It is hard for me to remember everything that happened to me after I got kidnapped from my barracks room. The rest of the time I spent with PJ in our hideout was used to figure it out, and to help him fight the addiction and corruption that was forced upon him at a young age.
SSgt Jimenez pulled me out of the van we were in when we got to Quantico, and I asked him what in the hell was going on.
“Julio, what are you doing? Why are you acting like this? Where the hell are we?”
“Woah…” it looked like he snapped out of a daze, “Kerkman, what the hell are you doing here?”
“YOU FUCKING KIDNAPPED ME FROM THE BARRACKS MOTHERFUCKER!”
“Shut the fuck up Kerkman! They’ll hear you. Fuck….”
He looked up at the sky then got down on his knees to say a prayer, not being a religious person at the time, this set me off. I stood there with my arms crossed, getting fucking pissed as I watched more vans pull up with members of different branches pouring out of the backs looking like zombies. One van pulled up and I saw Captain Billy McDonal fall out with some guys in Air Force BDUs but he was still in his cammies.
“SSgt, look. It’s Captain McDonal I’m sure he’ll know what’s going on.”
SSgt was still praying, so I just walked over to my Captain as these Air Force fucks pushed and yelled at him to fall into formation.
“What the fuck do you guys think you’re doing to my fucking Captain of Marines? He’s not falling into your formation, he’s falling into MY formation.”
I was shaking Capt. McDonal, trying to snap him out of the daze he was in. Then they all started mumbling and hush hushing to eachother wondering what rank I was and if I was going to kill them or not. I looked down and I was wearing Master Sergeant rank, which felt nice as I was yelling at those “airmen.”
“If you don’t get the FUCK away from my Captain, I will fucking kill you.”
“Aye Master Sergeant!” they yelled as they ran away to their nasty formation.
Then my Captain snapped out of it.
“Kerkman, why are you wearing MSgt rank?”
“I don’t fucking know, sir. I don’t even know where the fuck we’re at or what we’re fucking doing.”
“Where are we?”
“Probably somewhere northeast judging by the weather and the smell in the air.”
He looked around and started to recognize the area, “You’re right. We’re in Quantico or Maryland, probably Maryland. How did you know that? It doesn’t matter. Look Kerkman, go back over to SSgt and take that rank off. We’re about to be tortured, but we’re gonna get through it together. I need you to go to position of attention, parade rest, say ‘aye sir,’ and run over there.”
“DO IT NOW! Before THEY,” he pointed at the formation of Air Force BDUs staring creepily at us, “fucking kill you.”
As I realized what was going on, I looked straight forward, popped into position of attention, then went to parade rest and yelled “AYE SIR!” at the top of my lungs. It kind of freaked him out, so I winked at him and ran back over to SSgt Jimenez who came out of prayer.
“Kerkman, your mission is to save your Captain,” he grabbed my shoulders, “That’s it. Don’t fucking forget that. What is your mission, Marine?”
“To save my Captain, SSgt!”
“Good. Now, I have to do this shit to you and you’re going to go through a lot of shit. The key to stopping the torture is to say that you’re in the Air Force. It is very important.”
“Why do they make us say we’re in the Air Force?”
“Because, Kerkman, we’re fucking Marines and we have honor. They don’t know what that fucking means.”
I stood up straight with my chest out as he put my LCpl chevrons back on; I’d just gotten promoted the day before I was kidnapped.
“I am a Lance Corporal of Marines, SSgt.”
“No you’re not,” he smiled at me.
“Oh, that’s right. I mean. I’m an airman, SSgt.”
“Don’t forget that, Kerkman.”
“Do your shit before you get killed, SSgt.”
He looked behind him and there were Air Force BDUs staring at us again. He yelled at me to lay down on the ground, I acted scared and started crying as he hit me with another needle.
The next thing I remember is being forced to take off all of my clothes in front of every man and woman in the room, and getting pictures taken of my entire body. Next was blood tests, and being injected with all kinds of needles in all kinds of places. I fought it hard, but the more you fight it, the more you get raped and the shit kicked out of you. They make the other military members in the room do it so they don’t have to do it themselves.
The whole time I was wondering who the controllers were, trying to hear names and identify faces, but mostly trying to find out where the fuck Capt McDonal was. I recognized some Marines I’d helped out with pay problems from different units and I would ask them if they’d seen or heard the name Capt McDonal, but none of them would answer me. They just stared forward and didn’t say anything, then before I knew it, I’d have a gang of troops on top of me. One of the controllers got sick and tired of watching me fight the troops off of me, beating the shit out of them:
“Your Captain isn’t here. He’s not in this unit.”
