By Sally & Pauline
A Big thank you to Helen without who’s help, this story may never have been finished.
Lee
Crane crouched down, huddled beneath the dense canopy of a thicket of trees.
His ripped and muddied Dress Blues had provided little protection from the
force of the freezing rain and he was drenched to the skin. He trembled uncontrollably as he rested against
the dead tree, trying to find a more comfortable position for his battered
body. The carrier Forrestal had been tracking a storm moving down the coast, which
was now apparently coming inland. It was
just his luck that the country was experiencing the coldest weather on record.
Hunching
forward slightly he reached in under the wet, torn clothing and, with his right
hand, clutched at the pulsing pain which snaked its way across his
stomach. Drawing his hand away, he
looked down, focusing feebly on his blood-drenched palm. And he had sustained enough injuries, in his
time, to know that he was bleeding badly. Knowing that he had absolute no means
of stemming the flow he felt a sudden surge of panic rising from somewhere deep
inside. He concentrated his weakening
efforts on forcing it away, trying to bring his rapid, shallow breathing under
control. He needed to think straight and
find the inner strength to get up and keep moving.
He
relived the moment that he'd caught himself on barbed wire as he'd scrambled
over the top of a six foot high wall.
Trapped mercilessly by its claws and with bullets hitting the wall
precariously close to him, he'd had no option other than to make a run for it
towards the cover of the trees, ripping the skin open across his left side and
stomach in the process. Fear and
adrenaline were all that had kept him on his feet as he'd made that mad dash
for freedom. How he'd managed to stay
upright and running for the past hour he would never know. His thoughts were just a murky blur as he'd
physically pushed himself on, thanking God for his fitness and drawing on the
inner reserve of strength and stamina that always served him so well.
The
bitter icy rain had continued to fall, drenching his dark curls and streaming
down his back. Clutching his arm in close across his stomach in an attempt to
stem the flow of blood, he leaned weakly back against the tree. Closing his
eyes tightly for a moment and biting back the clawing pain, his thoughts, fuzzy
and muddled with the cold and blood loss, drifted back to the events that had
brought him here.
He
had been on a mission for ONI. A mission
that had gone terribly wrong. A mission
where he had been expected to negotiate the release of an innocent man. He’d had company along; a full four-star
admiral, and a ‘friendly,’ a man from the local village, their guide to the
compound where los leales were
holding their prisoner. What had become
of the young man or the others, Lee had no idea. Everything had gone much to
plan until the jeep they were travelling in had been hijacked and forced off a
dirt track on the way to the compound.
Lee had been separated from his travelling companions, placed in a cell
and subsequently cruelly questioned until he’d managed to overpower his guards
and escape via the perimeter wall. There
had been no opportunity to rescue any of his team; he’d barely escaped with his
life.
Although
in a good deal of pain Lee couldn't help but smile slightly as he remembered
his meeting just 24 hours ago with Admiral Nelson, in his cabin aboard Seaview.
They were both happy and relaxed after a particularly tiring but
successful mapping mission, and were sharing a rare joke together, laughing
heartily and looking forward to the trip home.
Then
the call had come through for the admiral from ONI.
The Admiral's ruddy
complexion had quickly paled as he listened for no more than a minute and then quietly
replaced the receiver of the telephone. In
silence he'd poured an over-large measure of whisky into a nearby crystal
tumbler and gulped the warm comforting liquid straight down in one
swallow. His sparkling, expressive sea
blue eyes clouded over and dulled to grey and, as Lee sat studiously watching
him, with one hip familiarly perched on the corner of the admiral's desk, he
saw the tension spread across his boss' rugged features to settle firmly in his
now hunched shoulders.
Lee hadn't needed
to ask. He'd been there before. He knew from the sudden change in Nelson's demeanour
and body language as to who had been on the other end of the line. He watched Nelson physically sag and sink down
into his large black, buttoned leather chair.
An air of resignation settling across his lined features.
