5 Years After: The Drumhead

Richard Correll

Description

WE LIVE IN APOCALYPTIC TIMES

5 Years After strives and succeeds to be more than apocalyptic fiction.
It is about our times and what we have been through.

"This series ticks a lot of boxes. A rich landscape, smart plotline and great characters. This is an action series that makes you think." - TGC Network

"Love the characters in this series. Maggie Hunter is a particular gem. The research and time the author took to get this right shows. It really feels like the end of the world," – Leanne Mayer

Sujets

• Thrillers
• Fiction

Informations

• Publié par: eBookIt.com
• Date de parution: 25 mai 2017
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781456628604
• Langue: English

Extrait

FIVE YEARS AFTER
THE DRUMHEAD
BY
RICHARD CORRELL
 
 
© Copyright 2021 Richard Correll all rights reserved
 
Published 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
TABLE OF CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR
 
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.
“It’s 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 that 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 held the contact while her commander blankly stared ba