This story is set in AU
April, 1969
Lt. James Ellison jumped from the Huey, duffel bag banging against his back.
He squinted through the shimmering waves of heat rising from the hot tarmac, looking for his new CO. Sweat rolled down the sides of his face and he wondered if he would ever get used to the heat and humidity...and it was only spring.
A young corporal ran up to him, sketching a rushed salute, announcing, "Corporal Slater, sir! Sorry to get here at the last minute, but the Colonel was needed at a meeting and told me to come over to pick you up. Do you have any other belongings, sir?"
Ellison suppressed a grin; Slater looked to be barely 18, freckled face flushed with worry, striving to look adult, in command and failing miserably. "No corporal, all my gear is in my duffel, so let's get off this furnace they call a runway and get to camp."
"Sir, Lt. James Ellison, reporting for duty, sir!" Holding himself rigidly at attention, he waited for the Colonel to finish going over his transfer papers. Several minutes later the Colonel looked up at his new officer. "At ease Ellison. Now, just so you'll know, I did not need, nor did I want another Lt., but since you were sent to me anyway, I find I may have need of your talents. Are you as good a marksman as it says here on paper?" Ellison moved to parade rest, hands behind his back, feet shoulder width apart.
"The scores on the paperwork are accurate, sir." The Colonel got to his feet and walked around the desk to stand behind Ellison. "That's good to know, Lt. Ellison. Head back to your bivouac and get some food and rest, then be back here at 2000 for a briefing. I do believe you're the right man for this assignment."
10 Days Later
Ellison moved his rifle slowly into position, checked the scope once again, knowing it was unnecessary to recalibrate, but checking anyway. He lay under a camouflage netting near the edge of the compound. He glanced at the small photo taped to his canteen, a photo of General Huang reported to be headquartered here. Huang was in charge of the largest POW camp in the region; having learned from the best the Soviets had to offer their allies. Three US soldiers had managed to escape and make their way back to safety, telling tales of abuse and brutality after lengthy hospital stays. They had all named Huang as the star of their harrowing imprisonment and now Ellison was in position to make sure Huang never had another chance to order torture of prisoners.
His briefing had been short; he was given the photo, a map detailing how to reach the compound and a new rifle with a powerful scope, accurate up to 1000 yards. He had left the next morning, the Huey setting him down about 200 clicks from the proposed target. He had taken a roundabout route to the compound, an added safety measure to keep the VC from tracking him back to the LZ, a route that took 3 days, but kept him away from the main trails and the VC patrols. Now, he had located and confirmed that Huang was here, but the activity in the compound indicated imminent departure. He closed his eyes and concentrated; suddenly he could clearly hear the guards outside the compound gates arguing. His eyes flew open, focusing on the guards who seemed no more than a few yards away, instead of the almost 900 yards from his position. Blinking rapidly and shaking his head in disbelief, Jim slowly brought one hand up to rub at eyes that now blurred and burned.
Engines roared to life in the compound, startling Ellison. Steadying his weapon, he sighted through the scope, waiting for the general to appear. The wait was short, as the man appeared a few minutes later, impatiently swinging a short riding crop from his wrist. The escaped US soldiers had told how the man had used that crop....can't think about that now, need to concentrate on making the shot. That's all, just take the shot and get the hell out of here. He watched as Huang sauntered to his car, an ancient but gleaming Rolls Royce. Ellison took a deep breath and held it, gently squeezing the trigger as Huang paused to give an order to his driver. Red blossomed on the pristine jacket of General Huang, disbelief frozen on his face as he fell to the ground. His guards whipped around, the sound of the rifle report just reaching their ears.
They fanned out, searching the area all around the compound. Over an hour later they found the camouflaged position and a few footprints. The information was radioed to patrols in the area with orders to bring in the shooter, alive if possible.
Jim had chosen a more direct escape route, knowing area patrols would be alerted of the shooting. He moved steadily, quietly through the shadowed jungle. He kept up the pace throughout the night, stopping only long enough to eat a quick meal of dried fish. He drained his canteen, knowing he had to keep hydrated in the jungle heat and humidity. He found himself at the LZ late the next afternoon, activated the small radio transmitter and sent his short message, "Alpha hotel zero, Yankees 1, Black Sox 0."
Two hours later he heard the faint 'whomp whomp' of rotor blades. He pulled the pin on a small canister and threw it into the center of the LZ, orange smoke rising into the air. As the Huey came into sight, Jim checked the perimeter as he moved closer. He heard muted angry voices; an enemy patrol had spotted the smoke and was rushing to get there before the helicopter landed. One of the marines on board spotted the VC and opened fire as Jim zigzagged across the open field. He was a few feet from the Huey when one of the VC stood in defiance of the firefight, carefully sighted and fired. Ellison felt the bullet's searing path through his left thigh, felt himself twisting with the impact, falling, falling,....so close to safety, so dammed close. He felt hands lift his shoulders, dragging him toward the Huey, pain exploding in his leg as it bounced across the rough ground. He blacked out, coming around seconds later as he was placed on the metal floor, then the helicopter was lifting and turning and the machine guns were still firing, empties bouncing off the floor, off Jim, the walls. The Huey, the workhorse of the Army in 'Nam, shook off the enemy fire and left the LZ, dead and wounded VC strewn across the field. Jim acknowledged that they were gaining more altitude and heading out; he had made it, he had.....finally succumbed to his injury and blood loss and knew nothing else.
"Lt. Ellison, can you hear me? Can you open your eyes, Lt.?" Jim tried to ignore the insistent voice, preferring to stay in the darkness; it was quiet and safe and warm and comfortable. The voice persisted and then his eyelid was moving and opening to a bright, harsh light flashing across, sending daggers into his brain. His hands moved up to ward off the light, striking an arm on the way, hearing a muttered curse as something struck the floor. Jim finally convinced both eyes to open, eventually focusing on the doctor standing over his cot. "Finally decided to join us, huh? Can you tell us your name?" Jim glared at him for a second, "Lt. James J. Ellison and would you mind telling me where *I* am?" His leg decided to join the conversation at that point, white-hot pain flaring through his left leg down to his toes, leaving him gasping for breath. "Please, Lt. Ellison, you've got to take it easy. You're in hospital here in Saigon, have been for a few days. You have a pretty nasty wound to your left thigh. Seems the VC have found a way to contaminate their ammo with a substance similar to that found on their punji sticks. You also had some adverse reactions
to anesthesia during surgery; thought we'd never keep you under long enough to remove the bullet. You finally started responding to the last antibiotic we tried; we were at the point where we were considering amputation....."