"Sir?" Lee softly questioned, his dark hazel eyes
never leaving Nelson's worried gaze.
"Head of ONI,"
Nelson had quietly growled, not attempting to disguise his disgust as he slowly
and deliberately ground out each of the words.
"They want me to release you for just a few days," he said,
his voice dripping with sarcasm, "so you can go off to some godforsaken
place and do them a small favor."
"And?"
Lee inquired, feeling his heart rate suddenly quicken with anticipation.
"And
Lee," Nelson almost whispered huskily, "I don't have to like it. Even if the reason is sound."
For the next few
seconds, Lee sat in awkward silence, carefully contemplating his next words,
not wishing to rile the Admiral any further.
He knew that the Admiral and Chip strongly disapproved of his little 'jaunts’
into the secret world of ONI. He also
knew that it stemmed from their care for him, even from their love for
him. He rarely came back to them without
some injury or illness, whether it be physical or physcological. He knew that
they worried about him while he was away, but his loyalty and sense of duty to
his country and his uniform far outweighed the hurt that he knew he bestowed
upon them.
"When do I
leave?" he asked, deciding to ignore the emotional issues involved and get
down to business.
"As soon as we
can get FS-1 ready. You and Kowalski can
take the flying sub to 200 miles off the coast of El Salvador, where you will
land on the Forrestal for a meeting with Admiral Bruce Walters and be briefed
before flying in-country. He's going to
call you shortly to sort out some of the finer details." He paused to pour himself another large
whisky from the bottle and continued.
"It seems that one of our aid workers has been kidnapped and
imprisoned somewhere close to the border and they want you to go down there and
negotiate his release as soon as possible."
“Why me?" Lee queried. "Surely any one of our high ranking
government officials should be going, not me.
I'm not the best trained person in the world at negotiating the release
of prisoners with hostile groups. I’ve
found it’s often easier to go in with guns blazing."
His attempt at
humor fell flat. Nelson’s eyes didn’t
change as he reached forward and withdrew a cigarette from the box which was
lying on his desk. He lit it, inhaling
deeply as he leaned back heavily in his chair and considered Lee's last
statement.
"Admiral
Walters has asked for your services personally, because, as you know, he's
familiar with your track record in the field and also... there is a personal
agenda here, Lee," he said, pausing uncomfortably. "Bruce will be going with you. The prisoner is his son, Bradley."
A long, low whistle
forced itself through Lee's pursed lips.
"Yes,
exactly," Nelson continued.
"Apparently he was down there working voluntarily, clearing up
after the recent earthquake, when he was taken by a local, let’s say, quasi-military
group. They're asking for a ransom to be
paid, no doubt to buy arms."
"Well that's
different, sir. I'll get ready
immediately."
And with that Lee
Crane had risen from his usual perched position, turned his back on the Admiral
and headed for the cabin door.
"Good luck
Lee," Nelson quietly added before Lee had disappeared from his view and
out into the corridor. "And take
care."
Lee paused
momentarily with his hand placed casually on the edge of the open door. He turned his golden eyes to meet the
Admiral's intense gaze, sent him one of his trademark dazzling smiles, winked
and replied confidently, "Will do sir," and was gone.
******
Admiral
Nelson scowled at the radio message Sparks had just handed him, and swore
silently. He left the radio shack to
join Chip Morton at the plot table.
“Mr.
Morton, Captain Crane and his party did not make the rendezvous. Lay in a course for these coordinates, all ahead
flank,” he ordered.
“Aye
aye, sir,” Morton acknowledged as he turned his attention to the charts on the
table in front of him.
Once
again Nelson marvelled at the complete attention to duty the men on Seaview exhibited. He had seen the questions in Chip’s eyes, the
unspoken alarm and concern for his friend, but right now he needed to
concentrate on putting together a search party. “Chief, assemble a search party
and have the flying sub checked out. I
want it ready to launch as soon as possible.”
“Aye,
sir.”
