The Drumhead Read online

  FIVE YEARS AFTER

  2.0 - THE DRUMHEAD

  BY

  RICHARD CORRELL

  © Copyright 2017 Richard Correll all rights reserved

  Published in eBook format by eBookIt.com

  http://www.eBookIt.com

  ISBN-13: 978-1-4566-2860-4

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote shorts excerpts in a review

  CHAPTER ONE

  She sat on the edge of the bed and stared at the object in her hand. It was one and a half inches from point to point, attached to a colored ribbon and suspended from a metal loop with rounded corners.

  The Silver Star for Valor.

  It had been delivered to her by Tom Roberts from the Canadian Government. He was asked to pass it on to her from American sources that he did not elaborate on. In retrospect, he seemed puzzled and curious at the same time. Perhaps he was inquisitive about the story behind it and puzzled by the lack of fanfare. It was a deliberate downplay on the part of someone, a settling of debts. Closing of the books and turning your back on an uncomfortable reality.

  For Gallantry In Action. It said on the back when she turned it over in the palm of her hand. She had seen the pomp and pageantry of one soldier receiving his 40 years later for deeds in Vietnam. It was stirring, the pride the man still had. The army band made you stand just a little bit taller no matter who you were. The leather bound case, the picture frame and parchment that graced the walls of so many homes with pride. The sense of duty performed and service rewarded.

  She looked at the envelope that came with the medal. There was nothing more. Was it a clerical error or a misogynistic slap in the face? Maybe it’s just a parting shot from south of the border.

  It didn’t really matter, she told herself. That was a long time ago, it could almost be called another lifetime. The tears had been shed, the dead had been buried and the right people averted their eyes and pretended it never happened. It just didn’t matter anymore. As she continued the narrative to an audience of one, her fist closed around the medal. Slowly, the grip increased and increased until the points of the star pierced the flesh of her palm. Instead of stopping at the first sign of pain she doubled her efforts. Maggie squeezed harder and harder as the metal points bit deeply into her soft flesh. Pain blocks out pain.

  A thin trace of blood began to escape her fist and drip onto the hotel room carpet. Her rage satisfied, Maggie opened her hand and found the star sitting upright in her palm. One of the five points had driven deeply in her skin, acting as an anchor. The ribbon it was attached to it had one single drop of blood on it. She carefully plucked the star from her skin and washed the wound thoroughly. No telling where this thing has been and whose disgusting hands had touched it, she thought wryly.

  Did it really matter? Of course it did.

  FIVE YEARS AGO

  The shower water had long since gone ice cold. She could no longer feel her skin from the freezing temperature but it was still there. It had no real substance but it was all over her flesh. It’s sickening, imaginary feel where he had touched her. Like a hideous deformity that she could only perceive. The frigid shower played over her naked body as she lay on the floor in a fetal position. Her soul was covered in shock. Maggie was far beyond tears to offer any emotional release. She didn’t even feel the fresh wounds on her back re-open. Maggie could just feel the stench of him, the parts of her he had violated. Hour after hour in the shower did no good. It was never going to wash away. You would always smell him, she realized. You would always feel him until your last day. It has become a part of you, forever.

  Forever……..

  The last few weeks flashed past like she was staring at a strobe light. A nano second of feeling his hands moving all over her. An instant of shame while trying to report it. A degrading moment that lasted forever sitting on an examination table like a lab specimen while her comrades argued with the investigating officer in another room. One of her platoon leaders Brett Symons finally dragged the officer into the examination room by his neck and pointed at Maggie’s naked back.

  “You want fucking proof?” He screamed, pointing at the gouges on her back. “Those are belt marks and cigarette burns!”

  “Look at them!” He ordered the officer as Maggie felt herself curl up into emotional and physical nothingness.

  They call it the system. That all encompassing trademark for the vast bureaucracy that was the armed forces. It was a place of reports and soft keyboards that monitored the military world without emotion. It had no kind words, no sympathetic ear and no place for the problem she had become in their eyes.

  “No one’s gonna believe you, bitch.” He said.

  “No one’s gonna believe you, bitch.” She said.

  “Both officers have exemplary records. This is a very serious charge.” General Fairchild gave her the “good soldier” defense dryly. Maggie repeated her charge with her knees shaking as if in a seizure.

  “Can’t you just let it go and forget about it, Lieutenant?”

  Major Alice Springs, driving a lit cigarette into her skin with a look of exaltation and ecstasy. Her eyes widening as Maggie’s screams increased.

  “N-no sir, No I can’t.”

  Another one second flash. A casual hello at a bar that leads to a conversation between Lieutenant Maggie Hunter, Major Alice Springs and Major Aaron Murphy. A momentary distraction and half an hour later, the world spins sideways.