"Amputation? AMPUTATION?? You're gonna cut off my leg?!" Ellison struggled to get off the cot, pulling out his IV in the process.
"Lt. calm down, calm down. I said we *were* considering amputating, only as a last resort. The infection has responded to the antibiotics, administered by IV, which you just pulled out. Now LIE down before I call an orderly to sit on you!" The doctor's words penetrated his panic as he slumped back down, heart still pounding. As the doctor restarted his IV, he explained, "You lost a significant amount of blood and the bullet lodged against the femur. You were given several units of blood; your hemoglobin is still a bit low, but doing much, much better. Next week, you'll need to start getting out of bed, move around a bit, then start therapy. This wound will be your ticket home, Lt. Ellison."
"What are you talking about, ticket home? Are you saying they're going to kick me out of the Army?"
"No, I'm not saying that. All I'm saying is that this type of wound is generally referred to as 'the million dollar wound' by most GI's. Most are anxious to get out of here before they're injured far worse or sent home in a body bag."
"Not to worry, doc. My leg will be fine, I'll be up and around before you know it!"
Six Weeks Later
Sweat streamed down Ellison's face, back, arms, legs.... basically his entire body was drenched. He kept up a quick pace, just short of a jog. He had pushed himself the past weeks during his therapy sessions. The doctors had been worried to the hair pulling stage as he punished his body with grueling exercises and astounded at his rate of progress. The leg remained stiff, but he had adapted, compensated his gait and one had to look closely to see any limp as he moved. He carried a 60-pound backpack as he worked his way around the perimeter of the camp, scanning constantly for any sign of VC. He had been out there for 3 hours now and the strain was beginning to tell; small cramps had been building up in his left thigh for the past hour.
Colonel Travers watched Ellison's progress as he moved along the perimeter. The doctors had kept him advised and he was impressed with the man's perseverance. A wound such as Ellison's normally sent a soldier stateside, but Ellison had refused any such transfer, stating it was unnecessary, he would be back on duty by the end of the month. It had been six weeks since he was discharged from the hospital and the Lt. was close to being signed off for regular duty by the doctors. Ellison's pace slowed finally and as the Colonel watched he could see the lines of pain on the man's face as he slowly rubbed his thigh. Wondered when he would let up. Stubborn SOB! Wish I had a dozen more like just him...could really make some progress against the Viet Cong. He lowered his binoculars with a sigh, "Damn Ellison! You keep this up and you'll back in the field in no time."
Jim's head snapped up as he heard the softly spoken words. His vision zoomed in on his CO standing under a large tarp near the radio bunker. He shook his head sharply; there was simply no way he could have heard what Travers said standing 600 yards away from his position. But I saw him so clearly! What is happening to me?
Near the Laotian border; September, 1969.
Lt. James Ellison cautiously worked his way through the murky river, staying hidden in the foliage spilling over the bank. A small, battered dock bobbed in the current 50 yards downstream, the only movement on this hot, humid afternoon. Ellison turned back to his four-man patrol, signaled them to move forward, then turned his attention to their target. A low, whitewashed, rambling building stood at the edge of the jungle; this was believed to be the headquarters for the VC in this region. Ellison focused on the edge of the well maintained yard, searching for hidden booby-traps, mines...all the little extras Charley loved to leave around. The sounds of his men moving behind him faded into the background as he concentrated on the area of open ground between the river and the old school. Soon he could see each blade of grass shining in the bright sun, the beetles scurrying around, the ants moving their burdens....
A large, dark, heavy hand landed on his shoulder, breaking his concentration. A harsh voice whispered in his ear, "Damn it Ellison, now is NOT the time to be taking a 'little trip'. Now breathe! Scares the shit outta me when you pull this stuff!" Capt. Simon Banks shifted his rifle a little, grunting when the hot metal of the barrel touched his neck. "You see any sign of life up there? Any movement?" Ellison shook his head, as much to clear his head as to let Banks know he hadn't spotted any human activity. He'd fallen into one of those
'fugue' states again. He had no idea why this was happening to him, but if Banks thought it scared him, he ought to try being in Jim's shoes when one struck.
"Okay, if there's nothing shaking we need to fall back and get some rest until it gets dark." Banks signaled for the patrol to move back, Ellison taking the rear to watch for any sign of the VC. Six hours later, after cold rations and a short, restless sleep, Ellison again moved toward the edge of the school's lawn. It was open ground around the school, about 250 feet between the river, the jungle and the building. A perfect killing ground. Jim wiped the sweat from his brow, turned his cap around backwards and sighted his scoped sniper's rifle at the building's front doors. Feeble light spilled from the few windows not boarded up. Jim had heard of a new toy being developed by the army called a night scope, but he had no problem seeing the building clearly or the movements of people passing by the windows. He had been listening to his squad moving up behind him, especially Banks; the man was just so big there was no way for him to move silently. Hiding a grin as the captain sidled up beside him, he advised, "The patrol we heard return earlier is still inside and seem to be celebrating a successful mission, sir."
Banks lifted an eyebrow in question, "And just how do you know that Jim?"
"I can hear them, don't ask me how, but I CAN hear them, not clearly, but I believe they've been drinking." Banks' eyebrow climbed even higher, but the expression on Ellison's face was convincing.
"Right. Then now would be a good time to visit, don't you think, Lt.?" Ellison grinned and nodded as Banks signaled for the others to move up.
The doors to the old school suddenly flew open, spilling light out onto the yard. Angry voices followed the slight figure that staggered out, long hair obscuring the face. Half a dozen soldiers filled the doorway, yelling obscenities and threats. An officer shoved past the others and quickly caught up to the escapee, who had fallen, but was still struggling on hands and knees to get away. The VC officer grabbed a hand full of hair, yanking upright with brutal strength. Ellison clearly heard the pained gasp and followed the sound to focus on the pale, bruised, white face of the young man the officer was screaming at. The VC kicked his prisoner several times, then started dragging him back to the building. Ellison watched as the young man tried to break the hold on his hair and get to his feet. Once they reached the door, the other soldiers grabbed hold of him, pulling him to stand in front of the enraged officer.