Nelson
watched as the control room became a hive of activity. Two technicians hurried forward and opened
the access hatch to FS1, then quickly disappeared inside. Chief Sharkey began rounded up a search
party, immediately pulling Kowalski from his Sonar station, while Patterson
took his place and Riley replaced him in turn.
“Proceeding
on course at flank,” Morton reported.
Nelson
nodded. “Who is our best combat trained
Corpsman?”
Morton
thought for a moment before answering.
“That would be Russell, he’s ex-Special Forces. Do you think that Lee is in trouble, sir?”
“I
wish I knew, Chip.” Digging into his
pants pocket, Nelson took out the key to the arms locker and walked over to
open it. “Chief,” Nelson called to
Sharkey.
“Yes,
sir!”
“Make
sure all the men are armed, and have Corpsman Russell join us.” Nelson began handing out handguns to
Sharkey. “We’ll need radios and medical
supplies. Have everything loaded aboard
the flying sub.”
Aye,
sir.” Sharkey gestured at the men
gathered around him. “You heard the Admiral, get busy.”
Turning,
Nelson found his way to the hatch blocked by the executive officer.
“Admiral
Nelson, request permission to take your place on FS-1, sir.”
The
automatic denial died on Nelson’s lips.
Next to himself, no one cared more for Lee Crane than this man standing
in front of him, standing stiffly at attention, blue eyes fixed on a spot over
Nelson’s head. “Your rationale,
Commander?”
“You’re
needed here to command and control anything we’ll need to know once we get
there, sir.”
As
much as he wanted to be the first one to greet Lee when they found him -- and
they would find him -- Nelson knew he couldn’t argue with Chip’s
reasoning. It would be better for him to
stay behind and coordinate the rescue efforts.
And, although he wouldn’t tell Morton this, he’d seen the weather
reports; this was a younger man’s quest.
“And?”
“It’s
been a while since I was asked to find Lee Crane, Admiral. I need the practice.”
“Quite
right, Mr. Morton. Permission
granted. Carry on.”
“Thank
you, sir!”
******
Hunching
forward, Lee clamped his hand hard against his stomach in an attempt to keep
the wound closed and slow the bleeding.
He sat with his head resting on his knees before gritting his teeth and
forcing himself painfully into an upright position, leaning with his back
against the tree for invaluable support.
He felt dizzy and sick as he straightened and found his feet beneath him. He knew he had to get going again. He hoped in his heart that Admiral Nelson,
his boss and more importantly his friend would come looking for him when no one
appeared at the pre-arranged rendezvous.
He also knew that his captors were not far behind. Either way, if he did not get medical help
soon, it would not matter who found him.
Giving
himself a mental shake, he forced himself to move. The usually sun baked earth had turned to
mud, unable to absorb the sheer amount of water that the storm was depositing. The noise of the rain made it impossible to
tell if anyone was following him. There
were also predators in this region that hunted at night; jaguars and mountain
lions, even alligators were all indigenous to the area. Without a weapon he was
no threat at all.
He
looked at his watch, but it was too dark to see clearly. He wondered how long he had until it started
to get light. He needed to be well away
from the compound before daybreak. As he
concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other, Lee could feel his
strength slowly draining. He needed to
replace the fluid he was losing from his injury, but despite the rain, there
was no water fit to drink. Underfoot,
conditions were deteriorating rapidly as the potholes in the road were filling
with water, and it was almost impossible to see them in the dark. Lee stumbled, almost going to his knees and
pain lanced through him. He was afraid
that he was going to pass out, he needed to rest, but he could not stop yet,
not until he’d put more distance between himself and the compound. Even now, he wished that he had been able to
do more to help the rest of his party.
