Minor Encounter

By R. L. Keller

I HATE this, the lone swimmer muttered silently to himself as he stopped, still thirty yards from the shoreline, and raised just enough of his head out of the water to scan where he was headed. A small oath escaped, still silently, but one he’d given voice to enough the last couple of days, since he’d received this assignment, that his crew was starting to give him a wide berth as he practically stalked his boat, the Nelson Institute’s mostly research submarine, Seaview. Even his XO – and best friend – was quiet around him. Very unusual, as it was normally Chip who did most of the muttering when Lee accepted a mission for his part-time employer, the Office of Naval Intelligence.

That thought brought a moment of doubt to Lee Crane’s troubled mind. Normally Lee would let Chip rant but this time he’d stopped it with a single word. He’d hated doing it but for some reason that he couldn’t quite pinpoint he’d just not been in the mood to listen. Now he gave his head a small shake, instantly refocused on his mission; he submerged, continuing to swim until he was near enough to shore that, laying on the bottom, his dive tanks were only about six inches from the surface. The next several minutes were going to be some of the most dangerous of the whole mission and Lee needed to concentrate.

The island was so small that it didn’t appear on any but the most detailed maps of the area. Its edges rose vertically out of the sea except for the one spot Lee now lay facing. Here, at one time in history, a rock structure of some sort had been erected, but all that remained of it now were a few huge blocks at the waterline. That was part of Lee’s hesitation – this was pretty much the only place to access the island and therefore easily defensible if anyone happened to be watching. Which led to the other major issue – there was a full moon shining brightly despite the few clouds in the sky. If anyone was watching the small rocky beach, Lee was a sitting duck!

Lee wasn’t even totally sure why he’d been asked to take this assignment. Well, ordered, by ONI’s Director, Admiral Robert Jones. Although, as only an occasional agent Lee technically had the option of declining. Lee had been part of a seven-man team, all SEAL’s except for him, who had been sent to this island a year before he’d accepted Seaview’s captaincy. Even after all this time, memories of that assignment still haunted Lee, causing the anguish and verbal outbursts of the previous days. Of the original seven only five made it off the island alive, and according to Admiral Jones three more had been lost on subsequent missions around the globe in the name of world peace. That left only Lee and Lt. Marcus Brookes, the original SEAL team’s medic, and Brookes was in a VA rehab center, having recently lost a leg on a mission to Afghanistan.

The island, while small, had been the suspected home to a rather insidious band of mercenaries. The interior of the island was covered by dense forest, defeating intel flyovers, and infrared was made useless by an extensive cave system within the long-dormant volcano which had originally formed the island, hence the need to send in the team to find out why so many ships whose routes took them in this direction disappeared without a trace. No one had ever been seen coming or going from the small island’s single landing spot but it was the only land mass in the area of the disappearances and needed to be checked out.

Lee never did get a satisfactory answer when he asked why he’d been sent along with an established SEAL team to search the place. Nor did he challenge Admiral Jones over it. Lee had worked with SEAL’s both before that instance, and since, and had for the most part appreciated their skills and professionalism. Once or twice he’d felt that they might be a bit too ‘gung ho’ about the missions, but Lee was forced to admit that he merely preferred to keep his assignments a little more quiet and controlled than what the SEAL’s normally were forced into.

Whatever the reason he was included, Lee was extremely happy to have them along when the information-gathering mission turned into an all-out firefight for survival. The cave system proved to be a viper’s nest. They’d gotten control of the situation but not before two SEAL’s were killed and all but one other, including Lee, were wounded. Despite that, there was still some good-natured hazing back and forth with the detachment of Marines called in to clean out the island once the SEAL’s had it secured, although it was kept mostly low key because of the loss of life.

Evacuated with the other injured, Lee heard nothing more about the small island until Admiral Jones’ call brought the whole mission once more crashing down around his ears. More maturity – and more years of dealing with the ONI Director – allowed Lee to challenge why he was picked for the assignment. More experience around Lee – and the fact that Admiral Nelson was sitting in on the video conference – forced Jones into answering the question his expression said all too clearly that he’d otherwise have merely blown off. Lee was the only surviving member of the original team able to give an accurate evaluation of what, if anything, had changed on the supposedly deserted island. Lee had shared a quick look with Nelson; pointing out that there should be any number of the Marine unit still on active duty apparently pointless, Lee had nodded and Seaview had diverted from the charting mission she and her crew were at the moment engaged in.