"Simon, they've got a prisoner; he's white, maybe American."
"That was a man? With that hair he couldn't be a soldier. What could he be doing out here?"
"I don't know sir, but we've got to do something." Ellison cocked his head. "They're beating him, sir. And with them angry and drunk, they might kill him. We've got to move in now!"
Banks studied the earnest face in front of him, then nodded. He hurriedly passed on the information to the rest of the squad. "Henri, I want you and Rafe to head around back and wait for the signal, same we discussed before. Ellison thinks there are at least 12 of them inside, but if they're 'distracted' with their 'entertainment', we shouldn't have any problem. Sgt. Taggert and I will move in from the left and Ellison will go in through the front. Any questions?" His men shook their heads and quickly moved through the night to their positions.
Ellison slipped into place next to the still open front doors. A quick look inside showed the young man lying on the floor; the VC arguing over who would be first. The officer was sitting on an old sofa, watching the argument while sipping from a bottle. Two of the soldiers turned the prisoner over and began ripping off his filthy, tattered shirt. Ellison clenched his jaw and raised his flare gun. An evil little smile crossed his face as he lowered the gun and fired it into the group of soldiers. The phosphorous flare struck two of the VC, who screamed in agony and ran blindly for the doors. Ellison had no problem killing each one as they ran past him heading for the river. Henri and Rafe broke in through a back window yelling at the top of their lungs as Banks and Taggert barreled in through a side door. The stunned VC had no chance to move toward their abandoned weapons. The officer made an aborted attempt to attack Banks, but stilled when Ellison laid the edge of his knife across his throat.
While the others secured their little group of prisoners, Ellison knelt beside the unconscious young man. His pale, gaunt appearance gave mute testimony of starvation. The long, curly hair was matted with blood on the left side; the large gash above his left eye was still bleeding sullenly. Large boot-sized bruises darkened his ribs and stomach. His wrists were raw, tiny fibers from coarse ropes embedded in the abrasions. Ellison carefully checked his neck and upper back for injury; finding none he gently lifted the young man off the floor and laid his head on a pillow snatched from the sofa. The movement brought a low groan from the injured man and long, dark eyelashes fluttered for a few seconds before gradually opening to reveal pain filled dark blue eyes. The young man moved restlessly, but immediately stilled as pain shot through his abused body. Ellison laid a gentle hand on the right side of his face, "Hey, now. You need to lie still. I'm Lt. Jim Ellison, US Army, Rangers. I'm going to check to see if you have any other injuries, okay?" The blue eyes focused on him as he spoke; eyes that seemed confused at first, then widened as he realized Jim was speaking in English.
"You....you....English? Hardly louder than a whisper, the harsh, raspy voice getting few words past a sandpaper dry throat, Ellison clearly understood the question and nodded.
"Yes, I'm an American soldier. Now lie still while I check you out, got it?" The curly head moved, "O..okay. American?" The few words triggered harsh coughing and the young man curled to his side, arms tightening around injured ribs. Ellison yelled for a canteen as he tried to ease the injured man to a more comfortable position. The coughing finally passed, but tight lines of pain on the young man's face worried Ellison that it could be more serious than just bruised ribs. Henri shoved a canteen into his hand asking, "What are we gonna do with him? You know there's more VC than this here and we need to get moving." Ellison glared at him a second before nodding at the truth of his words. "I know, H, I know. Let me finish checking him out and I'll know more what can be done." Henri dropped his fist on top of Jim's, then moved to share the info with the others.
Ellison looked down at the young man. He can't be any older than 16, 17 tops! Why is he here? Ellison gently, efficiently probed for injuries, watching the young man's face for any sign of discomfort. When he pressed on the right ankle, that pale young face drained of all remaining color, a low moan escaping tightly compressed lips. Ellison took the point of his knife to the mud caked remnants of the kid's jeans and slit them open along the outer seam. The ankle was almost black it was so discolored, swollen to the point where the skin seemed ready to burst open. Ellison shook his head in wonder, marveling that the young man had managed to get as far away from his captors as he had. Banks moved up behind him, issuing a low, mournful whistle when he looked at the damaged limb. Before Jim could ask, Banks had removed the remaining cushions from the couch, knelt, and slid them under the leg Jim had gingerly raised. The movement caused the young man no little pain if the choked off cry was any indication.
Ellison raised the curly head and held the canteen to his lips, admonishing him to take little sips. Blue eyes glazed by exhaustion and pain locked on Jim's, silently asking for a reprieve. After a few sips, Jim lowered his head, halting the plea for more with a shake of his head. "You can have more if you keep that down. Last thing you want right now is to throw up. I don't think those ribs of yours would appreciate it kid." "Thanks, man. Think you're right." The voice seemed a fraction stronger, less raspy with the few sips of water. "You just rest kid, and don't be talking. More coughing is another thing I'm betting you could do without." The curly head nodded tiredly, eyelids drooping down as the kid fell into an exhausted sleep.
Two hours later the squad was ready to move out. Taggert, Rafe and H had worked quickly, efficiently and the yard and house was now rigged to blow when the VC returned. The prisoners were sullen, hungover and belligerent at best. Jim and Simon had tested their bonds several times; ensuring no one would be on the loose to warn their returning comrades.
"Jim, what are we going to do with the kid? He's in no shape to move, much less keep up with us. We'll only have a few hours to make it to the rendezvous upriver after we blow this place."
"I know Simon, believe me I know. But we just can't leave him behind. If the VC were to catch him after we destroy this place, they'd kill him. But it would be a slow, vicious death. You've heard the stories. There has to be some truth behind them." Jim moved to check the young man's pulse and respiration as he spoke, gently repositioning the injured leg on the cushions. A low moan alerted the men that the young man in question was waking.
"Hey there, glad you decided to join us finally." They watched as confused blue eyes widened as memory returned. Scraped hands moved restlessly then stilled as Ellison laid his hand across the kid's warm forehead. "Just lie quietly for a few minutes and I'll get you some water." A tired nod, "Wha...you...goin'..." spoken so harshly, so low Ellison barely caught the words. "Don't try to talk until you've had a few sips of water." Simon handed him a canteen and watched as the Lt. gently raised the curly head, tipping the canteen cautiously between cracked lips. The young man swallowed greedily, closing his eyes as the cool liquid quenched the fire in his throat.
