A Stunning Betrayal: Alone: Book 9 Page 3

  As a gay man, life in the Army was an endless battle in keeping his personal life personal. Despite the much bally-hooed “don’t ask, don’t tell” policy, there was still a great stigma attached to being gay in the modern military.

  Santos used to tell people that black-listing in the Army didn’t exist anymore.

  But what he called “gray-listing” damn sure did.

  “It still exists, but it’s more subtle now,” he once explained to his non-military friends. “They’re not allowed to openly discriminate anymore, but they still find sneaky ways to do it.

  “For example, it’s hard to advance in the Army unless you go to the right schools. Get assigned to the right posts. Work the right jobs.

  “What happens is they find a reason to exclude you from filling such blocks.

  “You can’t go to advanced infantry school, for example, because all the slots are filled for the quarter.

  “And you can’t go next quarter either, because the only open slot just happened to come down when you were home on leave.

  “When you’re up for promotion, the board sees you haven’t been to AI school and says no, this guy can’t be a sergeant. He’s not well-rounded.

  “Well-rounded is a term they like to throw around to keep people from advancing. If someone isn’t well-rounded that’s the same as saying they’re not good enough.”

  Whether such discrete discrimination really existed in the modern Army or just in Santos’ head wasn’t really relevant.

  Not any more, anyway, since the United States Army existed only in a limited capacity in the new world.

  At Fort Leavenworth openly gay men were housed in a separate cell block for their own protection.

  But secretly gay men, like Robert Santos, were housed with everyone else.

  Santos was only at the prison for a few months when the power outage allowed a mass escape. He’d been able to keep his secret during that time, and when the escape came he was considered just another one of the guys.

  Parker, Manson’s second in command, figured it out one day when he caught an unmistakable glance from Santos that revealed Santos’ interest in him.

  But Parker kept his mouth shut.

  Parker was strictly heterosexual, but had a gay brother. He knew the struggles gay men had to endure. And as long as Santos resisted the urge to make a pass at him personally he figured Santos’ business was his own.

  None of the other men in the bunker had a clue.

  But some of the women did.

  Women were more attuned to the nonverbal cues.

  And actually, it worked to their advantage.

  Sarah, Lindsey’s mother and Dave’s wife, told Santos one day she knew his secret.

  “Relax,” she said when he started to panic. “I don’t plan to spill the beans. I just want to make a deal with you.”

  He’d cocked an eyebrow and asked, “What kind of deal?”

  “I’ll keep your secret, in exchange for you pretending to be my lover.”

  “Why in hell would you want me to do that?”

  “Parker told me you guys have a code. That you’re convicts, but you were all soldiers first. And soldiers respect each other’s relationships when it comes to women.”

  “It’s true. If one soldier lets it be known he’s dating a woman the other soldiers will stay away from her.”

  “Bingo. That’s what I want. I want you to tell the others I’m your woman. We pretend to love each other. The others will consider me your property and will stay away from me. And in exchange for you doing that for me I’ll keep your little secret.”

  It was an arrangement which worked surprisingly well.

  Twice a day the two would disappear to the back of the bunker, where Manson’s men assumed they were enjoying the fruits of their romance.

  Instead, they played cards, chatted, and got to know one another, even becoming friends.

  There were a couple of problems, though.

  For Santos’ secret wasn’t the only one he had.

  And Sarah had one of her own, which Santos knew as well.

  Santos had plans to murder Manson.

  He’d been getting some rather odd looks from the leader of late, and was starting to suspect Manson knew he was gay.

  Manson was the type of man who, once he was sure, would draw his pistol and shoot Santos in the head. He’d stated many times he hated “queers” and thought they deserved to be shot on sight.

  Santos, therefore, considered his plan to murder Manson an act of self-preservation.

  Well, self-preservation and vindication for the bullying he and the others had endured at Manson’s hands since they walked away from Fort Leavy.

  Sarah’s secret was that she’d fallen for John Parker, and was cheating on Dave for the first time in their eighteen-year marriage.

  She didn’t know why, exactly. Parker wasn’t even her type; not really. But he was kind to her and accessible to her. And he awakened something inside of her she hadn’t felt lately.

  She and Parker snuck away daily to dally in a supply room at the back of the bunker.

  They were quiet, and cautious, but weren’t fooling everyone.

  Santos knew.

  So did Lindsey.

  Chapter 7

  At the front of the bunker’s entrance, just below the abandoned pillbox, the blood and gore had been cleaned from the floor and walls.

  Not by the men who’d caused the carnage, but by the women and children prisoners.

  The visual signs of the battle were gone, except for the gaping hole between the bunker and the pillbox where an exhaust fan once blew fresh air into the bunker.

  Still, it was a place where few dared tread.

  Because cleaning it didn’t rid it of the memories of what was once there.

  These days only Karen went there.

  To meditate, and to find solace.

  She’d suffered much more than her sister Sarah.

  She’d lost her husband Tommy in the early days of the blackout.

  He’d been slaughtered. Shot down in cold blood by another group of bad men.