What hadn’t been asked was, why ONI had become suspicious that there might have been changes to the island, and what business it was of the agency if there had. Some things, Lee had discovered over the years, were best left neither asked nor answered. Not so Chip, who started muttering the instant Lee came back into the Conn after taking the video call in Nelson’s cabin and started plotting the new course. That was when Lee had momentarily stopped what he was doing, turned to his XO, and growled, “Enough!” He’d glared at Chip until the blond nodded, and Lee went back to his chart.

Now, once more, the expression on Chip’s face crossed Lee’s mind as he lay quietly, still submerged, pondering his next move. That he would apologize there was no doubt. And no doubt, either, that his long-time friend would accept it and the matter forgotten. What did linger was, why he’d snapped at Chip in the first place. Lee shook his head softly – that was a puzzle for another day. This day – or night, rather – there were other matters to attend to.

Lee’s position allowed a watery view of the small landing area and during the time he’d lain there, quietly watching, he’d seen no movement except for the casual foraging of several species of small birds. They actually relieved Lee of some of his tension; if they weren’t worried about anything in the underbrush Lee shouldn’t be, either. They would no doubt startle when he emerged from the water, which did cause Lee concern, and to that end started making preparations. Moving slowly, he reached down with his right hand and removed his swim fins, holding their straps loosely in case he needed to quickly drop them. His left hand pulled the waterproof tote he carried, the strap slung across his body, a little more forward in case he needed to reach inside quickly for his service revolver.

As expected, the birds squawked and flew away as he cautiously stood up and headed for dry land. But they seemed to be the only ones to take notice. Lee let out the expanse of air he hadn’t noticed he’d been holding and spit out his SCUBA mouthpiece, then listened carefully as he headed for cover in the dense brush. Once there, safe now from the bright full moon, he stayed still again for several minutes. But as the night once more started to fill with its normal rhythm of soft sounds, Lee very quietly and carefully exchanged dive gear and wet suit for camo fatigues and hiking boots. He found a good hiding place for the gear and arranged it carefully in case he needed to grab it in a hurry, then added a few more branches of low brush to completely shield everything, strapped on his belt with gun and holster on the right side and tactical knife and scabbard on the left. His tote still held a few items he’d brought along, just in case, and he again slung the strap across his body, the tote laying comfortably against his back. Taking a few seconds to step back and look around, to make sure that he could find his hiding place again, he headed off in the direction of the cave system’s main entrance.

There weren’t, he remembered, any game trails through the dense brush and forest for the simple reason that there wasn’t any game on the island. It was therefore a complete surprise when he heard strange sounds just ahead of him as he moved as silently as possible. Stopping to listen, it almost sounded like grass and shrub brush being ripped and chewed. What the… Lee asked silently, and moved ahead even more slowly until he came upon a small clearing in the brush but still covered by the heavy tree canopy overhead. Its occupants, half a dozen pigmy goats, paused in their grazing to watch him curiously for a few seconds before returning to their meal. “I’ve been sent to check on a herd of goats,” Lee muttered, barely a whisper. One of the goats stopped eating long enough to stare at him and bleat softly, and it caused Lee to grin. But he got himself back on track and continued toward the center of the small island, now starting to climb. The goats – at least Lee assumed that they were the culprits – had made small trails but Lee avoided them for the most part and kept to more cover, unwilling to relax and accept that they were the island’s only occupants. He wasn’t quite so surprised when he disturbed a flock of chickens who had been roosting in a large bush. Their noisy departure suddenly had Lee worried – like the small birds he’d encountered along the shore, the chickens were a terrific early warning signal to any humans who might be living here. Lee decided that he’d lay low for a bit and watch for who – or what – might have been alerted. But after almost half an hour, when he’d heard nothing beyond the normal night sounds – and the occasional goat chomping nearby, which still made him smile – he once more cautiously moved forward.

His caution proved warranted as he neared where he remembered the main entrance to the cave system was. Lee expected to find that the underbrush had reclaimed the area around the cave that the mercenaries had cleared, and for the most part he was right. But there were still a few subtle signs that someone – or something – was inhabiting the caves. He had just decided to find a better place to hide and watch the cave entrance until morning when the decision was taken out of his hands.

