The Redemption of Michael Hollister: A Middle Falls Time Travel Novel by Shawn Inmon

Author:Shawn Inmon [Inmon, Shawn]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: redemption, Science Fiction, Time Travel
Publisher: Pertime Publishing
Published: 2017-10-08T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirty

One week into the new school year, the first Turtle wet his bed. His name was Will Summers, and he didn’t broadcast it. He did everything to he could to cover it up. Pusser had a sharp nose, though, and soon found the soiled sheets underneath the perfectly made blanket.

He pointed to the yellow stain and shouted, “Whose bunk is this?” even though he already knew. The boys standing around Will took an imperceptible step back. Pusser homed in on him. “Is this your bed, cadet?”

A small, miserable nod.

“Bed wetter, eh? Well, we have a solution to that here at Hartfield Academy.” In one smooth motion, he pulled the blanket and sheet off. He crumpled the messy sheet into a ball, then said, “Come here, cadet.”

Will hesitated, took one step, then hesitated again.

“Now, cadet.”

When Will was close enough, Pusser threw the balled-up sheet at him, catching him in the face. “You will carry this sheet with you, wherever you go today. I will come looking for you, and if you are not carrying it, then you will carry it with you for a week. Understood?”

Will’s eyes brimmed with tears, but he looked down, hoping no one would notice.

Dominick pushed forward from the back of the barrack. “Lieutenant Pusser, sir, is that really necessary? No one would do this,” he pointed to the sheet in Will’s hands, “on purpose, and humiliating him doesn’t do any good.”

Dominick braced for an explosion. He was the strongest and fastest Turtle, but standing a few feet away from Pusser, the differences were obvious. He was a child. Pusser was a boy in maturity, but a boy in a man’s body.

Pusser didn’t explode, though. Instead, he smiled broadly, which showed an extra tooth that had grown in over his right canine. He strolled up to Dominick, stood six inches away from him and spoke down into the top of his head. “Davidner, right?”

Dominick nodded into Pusser’s breastbone.

Pusser laid a hand casually on Dominick’s shoulder. “Where’s your bunk, Davidner?”

Staring straightforward, Dominick pointed toward the back of the barrack.

“Top or bottom?”

“Top.”

“Excellent.” Pusser snap-turned and strode to the back of the barrack, where he removed Dominick’s sheet and blanket, again in one smooth pull. He dropped them on the concrete floor, unzipped his uniform pants, and urinated a steady stream on them. He sighed, a small “Ahh,” of pleasure, then replaced the soggy blanket on the top bunk, wadded the sheet up and walked back until he was standing directly in front of Dominick again. He pushed the sheet against Dominick’s chest hard enough to make him take a step and a half back.

“Same rule for you. If I catch you without your sheet, you’ll carry it for a week. I know, I know, you all think I’m an asshole because I make you do this, but this is the way it’s been at Hartfield since the beginning. Hartfield turns boys into men, and men do not piss in their beds. Now. Anybody else got an opinion about this?”

Goddamn, I hate bullies.

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