reaction, he continued, “I do not recommend this course of action. We can talk about reducing your pain medication, but as a doctor, it would be irresponsible of me to take you completely off them.”
A knock on the door saved me from replying, as my lawyer walked into the room.
“Mr. Maxwell, perhaps you can talk some sense into your client. She is requesting to be taking off pain medication. I’ll leave you two to discuss things. Let the nurse know when you leave, so I can come back and finish with my exam of the Staff Sergeant.”
Once he left the room, Chester looked me over. I blushed at the attention. It was like being stripped naked and I was already feeling vulnerable, which made me angry. “Who was he and the staff to think I was some monkey in a cage or just something to watch over? I was a person and I had rights. I didn’t need to be babied. I could refuse treatment and I was going to make that clear since the staff wasn’t taking me seriously,” I thought.
“Are you here to lecture me about taking the pain medication?” I asked.
“No, I support your decision if that is what you want. I’m not your enemy here and I’m not sure why you are mad.”
I stayed silent. In all honesty, I wasn’t sure why I was mad. Nothing about that day at the Demon Relations Committee’s new chapter office opening ceremony had gone right. But what hurt more than being in jail was why Gunny Mack hadn’t visited? “If I was hurt so badly, why didn’t he reach out? Was he that mad and disappointed that he didn’t even want to see me?” I thought.
“Why are you my only visitor?”
“I’m not sure what brought that question on. We were talking about your medication. I am here to show my support, but I’m also concerned about your safety. Can you tell me what happened? I got a very abbreviated version of events from the warden.”
“I’m not surprised what you got was abbreviated. I’m sure 90% of what happened was left out. The warden doesn’t want himself or his guards looking bad.”
“Well, can you tell me what happened? I’m assuming you recall the events leading up to your injuries.”
I took a moment to think. There was no harm in telling him the truth. Although, what he could do to help keep me safe was probably minimal, I thought.
“Two of the guards took me out of my cell and escorted me to the rec room.”
“Which guards, Teagan? Names please.”
Grumbling, I reluctantly admitted, “It was Todd and Robbins.”
“Thank you. Now, that wasn’t too hard, was it?”
I said nothing, but nodded my head.
“And, what happened then?”
“They sat me in the front row of chairs and sat down on either side of me, while the news broadcast was playing. It was the segment of the Ceremony of Unbirth for the Demon Delegate’s son.”
“I’m starting to get the picture. I saw that particular news segment. I watch all news and read any articles that mention the killing, the Delegate or you.”
That made sense. At least he was taking his role in my defense seriously. I couldn’t afford a high-profile attorney and my case was high-profile. I was given a civilian lawyer because the military felt I would get better representation than using a military lawyer, who might be biased or pro-demon. It was not the standard protocol. A military member, Marine, Army or whatever always got a military lawyer. I’m not sure if I was relieved or annoyed to be singled out in yet another way.
Representing my case was career suicide and I was a pariah to my fellow Marines since my arrest, who never visited and even did media interviews claiming that they suspected I was a “bad seed” from meeting me. Liars, I thought. Even my squad at the Elite Guard shunned me, which stung.
“Once they displayed my photo on the screen, the inmates recognized me. And, there are evidently quite a few pro-demon inmates. So, my guards literally turned the other cheek and let the inmates have at me.”
“And is that when the warden broke up the fight?”
“It was at some point after the attack started. It kinda gets fuzzy there at the end.”
He was frowning at this point. Another small indication that he was human, but it unsettled me more because normally he was so unflappable, and he was showing emotion.
“So now what?”
“Actually, that is what I am deliberating about. You are not safe at the brig or here in the hospital. At least at the brig, we can limit who has access to you. Here there are too many people that come and go. I will expedite your discharge, but unfortunately, your recovery will be at the brig.”
What he said made sense. I could rest and heal at the brig. I was also wary about staying in the hospital. It was only a matter of time before news leaked that I was here. And no one wanted that less than me.
“What do I need to do?”
“Nothing. Leave that up to me. I will see about getting you transferred back to the brig. I will also be making more frequent visits once you are back there. If they know I am monitoring your well-being, perhaps, the guards and warden will be more invested in keeping you in one piece.”