* * * *

Lee awoke all at once, but a head that was threatening to disconnect from his body kept movement to a bare minimum for several minutes. He considered himself a good agent so admitting that he’d been ambushed totally without warning and instantly rendered unconscious was decidedly unnerving. And extremely puzzling when he discovered that he was lying in a fairly comfortable army-type cot, in what was obviously living quarters in the cave. There was quite a nice cooking fire arranged in a corner, with a brace for hanging either a cooking pot or spit set over it. Some rudimentary shelves held a few canned goods in another corner, along with some books whose titles Lee couldn’t read because his eyes weren’t willing to focus that well yet.

“Crane!” was yelled loudly, and Lee traced the voice as coming from around a corner in the cave where more light he assumed indicated the cave opening. His hand reached automatically for his revolver even though his brain told him it wouldn’t be there. His still slightly fuzzy brain was registering total confusion as his hand rested easily on the gun’s grip when another yell came even more loudly. “Crane, you dang well better be awake!” Shaking his aching head, he slowly rose and walked unsteadily toward the voice, his right hand still resting lightly on the weapon. As he rounded the corner and had to close his eyes against the sudden blast of bright sunlight he heard a snort. “Chill, Crane. If I’d wanted you dead you’d be dead. Besides, I already unloaded your revolver.”

Lee finally opened his eyes enough to see who was speaking. On the left side of the cave’s entrance, unnoticed the night before, a bench of sorts had been chiseled out about two feet off the ground and facing the rising sun. On it sat a man of average height and build, dressed in what had once been fatigues but were now a bit ratty. They matched the man with his long hair and beard. Lee was sure that he’d never seen the man before, even though he obviously knew Lee. Or, more likely, he’d seen Lee’s dog tags. He’d for sure searched Lee’s tote because as Lee just stood there, trying to make sense of what was happening, the man opened one of the nutrition bars Lee had packed and took a bite.

And almost immediately spit it out. “Blech,” the man growled, glared at the wrapper and then at Lee.

Lee couldn’t help himself; he laughed. “Admiral Nelson insists that those are fully nutritious survival bars. We keep insisting that any nutrition they might possibly contain is totally useless because the bars are inedible.” He took another step, out into the morning sun, and discovered another small seat carved into the rocks on the other side of the cave entrance. “There’s several chocolate bars in my tote,” he offered as he sat down.

“Ate them already,” the man admitted a bit sheepishly. Lee chuckled softly and laid his head carefully back against the rock. “Sorry about that. Just be glad that I recognized you before I drop-kicked you off the nearest cliff.”

Lee turned his head just far enough to be able to see the man. “You know me,” he said quietly.

The man didn’t answer for a bit. When he finally did, it was even quieter. “Milt Minor.”

At that Lee turned fully and stared. “You’re dead,” came out before he could stop it. Lt. Minor had been part of the original SEAL team, but reportedly killed on a later mission.

Minor grunted. “Wish I was,” was growled. Both men were silent for several minutes. “Should be,” came softer.

But a few things were slowly starting to make sense to Lee. “Admiral Jones knows you’re here,” he said. He turned back toward the trees, not looking at Minor, and closed his eyes

“He suspects,” came after another long pause. “Had no right to make it back.”

“Been there a time or two,” Lee told him softly, his voice filled with sincerity as a few previous missions flitted through his mind.

“Couldn’t…” Minor stopped with a strangled gag.

Lee sighed heavily. “Yeah,” he commiserated.

“Filed my discharge, left the VA hospital as fast as I could, and disappeared.”

Lee let that sink in for a bit. “Why Jones?” he finally asked. While ONI occasionally used SEAL’s, they weren’t technically under the agency’s chain of command.

“My Mom’s cousin.” From the original mission Lee knew that Minor’s parents were both deceased and he had no other close family. Or rather, hadn’t claimed any. “Couldn’t handle it.” While Minor didn’t specify what he couldn’t handle, Lee nonetheless nodded.

It was an all-too-familiar story. The news was unfortunately full of men and women from all of the Armed Forces suffering from Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, unable to deal with normal life after what they’d been forced to see and do. If they were lucky they got the help they needed to reintegrate into society. A lot of them dropped out and ended up living on the streets, surviving as best they could. But for way too many it led to them taking their own lives. Some people had demons that they simply couldn’t overcome.