"Better?" The kid nodded, questions filling his eyes. "Don't think you should try 20 questions just yet. Rest for a few more minutes and I'll give you some more water. Deal?" Eyelids blinked a couple of times before closing. Ellison listened for a minute longer, assuring himself the kid was asleep once more before getting up. He motioned for Banks to follow and they moved to the front doors.
"He has a fever Captain, not much, but it will get worse if he doesn't get treated. I don't think the ankle is broken, but it's hard to tell with all the swelling. He's got a couple of cracked ribs; hell, he's pretty much bruised from head to toe. Those bastards worked him over pretty good." Jim looked back at the slight figure lying so still on the floor. "He's not even able to walk, much less keep up with us when we leave. But, we can't just leave him here! Better to put a bullet in his head, it would be kinder."
"I don't know Jim. Ah hell, yes I do and you're right. We can't leave the kid here, but what do we do with him? There are no caves in the area, at least according to our maps. And Charlie's bound to find him sooner or later if we try to hide him in the area." Banks pinched the bridge of his nose, pushing his glasses up to his forehead.
"Maybe I've got an idea." They turned to Taggert who had heard the quiet, intense conversation. "Intell has received reports of tunnels in the area that the villagers have used since the French moved in years ago. They use the tunnels to move supplies, people, just about anything without having to worry about being spotted. Maybe we can find something like that around that abandoned village we passed yesterday morning."
"Do you have any idea what the odds of finding a tunnel would be? Besides, what are we supposed to do with our prisoners? Just turn them loose while we look around for a hidey hole?" Banks shook his head in frustration.
"Wait Captain, Joel just may be on to something. Yesterday I did notice signs that the huts had only been recently vacated. And there was something else. I couldn't put my finger on it and I was worried about getting us here before the main company of VC returned, but, it was, there was....." Jim closed his eyes, trying to remember what it was about the small village that had puzzled him. He mentally walked between the small homes, past the pens for livestock, around the large open pit fire...... "That's it Captain! I know where the entrance is! I just didn't recognize, didn't know what I was seeing when I saw it yesterday!"
Banks glared at the Lt., then yelled, "Rafe, Henri, get in here!" The young men came at a quick jog, sketching hurried salutes, having recognized the impatient tone to their Captain's voice. "All right, this is what we're gonna do. I need a litter made for the kid to travel on. Our prisoners will do us the kindness of carrying him, or we'll leave them here when we blow this place. Once we're 10 clicks from here, we'll split up; Joel and Jim will take the kid and hole up until we can get back. The rest of us will deliver our 'guests' to headquarters, make our report and head back out. This is not negotiable," he announced when Rafe and Henri started to protest. "Jim has had some medic training and Joel is our explosives expert. I need you Rafe to handle the radio in case anything goes wrong and Henri you're the best man to help me handle the prisoners. We will move out in 30 minutes, so, let's get that litter made and get our asses outta here!"
He hated to do it, but they needed the kid awake to help them move him to the litter. He knelt beside the young man, taking in the drawn, pinched face, tight lines of pain around the eyes. "Hey kid. Time to wake up, we're moving out." Jim motioned for Joel to move around to the kid's head, watching as the young man struggled awake. "We've made a kind of a stretcher to carry you on and we need you to move as much as you can, that way you move at your own speed and maybe it won't hurt as much."
"My name is...Blair." The voice was still raspy but a lot stronger than it had been the night before. Jim grinned in response to the indignant tone. "I don't...like to be...called 'kid', I'm not..."a short bout of coughing interrupted. Blair groaned as he held tightly to his aching ribs. After a couple of minutes, he looked up at the two soldiers and tried again, "Well, I'm ready...if you are."
Joel slid his hands under Blair's shoulders and Jim gently lifted the cushion holding the injured ankle.
"Okay Joel, Blair, ready on 3. One, two, three, move." Slowly the young man shifted, Jim and Joel helping all they dared, until he lay, exhausted, on the litter. "We're heading out, but you're just not in any kind of shape to make it to our rendezvous, so we're going to hide you at.." He stopped as Blair frantically shook his head and lifted his hands in shushing motions. "What? What did I say?"
"You have to be...careful...that officer over there, Major Phen, he speaks a little...English, but...I think he...understands...more than he...ever...let on." Those few words left him short of breath, but he had to warn the men who had helped him last night. "I...just be...careful...man, okay?"
Jim nodded his understanding and glared at the Major who stared at him with hot, angry eyes. "Captain Banks, sir! I have some information that may just come in very handy for our little journey." Jim succinctly passed on the information about Phen's knowledge of English and Banks grinned, a very satisfied and evil grin.
It was explained to Major Phen that he and his men had the option of carrying the young man they had tried to beat to death or remain bound and gagged to enjoy the impending 'fireworks'. Phen began protesting, in Vietnamese of course, when Banks lifted a hand to halt the flow of words, "Major, let me make myself very clear. There will be no discussion on this; you either help carry the litter or we leave you here to blow to kingdom come. What is your decision?"
The hot sun bore down on the men as they struggled across the rugged terrain. The area had been in dispute for some time, even before the Americans began their sanctioned 'police action'. Earlier explosions had left the ground pocked with ruts and holes and trees down. The VC were not gentle with their handling of the litter and Blair felt every jostle and jolt. Ellison had stopped the last two carrying Blair a few minutes before and his icy blue glare had warned them that if they valued their lives, they had better be more careful. Ellison walked next to the litter and glanced down at him every time he was unable to keep a groan of pain from escaping tightly compressed lips.
"Man, I'm so...sorry you...I mean...I know I'm...slowing you down...,"he stopped when a hand briefly touched his mouth. Ellison shook his head and huffed a little laugh. Blair looked at him, confusion warring with exasperation for domination on his mobile face. "I'm trying to apologize here and he's laughing! What gives with this guy?"
"Look Chief. You're not slowing us down that much and trust me. This is way better than my last assignment. You'd never believe what the brass had me doing a couple of months ago." He saw the questions in Blair's eyes and continued, "I was sent out with Rafe and Henri to locate some science type guy who was out here in the hills studying god knows what. His wife is the sister to a General stateside, and when she didn't hear from her hubby for a couple of weeks, she got it in her head that he was in trouble and all of a sudden we're out trying to find him." He stopped when he saw the panicked look on the kid's face. "What is it Chief? Are you in pain or something?"
