ACKNOWLEDGEMENT - TWWW PART 3

"The nine most terrifying words in the English language are, I’m from the government
and I’m here to help”. – Ronald Reagan


Trouble tends to come when you think you’re almost done. He was 3rd from the last in line. A young man; 18 years old and very handsome. He had dark hair filled with freshly shorn curls and piercing brown eyes. Stacey looked back at stationary Charlie; “73624”. He repeated, “73624, Xavier Dicastro”

“You’re Xavier Dicastro?” she asked while loading the needle; so consumed with what she was doing, she never looked up. “Yes”, Xavier said calmly searching his surroundings. Stacey checked the forms he handed her, asking questions which were confirmed. She reached for his right hand and he instead grabbed her. “And you are?” he said, tucking his head to catch her until she was forced to look up. “Excuse me”, she said.

“My name is Xavier Dicastro, What’s yours?” “Your english accent is perfect”, Stacey remarked. It caused her to look at him more closely. “I watch a lot of American movies, especially the gangster ones. I like this old one by Quentin Tarentino called Reservoir Dogs. Have you heard of it?” he said.

By this time bouncing Bob had the nozzle of his semi buried somewhere in Xavier’s shoulder blade. Stacey couldn’t help but think what a good call it was to have given Bouncing Bob the downer, otherwise Xavier would have been minus a left shoulder. “Stand down young man,” Bouncing Bob said with unexpected authority. ‘Young man,’ Stacey mused to herself. Bouncing Bob didn’t seem much older than Xavier.

“Yes…I’ve seen it. It’s a classic.” She lied. She hadn’t seen it. Her husband liked it. As a matter of fact, she believed it was part of the home viewing collection buried somewhere between her unopened exercise DVD’s and romantic comedy’s. The other soldiers were coming around and they too had their nozzles aimed at various places on Xavier’s body. Yet, he didn’t seem phased. His eyes never left Stacey’s and he was still holding onto her wrist. “It’s alright”, she said to the soldiers. “It’s ok,” she said this time to Xavier, “It’s just an immunization shot.” She held up the piercing gun. “See, it’s just a shot”.

“I see” he said. “It’s to protect me from any diseases I might pick up from you white people.”

“Exactly”, she answered, trying to offer up a smile.


Xavier laughed and he released her wrist. He willingly extended his right hand to her. “Ok, Dr. Pensky,” he said looking at her name tag. She motioned again for the soldiers to step back. Bouncing Bob withdrew his weapon, but he was still on guard. “What’s up man?” Xavier asked him. The only time he acknowledged anyone other than Stacey. The automatic needle went in, then out, leaving behind the chip. She checked his other vitals. His eyes still on hers. She was oddly flattered. The blood flushed her cheeks and she could feel her antiperspirant losing its effectiveness. She hoped these feelings were not as efferent to those around her. She checked his pulse, waiting for it to stop. It did. 1-2-3-4-5-6, reset. “You’re fine.”

“Thank you…and so are you”.

She giggled. Corny – perhaps. Improper – most definitely. But flattered – oh yes.

“73624” confirmed by stationary Charlie. 73624 – confirmed. Stacey watched as he walked to the final holding room, where all the test subjects waited until the last one was implanted.

Stacey called to the two guards watching the line, “Did he drink any water?”

“No. He wouldn’t drink anything. We were passing out cups of water and he wouldn’t take it.”

“Why didn’t you give out the bottled water? It has the drug lucid already in it. It makes them a little docile but still coherent.

“Oh…wow. We thought the bottled water was for us. One of the soldiers remarked.

Stacey paused before asking the next question, “Have you been drinking the bottled water yourselves?”

The two Charlie’s twiddle dee’d and twiddle dumb’d looks to each other. No answer was needed. “Who are you guys?” Stacey asked, “You should know this.” Twiddle Dee spoke up, “Well, I’m Lucas…”

“No names Charlie! What’s wrong with you?” she said trying to keep her voice down.

Twiddle Dumb replied, “We just got back from a mission. We were…”

“Don’t tell me about the mission. Don’t tell me anything.” The soldiers stood shoulder to shoulder like chastised siblings. “How much of the water did you drink?”

“A couple of 8oz bottles…each,” Twiddle Dumb answered.

“I’ll have to talk to your superior. Please, each of you get a sandwich and come and find me after you have eaten. I’ll you each an adrenaline shot.”

“Yes, ma’am” they both answered. There goes that, “ma’am again”, she thought to herself.

There were no names, but on the shoulders of the black uniforms were various stripes and bell and whistles indicating rank. Stacey searched for an officer in charge and one was searching for her as well. Before she could get out her first word, “Dr. Pensky?” he said. Stacey was startled. He was much taller than the young officers and from the stripes on his shoulders; he was the officer in charge.

“Dr. Fritz said you could help me. There are two field casualties that need to be processed before cremation.”

“Dr. Fritz usually handles those cases,” Stacey said, “Why would he send you to me?”