Looking
back, things had happened fast. Their
jeep had been forced off the road and had ended up on its side in a ditch. The impact had stunned Lee and when he had
regained his senses, he’d found a gun pointed at his head. He’d briefly considered tackling the man, but
he was out gunned and outnumbered. Any
attempt at resistance could have resulted in all their deaths. Hauled roughly
to his feet, his hands had been tied behind his back and Lee had been forced
roughly into the back on a pickup. That
had been the last he’d seen of Admiral Walters and the rest of his party. Was Admiral Walters still alive, or had he
been killed along with his son? There
was no room left for diplomacy now. If
anyone had survived, the only way to get them out would be a full scale assault
on the compound. There was a
distinctive glow on the horizon that signalled the arrival of dawn that told
him he had to keep moving.
******
Morton
landed the flying sub in a lake that was separated from the sea by a thin strip
of sand that was probably underwater at high tide. The lake was just deep enough to hide FS-1
from anyone that should come this way. The
team quickly changed into scuba gear and packed
their supplies into waterproof bags before leaving the sub to swim ashore. The pounding rain convinced them that
changing intro dry clothes would be a waste of time. The scuba gear stayed on.
They
consulted the maps and compasses before starting out. In normal conditions the way would have been
easy, the rendezvous point only about a half mile from shore. Instead a quagmire of mud and uprooted trees
essentially hid the small trail from view.
Using the powerful infrared torch, Morton took the lead. The beam, invisible to the human eye,
illuminated the surrounding vegetation and turned it into a magical secret
world. They did not, however, have time
to appreciate the wonders of modern science, they needed to find Lee.
It
would be daylight soon, and while that would make things easier for them, it
would also make it easy for anyone that might be looking for them. The fact that Lee was overdue almost
certainly meant that something had gone wrong, and there was a possibility that
an unfriendly greeting was waiting just ahead.
More of a concern was what had happened to Lee. Morton knew that he should not let his
feelings get in the way, but he was getting tired of the strain that Lee’s
continuing work for ONI was putting not just on him, but on Admiral Nelson and
everyone involved.
“This way,” Morton ordered as he started
walking.
******
The
incessant rain had given way to warm sun. Lee was exhausted, hungry and
thirsty. He eased out of his jacket to
let the sun dry his sodden shirt; the left side was soaked with blood, but the
gashes had stopped bleeding. He knew
that he was already dehydrated from the blood loss. At least the warmth of the sun seeping
through his wet clothes made him feel a little better.
Pausing
for a moment, he looked around him. How
far had he come? He would have to find
somewhere to rest before the sun reached the zenith. Then he spotted the thin column of smoke
rising from somewhere ahead.
Moving
as quietly as he could, he headed in the direction of the smoke. Was this friend or enemy? He hoped it was friendlies, he knew that he
would not be able to keep going much longer.
He moved into the lush green vegetation careful to avoid the sharp
tipped leaves of succulent plants that grew in abundance here. The smoke was still there, now tantalizingly
close. Every step hurt and he guessed
that the wound was becoming infected.
Throwing caution aside, he half stumbled as he tried to walk faster. He could feel the uneven beat of his heart as
it laboured in his chest, then something happened to his legs and he crumpled
to the ground and everything went black.
******
Lee
awoke to find himself under the shade of a wooden structure with a thatched
roof. The sides were open and a cool
breeze blew across his naked chest. For
a moment he thought he must be dreaming, then as he tried to sit up, pain hit
him, causing him to yell out and collapse back, his hand clamped to his injured
side. Damn, it hurt! His
torso was bandaged and his damaged hand was also swathed in bandages. He gave up any attempt to move for the moment
but instead, turned his head to try and see where he was. Not in a cell as least. He was lying on a straw mat, covered by a
thin blanket. He could smell and hear
the ocean. What appeared to be an indigenous woman wearing
an embroidered blouse and long, full skirt approached, smiling broadly.
“Sentarse quieto, señor, o se le comienzan a sangrar de nuevo.”
“Okay,
I’ve got this,” Lee said to himself. His
Spanish was rusty but serviceable. “Sit
still or I’ll start bleeding again.
Sounds like a plan to me.”
She
knelt down beside him and helped him sit up.