He got up and carefully shook my hand, “I need to leave t
o work on this, but try to be patient.”
Chapter 8
I was discharged and transferred back to the brig within a few hours of my lawyer’s visit. I was mad at myself for not asking why I hadn’t had any visitors. I thought a lot about Gunny Mack. He was the closest thing I had to a father figure since my parents were killed in a demon attack. His absence stung — hollowing out my insides until only hurt remained. “He must be disappointed in me,” I thought. “He warned me about making hasty decisions. That resulted in me rotting in a jail cell. I wasn’t exactly someone to write home about or brag about. But I expected him to at least show up to deliver one of his epic butt chewings. Not showing up implied that he didn’t care.”
I thought he cared since he always looked out for me, encouraging me when I wanted to quit, and pushing me to do better and want more out of life. If not for the time in the Naval Hospital and the upcoming visit with my lawyer, I would have no contact with the outside world except the guards.
A banging against my cell bars broke me out of my depressing thoughts. “Brought you evening chow. We feed you regular since you are healing and what not,” said the guard.
He slipped a tray of food through a space under the cell bars. It was some sort of turkey, noodles, and veggie concoction. It was probably just as inedible as the other slop they served me. I hobbled over to the tray, trying to gingerly bend with my broken ribs. Sweat beaded up on my forehead from the strain of bending. If I wasn’t so hungry, I would have left the food there, I thought.
“Got it buddy. You can leave now.”
“No can do, Staff Sergeant. Gotta make sure you eat it all. Warden’s orders.”
I sat down and dug into the turkey surprise. It had a pungent after taste, meaning that it was probably half spoiled. Finishing the meal, I slid the tray back under the cell slowly since the movement pulled hard at my damaged ribs. I hobbled back and sat back on my bed; my stomach cramping even worse than before. I was still adjusting to the limitations in movement from my injuries, so the cramping was probably from doing too much. Usually, I heal fast, but this was the first time I was injured so badly. I carefully laid back on the bed, but that didn’t seem to help with the cramping, which was quickly becoming painful. My stomach rose up as a tide of nausea rolled through me. They really needed to check the food better, I thought. Cold and hot sweats raced through me as my meal did a mosh pit in my stomach. Shaking, I quivered under the thin blanket. I don’t know how long I laid there, wracked with pain, the shaking causing pain from my ribs to shoot throughout my body. At some point, I either fell asleep or passed out.
I heard my name being called from a distance and the guards roughly dragging me from my bed. Next thing I knew, I was back in the Naval Hospital.
Chester leaned over my bed and asked, “Can you hear me?”
“No need to shout. Why am I back here?”
“Teagan, you were poisoned and nearly died. We resuscitated you three times. You died and were brought back three times.”
“I died?”
“Someone or some people hated me enough that they poisoned me. Would I even make it to my court martial?” I wondered.
“Now what?”
“Now, I appeal to the judge to move up your hearing and sentencing. At this rate, you won’t live to be sentenced. I also requested an appointment with the warden. If they can’t keep you safe, you should be transferred to somewhere that can.”
One jail was as good as another since there were bad guards at any brig. I just wanted to live and move on from my mistake. I recognized my part in what happened. It was a mistake, but it shouldn’t cost me my life.
“Please do what you can. I just want this to end.”
“I will do my best Teagan. After what you’ve been through, I’m willing to put my career on the line. If I have to go to the media, appeal to the base commander — whatever is necessary I will do it. You deserve a fair trial or at least as far of one as the military will give you.”
Leave it to good old Chester to bring me crashing back to reality. His recital of what happened to me only increased the fear and panic welling up inside of me. The chance of me surviving until my court martial was slim.
Chapter 9
Chester leaned into me and said, “You made it this far. You will get through the rest.” In some ways, what he said was correct. The day of my court martial was finally here. I would know my fate one way or another, but something told me that my outcome wouldn’t be what I hoped for. With sweaty palms and a sour stomach, I waited to hear my fate from the stern and wizened looking judge, who gave the impression that he considered a smile a punishable crime. At least it would end to the purgatory-like existence of these past few weeks. I was desperate for any kind of resolution. News crews were parked outside of the courthouse. From the complaints of the guards, they blamed a slow news period and my infamy for the media circus.