The officer moved a little closer, practically casting a shadow over her. “He’s in the middle of something right now”. Stacey moved her head back as if looking for the light he’d just taken from her. She caught the eye of Dr. Fritz. He looked frazzled. She thought they all did, but at least Dr. Fritz still had a head full of hair - full and dirty blond with flecks of grey. Sensing her question, he walked over and gently placed his hand on her shoulder. “Stacey, I hate to do this to you; I know you don’t like doing these but I can’t do it right now and as the senior Dr….” There was no need for him to finish his sentence. She offered, “…And you’ll make it up to me.” He smiled a thank you and walked off. She wasn’t expecting it to come around so fast. “Alright then,” she conceded.

The soldier walked ahead of her, out of the big tent they were in, to the outside. They walked past one tent then another. The flood lights illuminated them until they looked florescent. Stacey had never been this far into the base; her rank wasn’t high enough for her to go without the proper escort. And she was not a curious sort so she never ventured on her own. She heard stories of what went on in some of these tents. Not all subjects took well to the chip; there were still some bugs to be worked out, thus the 1 to 2 hour wait after implantation. Once you made it to the base there was no going home. You either went on to the U.S. or you were disposed of. Upon receiving the assignment, Stacey and the other medical staff were told if they were ever escorted into the restricted area, it was in their best interest to look straight ahead and not to ask questions.

“Don’t look around”, Stacey reminded herself. She needed to focus on something so she looked at the back of the officer’s black boots and how they kicked up dirt and bits of rock with each step, landing on the tips of her white nursing shoes.


They stopped at the last tent. The officer held open the door flap to let her in. The fluorescent lights were attached to the top of the A-frame that held the tent up. Stacey could feel the beginning of a headache caused by the constant flicker of the lights. She followed him down a row in the middle marked by gurneys on either side. Through the corner of her eye she saw, some gurney’s had bodies in black plastic bags, while were simply dressed in white sheets. The silence told her nothing was alive here. The curiosity she fought hard to suppress during her assignment here, tried to take hold… “Don’t look Stacey,” she told herself.

All the way in the back were two gurneys, two bodies. She began sanitizing her hands and putting the gloves on, careful not to snag her wedding ring. She then took the equipment she might need out of the hermetically sealed packaging and putting it on a tray.

“I preferred you anyway”, the officer said. You served time…in middle-east right? He must have read her file. Stacey tried to hide her irritation. “Where exactly did you serve?” he asked. “Lebanon during the first occupation, but you read my file so you knew that.”

“I’m sorry,” he offered. “I shouldn’t have mentioned that. I sometimes forget how to relate to people one on one. And your file is sealed on some of the details…” Stacey continued to get the equipment together. She checked to see if the scalpels were sharp enough – she hoped they would not be necessary. “…and you were hoping I would fill in some of the blanks. Just between veterans.” “Yes ma’am, just between veterans.” She smiled.

I was stationed along the Israel-Lebanon border. We were working on rebuilding the roads to Southern Lebanon, the sections destroyed by previous wars and conflicts with Hezbollah. My assignment was as a guard on the convoys; taking people, supplies and such. I had been there for about 8 months. There were the usual shootings, some ambushes the locals put together. Nothing we couldn’t handle. The UN was gearing towards dividing all the countries into unions so they needed to have US occupation in the more troubled countries. Naturally there was resistance; we were there indefinitely.

Engineers swept the road, we had our sandbags lining the bottom of our trucks; we were ready. There were 5 of us, I was the 3rd vehicle. Suddenly we start getting hit with short range missiles. They hit the first car, than the last and were working their way in. There were 5 other soldiers in the truck with me. My post was to sit in the back along with another private and guard the rear. There was so much smoke and fire; we were struggling to keep our visuals so we could see our targets. The guy aiming his missile at our truck, fired a dud. It was our dumb luck. At first the launcher jammed; then the missile shot out, but only a few feet. We started firing at the missile. It blew up killing 3 or 4 of the insurgents. We were all firing, and the smoke was starting to clear a little. I remember sitting back there and looking at the driver in the 4th truck behind us. His truck had been hit; I could hear the rounds in their firearms popping as the vehicle was covered in flames. The other soldiers must have been dead but the driver…he was burning, the same as the truck – every part of him. He looked at me at least I felt like he was looking at me. There was nothing anybody could do, he was as good a dead. I don’t know how he still had his hands gripping the steering wheel. I could hear him screaming. With all the chaos going on around me, I could hear him screaming – Private Joseph McNair was his name. It seemed like he was screaming forever. I shot him. Everybody else in my vehicle was shooting at the insurgents, who were surrounding us, but I shot Private McNair. Nobody deserves to be in that kind of pain.” Her voice softened for a moment. She hadn’t thought about it for a long time, but now it was so vivid.

