Chapter 202

“We believed we were safe. That was the big fantasy.”
—John Marsden, Tomorrow, When the War Began

FRIDAY WAS A SCREAM and Cindy was exhausted. We couldn’t all get between her legs at once, but as soon as we woke up in the morning, she lay back on me to look at herself in the mirror as I thrust up into her and Donna slipped between her legs to lick us both to orgasm. I slipped out of her and Sophie dove in to clean her up and drive her to another orgasm while Brittany rode her face. We did give her a chance to eat, shower, and take care of morning necessities, but our newly minted seventeen-year-old was thankful to see her parents arrive just to get a break from the screaming orgasms.

And, of course, Betty and Mark didn’t have a clue what was going on when Cindy looked at Desi approaching and immediately crossed her legs. Not much.

We debated about whether to go out to a fancy restaurant for dinner and decided to break in the new grill in the back yard instead. I grilled chicken and a variety of summer vegetables. Beca made deviled eggs. Donna had found a fresh market and brought home enough garden vegetables that we could have lived off the farmer’s salad for a week. And Joan and Em teamed up to bake pies and a birthday cake. By the time we were ready to serve, Livy had arrived from Blacksburg and Rachel and Remas got home from work.

We were eating at a picnic table in the back yard when my stomach rebelled. I excused myself and ran in the house, barely making it to the lower level half bath before I upchucked what I’d eaten. The sudden stomach upset left me dizzy and a little disoriented. I wobbled out of the bathroom and Donna led me up to my room to get cleaned up. I never did return to the party. It was the opening salvo of a weekend of stomach flu that kept me in bed or the bathroom for two days.

“The test was interesting,” Brittany said as she sat beside my bed. “I was wondering what kind of aptitude would show that I was a dancer. I could see a lot of the logic in the questions, though. I just did like Ray taught us and answered the questions from the perspective of dance. Eventually, the questions all seemed to revolve around spatial relationships and rhythms.”

Brittany and Cindy had gone to the Capital Testing Center Saturday morning to take their tests. They wouldn’t get a letter when they turned eighteen as both were volunteering for service Monday. But they still needed the NSAT before they could sign up. None of my wives got too close to me except Nanette. She was the only one in the family not headed for either the induction center or a job in the OCS Monday morning. I wasn’t sure Sunday if I was even going to make it to the induction center to sign in Monday. It seemed that once the vomiting stopped, the diarrhea set in. I didn’t leave my bedroom or bathroom all weekend.

Nanette took care of me. Everyone else was concerned for my health and excited about the start of service in equal measure. Rachel called Jo to see what would happen if I couldn’t make it to the induction center Monday morning. She didn’t seem to be too concerned about me starting a day late if necessary. She said everything was set and not to worry about things.

“Are you sure about this, Jacob?” Beca asked. “You know we could just all wait until tomorrow to go in. I don’t think there’s a penalty for starting service on Tuesday instead of Monday.”

“I’m okay now,” I said. Only a little lie. I’d been pounding down fluids one after another to try to rehydrate. My legs were still weak and I ran out of breath easily. But physically, I wasn’t feeling like I’d be unable to sign my name and start camp. Rachel said induction day had all been transportation, lodging, and orientation. Emily had been on a bus for two days getting to her basic camp in Minnesota. I’d be fine.

We got to the induction center a few minutes after eight and had to stand in line. The scene was familiar. We’d all packed our regulation duffle bags with phones stowed. In addition, Cindy and I carried our instrument cases according to the instructions we’d been given. I was taking just my Cordoba Reyes Flamenco guitar. I didn’t want to carry the Velazquez but also wanted a good guitar for music rehearsals and not my cheap practice guitar. Things were supposed to be secure at the camp.

The longer we stood in line, the more antsy I got. My stomach was rebelling against the light breakfast I’d eaten and I could feel my butt cheeks clench. I needed the bathroom. The girls were all ahead of me and when I reached the desk, I hurriedly signed my paper, including the Pledge of Allegiance.

“Go on ahead! I’ll catch up,” I yelled to my wives standing at the door. I ran to the bathroom with my case and duffle in hand. I dropped them next to the stall and stripped down my trousers before my bowels let loose like a firehose. I started to get up, but another bout overwhelmed me and I sat again, wiping and flushing periodically. The next time I stood up, I barely got turned around before I threw up the remains of what was in my stomach.

“Whoa, Dude! You’re a mess,” a guy who came into the restroom said.