“Where is he?”
“I can’t tell you.”
“Then I’m going to keep on asking.”
“What are you?”
“An airman. Who are you?”
He stared at me stone cold, “It doesn’t matter to you. Are you sure you’re an airman because you’re acting like a Marine.”
“Nope, I’m an airman.”
“Ok, you’re an airman,” he smiled, “let me ask you a question, then. What’s the Air Force motto?”
Now I’m nervous ’cause I had no fucking clue, and he knew he had me cornered. So now I know I’m in for some deep fucking trouble:
I smirked, “Sit down in a chair, Marine.”
I’d lost my bearing and couldn’t stop laughing. He was pissed and the controllers in the other room were yelling at him to subdue me.
“You are a fucking Marine, and now you’re going to pay for that.”
“Now you sound like a Marine. Are you a Marine?”
Then he stuck me with another needle.
“Libertatem Defendimus,” he said.
“Semper Fidelis, motherfucker,” I mumbled as he punched me and knocked me out.
When I woke up, I was in a separate room from the rest of the troops on a chair with stirrups and no clothes on. I opened up my eyes and could hear a conversation between two unknown people in the other room, so I closed them again.
“She’s just gonna keep on asking where he is.”
“Then we’re just gonna have to be harder on her.”
“But she beats the shit out of all of the troops that we use to try to subdue her.”
“She’s gonna need more drugs then. She won’t be trying to do that when she’s all doped up.”
“We don’t have any extra injections, and she’s already done all that shit with the regular amount. She almost fucking killed all of them.”
“How was she recruited?”
Then they realize I’m awake and start talking in a hushed tone. I recognized the voice of the person arguing to drug me up some more, but I was in denial as to who it was. Then that particular voice shows his face to me; it was who I thought it was: my Platoon Commander, Major Pog.
“Sir!” I yelled, “Sir, get me out of here! Please! We need to get Captain McDonal!”
“Shut the fuck up, airman, you’re not getting your Captain and we will rape and torture you until you submit,” he snapped.
I started crying, “ALVARO! WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?! YOU’RE MY MAJOR!”
Then he looked like he snapped out of a daze, looked around, and mouthed to me, “Don’t worry, Kerkman. I got it.”
He injected me with another needle, then when I came to, my eyes were glued open and I was watching videos of women getting tortured and raped with industrial musicians in the background that were saying words I couldn’t understand. But, they weren’t just women, they were women who were photoshopped with creepy special effects that made them look like me. They had all of my tattoos, and they even picked ones who had the same-ish body type as me. But, I knew that it wasn’t me. They would ask me all the time who that was and I would say that I didn’t know. They were getting pissed. The only thing that got me through this was trying to remember my favorite punk rock songs and thinking about my mission: save my Captain.
I don’t know how long they did this to me, but Maj. Pog helped me figure out that I had to admit that the women were me in order to get them to stop. As I was starting to submit, my conciousness would go in and out. Before I knew it, I was another zombie in the room.
But not for long. All of a sudden I’m standing in a formation and I see Capt. McDonal asking people in the formation what the Air Force motto was. The ones who couldn’t answer were beaten, and if they still couldn’t answer, they were executed. Capt. McDonal came up to me and asked me what my motto was.
“Libertatem Defendimus, Billy,” I said in a monotonous voice, eyes straight forward.
“Oh shit. It’s Libertatem Defendimus, Kerkman,” he whispered to me.
Then he moved onto the next candidate and figured out that he had to kill the people who couldn’t answer the questions. He ended up killing a lot of people, and that really fucked him up. I kept on thinking, “Grab their rank, grab their rank, be objective, grab their rank, get into our formation.” Before the survivors were moved off into the next round of torture, he grabbed the rank of one of the people he killed and got into formation with me. My mind was more at ease, but I fell back out of conciousness again as we filed it off into a large theater which reminded me of the theaters they had us file it in to in boot camp.
I’m not aware of what they made us watch, but there were about 100 survivors and I have no idea how many were killed. I can only assume we were watching videos of combat and/or the way we were supposed to pass our next test. I came back to conciousness as I heard a man talking in front of all of us say one name:
“I’m… You don’t need to know my first name, last name is good: Rockefeller, or Rothschild, whichever you prefer. It doesn’t matter,” he continued, “hopefully you paid attention to what you just watched or else you’re gonna die.”
I started to get nervous because I didn’t know what we watched and he sensed it.
“Oh, looks like someone’s awake. Hm. Well, maybe I should give you a brief about what you’re going to endure coming up here next so you’ll at least have a chance of surviving.”
I thought, “Is he talking directly to me?”
