Recovery

Joey's dream continues as he makes a horrifying discovery about Mr. Bouchard's past

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Discovery

In his dream I could see the sailors all masturbating on the rocks. Most of them were ignoring each other, but he was watching everyone just like I was. Not so much because he wanted to see them, but because he wanted them to watch him. He kept glancing toward me and I could see myself through his eyes. I was trying to be inconspicuous, but he could tell that I was getting off on watching the guys in front of me rather than relying on memories of pin up girls and one night stands, like everyone else.

From his perspective I could see movement behind me. The Sargent was approaching to bring us back to the ship, but he looked particularly pissed off. Who knows why, but as he began to shout and nudge the others to get up and stop jerking off, I saw him notice me. A vicious grin crossed his face as he moved swiftly up behind me. I didn't notice his approach, and was caught off guard as his boot made contact with my back and roughly kicked me onto the rocks in front of me. I didn't move for a few moments as he stood over me and shouted. It appeared that I had hit my head against one of the rocks and had been knocked out.

After a moment I saw myself start to stir and the yelling began again. Almost at once he reached down and picked me up like I was a rag doll. He showed my bare ass to everyone and laughed cruelly as he slapped it and roughly forced a finger inside. All at once the sky turned red, and all I could think of was revenge. I found myself, along with all the other men, charging the Sargent.

At first he smiled with a wicked glee, and it was clear that he thought we were all going to join him in raping me. But as the first men reached him, his glee turned to shock. He was quickly overpowered and forced to drop me. I caught a quick glimpse of a couple of my shipmates helping me up, but my focus was on the Sargent. One of us had found a hidden cave system earlier in the day, and without hesitation we all carried our prisoner off to its depths.

In the initial struggle, the Sargent's uniform had been torn by the rough hands of the sailors, and once in the cave, most of the rest of it was ripped from his body, exposing his muscular, but vulnerable torso. He was quickly tied, and gagged, and everyone took turns beating and kicking him. He was unable to speak or even scream, and the look of terror in his eyes was clear. But not one of my shipmates showed him a shred of mercy. Soon, fingers were finding their way up his ass, then dicks and fists. By now he had been bent over a rock and his gaping ass had become the focus of their rage. Fucking him was not enough for the sailors. I could feel the need to take it further. He had to die, and he had to die in the most humiliating way possible. Some of the men went out into the jungle and found large pointed rocks and broken branches. These soon found their way into his ass, and as each ragged stick was forced into him, it tore at his insides. He struggled and tried to scream as the blood began to flow freely from this violation, but weakened by the injuries, he soon fell silent. He wasn't dead, but without medical attention he soon would be. Once he had ceased to struggle, the men kicked him a few more times, then turned and walked away. A few of them lingered at the entrance to the cave to hide it from view so he wouldn't be found. Then they calmly returned to the ship.

I couldn't believe what I had seen. I sat on the rock, in stunned silence for a long moment as my shipmate slept peacefully. Before withdrawing from his mind I reinforced that he should not remember anything but the pleasant memories, and then the questions began.

Why had the Sargent not been missed? Had everyone who participated in this horror just forgotten? Why didn't I remember? And most troubling, had my wish to see him dead had anything to do with their actions? Over the last two years I had been developing a growing awareness of my ability to influence people, but I never could have imagined...

First I needed to confirm that this was an actual memory and not just a twisted fantasy of my rather sexually perverse shipmate. From the memory I had a pretty good idea of where the cave should be, and decided to see if I could find it. It didn't take long. The opening was quite a bit more overgrown than in the memory, but it was still recognizable. I stood at the entrance as if on the edge of a cliff. Once I had entered I knew everything would change. I took a deep breath and stepped forward.

The air was cool and damp, and very little light penetrated beyond the first few feet. As I allowed my eyes to adjust I took in what I could see. The cave did not seem as big as in the memory, but it did seem that it continued back quite a ways. The floor was rough and uneven, and large rocks lay strewn all along the edges of the floor. In the back I could see a faint green light, as if a small amount of sunlight has managed to filter through all the vegetation and find a crack in the ceiling. I cautiously moved toward this light, only to find a bend in the path that made the next chamber invisible from the entrance.

I peeked around this corner, and my heart sank. On one side a large boulder was supporting the skeletal remains of a man. Many large branches were lodged in his pelvis and a pile of stones lay on the floor below. The remnants of a military uniform clung to his shoulders and pooled around his ankles. Parts of the body had been disturbed, clearly scavenged by wildlife, and no soft tissue remained. His scull had fallen to the floor and rolled a few feet away. It sat as if gazing at his body, having somehow righted itself and finding the correct angle.

A set of dog tags lay on the rock just below where his head had once attached to his body, and I wondered if I should take them and report this find. The funny thing was that I had no memory of this man. It was as if he never existed. But clearly my shipmate remembered him, and the skeleton before me was very real. No matter how horrible a human being he was, he still deserved a decent burial. My sense of duty and humanity overpowered my fear and revulsion and I gingerly picked up the dog tags, being careful to make as little disturbance as possible. Once they were safely in my pocket, I offered a silent prayer and turned to go. That's when I heard it.

A slight shuffling, as if a small animal were scurrying across the floor in the next chamber. But no other chamber was obvious. I turned toward the sound and saw a small opening in the shadows at the back of the cave. It was low, barely big enough for me to squeeze through, and I thought it would be folly to try. I knelt before it and listened, but the silence was absolute. I decided it was probably a mouse or some other tiny cave dweller, and turned to go. But no sooner had I stood up, than I saw that the scull was no longer gazing at the body on the rock, but was now facing me. I froze in terror. It had a menacing aspect to it, as if the empty eye sockets were somehow following me. I did my best to shake this feeling off, and told myself that I must have brushed up against it when I had knelt down to listen. But I could see no disturbance in the dust surrounding the scull, and could not quite shake the feeling I was being watched.

I decided it was time to leave, and bid a hasty retreat to my sleeping friend, and then the ship. I knew I would never speak to him or anyone else about this discovery, and resolved to put it behind me and try to forget it. After all, I had done nothing but have a strong emotional reaction to the possibility of being raped and brutalized. I had not even raised a hand against my attacker. I had nothing to worry about, at least that's what I told myself.


I awoke about five minutes before the alarm was to go off and had just enough time to grab a few things before heading back to the cottage.

Again, I didn't have time to process the dream if I was going to be ready for Helmut at 1:00. I filed it away, to think about later and focused on the activity in front of me. I was a little apprehensive about entering the cottage alone, but had no intuitive sense of danger, only intellectual doubts which didn't carry the same weight. If anything felt off I could always go back to Hope House for the night. But for now, I needed a shower.


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