My family wasn't allowed to see me off. I was picked up near L.A.X at 3am and placed aboard a black airplane with no writing on the side. I was quickly blind folded and injected with something that knocked me out immediately. I woke up God knows how many hours (or days) later in the middle of a field surrounded by hundreds of people. I guess “The Corps” was telling the truth. Everyone looked around my age. One by one we all rose to our feet. Everyone tried to find someone from their own country to be near or at least someone that spoke their language.
I tried to find a perimeter of wherever we were. A few guys tried to talk to me but I just ignored them. I wasn't here to make friends. I was asked to be a part of something big. After walking for almost half an hour I realized that I had yet to reach a fence. I looked back and saw everyone being rounded up by large vans and jeeps. I heard shouting and a few shots fired before gas was used to disperse the crowd. I ran towards the group to find out exactly what was going on when a spotlight blinded me. I shielded my eyes and squinted in an attempt to see who this was.
“What made you leave the group?” a deep voice shouted over a loud speaker. I stopped squinting and made my way towards the light. When I heard the sound of a gun being cocked I stopped for a moment before continuing. “Halt!” I did not. I took a deep breath and let it out of my nose causing a whistle. “Halt or we will fire!” My father always said that when confronted by an enemy to never talk. When you stay silent they tend to give away more information than they intended. Like now. I know that there is more than one person because they said, “We will fire!” Also, they asked why I left the group, which means that they were watching me, and are in some way associated with this program. “One more step and you're dead, bitch!” I turned my back and began walking away from the light. “Christ, Hecksford. You really are a hard ass.” I turned and saluted the light. “At ease, soldier.”
A large Black man jumped from the vehicle and made his way towards me. He had a soldier's uniform on but it was unlike any I had ever seen. It was completely black. Understand me when I say “completely black,” I mean that in every sense of the word. Later I found out that this was a new material made specifically for this group and graduates of the program. It reflected no light and made no sound when the soldier walked towards me. He wore a skullcap with a silver logo of an eagle with a hammer and sword crossed behind it. This was either a perversion of the American or a pirate's flag. I wasn't sure which.
“I've heard a lot about you, Hex,” the soldier said. “Name's Ronald Jones. Everyone calls me ‘L.T.’”
“Sir, pleased to meet your acquaintance, sir!” I say while saluting.
“That ‘sir’ shit ends here, Hex,” he replied while laughing at me. He removed one of those short black cigarettes that “The Corps” had earlier and inhales sharply. He doesn't exhale. “And call me, L.T.”
“Why 'L.T'?” I ask.
“They gave it to me years back,” he says. “It stands for ‘Long Term.’ I have seen folks come and go through this program. I am one of the first to graduate and not only stay, but also not die. I'm pretty damned hard to shoot let alone kill,” he says while chuckling.
“Why were those people back there gassed?” I ask. “They didn't do anything.”
“How do you know?” L.T asked. “You are off wandering all fucking Lorne Greene's Wild Wilderness style while that shit was going on. You don't know why they were sprayed so you don't know whether or not they did anything. So stop assuming shit.”
“They were sprayed?” I asked. I felt like an idiot asking so many questions. “Yeah,” L.T said. “We gotta spray all y’all before you get to camp. Shit, if yo ass got cancer thatstuff will kill it.” “You have a cure for cancer?” I ask. “I don't believe that.” “Wait till you see the cure for A.I.D.S,” L.T says. “You won't believe how simple it is. Now get
your ass in the jeep. We gotta get you sprayed, spayed, and paid.” The ride back to the group is spent listening to L.T sing to himself. He is like no soldier I have
ever seen. The way he speaks, walks, and thinks is like some kind of cartoon character. When he get to the group most of them have been rounded up and sent away on various jeeps. L.T motions for me to jump out and get in line. I am about to salute him when he raises his eyebrow and smiles. I nod and leave him.
I join the longest line in the hope of getting more time to think. I see two masked soldiers looking at me then nodding to each other before making their way over to me. I pretend to not notice them when one of them grabs my ass. I don't move. The other laughs as he reaches for my breast. Out of the corner of my eye I see L.T watching all of this.
Whether or not he put them up to this to test me I don't know, but there was no way I came all this way to get drugged, groped, and harassed. If that were what I wanted I would have gone to USC. Just as he is about to grab my right breast I bring my right hand up sharply, breaking his small and ring fingers. He pulls back, his screams muffled by his mask. The other soldier rears back for a punch and I sweep his forward facing leg, right at his ankle. I don't hear it snap but he falls down grabbing it. A gunshot stops me from kicking him while he is down.
“Goddamn, Hex!” L.T shouts from his jeep while holding a rifle I have never seen before. “Where the fuck you learn that shit?” He leaps from the jeep and walks over to the two guards who try to compose themselves. “You two pussies just got took down by an 18 year old chick from South Central L.A that graduated from basic training just six days ago. What do you have to say for yourselves?” The two guards looked down at their feet. The one with the hurt ankle shifted his weight while the other held his broken fingers. “Hex, what you want me to do to these dumb fucks?”
“Nothing,” I reply.
“Bullshit,” L.T says. “We gotta do something. Can't just have motherfuckers running 'round grabbing ladies titties and shit. Again, what should I do with these fools?”
“Fine, kill them,” I say. A moment later their heads disappear.
“Now get on that jeep and let's get you in the program,” L.T says as the bodies are dragged away before I can turn back and see who took them.
This feels like some sort of dream. Did I really just cause two men to get murdered because they tried to touch me? I feel as if I should do something. Cry, scream, or shout. But I can’t. Not because I don't want to. But because I don’t need to. I have dealt with men like these since I was 8 years old. I never wanted them punished by anyone's hands other than mine and eventually the Lord’s. It seems that things don't always work out the way you want.
“What's going to happen to their bodies?” I ask no one in particular. “What bodies?” L.T asks.