Minor had, it seemed, found his own salvation on this deserted island. Lee wondered how he’d managed it, but wasn’t about to ask. It did, however, explain the goats and chickens. And why Jones had been adamant about sending Lee, and only Lee, in to check on him. He also wondered what, if anything, Admiral Jones expected him to do now. Did he think Lee could talk Minor into coming home?

Minor seemed to read his mind. “I’m not going back,” came flatly from Lee’s left.

“Wouldn’t think of trying to force you to,” Lee admitted with a rueful shake of his still aching head. “Why here?”

Minor didn’t immediately answer. When he did, Lee got the feeling that he was quoting something. “When the world overwhelms, I’ve found it helpful to accomplish just one little thing.” He sent Lee a quick glance, and Lee nodded that he understood. “I remembered this place,” Minor continued softly. “Seemed like a good place to…” His voice trailed off.

“Figure things out,” Lee finished for him. It was Minor’s turn to nod. “Anything you need?” His question was twofold and he nearly held his breath waiting for an answer. Minor blowing him off might be an indication that the PTSD had progressed to a point that he’d lost all hope. On the other hand, Lee reasoned silently, he did make that comment about accomplishing a project… Lee remained totally still, waiting for Minor’s answer.

There was a long enough pause that Lee was getting seriously worried. “More chocolate?” Minor finally responded, almost hesitantly.

Lee let out the breath. If Minor was open to at least this level of help, all was not yet lost. He sent the man a quick grin. “Think I might be able to arrange that.” He thought back to his quick perusal of the cave. “Canned food?”

“That would be nice,” Minor admitted with a sigh, reinforcing Lee’s evaluation of Minor’s overall mental state. “Remembered the fresh water spring from the time we were here. Have a small garden. Some things grow, some don’t.”

Lee nodded, his eyes still closed. “Probably only big cans this trip,” he admitted. “That’s all Cookie orders.” He glanced at Minor. “We can plan a little differently our next trip in this general direction.” He almost held his breath as he let Minor process the fact that Lee would be making more visits.

“No ‘nutrition’ bars,” Minor ordered. Lee laughed out loud. “Got eggs, some milk, lots of fish. The occasional chicken or goat.” Minor sighed. “Can’t get into the supply of those very often.”

Lee nodded. “Canned meat,” he added to his mental list. “Flour, sugar, beans. Rice?” he asked, and got another nod. “Can probably toss in some fresh bread.” He sent another glance at Minor. “Some more fatigues,” he added to the list.

Minor was silent for a bit. “Why?” finally came out, almost hesitantly.

It was Lee’s turn to seemingly read minds. “Because I can empathize,” he said softly.

“Will Nelson?”

Lee sent him a genuine smile. “Yes, he will,” Lee assured him. He frowned slightly as a thought hit him. “Doc will probably want to include a medic kit. He’s fussy.”

It was Minor’s turn to smile. “Kits I can handle. Doctors…”

“No sweat,” Lee quickly assured him. “This one is pretty cool.” He sent Minor a quirky grin. “And you didn’t hear me admit that!” Once more, after quickly shared grins, there was silence between them.

Almost three hours later, after a rather one-sided radio call by Lee to Admiral Nelson, Lee waited on the small rocky beach as a zodiac made its way toward him. Launched from Seaview, her Conning Tower barely visible in the background, the zodiac held two men and a substantial number of boxes. Lee wasn’t at all surprised to recognize Senior Rating Kowalski, but shook his head when he realized that the other man was Admiral Nelson. Little was said as the zodiac landed and the boxes quickly stacked above the high water line. That done, Lee retrieved his diving gear and prepared to board the zodiac.

“You’re just going to leave all that stuff there?” Kowalski asked, then sent Lee a totally embarrassed look. “Sir,” he added in almost a squeak.

Lee let him off the hook with a quick grin. “They won’t be there long,” he assured the rating. He did catch a strange look on Nelson’s face as he prepared to help ‘Ski shove off and head back to the submarine. The Admiral instantly turned his back, but Lee was pretty sure that he understood. Nelson had wanted to personally make sure that it wasn’t Lee, after some of the things he’d had to deal with in his life, who made the same decision Lt. Minor had. He purposely put a smile in his voice as he continued. “Let’s go home,” he told Kowalski, and was gratified to see Nelson’s stiff shoulders start to relax.

~ ~ ~ ~

“Resolve to find thyself; and know that he who finds himself loses his misery.”

Matthew Arnold