"Who...who was...I mean is...the man you were...sent out to...find?"
"Uh, it was, ah what was his name? He was out here with a bunch of college kids studying tribal legends or something. What the heck was his name?"
"Stoddard. Eli Stoddard," Blair whispered roughly.
"Yeah, that's it!" Ellison stopped suddenly and looked down at ocean blue eyes darkened with tears. "How did you know that? Blair?"
"I was with him...when they...came to the...village."
Ellison continued to stare down at the young man lying on the litter, throat working convulsively to hold back emotion, pale face going impossibly whiter. Tears leaked from the corners of tightly closed eyes. He had no idea what had caused this reaction other than his obvious injuries. "Look Chief, don't try to talk anymore. Let me get you some more water." Red-rimmed eyes opened and Jim was struck again by the courage shown by this kid in the face of all that had happened. He knew tough soldiers who would have broken under the same treatment Blair had suffered. He lifted the curly head and let Blair have his fill of water. The prisoners carrying the litter shifted in anger and Blair gasped as he was rocked to lie on his injured ribs. Jim lifted his fist to strike the closest, but found his arms held by an irate Captain.
"Ellison, I do not think you want to have to fill out the paperwork required when a prisoner is mistreated by a soldier under my command!" In a softer tone he inquired, "Say, kid. Are you going to be okay? We can stop for a bit longer." Blair shook his head, his breathing easing as the pain died down. "Okay, then we push on. Phen, you tell your men if they cause this young man any more pain, I will find myself called away from this patrol for a few minutes, leaving Ellison here in charge. Do I make myself clear?"
The angry, bitter Major nodded his head in understanding and in low, clipped words translated Banks' threats.uh, promise to his men. The captive soldiers nervously glanced at Ellison, his face still a study in anger, icy blue eyes hot with the urge to do bodily harm. The prisoners traded off so the two who had been carrying the litter would be further from Ellison's dangerous presence.
By nightfall, they had managed to put 10 miles between them and the now destroyed headquarters building. The prisoners had been fed and allowed to answer nature's call and were now trussed up, each to their own tree with no chance of helping one another loosen their bonds. Rafe and Brown had pulled first guard duty, Simon and Joel would relieve them in 4 hours. It was too risky to chance a fire, no matter how much they all craved a hot mug of coffee. Ellison had positioned himself near Blair, as much to check on his injuries as to satisfy this strange feeling that he 'had' to protect the young man. Blair had been asleep 15 minutes after they stopped, not even waking when Ellison checked his ankle, ribs and head. Jim listened to the slow, even breathing and the soft snoring, knowing that rest would help the kid as much or more than anything else they could do at this point.
Simon came over and crouched down by the sleeping man. "He's really out, isn't he?" smiling around the big cigar stuck between gleaming white teeth. "Don't think a sonic boom would wake him right now, do you?" Ellison shook his head, smiling as the young man shifted without waking, only a quiet moan of pain interrupting the soft snores. "How far away do you figure we are from the village right now?" This last asked in a low, quiet voice meant for Ellison's ears only.
"Maybe 2, 3 miles at most. We should split up in the morning when we break camp. That way Phen won't have any clue what's up. Hopefully he'll think a helicopter is picking up Joel, me and the kid here. No need to let him know there's nowhere around here for a chopper to set down safely." Banks nodded in agreement. He rose to his feet, stretched and ambled off toward the 'latrine area' downwind of their small camp. Jim looked back at Blair who was mumbling under his breath. He caught the name of a female, wonder who Naomi is? High school sweetheart?
Jim settled down near the injured man, knowing he needed to get some sleep. Four hours would not make up for the lost sleep of the past 3 days, but it would be better than nothing. He looked around the camp once more, found everything in order and allowed himself to drop off to sleep.
It seemed like mere minutes later that a loud noise woke him. He shot to his feet, scanning for the source. It had sounded like gunfire, no, more like drumming. That can't be right. He checked again; Simon was asleep nearby, he saw Henri leaning against a tree near the prisoners, singing softly to himself and Rafe was crouched down, checking his radio set. They seemed unaware of the loud noise still thrumming in his ears. He turned around slowly as the sound became louder and faster. Blair lay partially turned on his good side, pale face shiny with sweat and contorted with pain and fear. The kid's having a nightmare and I can bet what it's about. As he knelt beside the young man, he realized the sound was even louder. What the heck? He laid a gentle hand on the sweaty forehead and the young man calmed at the touch. The sound lessened, slowed down and suddenly Jim knew what he had been hearing. The realization rocked him. That can't be right. No way I can hear his heartbeat! No way it woke me up from a sound sleep!
Blair shifted as the nightmare receded, leaving him as a sense of calm and peace swept over him. Something cool and warm at the same time rested on his forehead and he relaxed under the feel. The dreamscape switched to a rocky beach, with blue seas and white clouds scudding overhead with the brisk breeze. He heard seagulls crying in the air above him, dancing on the wind. Here he felt safe and protected, here he could rest.
Ellison left his hand on the young man's forehead for a while longer, amazed at how he had calmed from the simple contact. The heartbeat no longer raced and pounded with fear and pain. Ellison watched the slim body relax and deep lines of pain smooth slightly. Well, don't that beat all? Another few minutes passed and the breathing slowed and deepened and the soft snoring began once again. Ellison shifted onto his rough pallet of limbs and ferns and found sleep once more.
Rafe checked the perimeter once again while Henri checked the prisoners. They both knew that the prisoners were taking turns sleeping but didn't let that worry them. They had been on patrols enough with Ellison to know that he would somehow be alerted by any attempt by the VC to get away. They had discussed this at length; Rafe simply thought the man was so attuned to the jungle he was alerted by any different noise but Henri swore Ellison was psychic. No matter the reason, both men were confident in Ellison's ability. He saw Henri shake Joel awake and then turn to Banks. Both men were instantly awake, grouchy maybe, but awake. Rafe grinned when Banks tripped over his rifle, then instantly sobered. They had all been awake for a very long time excepting the short nap before rushing the HQ yesterday and all were extremely tired. He suddenly felt exhausted and wondered if he'd find the energy to make it to his pallet before falling over. He swiped a hand over a grimy, haggard face, trying to clear away the cobwebs. A hand clamped down on his shoulder and he looked into H's amused, tired face. "Hey partner, you gonna stand around here all night or are we finally gonna make nice with the sandman?" Rafe snorted. No one actually said 'sandman' anymore, well, except maybe Henri Brown. Arms slung across shoulders, they stumbled to their pallets and within 5 minutes were doing chainsaw imitations.
