Pvt Wilkes watched as the workers placed another stone. It took four of them to stand it up straight. Once it was set, Wilkes stood for a brief moment before turning away.
He bent his head in the cold January wind. Tightening his coat, he made his way back to the infirmary. For just a moment, he paused on the path. He fought the urge to glance back at the stones. Benick was gone, nothing would change that, but Wilkes couldn't help but feel a tinge of guilt. It was his fault that they had been trying to get inside of the shed. The shed that no one was supposed to enter.
Reaching the infirmary, he slipped inside. Wilkes made his way to room 131, Hughes' room. He opened to door slowly and stepped inside. "Hey there, buddy. They just placed Benick's marker." He sat down next to the bed and stared at Hughes. His friend lay there, not aware of anything around him. The doctors said there was little chance of him every waking up. Permanent vegetative state. That made Hughes the most fortunate of the three of them. His family was on there way to Charleston from Seattle; they were to take him home where he could live out the remainder of his days with them.
There was a loud knock on the door. Before Wilkes could get up, the door swung open and two armed guards stepped inside; the Admiral followed them into the room. "It's time, Private," he said sternly. Wilkes stood and the guards clapped handcuffs onto his wrists. They led him to room 4 where mentally ill patients were treated with electroshock therapy. The guards strapped the private into the chair. Wilkes did not resist.
"You understand why we have to do this, don't you, Wilkes?"
"Yes sir."
"We will, uh, place a marker for you. No one can know what you saw."
"Or that I existed."
"Well..."
"Is that what all of those stones are for, sir? For people like Benick and me? People who saw what was in the shed?"
"Not just in the shed, but, yes. They each represent someone who, uh, got too curious."
"Go to Hell."
"Farewell, Pvt. Wilkes."
The Admiral and the guards left the room; the heavy iron door slammed behind them. Wilkes stared at the one-way mirror in front of him. He knew the Admiral was on the other side, watching. Wilkes' last thoughts were of the shed.
Pvt Wilkes watched as the workers placed another stone. It took four of them to stand it up straight. Once it was set, Wilkes stood for a brief moment before turning away.
He bent his head in the cold January wind. Tightening his coat, he made his way back to the infirmary. For just a moment, he paused on the path. He fought the urge to glance back at the stones. Benick was gone, nothing would change that, but Wilkes couldn't help but feel a tinge of guilt. It was his fault that they had been trying to get inside of the shed. The shed that no one was supposed to enter.
Reaching the infirmary, he slipped inside. Wilkes made his way to room 131, Hughes' room. He opened to door slowly and stepped inside. "Hey there, buddy. They just placed Benick's marker." He sat down next to the bed and stared at Hughes. His friend lay there, not aware of anything around him. The doctors said there was little chance of him every waking up. Permanent vegetative state. That made Hughes the most fortunate of the three of them. His family was on there way to Charleston from Seattle; they were to take him home where he could live out the remainder of his days with them.
There was a loud knock on the door. Before Wilkes could get up, the door swung open and two armed guards stepped inside; the Admiral followed them into the room. "It's time, Private," he said sternly. Wilkes stood and the guards clapped handcuffs onto his wrists. They led him to room 4 where mentally ill patients were treated with electroshock therapy. The guards strapped the private into the chair. Wilkes did not resist.
"You understand why we have to do this, don't you, Wilkes?"
"Yes sir."
"We will, uh, place a marker for you. No one can know what you saw."
"Or that I existed."
"Well..."
"Is that what all of those stones are for, sir? For people like Benick and me? People who saw what was in the shed?"
"Not just in the shed, but, yes. They each represent someone who, uh, got too curious."
"Go to Hell."
"Farewell, Pvt. Wilkes."
The Admiral and the guards left the room; the heavy iron door slammed behind them. Wilkes stared at the one-way mirror in front of him. He knew the Admiral was on the other side, watching. Wilkes' last thoughts were of the shed.