Blown for Good - Marc Morgan Headley [61]
“I am out of here!” I got up as if to walk out and was grabbed by a security guard.
“No, you have to do the routing form in order to leave. You can’t just get up and walk out of here. You have to do it properly, per Hubbard policy,” the guard said. “Meanwhile, you are restricted to the base.”
The guard’s name was Jackson. He was actually the Security Chief. He told me to go to the Grounds Department and tell them I needed to be put to work while they sorted out what they were going to do with me.
I went to Grounds. A guy gave me a broom and told me to sweep up leaves on all the roads. I happily took the broom and swept leaves. My mind was reeling. All I could think about was how much I wanted to get the hell out of this place. I would go back to LA and get a job somewhere. Anything would be better than this. I would go live with my mom or even move to Nebraska and live with my dad, I didn’t care. Anything and anywhere would be better than this hellhole.
No one bothered me for the rest of the day. I swept leaves and at the end of the night I went to the main booth and asked where I was supposed to go. The guard slid the little window on the side of the booth open so I could talk to him.
“Where do I sleep?” I asked.
“Old Gilman’s House is packed. When you find a place, just tell us where it is so we know,” the guard said and slid the window closed before I could ask him anything else. I stood there looking in the booth as if to get him to open the window again. He just looked forward and pretended I wasn’t there. The guard’s name was Danny Dunagin. Danny was rude and came across like he did not care about you at all, this might have had something to do with the fact that he didn’t. I had only talked to him a few times before and every time, I got the impression that he was put here on earth to make enemies. He also walked like he had something stuck up in his backside and it just added to his whole persona.
I wandered around the base for about an hour before I came across a small camping trailer. It was maybe 10 feet long. It had a small table in it that was set up for auditing and had a small bench in the back that could be folded out into a bed. It stank like mildew and vitamins but after looking for a while, I realized that I was not going to find anything better.
I made my way back over to the main booth. Danny slid the window open.
“What?” he said as though I was taking him away from his important job of watching cars drive by.
“I found a small trailer by Old Gilman’s House that is empty, I’m going to sleep there,” I said sort of questioning if it was okay.
“Whatever.” Danny slid the window closed.
I don’t think he cared at all. As I walked back to the trailer I wondered if I even should have told him. He would probably tell somebody that I was here now and have me kicked out.
In the morning I woke up and headed over to the muster site. I lined up with the Hubbard Communications Office staff instead of with tapes. As soon as muster was over, I walked off and went back over to the garage and grabbed a broom. I went right back to sweeping leaves. No one bothered me and I did not have to report to anybody. I was just taking a break as far as I was concerned.
Good thing I was working outside all day, because I had not had a shower and was pretty ripe from working the whole day before and sleeping in my clothes at night. I didn’t shave that morning either. No one cared anyway. I had decided that I would do whatever I wanted until I got out of this place. No more rules. No more doing what I was told. I would just live by my own rules and get the hell out of here as fast as possible.
Jackson drove by on his security motorcycle and asked me if I still wanted to leave.
“As long as I am getting declared or sent to the Rehabilitation Project Force, I