The rest of the night passed quietly. Ellison roused himself about 2 hours after Banks and Joel took the watch, checked on Blair, then joined the two big men. Joel flashed a grin when Jim pointed toward his abandoned bed with a thumb. "Can't sleep anymore Joel. Why don't you get a couple more hours sack time?" Joel needed no more encouragement and soon joined Henri and Rafe in their nighttime chorus. Banks motioned to the Lt. to move to a more private spot. Jim circled the prisoners; head cocked, listening for any sign of imminent escape.
"What's up Captain?"
"Nothing, just wanted to move far enough away so that no one could eavesdrop. Are you sure about us splitting up?"
"No, I'm not sure about anything right Captain. All I am sure of is that there is no way we could move fast enough with the kid as bad off as he is, if an enemy patrol or squad caught up to us. And no way am I leaving him behind. But, if you need, I can probably get him to that village myself. Maybe that would be better. You'd have Joel to help with the prisoners in case they try something. "
"Are you sure Jim? I mean the kid's not very big, but he's no lightweight either. And with his injuries he's not mobile. Hell, I couldn't move as much as he already has if I were as bad off as he is."
"Like I said, I'm not sure about anything, but I do think I can get us to safety. You're the one we'll be counting on to bring back help." The men grinned at each other, then moved back to continue their watch.
Dawn found Banks, Taggert, Rafe and Henri moving southwest with the prisoners. Blair looked around the abandoned camp as Ellison moved quickly and efficiently to erase any sign that anyone had been there overnight. His movements were fluid, economical, graceful, reminding Blair of a tiger he had watched one day on a game preserve when he was sixteen. Ellison had propped him up against his backpack, the first time he had been semi-upright in two days. Wish I could help, but just moving my leg felt like Ellison was trying to rip it off! And how the heck does he propose to get me from here to wherever it is he's going to hide us until the cavalry arrives? No answers were forthcoming from the jungle shadows.
Ellison checked his work with a critical eye. Almost all evidence of the other men was gone. He dusted his hands on his fatigues and turned to his, what? My responsibility, my charge? What is it about this kid that protecting him supercedes anything else? It's not his fault that he can't walk, can hardly move without pain. All I know is that I have to make sure he's safe! None of his inner turmoil showed on his impassive face. The young man lifted his head slowly at Ellison's approach. The big Ranger looked down at the tired face, apprehension, embarrassment and hope flashing across the expressive face.
Shaking his head, the crouched down beside him, "Okay Chief, we're going to be leaving soon, but it will take a while for you to get used to the movement. I.it's going to hurt, but there's no help for it. I can't drag you on the litter; that would be a dead giveaway to any VC following us. I'm going to put you across my shoulders, with your injured side up and carry you that way. That will put your weight on your good side and you'll need to 'curl up' in order not to stretch your rib cage. Sound simple enough?"
Blair nodded his understanding, but frowned as he realized that Ellison was going to be carrying his heavy backpack as well as Blair. As he watched the Lt. pull the backpack's straps across his shoulders he protested, "No, you can't carry all that weight. I'll only slow you down so much that they'll be sure to catch you." The voice was still raspy but easier to understand. He had managed to swallow a few rations that morning along with the water from Ellison's canteen. "I can fashion a crutch or something and I'm sure I can manage to keep up with you if you don't go too fast."
"Look Chief, I know what I'm doing here. And you and I both know you could never keep up with me what with your bad leg and those ribs. And the more you keep that leg down the longer it's going to take for the swelling to go down. No more arguments Chief!" This stopped the younger man who opened his mouth to protest again. "Now it's time for us to make tracks. Give me your hand and we're outta here."
Two hours later, Jim's shirt was stuck to his body from the sweat streaming down his body. The kid had tried to be as still as humanly possible while Jim carried him at a quick pace. He figured he had covered at least 3 miles in that time. Should be near that village. He worked his way through stubborn vines and undergrowth and broke into a small clearing. He stopped for a minute to get his bearings, a smile spreading across his face. Yep! Almost there! "Hang in there Chief. We should be there in, oh, 20 minutes. Sound good?" Blair's hand gripping his upper arm tightened in response and once again Jim was moving.
Jim slowly slid the young man off his shoulders onto the ground carefully. Blair hadn't made a sound the entire time he had carried him, but now he could see that the young man's face had gone gray. Blair's eyes were closed, he was taking shallow, careful breaths and the full lips were again tightly compressed. Ah hell Chief. I knew there was no way I could carry you without causing some pain, but you should've let me know how bad it was getting. "Chief, can you hear me? Blair? Give me a sign here kid." The curly head shook slowly from side to side. "Blair, where, I mean what's causing the most pain?"
Blair curled slowly onto his uninjured side, wrapping his arms tightly around his waist. He slowly opened his eyes, trying to focus on Ellison through tears of pain. "Ribs. Hurts. Can't..hurts." and closed his eyes once more. A whisper of sound followed. "Thanks man."
Ellison swallowed heavily. The kid hadn't once made a whimper while being carried. Jim fussed over the jacket he had put on the kid that first night when Banks had picked up the ruined shirt left by the VC on the floor. "We're at the village Blair. I'm going in to make sure it's still deserted and then I'll be back for you. Do you want some water or something before I head out?" A tired shake of the curly head answered him. "Okay, I'll be back in about 15 to 20 minutes. You need anything and I mean anything Chief, you just let out a yell or a croak or something and I'll hear you. You got that?" A barely perceptible nod and Jim moved out.
He visually checked the village, sweeping carefully over each building, every hut. Nothing found, he moved through, almost soundlessly. He moved past the large outdoor fire pit to the livestock pens. There it is! The people here did a heck of a job camouflaging that trapdoor! Thankful that he had indeed spotted the entrance to the tunnels, he continued moving through the village, checking that he hadn't missed anything or anyone. Swiftly moving back to the tunnel entrance he pulled the seemingly innocuous length of abandoned rope and the trapdoor swung open silently. He dropped down the five or so feet to the floor of the tunnel and began to check for unfriendlies. Unfriendlies! What a word and look where it originated. Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, he moved on, stretching his sight and his hearing for anything unexpected. He checked for booby traps, trip wires; anything and everything left behind to injure those who came after. Finding nothing, he pulled himself out into the bright sunshine and hurried back to Blair.