I was a decorated and accomplished solider with six years of service and it all boiled down to one epic screw up. The Demon Delegate Angra Mainyu appealed to the president, General Gridley. If he turned over any soldier or human defender to a demon was a bad precedent to begin, which made extradition to Hell a non-option, which I was infinitely grateful for. I would say several hail Mary’s for that. The guards taunted me with the possibility of being the shadow demon’s plaything and literally forced to burn in hell.
Colonel Duncan, the military judge frowned down at me and said, “Staff Sergeant Teagan, you are guilty of violating Articles 113 (Misbehavior of sentinel or lookout) and 119 (Manslaughter) of the Uniform Code of Military Justice. You are dishonorably discharged from the Marine Corps effective immediately.”
The pain stabbed through my chest with the subtlety of a sledgehammer. I wouldn’t give the judge or the guards the satisfaction of seeing how badly this hurt me. “Breathe in, breathe out and don’t react. You’ve been through worst — losing my parents to demons and losing Marines during battle, so I will get through this. Nod and take the punishment with dignity,” I thought. It still hurt so bad. Even as a small child, I always wanted to be a soldier and I busted my butt through earning expert badges in marksmanship and high scores in physical fitness to get my position on the Elite Guard. I grew up after the demons came to Earth and saw how bad demon attacks could be. I always wanted to defend people, more so after demons killed my parents. Now, it couldn’t continue my life’s goal all because I reacted on instinct to a perceived threat and killed an innocent. While I expected that sentence, I had hoped it hadn’t come to this — no more Elite Guard or Marine Corps. “What would I do with my life?” I wondered.
I looked over at Chester, who stared back at me with the same stoic expression that he showed throughout nearly every one of our encounters. It would be nice to have some sign of emotion; the man was like a robot — both emotionless and calmness personified. It grated on my already frayed nerves.
“Staff Sergeant. Do you understand the sentence?”
“Yes, your honor, I do.”
Chester leaned towards me and said, “We can appeal or file for clemency,” as he attempted to give me hope.
He explained the different outcomes for my case, and this was the worst-case one. He said my case would be reviewed by the military judiciary, which took time. And, that because of the difficulties and multiple attempts on my life, he requested my transfer to a more secure and hopefully better protected jail, while I awaited the appeal. It was a safety precaution to get me to the appeals hearing alive.
Two MPs walked to me as escorted me out of the courtroom, while Chester walked behind us. They took me through the back entrance as a safety precaution. I was getting death threats from demons and pro-demon organizations, so I wore a bullet-proof vest and helmet yet another precaution. Ever since I was nearly killed by an inmate attack and then a poisoned meal, the military was taking extra precautions to ensure that I did not die under their watch. Although, I was technically “out” of the military now, but I was hesitant to put any
kind of stock in their protection. At least Chester was willing to fight for me. I hope this new brig was better, then again, without the crappy company of Todd and Robbins, anything was better than where I was.
Mid-way down the hall, Chester, ran up to me. He said, “Just a minute. I want one final word with my client before her transport.”
“Whatever,” said a brawny and short male officer. “Take too long and you can find your own escort. We don’t support Slayers around here, especially ones that make Marines look bad.”
The MPs moved away from Chester and I to give us some distance — surprisingly considerate. Chester pulled me to the side and as he does, he handed me an envelope. Still close, he leans forward even closer and whispered, “I couldn’t spare you the conviction, but I made arrangements for you. You are not without friends, Teagan. The military may have turned its back on you, but your friends want to make your acquaintance. Go into the transport vehicle, where you will be given further instructions. I cannot tell you anything else and while you have no reason to trust me, please try.”
This was not something we had discussed prior. “What did he mean by friends?" I thought. No one wanted anything to do with me.
He extended his hand to shake mine and passed me a slip of paper that I quickly palmed and concealed up my sleeve. The MPs walked over to us and the brawny one grabbed my arm. Sneaking out the back of the building, I avoided the crowds of news reporters, their cameras and death — always a plus in my book. An unmarked gray panel van met us at the door. Whether it was the ingrained training to not question authority or the shock from the surprising discharged, I got in the vehicle without question. I hoped up until those fateful words left the judge’s mouth that they would let me stay in the Marines. Inside the van, I came face-to-face with a twin.