  Just because it was easier to kill the men than to guard them.

  She’d pondered many times why a certain type of man thought it was okay to murder others to further his own lot. To make his own life easier. To make others suffer needlessly so he didn’t have to.

  Now, a single mother of three, she was left behind to protect her kids from what had become a very evil world.

  She missed Tommy tremendously. So did her two girls and her young son.

  The boy, Tommy Junior, suffered terribly from nightmares. More often than not he went to bed in his own bed and woke up in Karen’s. Holding her close and sobbing through his personal terrors.

  He seldom spoke of his dreams. For speaking of them brought them back to his mind, where he had to suffer through them a second time.

  She was there for them. All of them, not just her children, whenever they needed her.

  And if someone needed her, and she wasn’t close by, they knew where to find her.

  On this particular morning she sat on a recliner across from the ventilation hole, watching a squirrel who’d wandered into the pillbox through one of the firing ports.

  He was peering through the hole and into the bunker. Karen was still and he hadn’t yet seen her.

  Perhaps he was looking for a new place to hide his nuts.

  Perhaps it wasn’t a he, but maybe a she. Maybe she was looking for a place to make a nest.

  Karen whispered, not wanting to startle it.

  “Don’t come in here, little friend. This is a place of misery. This is not a kind place.”

  At that moment, Lindsey walked into the room.

  Karen was distracted by Lindsey’s words.

  “Who you talking to, Aunt Karen?”

  The woman turned back toward the hole, and the squirrel was gone.

  “Oh, don’t mind me, honey. Your aunt is just a crazy woman who�
�s taken up the habit of talking to herself.”

  She wasn’t sure why, exactly, she chose to keep the squirrel’s visit to herself. Perhaps it was because they had little else they could call their own these days, other than their secrets.

  And there seemed to be a lot of secrets in the bunker these days.

  “Oh, you’re not crazy, Aunt Karen. You simply can’t be. I need for you to stay sane to keep me from going mad.

  “I don’t think you were talking to yourself at all. I think you were talking to the squirrel.”

  “Oh, so you did see him…”

  “No. I mean not today. I saw him the other day. He came into the bunker and was making his way down the hallway. I saw him and tried to make friends with him. But he was too skittish, and when I got close to him he ran back out the hole and into the pillbox.

  “But I left him some stale crackers and they were gone later when I came back. So apparently he’s a frequent visitor.”

  Karen smiled.

  “Well, then. He came back today looking for you, I suppose. I guess you’ve got him hooked on crackers. Thank you, Lindsey.”

  “For what?”

  “For telling me you come to this miserable room too occasionally. I never knew you snuck up here to visit the squirrels. It’s seemed kind of creepy since the brothers died, but knowing you come here somehow makes it a little less so.”

  Lindsey smiled too. Her Aunt Karen had a sharp wit and a kind heart and had a way of cheering the girl up.

  Then her smile turned into a sad frown.

  “I should have told you. There are far too many things around here people are trying to keep to themselves.”

  Karen held out her arms and Lindsey fell into them.

  “Tell me what’s troubling you, sweetie. I don’t know if I can make it better, but I’ll darn sure try.”

  “Normally I’d go to Mom to help me solve my problems. I always have, you know that. I mean, I used to go to Dad too, but he’s gone now so it’s just Mom.

  “But when Mom is the source of the problem, I have nowhere else to turn, you know?”

  “I know, honey, and you’re wrong. You do have somewhere else to turn. You have me. Now start from the beginning and tell me what’s bugging you. Maybe we can work together to find a way to fix it.”

  “After the savages killed the Dykes brothers and took over the place Mom came to me. She told me I wasn’t to go to the very back of the bunker under any circumstances.

  “I asked her why and she swore me to secrecy. She said that Manson decreed she was to be a sex toy for most of the men. That she was being forced to the back of the bunker to ‘service’ them, as they called it.

  “I was horrified. But all my crying wasn’t going to stop what they were doing to her.

  “So I agreed to stay away from that part of the bunker and said I would pray for her.

  “Now I know she was lying to me almost from the beginning.”

  Chapter 8

  Karen wanted desperately to say something. To explain to Lindsey there was so much more she didn’t know.

  But she wisely stayed silent.

  This was Lindsey’s time to vent.

  It was important she get all her feelings out. As well as her tears.

  Because it was only by getting things out in the open they could effectively deal with them.

  “I knew what was going on. I’d see one of the men grab her by the wrist and drag her down the hallway three or four times a day.

  “Then after a few minutes, or half an hour, they’d return, the man looking all smug with a big smile on his face and Mom with dried tears and mussed hair, looking like she wanted to puke.

  “I felt so bad, Karen, and desperately wanted to help the situation. But Mom told me before, when we had our talk, that it had to be that way.

  “She said the human spirit can survive anything, but only as long as we’re still breathing.

  “I asked her what she meant by that. She said that eventually Dad would come back and would stop the abuse. And that she’d recover from it. But that if she fought them, there was a good chance they’d kill her for resisting. And that it would be game over.