Reaching back, she picked up an earthen bowl and handed it to him. “Come esto
y reponer
usted mismo.”
Lee
nodded his thanks and accepted the bowl.
Whatever it was, it smelled good and he took a spoonful. Chicken
soup. Even here he got chicken soup.
“No habla Ingles?” he
asked. He needed to contact Seaview and let them know that he was
sort of okay. Lee pointed to himself.
“Americano.”
Shaking
her head, the woman moved to the edge of the mat and began to draw something in
the sand. Lee carefully positioned
himself so that he could see what she was drawing. For a moment he looked at the circular shape
in the sand. No, it couldn’t be – could
it?
The
woman pointed towards the sky. “Yo he visto pájaro amarillo grande.”
Big...
yellow... bird. The flying sub! It had to be!
Clutching his side, he tried to get to his feet, but the woman shook her
head and pushed him back.
“No, no, señor. Mi marido ha ido
a buscar tus amigos.”
The
message was clear enough. Her husband
was searching for his friends, and she did not want him moving in the
meantime.
“Mi
amigos?”
The
woman nodded, then picked up the empty bowl and left.
He
lay back, hope rising inside for the first time. If the flying sub was here, then his friends
were looking for him. Lee grabbed a
nearby cushion and shoved it behind him so that he could see. There were some small boats along the shore,
and fishing nets were laid out to dry on the beach. There were wood and thatch
huts, and a larger structure made of corrugated iron. Maybe a mine, he speculated. There was extensive gold and silver mining
throughout the region, although most of the mines were abandoned now. He watched as the woman disappeared into one
of the huts and returned with a roughly woven white cotton shirt and his
jacket. She had obviously deemed his
shirt beyond saving.
“Gracias.”
“Tienes
suerte de venir aquí. No estamos de
acuerdo con los leales,” she
said as she helped him sit up and pull on the shirt.
He
nodded agreement, stunned at his suerte,
his luck. He had managed to stumble into an encampment friendly to the
government, not los leales, the
‘loyalists,’ as the opposition called themselves. If only he had a radio! To be so near to rescue and be unable to tell
them where he was, but of course he had lost all his equipment when he’d made
his escape from the compound.
His
head had started to ache again. He
didn’t wait for her to tell him to rest this time. He fall back on the mat, exhausted.
******
“Señor, por favor,
despierta, despierta!”
Lee’s
eyes flew open. He didn’t have to be
told a third time to wake up. Besides,
the sounds of something crashing through the bushes would have been enough to
wake anyone. He tensed. Resigned, he hoped at least that they
wouldn’t do anything to the woman. There
was nothing he could do to help himself.
“Estrella,
ver lo que he
encontrado!”
The first
to emerge was a small man, grinning broadly as he waved his palm-leaved hat back
and forth in the air. Behind him, their
black scuba gear in sharp contrast to his white shirt and white pants, stepped
Chip Morton and Chief Sharkey.
Morton
broke into a run, the sand flapping behind his shoes as he covered the twenty
or so yards in a hurry.
Lee looked
up, squinting into the sun. “Dr.
Livingstone, I presume?”
“Lee, am I
glad to see you.” Chip dropped to his knees beside him.
“It’s good
to see you to. What took you so
long?” Lee joked, smiling.
“Excuse
me, Sirs.” The Corpsman knelt on Lee’s
other side. “How bad, Skipper?”
“Bad
enough,” Lee carefully lifted the short to relieve the bloody bandage around
his middle.
“I don’t
want to mess with that so I’ll put a pressure bandage on top of it and we’ll
get you back to Seaview.”
“Chief,
contact the Flying Sub,” Chip ordered.
“Aye,
Sir.”
******
Admiral
Nelson hovered anxiously by the flying sub access hatch for FS-1 to dock,
worrying about what Lee had done to himself this time. Also waiting was Seaview’s CMO, Will
Jamieson, with a corpsman and stretcher, ready to whisk Lee to sickbay the
moment that the hatch opened. They had
been told he had lost a lot of blood, but the native woman had done a wonderful
job of dressing Lee’s wound. He would
find some way to reward them.