“Yes, I am talking directly to you,” he responded.
I’m still thinking in my head, “Well, I am going to survive, motherfucker. I’m a fucking Marine.”
Then he started laughing, “And you’re the only one that’s going to. You’re the only one who passed the test.”
“We are all Marines?” I’m STILL thinking in my head.
“Nope, you’re the only Marine in here. Everyone else has been turned into airmen.”
Now I’m looking around for Capt. McDonal and he’s sitting right in front of me, staring straight forward and I don’t give a shit about what’s going to happen to me next. I grabbed his shoulder and yelled at him to wake up. All of a sudden I’m standing out of my chair and Capt. McDonal is yelling at me to stare straight forward and not to think anything.
“I guess I was wrong,” Rockefeller said, “two of you are going to survive. Looks like your mission was accomplished. Now you don’t need a brief. Get all of them in the chamber.”
We filed it off into a room with what looked like sprinklers on the ceilings. All of a sudden the troops started choking and dropping to the ground with blood coming out of their noses. As this was happening, I remembered what we watched so I told Capt. McDonal to get down, but he fell back out of conciousness and started to choke. I ran at him and tackled him to the ground. He wasn’t dead, but he wasn’t able to move. Everyone died except for the two of us, then the chamber door opened to another room with three doors. I dragged my Captain to the room and remembered which door to open to get to the next room of doors. It was a fucking mouse test.
This door test took the longest, each door had an intense obstacle you had to pass in order to get to the next set of doors. I stopped at what I thought was the middle to rest because I forgot the door I was supposed to open and I almost killed both of us from opening the wrong door. I was losing it.
“BILLY! BILLY WAKE THE FUCK UP! I NEED YOU TO WAKE UP BILLY! I’M FUCKING DYING HERE.”
I slapped him and shook him, but he wasn’t waking up. I was so exhausted from carrying him through the doors that I started to fall asleep next to him as I was crying. I wasn’t going anywhere without him; I felt like I failed as a Marine. I’d lost all hope. Right before I fell asleep, Rockefeller came into the room.
“I guess it is only one of you who survived. This was your last room. It’s time for you to come with me. He is staying here.”
I woke up real fast, “No. I will fucking kill myself without him. You will not take me anywhere without him. He is still alive.”
“We can’t allow him to come. It is impossible.”
“Ok, I’ll kill myself then.”
“Oh really, and just how will you kill yourself? You don’t have a weapon.”
“I’ll just open up the wrong fucking door,” then I got up, ran to one of the doors, and put my hand on the door knob.
“He’s coming with.”
He was getting frantic, “We can’t do that. He’s brain dead. Please don’t open that door. It’s a bomb.”
“Well, good. We’ll all die then. You’re talking to someone who already thinks she’s dead,” I twisted the handle.
“OK OK! WE’LL FIX HIM! WE HAVE A CURE FOR IT! HE’LL BE OK! JUST DON’T FUCKING OPEN THAT DOOR!”
“And you’re gonna cure everyone else who’s brain dead then.”
Then a bunch of people stormed into the room and I don’t remember a lot that happened after that besides being tranquilized and yelling that I would do whatever it took to keep my Captain alive. There were a lot of strange things that happened post-mouse test that I cannot even begin to describe; things that are beyond my comprehension at the highest level of control in the world. That’s all you need to know about it. I’m still dealing with the processing of those memories and am not at liberty to expose them. (Lady Bug)
The next thing I really remember, though, was being on a fucking cargo plane with a bunch of people in Air Force BDUs, not knowing where we were going or what was happening. The first thing I did was look around for Capt. McDonal and, to my fucking amazement, he was sitting there with his rifle, but still staring forward like everyone else: a fucking zombie. I got up and ran to him, started saying his name, singing our favorite punk rock songs. Nothing was working, so I kissed him.
“Woah… Kerkman? What are you doing here?”
“I was hoping you could tell me, sir.”
“Don’t call me sir, it’s Billy.”
“Don’t call me Kerkman, it’s Cassandra.”
“Deal. Hold on a second, let me figure this out. You gotta go back to your seat and stare straight forward.”
So, I did what I was told and sat there waiting for a response.
“We’re being deployed, Cassie.”
I put my head in my lap, fucking tired as fuck and he yelled at me that I needed to sit up and stare straight forward or else I was going to die.
“I don’t care,” I started, “You’re alive. That’s all I care about.”
“I’m not going to be if you’re not, motherfucker.”
I sat up and stared straight forward.
“Fuck it,” he said, “I don’t care if I die either.”
So he came over to me, kissed me, and we held eachother until we landed in Somalia.