April Showers Bring Murder

April showers bring May flowers, at least that's what my brother, James, used to tell me.

Thunder bang furiously as the dirt under us got muddy. I tried to jog as the rain constantly smacked against my face. Keeping up with the others was troublesome. Then, we had to swing across the metal jungle gym, a few feet off the ground. Being only 5’7, it would be a dangerous fall. The rain caused the bars to be slippery, but we had to go through if we wanted to be called “soldiers.”

My best friend since Junior High was there with me, ahead of me. He questioned our Drill Sargent, who had made him go through the obstacle course first. “Well, since you got such an intense mouth, why don’t you go ahead and lead the way maggot,” he had shouted to him. Shut your mouth, Zach, I had brooded to myself.

He climbed the ladder that led to the deadly bar, looked back and grasped the first bar with his left hand. While reaching for the second bar with his right hand, he had slipped a bit. “Quitting already girly?” exclaimed Sargent Faegan. Ignoring him, Zach kept going and was close to the end, with two other cadets following behind him. The rain continued to downpour, the thunder trembled... then lightning struck—scaring Zach shitless. He slipped and fell all the way into the dirt. He laid there, unmoving. “This is Afghanistan! You’ll have to jump out of a ten-foot-high building to avoid being shot by local militia… but you can’t even survive an five-foot fall with nothing holding you down and no one shooting at you? RETREAT!” screamed Sargent.

I felt guilty for Zach, I really did. I make it pass the bars of death and jump down to help him. Thank god, he only sprang his ankle and nothing more. I prop him up against the sand bags and continue with the obstacle course. Sarge screamed more obscenities at Zack, and I could tell he was getting under Zack’s skin.

That wouldn’t be the end of the abuse…

The next day at breakfast, Zack limped his way to our table. He should be resting, I thought. Sargent marched into the cafeteria, smiling and buttoning his pants. Zach sat next to me and began eating his muffin, without saying a word. I just gazed at him, hoping he’d say something to let me know he’s alright. He simply ate his muffin, without even blinking.

“Are you okay, man?” I finally asked. “You’re never this quiet.”

Long pause. “Uh, yeah… I’m great. Just fine. Never better… I could use another muffin”

“Do not bullshit me. Tell me what the hell is going on!” The bell had rang, and he was the first to get up.

I heard Sargent’s impish chuckle and watched everybody leave before I got up. I was so confused. Is Sargent acting this way to Zach because Zach’s gay? What happened to ‘Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell?’… Or does Sarge even know, and he’s just picking on Zack just because? I get ready for our training and notice Zach standing outside the bathroom. He appeared nervous, so I told him to stroll with me to the field. Relieved, he agreed. It was an awkward walk, as he said nothing… he simply sighed. We ran five miles together, in silence. We performed push-ups, sit-ups, pull-ups and jump jacks together... in silence.

Five minutes before we’re done, Sargent calls out Zach and makes him do 200 push-ups, and we can’t leave until he’s done. We all sigh and he extends it to 300. I want to speak up, but I do not wanna make it any worse for Zach. He easily clears it to 120, which I guess was too easy for Sarge because he began to put his foot on Zach’s back to make it harder for him to lift his body up. It was 0324 when we were finally allowed to leave, and we’d only have three hours to sleep.

Back on my bed, there was a letter from James. I was thrilled to hear from him. He’s been in the army for seven years now. He told me to take each day slowly, and boot camp only gets easier.

That was a lie.

The next two days went smoothly, however, as Sarge must leave for an emergency. But his return was anything but pleasant. Especially for Zach.

Sargent had made up the run for thirty miles; for Zach it was forty-five. He made us hold a pull-up for thirty minutes, but for Zach it would range from forty minutes to an hour. If Zach couldn’t hold on, Sarge would not allow him to sleep. Sarge was Hera and Zach was Hercules; he’d constantly torture Zach, simply because he could.

Each morning I’d noticed Sarge walk into the cafeteria with a grin on his face shortly after Zach would come in. The boy I had once known to be always laughing and blissful was no longer present. He’d constantly complain, sigh, and have trouble eating. He wouldn’t laugh at the jokes being made. He avoided me at all costs.

One morning, Sargent said towards Zach, “You’re always gonna be on the bottom… No matter how much you want to be on TOP. You can’t have it the way I know you want it, girl.” Zach held his head down and clenched his fists. Think before you do anything buddy, I thought. Zach stood up and shouted at Sarge, “I WANT YOU TO STOP. I DO NOT LIKE IT AND I DAMN SURE DON’T WANT IT!” And he stormed out the cafeteria.

Sarge said to the rest of us, calmly (which was unnerving), “Drills are cancelled today. Please return to the barracks for the rest of the day.” He then left, probably looking for Zach. I was furious but I honestly did not know what I could do.

Zach didn’t return to the bunks at all that night, which worried the hell out of me. A group of us decided to look for him. We separated, and I went straight for Sargent’s office. Nothing.

Afterwards, I went over to his apartment. The door was unlocked and I crept inside. I heard a banging noise upstairs and wandered upstairs. The banging got louder and I heard a bunch of screams… It sounded like Zach. I then raced up the stairs, and busted open the door. Zach laid there, naked, with a bunch of bruises on his face, a huge mark around his neck, and the Sarge just pulled up his pants and laughed. I charged at him and punched him, the adrenaline causing me to be much stronger than I was. He was on the floor and unconscious, yet I wasn’t finished. Zach, frightened, motioned to the nightstand where I found a 9 mm.

— ♦ —

And that, officer, is why I had to murder my Drill Sargent Jack Faegan.