  “Its’ okay, she just had too much to drink. We’ll drive her home.”

  “No,” her lips move but no sound comes out.

  Flash. Maggie walking down the hallway feeling that all eyes were on her. They know, she couldn’t fight the thought. They see it all over you. You’re the one. You’re the one. The subtle things like Murphy and Springs walking past Maggie slowly licking their lips.

  You’re the one.

  Flash. The questions. Did you come on to them? Were you dressed in a suggestive manner? Sometimes, we know junior officers flirt with their superiors to get ahead, did you do this? Have you slept with many fellow officers? Can you think of anything that would be remotely considered consent?

  No one will say anything if we just quietly drop this.

  “You are aware,” The investigator pointed out again. “Their records are exemplary.”

  “You neglected to mention, sir” Maggie replied with a shaky voice. “My record is exemplary as well.”

  Thunderclap; several hours ago, sitting in General Fairchild’s office and listening to him say; “The army will not proceed with charges. “

  “I was tortured and raped.” She stated plainly. Maggie felt the ooze of shock course through her. She had the feeling that the whole world was about to implode and she would be the last one to care.

  “Lieutenant…….

  “I was tortured and raped.”

  “Lieutenant!” He raised his voice. “Have you forgotten who you’re speaking to?”

  “No sir, I have not.” The intensity of her glare surprised him and he quickly looked away.

  “You’re expecting me to charge a man who has very powerful friends.” He finally looked back at her. “His father is the Mayor of Chicago. He will probably one day be the Mayor himself.” It was an explanation of his position. But Maggie took it as a confession of complicity.

  No one’s gonna believe you, bitch.

  The fetal position she curled up into would never be safe enough. He would always be on your skin and inside you. Face it, they have won. They get away with this all the time. It will probably happen again. The thought came to her almost in rhyme as she let out a long, low sob t
hat echoed off the antiseptic walls.

  “Ma’am?”

  She could feel a second low noise leave her throat. It was a moment of no tomorrows. Nothing mattered anymore. Warm fingers touched her shoulder.

  “Ma’am?” The voice was Private Brenda Voorhees. “Ma’am, are you, okay?”

  Maggie didn’t and couldn’t answer anymore. She was alone and the world was closing in with mocking laughter. No one’s gonna believe you, bitch.

  “Jesus,” Maggie heard Voorhees mutter. “Hey, I need some help here!” Voorhees’ voice increased in volume.

  Sleep was a tapestry of black on black. A formless place of incredible dimensions brought on by a single injection. The medic would write down flu like symptoms as the cause for Maggie’s illness and removal from duty for a day. As he filed the report he was thanked solemnly by Brett Symons and given a hug by Brenda Voorhees.

  The injection wore off slowly, creating a prolonged return to reality. First the eyes fluttered and tried to make sense of the light shining through the window of her quarters. Maggie was aware of the rhythmic pace of her heart and breathing. It was hard to call on her memory, speech or motor skills. Maggie just lay in bed in a white t-shirt and black sweats with no socks. Moisture on the t-shirt betrayed that she had been constantly perspiring for most of the night. Questions like: what time is it? Why am I here? What happened? They were still in the near future as a mind and body that had been forcibly sedated tried to reboot back to the real world.

  An hour later, Brenda Voorhees soundlessly slipped into her room with a tray of food that Maggie could not bring herself to even try. Voorhees briefly sat on the side of the bed and gazed sympathetically at Maggie. She touched the side of Maggie’s cheek and for a long moment and held the contact while her commander blankly stared back.

  Somewhere between then and later Maggie actually found the strength to sit up and look around her room. The tray of food lay covered and untouched on her dresser. A memory stabbed her of how the plate got there. Then, another moment in time flashed by from early this morning or late last night. Symons, he was holding her hand in the dark and talking about their past together. She wasn’t sure; Maggie thought his voice kept breaking.

  Another moment pushed its way in of Murphy touching her skin, a look of absolute power burning in his eyes as his mouth moved closer. She crumpled the sheets in her hand and gripped them tight for a few seconds. Her fingers started to shake. She abruptly pulled her legs out from the covers and placed her feet on the cold floor. A split second afterwards Maggie had a short interlude of vertigo from the sudden movement. She buried her face in her hands and tried to steady herself. On her lips, she could taste salt water. Tears, a vain attempt at trying to cleanse and move on. Fuck, I really am broken. She stared into space.

  Molly, she thought of her sister. I want to talk to Molly. I feel so ashamed, she knew it was strange to feel like this but it wasn’t a conscious act. The shame was just there and there it would stay. Even if there was nothing to be ashamed of it was still shame. Maggie tried to think about how she would break this to Molly. Why do I feel like I’m the problem? She thought. How am I gonna break this to Molly? Like I took her car out and totaled it or something. Maggie was suddenly aware her fists were clenched by her sides and shaking. Shame. Why am I so fucking ashamed?