“Sick. Stomach,” I managed. I really thought I was going to be okay when we left the house this morning.

“Let’s get you cleaned up. Your clothes are soaked through with sweat. Derek! Grab a jumpsuit for our buddy here. Rick, run a sink full of warm water. Open that dispenser and get out all the paper towels,” my new assistant said. “Let’s get these sticky clothes off you, buddy. I’m Paul.”

“Jacob. Thanks.”

“We National Service guys gotta stick together, Jake. Help each other out. Here, step into these. They’re clean and dry. And if you soak through them, they dry quickly. Wipe down.” I managed to get the sweat wiped off of me. The water felt good. I pulled the jumpsuit up, wondering whose it was. I hoped we were going to the same camp so I could replace it. I dipped my face in the water but my breath was short and coming in gasps. Paul held a bottle to my lips and I took a long drink. Hoped I could keep this down. I bent to pick up my guitar and duffle so I could catch up with the girls and just kept falling forward. I wasn’t sure what happened next. I don’t remember hitting the floor.

I woke up on the bus, a cool damp cloth over my forehead. I felt gentle fingers stroking my face and was thankful for every one of my wives, no matter which one was soothing me now. We were moving at a pretty good clip on the highway and I dared to let my eyes creep open.

I couldn’t see much. It was one of those small buses like we’d rented for our first trip to DC when Cindy and I auditioned last year. What a year. At least I didn’t feel like I was going to throw up again.

“Feeling better?” a voice beside me asked. It was definitely a woman but I didn’t recognize her. I turned slightly to look into the dark brown eyes of a young black woman, dressed like I was in a green jumpsuit.

“Who? What? My stomach is better, but who are you?”

“Good. We managed to get you to swallow a Zofran and keep it down. Those things are killer against nausea. We’ll hit you with it again later to make sure you’re stable. I’m Dana.”

“Jacob.”

“Just close your eyes and rest, Jake. We’ve got a long ride ahead of us.”

“A long ride?” Something didn’t make sense. “Where are my wives? Where are we going?”

“Training. What wives?”

“I’m supposed to be at a training camp in DC for musicians.”

“You’ve got to be kidding, right? You’re with us. Ours was the only bus left at the center when we got you out of there. If there hadn’t been so many of us helping you, they’d have left without us. Just lie back and relax.”

“But I’m not supposed to be here,” I said struggling to get up. Nope. Not gonna happen. My legs were still too weak to stand. “I have to get back to my base.”

“Hey, Jake, take it easy buddy.” The speaker this time was Paul who had been so helpful in the bathroom. “You’re definitely where you’re supposed to be. We checked your packet. This is your bus assignment.”

My bus assignment in my packet was not the same as the one my wives were on? Seriously? Those goddamn fuckers. After all the work we did and all the promises they made, they were sending me someplace other than the music camp with my wives? And what about them? Did they all get split up and sent different places. FUCK!

I was hyperventilating and my vision blurred. I wanted to scream but my mouth was suddenly too dry to make a noise. Paul encouraged me to drink from the water bottle again and it felt good. I started drifting back toward sleep. This was a nightmare. Everyone was pressing in around me. I was suffocating. The pressure was too intense. I was going to die.

EMILY!

The next time I woke up and knew it, it was almost dark. My head was pillowed against Dana’s generous and soft boobs. I shouldn’t be here.

My head was still fuzzy and things didn’t make sense. Wherever I was, I’d been betrayed and sent away from all the promises that were made. For all I knew this bus was headed straight for one of the agricultural fields. Or, judging by the mountains and twisting road, maybe to a mine.

Well, fuck them! I’d endure. I’d call my wives and assure them I was okay and make sure they were. And then I’d endure whatever fucking program they had me on until I could launch a very noisy lawsuit against the National Service. Against the National School of the Arts. Against the Office of Civilian Service. Against the fucking President of the United States. I had a following. People paid to hear me play. They were going to be pissed.

I just needed to bide my time and look for my opportunity. It would come soon enough.

First, I needed to get my strength back. I needed food and water. I needed fresh air.

And I needed to get my head off these boobs before I started thinking something else.

We had a rest break and sandwiches were handed around. It was odd that only the driver seemed to know where we were, where we were headed, or who we were. There were twelve of us. I felt bad for Dana. It looked like she was the only woman in the group. She was sticking close to me. I flattered myself into thinking it was for protection but I knew full well she was there in case I keeled over again.