“Have
you heard anything else about Admiral Walters and his son, Admiral?”
Nelson
startled, turned to the doctor. “What? Oh, sorry, Will. Yes, I understand they were being held in a
different place from the compound Lee was taken to. The government forces raided that this
morning. Seems everyone in the place was
so drunk on whiskey they’d stolen from some local bigwig that there was no
resistance. Bruce and his son are fine,
shaken up, obviously, but alive.”
“So
probably Lee didn’t need to go in at all.”
That
brought Nelson up short. “It’s possible.. No one could have known in advance, of
course, but a little simple Intel might have come in handy. But I don’t think Bruce was thinking about
that when he asked for help. It was his
son they were going in to rescue, remember.
He needed the best man available.”
“FS-1
is reporting they are five minutes out, sir.”
“Thank
you, Sparks. Won’t be long now, Will.”
Dr.
Jamieson rested a hand on Nelson’s shoulder.
“And we know who the best man is, don’t we, Admiral?”
Nelson
groped for the handkerchief in his pocket... something was in his eye. “Yes, Doctor, we do.”
******
“Is
he going to be all right, Will?” Nelson
asked as weary looking Jamieson entered his cabin.
Jamieson
walked over to the desk and dropped into a chair. “Yes.
I’ve done all I can for him, but the wound was messy. We’ll see how well it heals, but there will
be a lot of scaring. In my opinion he is
going to need plastic surgery.”
“Does
he know?”
Jamieson
shook his head. “He’s still groggy from
the surgery; I’ll wait until he’s a little more coherent before I talk to him
about it.”
“What
about other injuries?” Nelson worried,
he’d been shaken when he’d first seen Lee. It was nothing short of a miracle
that Lee had survived at all.
Jamieson
took a deep breath. “He was very lucky, the injuries to his hands are not
serious, I don’t think that there will be any permanent nerve damage. But there is the danger of infection. The wound was left untreated a long time and
there is also the danger of adhesions.”
“Can
I see him?”
Jamieson
nodded and smiled. “Could I stop you?”
He teased. “But he probably will not be awake.”
“I
understand, I just want to see him.” He
needed to get the last image of Lee out of his head.
******
Lee
was lying in a lower bunk, plasma and antibiotic IVs hanging from a pole beside
the bunk. Nelson glanced at Jamieson
before moving closer. “Lee, can you hear me?”
Lee’s
eyes fluttered open, clouded by the drugs.
“Ad –miral.”
“Easy,
lad,” Nelson laid a hand on Lee’s shoulder. “Everything is all right.. Just rest.”
“Sorry...
couldn’t...”
“Shhh.” Nelson interrupted. “Everyone is safe. Admiral Walters and his son are aboard the
carrier. We’ll talk later, go back to
sleep now.”
Lee
gave a small nod and closed his eyes. “Home,” he whispered softly.
Nelson
chuckled. “Yes, Lee – you’re home.” And if I have my way, you’ll be staying
right here in future. “Rest easy,
son.” It may take time for Lee to heal,
but he was back where he belonged and that was all that mattered for now. Straightening, he stood watching Lee, reluctant
to leave.
“Admiral,”
Jamieson moved to stand beside him. “Lee needs to rest.”
“Take
care of him, Will,” Nelson half-heartedly turned to leave. Lee wasn’t the only one that needed
rest. It had been a long night for everyone,
but Nelson could not allow himself to relax until he knew that Lee was going to
be all right.
“You
know I will, Admiral.” Jamieson gently steered his superior towards the door. “I’ll
call you when he is awake enough for visitors.”
“Thanks,
Will.” Nelson left sickbay, headed for
the control room. He’d chase Chip Morton
out and then head for his own cabin and some much needed sleep. The real battle would begin when Lee woke up
and wanted out of sickbay.