Our vehicle operator froze. We were yelling at him to go, the gunner was firing rounds up top, me and another private were trying to hold down the rear and somebody was trying to radio for help. We kept yelling ‘GET US OUTTA HERE!’ He wouldn’t budge. Thank goodness we had bullet protected glass, but it only does so much. There was an air patrol doing drills nearby. It seemed like a long time, but they said it only took them 5 minutes from the time they got the may-day. It turned out to be a good thing…a very good thing our driver froze. There was so much going on, the insurgents had a chance to put an IED underneath the front passenger side wheel. The operator must’ve let truck roll back for a second before he realized he couldn’t back us out. We stopped on top of it. If the vehicle had moved a millimeter in either direction, we would have gone up too. The driver actually got a medal. Can you believe that?

I went on to office duty for the next 3 months due to stress and I decided to go to medical school on the government’s dime which meant re-enlisting for 3 years in exchange. I studied phlebotomy and came back to work in the bio-weapons division. So here we are, 10 years later, and I’m still here. That’s my story.” She felt he wanted to know more, at least his eyes revealed he did. He took off his head covering. He looked as she imagined; skin weathered from the sun and probably making him look a lot older than he was; a nice strong jaw line and those steely blue eyes which looked very out of place here. “Thank you”, she said. “Ok, let’s begin. Ladies first.”

Stacey took a deep breath and lifted the cover off of the woman. She was on her back in the fetal position. It hadn’t been long enough for rigor mortis to set in, but the woman’s body had already stiffened in position. Stacey could see clearly from the old woman’s hands, she suffered from one of the worse cases of rheumatoid arthritis she had seen. All of her joints were affected. Grossly disfigured, her hands were twice the size they should have been for her bone structure and height, and twisted with one finger crossed over the other like a tree branch. The old woman’s limbs reminded Stacey of the coral reefs she touched when she was on her honeymoon in Hawaii. Her shoulders were hunched over and the vertebrae along the spine of her back protruded like knots in a rope. She couldn’t even lay out flat on the gurney. This woman must have been in excruciating pain, Stacey thought to herself. The bullet in her head probably brought a much needed relief all the pain medication she must have been taking couldn’t,

Stacey picked up the pocket computer from the tray, running her right hand over the scanner located near the bottom, to activate it.

“Function?” it asked in a female simulated voice.
“Record” Stacey replied.
“File path”
“Trial 79/ Inception/ Medical Ops/ Autopsy /disclosure”
“Date and time noted”
“I am Dr. Stacey Pensky. This autopsy is by order of Captain Lewis Driver, present.” She held the speaker out towards him.
“Captain Lewis Driver, present,” he said.
“There are two bodies. Body number 1 is female. In her 70’s, 5 feet, 2 inches, weight around 150-155. Subject suffered from severe arthritis; however death resulted from bullet in left side of head, no exit. Subject was unacceptable for project. Exact time of death, not relevant. To be cremated. End.”
Stacey covered the old woman and moved on to body number 2. “Male, mid thirties, medium build, 5 feet 8 inches, around 170 pounds. Pause” Stacey walked around the body. She could tell the soldiers had a little fun with him. Captain Driver’s head went down the moment she looked up.

“There’s a bullet in the forepart of his right foot between the 2nd and 3rd metatarsal bones”, Stacey said examining the wound. “Entry at top, exit…please tell me you retrieved the bullet.” The captain pulled out a plastic bag with filled with earth and a bullet. “It was whole,” he said.

This wound would not have been annoying and painful at best, but not fatal. After unbuttoning his shirt, she could see there were bruises on his ribs and his nose was busted. The blood had settled around his nostril and around his mouth. His fingers on his left hand were broken as well as his right eye socket. She saw there were signs of internal bleeding around his mid section; probably from the 3 broken ribs puncturing his internal organs. ‘But still this wasn’t fatal’, she thought to herself. “Ahhhh, here it is…a bullet wound to the left temple, no exit. “That’ll kill you.” Stacey picked up the recorder. She only mentioned the bullet and said the cause was brought on by the subject’s unwillingness to comply. The captain thanked her and put his head covering back on.

“Captain Driver. I’m not judging you; believe me I’m in no position to do so. But we’re with the government, we’re professionals and we have a job to do. This type of excess is not necessary.

“Yes ma’am. I apologize on behalf of my men. Some of them are a little green and quite frankly I don’t believe they should be serving in this particular sector, but I have no say so. Just between you and me ma’am, there are many things I’m questioning these days.” Stacey smiled and nodded. She too was questioning many things. She wasn’t clear on who the enemy was anymore. Over the years, the lines once defined, were now blurred if they existed at all.

On the walk back to the reception tent, this time, Stacey didn’t look at the back of the captain’s shoes or his head or any other focus point. She walked with her head up and boldly looking to the right and left, taking in everything there was to see. During her time serving in The People’s Army, she saw horrible things and participated in many of them. Stacey wiped away the hair from her forehead, tucking it neatly behind her left ear. A few strands stayed entwined between her fingers; she shook them gently to the ground. She took part in the original testing, utilizing her government paid education. It was supposed to be germ warfare against the enemy, but the women and children she tested on could not have been the enemy. She was the enemy come in a nice crisp uniform and pearly white smile, saying “I with the government…I’m here to help.”

Yes, Stacey looked around, because she knew one day the time would come for her to atone for her sins, and she wanted to be able to recount them…one by one.