"Chief, I found the tunnel and we should be safe there until my squad returns with help. But I have to move you again. Only about 200 yards. Piece of cake after that last bit, huh?" Blue eyes opened and Jim was astounded at the amount of trust he saw in the blue depths. Blair slowly uncurled himself and raised his good arm. Moving as gently as he could, he again moved the young man onto his shoulders and headed for safety.
At the trapdoor, Ellison ran into a huge snag. There was no ladder or footholds and he didn't know if lowering the young man into the tunnel or helping Blair by catching him as he lowered himself would hurt less. Blair settled the question for him. "Just let me get over the edge myself and you can, like, catch me on the way down. Okay?" Jim nodded in agreement and quickly moved into the tunnel. Blair bit down on his lower lip and cautiously moved to the edge of the entrance. He twisted his body slowly so that his legs dropped over first, but he misjudged the distance and found himself sliding down, the edge digging into his ribcage with a vengeance. A pained cry escaped in spite of the now bloody lip and then Ellison had his hands around his waist, slowly lowering him the rest of the way. Ellison paused long enough to close the trapdoor before turning back to the injured man.
"Chief! Did you do more damage to your ribs? You need to take short, shallow breaths, okay?" Blair nodded and struggled to control his breathing with Jim's coaching. After a while the pain lessened and a tired chuckle escaped the young man. "What? What's so funny, Chief?"
"Just.I knew a girl.she was pregnant and.well.you sound like.like her coach for.childbirth.with the 'breathe, one, two, three'.thing there man."
"Pregnant huh? Wouldn't be someone you knew well there Chief? Maybe this Naomi I heard you talking about last night in your sleep?" the older man kidded. He felt like a cold bucket of water had been dumped on him when the young man started sobbing. God, what did I say?!! He pulled the young man to him carefully, propping him against his chest in hopes of keeping the pull of the sobs from further injuring the cracked ribs. He rubbed his hand up and down the thin back, making soothing noises in an awkward attempt to comfort. The sobs finally quieted, the breathing hitching with the aftermath of the tears. The curly head leaned further into his chest, becoming heavier as the kid surrendered to his exhaustion. He leaned his head further down as he heard the kid whisper, "Naomi.my Mom.saw her.killed."
Ellison awoke with a start. He had fallen asleep while holding the injured young man he had helped rescue. His back and legs were cramping from the awkward position. Blair slept on, curly head pressed against his human pillow, one arm curled around his injured ribs, the other around Ellison's waist. Jim grinned at the thought of the look on Simon's face if he were to find them right now. Moving cautiously to straighten his legs and stretch his back without waking his charge, he looked around the dark tunnel entrance, marveling that he had no problems seeing clearly. Need to move further into the tunnel soon. Just in case the VC know about this place already. Knowing it was necessary, but hating to wake him, Jim tilted Blair's head back, eyes tracking across the sleeping face. Kid looks so young, but his beard is heavier than mine! Even asleep he looks exhausted. Ellison carefully maneuvered the young man down on his back, then checked his injuries. The swelling around the injured ankle had gone down a bit, but was still almost black with discoloration. He moved to the injured ribs, pressing gently. The bruising there was spectacular, the impressions from boots standing out vividly against the tanned skin. The abrasions on both wrists were red and angry looking, but there was no streaking, no sign of infection. The gray color from earlier was gone, the pale, bruised face was slightly flushed with the beginnings of fever.
Blue eyes opened slowly, panic replacing the lost look as Blair looked around frantically, trying to see something, anything in this dark place. "Easy Chief, easy. We're in the tunnel, remember? There's not much light down here, but you're safe, okay?" Ellison spoke in soothing tones, gripping Blair's upper arms lightly. The restless movement quieted as he settled down, remembering how Jim carried him to safety. "I know it will be hard, but we need to move further into the tunnel. This part is very shallow, only about 5 or 6 feet deep and we have no protection in case of explosion, like a grenade or something." Blair nodded his understanding. "No way can I carry you in here, Chief. The ceiling's just too low. I know you're tired and hurting, but we really do need to move and soon."
"Not a problem man. I've caught like a second wind here and if you don't move too fast, I think I can keep up." Blair shifted to a sitting position, grimacing when his ribs set up an instant protest. Controlling his breathing, he scooted until his back was against the side of the tunnel. Ellison moved over for support as Blair slowly straightened, all his weight on his good leg. Sweat dotted his forehead and upper lip. Wiping his face with a shaky hand, he grinned up at Ellison. "I'm glad you can see in here, 'cause I gotta tell ya, I can't see shi..how come you can see so good in here anyhow?" as a frown replaced the grin; a thoughtful look finally settling over the mobile face.
"Don't know for sure Chief, but I do have excellent night vision. That probably explains it. Now, you can't stretch your arm across my shoulders, it would pull too much on your ribs, so I want you to lean on me to keep the weight off your ankle. I want you to hook your arm through my belt here and I'll have my arm around your waist. Ready to try it out?"
"Sure, uh huh. Like you said, we can't stay here, right?" And off they lurched, Blair not able to maintain his balance without Jim's help. Both had to walk hunched over at first, putting pressure on Blair's injured ribs. But the tunnel soon angled down and they were able to straighten again. Half an hour later Ellison called for a break. Blair leaned against the wall once more, shaking from fatigue and pain, throat working to control the loud groans of pain wanting to escape. He found a canteen thrust into his hand and slowly brought it up to his mouth. His hand shook so badly he spilled the first bit of it down his chin onto his chest. Another hand found it's way to the canteen, steadying it for him. After drinking deeply of the warm water, oh god that tastes good, he looked up at what he thought was Ellison's face, "Thanks man. Only thing that would taste better right now would be an ice-cold beer. Got any in that backpack of yours?"
"Not regulation rations on patrol Chief. But I think I could knock down a couple myself right now." He raised the canteen back to the younger man, but a shaky hand pushed it aside. "What, not thirsty if it's not made out of hops and stuff? You're got the beginnings of a fever going Chief. You need the fluids. Now, drink." And raised the canteen once again.