  Maggie stood up slowly and walked to her dresser. Her phone was sitting near the food plate obediently recharging. She picked it up and returned to bed while words began to form into sentences inside her head.

  Maggie discarded a few thoughts and tried to be as emotionless as possible. This was going to be like cutting open a deep would again. She wasn’t going to go into detail with her sister. But, she knew that once her memory was tapped it would bring out everything all over again. It would be like opening a door to a room that was submerged in water. It couldn’t be opened a little. Every ounce of emotional tidewater would force itself through that tenuous crack Every second, moment and smell. For an instant, she thought Murphy was just outside her door because her scent picked up his cheap cologne. She carefully tried to keep her head above the emotional deluge and composed a three paragraph message to Molly. She ended with the words; don’t worry I’ll be okay.

  Maggie read over the message and then held her breath as she hit send. She tossed the phone aside and looked up at the ceiling and gave a loud sigh. She had a feeling someone was covering her duties today. There was no one looking for her, demanding her whereabouts or anything. Whatever her people had put together seemed to be holding for now.

  The phone began to chime. It was one of those freebies she had downloaded. Maggie had told more than a few people she was not paying for a ringtone. The phone company already had enough of her money, thank you very much.

  “Hello,” Her voice was hoarse from inactivity.

  “Baby girl,” Molly’s voice was hurried and concerned. “My god, are you alright?”

  “Yeah, I’m okay.”

  “You can’t lie to me, Maggie.” It was all Molly said. What followed was silence on the phone while Molly waited for the truth.

  “Okay, I feel really bad right now.” Maggie felt like her heart was starting to cave in. ‘I just….I just can’t…”

  “Did they get the son-of-a-bitch?” Maggie interrupted. Her tone was suddenly fierce.

  “Yeah, but…..” Maggie tried to articulate through a haze of hopelessness. “They aren’t gonna charge him.”

  “Why?’ Molly’s tone was whispered, incredulous.

  “They…….” Maggie tried to explain. “They just don’t seem to want to get involved.”

  “That is fucking bullshit.” Molly’s fierce tone was back.

  “If the army says no charges will be laid.” Maggie tried to explain as more tears clouded her eyes. “Then, there isn’t much I can…..” her voice trailed off. Silence was Molly’s response for several seconds. When she finally spoke her tone was strong and soothing.

  “You’re not alone, Maggie.”

  Maggie listened to her sister and let what she was saying sink in. She suddenly remembered lying naked in the shower while cold water poured over her and she shook uncontrollably. The feeling that the whole world was pressing in on all sides was smothering. She felt alone then.

  But, not now.

  “Maggie,” Molly said slowly and emphatically. “You are not alone, girl. I am with you. Daddy is with you and mom is with you. We are all with you.”

  “I love you, sis.” Maggie whispered through tears.

  “I love you, too.” Molly just wanted to reach through the phone and hold her younger sister forever. Nothing else in the world mattered right now.

  “I just don’t know what to do.” Maggie felt like a child again. Alone in her bedroom late at night while large imagined nightmarish things prowled about just outside of her field of vision. Helpless.

  “Go public,” Molly blurted it out.

  “What?”

  “Go public,” Molly’s tone was calm but the words were stern as steel.

  “I can’t fight this in a court of law like I’m a civilian,” Maggie sniffed away the tears and tried to get control. “If I did, they would just place it back into the hands of the military. I’d be back where I am right now.”

  “I didn’t say fight it in court.” Molly explained slowly. “I said go public.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Do you have pictures of your injuries?” Molly’s mind was kicking into gear. She was ticking off in her head the five W’s of reporting. Who, what, why, when and where. But, like any reporter in modern media she knew how to spin a story in any direction she wanted. Journalistic prerogative, she once called it.

  “Yes, I could get more.” Maggie was still vague on Molly’s meaning. “What are you talking about?”

  “Can you imagine how this would play in the news?” Molly finally dropped it on her. She knew she couldn’t do the story herself without her integrity being called out in a second. But, there we
re more than a few colleagues who liked to call themselves investigative reporters. They would love this, they would relish this. They would make hell on earth for the people who touched her sister.

  “No…….” Maggie’s response was automatic, everyone in the world seeing this? Shame, the word was back.

  “Maggie,” Molly’s voice was caring. “You can’t let them do this to you. Remember what I said…..”

  “You’re not alone.”

  “I Just ………I just,” Maggie was instinctive right now. She was trying to find a place to hide. Like a wounded animal needing time to heal. Find a safe place, don’t let them find you. But how could she hide when she saw Murphy and Springs licking their lips when they passed her by? How can you hide from that? You can’t, she thought. But, you’re not alone.