  “She said she would learn to accept it, and would suffer through it. And that I had to just let it be.”

  She looked at Karen with tears spoiling her pretty face.

  “And God help me, Karen, I feel so guilty and horrible!”

  “What? What on earth would you have to feel guilty about?”

  “Because every time I saw her dragged back to the back of the bunker to be raped my first thought was how thankful I was it wasn’t me.”

  “Oh, honey… that’s a natural response. Thinking such thoughts doesn’t make you a bad person. And your mother was right. Human beings can endure pretty much anything short of death. Whatever damage those savages did to her, she can recover from over time. But you understand that abuse is no longer going on, right? She’s fixed the problem.”

  “With Santos? Yes. I know all about Santos and their ruse. She came to me and told me they’d made a deal. That they’d go to the back of the bunker every day and play cards and talk and pretend to be lovers, so the other men would leave her alone and he could keep his secret that he was gay.”

  “I thought it was a brilliant idea. And it appears to be working.”

  “Yeah. Sure. If you say so.”

  “Lindsey, what’s the matter? You sound as though you’re not happy the men aren’t abusing your mother anymore. Do you have some reservations about her arrangement with Santos?”

  “No. It’s not that. I’m happy about that. But…”

  She came to a screeching halt.

  She still had plenty of words to say. Words she needed to say.

  But she was having trouble getting them out.

  “Take your time, honey. I’ve got nowhere else to be. And no one will bother us here, save an occasional squirrel. Take your time, we’re in no rush.”

  After Lindsey collected herself and organized her thoughts she continued.

  “I knew that Santos wasn’t abusing her. That they were becoming friends. And that made me happy.

  “And I knew the other men weren’t abusing her anymore either. That she and Santos had succeeded in convincing the others they were lovers. And that made me happy as well.”

  “Then what on earth is bothering you?”

  Lindsey took a deep breath.

  “I noticed that Santos wasn’t the only one Mom was disappearing with into the bowels of the bunker. That she was sneaking off with John Parker too. Pretty much every day. Sometimes more than once a day.

  “And not for just a minute or two either. Sometimes for an hour or more.”

  “Lindsey, what are you implying?”

  “I’m not implying anything, Aunt Karen. I know.”

  “You know what, honey?”

  “I see the way they look at each other. I can see the passion in their eyes. They’re like two dogs in heat.”

  “Lindsey! That’s your mother you’re talking about!”

  Lindsey immediately regretted her choice of words.

  But she didn’t regret getting it off her chest.

  “Aunt Karen, my mom is cheating on my dad. With a murderer.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “As I said, I’ve seen the way they look at each other. They disappear together and come back and their faces are all flushed. And they’re… well, they’re almost giddy.

  “Look, I wish I was wrong. Boy, do I ever wish I was wrong. But I’m not. Have you seen them together? Can you honestly tell me I’m seeing things?”

  Karen thought hard.

  “I’m sorry, honey. I honestly can’t think of a single time I’ve seen them together lately.”

  “Uh huh…”

  “Uh huh what, exactly?”

  “When’s the last time you saw Mom and Manson together?”

  “Um… yesterday, when he was chewing her out for not doing the cooking to hi
s liking.”

  “How about Mom and Santos?”

  “This morning, when they went to the back together.”

  “And her and Taylor?”

  “This morning at breakfast.

  “My God, Lindsey. Are you implying she’s intentionally keeping her distance from Parker when I’m around so I won’t see a spark between them?”

  “That’s exactly what I’m implying. Look, this bunker is a very small place. She’s spending a considerable amount of time with Parker every day. And yet you haven’t seen them together.

  “It’s not a coincidence. It’s because you’re her sister. You probably know her better than anyone else on earth.

  “And because she’s trying desperately to keep a secret from you.”

  “Let me talk to her, Lind. I hope you’re wrong. But one way or the other I’ll get to the bottom of this.”

  “How?”

  “I’ll ask her. She’s never been able to lie to me, not even as a young girl. Her eye twitches and she looks away out of shame. She’s always been that way.”

  Chapter 9

  “Bold Eagle, can I ask you a question?”

  “Yes.”

  “What was your other name? Before you gave yourself the name Bold Eagle, I mean?”

  The Indian turned his head and eyed Dave warily.

  “Why?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. I was just curious. I’ve been trying to picture you as an accountant, wearing thick black glasses and slaving away over a calculator in a cubicle somewhere. Behind a nameplate that says Leonard Weisenhousen.”

  Bold Eagle grinned.

  “Leonard Weisenhousen, huh?”

  “Yep. Lenny for short.”

  “Do you know how I picture you, white man?”

  “No. How?”

  “I picture you kissing the pavement with my boot on your throat in about ten seconds.”

  “Wow. Are all Indians as touchy as you?”

  “Yeah, pretty much.”

  “So what was your name if it wasn’t Lenny?”

  “It doesn’t matter. Not anymore.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because that world is gone forever.”

  “Seems to me it’s changed a bit. Maybe gotten more dangerous. But that it’s fundamentally the same.”