"Not until you've had some. I know how far you carried me today and you've been carrying me most of the way through this tunnel. And, uh, did I remember to thank you for all you've done for me? I mean, you didn't have to leave your squad, you could've, I, you.well, why didn't you leave me back there man? I've slowed you down; you might get killed or something!" Blair pushed wayward curls behind his ears, agitated, frustrated, still frightened.
"You did thank me Chief. And I could've left you behind, yeah, and maybe, just maybe you would've stayed hidden until we could bring back more manpower to get you out, but I don't think that's what would have gone down. And there's no way I could live with myself if I had left behind an injured kid, unarmed, totally unable to defend himself. Now, you drink some more of this water, calm down and let's get moving, 'kay?" The young man looked at him, jaw tightening with the beginnings of another round of protests. "No more arguing with me Chief! I'm in charge here and the more you argue, the more time you're wasting for both of us! Do I make myself clear?" Chagrined, Blair nodded and accepted the canteen, drinking deeply until Ellison seemed satisfied. Jim took a couple of swift sips and capped the lid. "Ready to move?"
"Yeah, just lemme get balanced here." Shifting until both were comfortable, they set out once again. "And I've told you before. I'm not a kid, damnit!" A short bark of laughter answered his grouchy pronouncement.
That night they were settled about a mile deep into the main tunnel. There had been several offshoots, but Ellison nixed any thought of checking them. They had worked out a strange shuffling walk that put a crick in Jim's lower back and neck, but was easier on Blair and his injuries. They were now in a large, circular shaped area with two short corridors heading off east and west from the main tunnel. Either the builders of the tunnel or the late residents of the abandoned village had left behind a large keg which proved to be full of water, two small crates and best of all, a small, rickety cot. Jim pulled out some rations, refilled his canteen, and settled Blair on the cot and himself on the largest of the crates. They munched on the nutritious, barely palatable food, washed down with long drinks of water. Jim had already checked out the two short tunnels and decided one would do nicely for 'latrine' purposes.
"So, kid, I mean Blair. How did you manage to get yourself in this mess? I mean, you're obviously not military." The question seemed to make the young man nervous. He tilted his head and amazed at himself, heard Blair's heartbeat quicken the breathing come in short, uneven breaths. "I didn't mean to put you on the spot here Chief. I was just curious."
Closing his eyes and reciting a calming mantra, Blair waited until he felt more centered. After a few minutes he opened his eyes, knowing that Jim could still see him easily. "It's kind of a long story, man. You want the whole thing or the Reader's Digest condensed version," this said with a sad smile.
"It's your tale Chief. I'm all ears so take your time."
"I'm a 3rd year student at Rainier University in Cascade, that's in Washington state." Blair couldn't see the startled look on Ellison's face with that opening remark. "And yes, I am in college and no, I'm not making that up. I started when I was 16, finished high school early and was accepted at Rainier with a full scholarship. My first year I took Anthro 101 and was hooked after my first field trip to a Haida nation excavation site up in British Columbia. I guess you could call me a science geek, but anthropology is just so exciting! I went on every expedition I could possibly talk someone into taking me on! I've been to a Navaho reservation to work on Anasazi ruins, walked the Appalachian Trail one summer collecting folk tales of the region, and went on a two month expedition to the Amazon!" Jim grinned in the dark at the wonder and excitement in the young man's voice, settling back as Blair continued.
"That's when I first met and worked with Dr. Stoddard, Eli Stoddard. He was amazing man. He, like, took me under his wing and was never too busy to point things out or show me things I might have missed. And that's where I first heard about Sentinels. When we got back, Dr. Stoddard gave me the journals of Richard Burton, the explorer, not the actor who married Liz Taylor. He chronicled many tribal legends passed down of these men, sentinels I mean. Sentinels like watched out for their entire tribe, because their senses were enhanced, all five of them. They could hear better, see farther, smell things no one else could, feel the most minute indentation and taste, well, I'd like to see them with this stuff the army calls food!" Another short bark of laughter from the normally stoic lieutenant followed this statement. Blair grinned to himself (he thought) at the sound of the laughter. This guy could stand to laugh more often.
"Anyway, after the Amazon, I found it kinda hard to go back to Rainier and listen to lecture after lecture, taking test after test. I mean, the classes were interesting and I had no problem acing the tests or anything, but, I, I wanted more!! I wanted to do my own research about these men, sentinels. I mean, you can see here in this tunnel and I can't see my hand in front of my face man! So, I was wondering if maybe, you, I mean..."
"It's like I told you Chief, I have excellent night vision and there's enough light filtering through that it's no problem for me down here. We're only about 20 or 30 feet underground and there are several tunnels that lead off the main one here, that I'm sure lead back to the surface. Now, get back to your story Chief." He sighed in relief when the intense look of curiosity on the young man's face was replaced with, with.disappointment?
"Well, anyway, I took any class that Dr. Stoddard taught, attended any seminar he recommended. And then he was given a grant to go to Laos to study the tribes that lived in the hills near the border. He hand picked a group of students, mostly grad students, to help him and be like research assistants, gofers, well, you know, grunts." Again a wide smile graced the pale, tired face. Ellison found himself amazed again at the young man's ability to smile so often even after all that had happened to him. He shook off his own thoughts as Blair started up again. "I begged Dr. Stoddard to take me with him. I was certain that I would find more evidence of the existence of modern sentinels there. I had started learning the language by checking out tapes from the library, you know the kind where you listen at night while you're asleep and the brain just absorbs the info? But Dr. Stoddard told me I was too young and wasn't experienced enough for this trip. He was worried because of all the unrest along the border between Laos and Viet Nam, all the reported skirmishes and stuff, but not enough to call off the expedition. I was so bummed man! I couldn't believe he was pulling that 'you're too young' crap with me. Now I know he was only trying to keep me safe." Jim could hear the tears in the now unsteady voice.
Blair swiped a hand across his face, angrily wiping away the tears that threatened to fall. "I snuck into his office one day when his secretary was swamped by all the paperwork caused by such an undertaking and found out what ship they would be taking, and the departure date. The University couldn't afford to fly everyone over and ship the equipment, so the whole expedition was headed over there by boat. I, well, I stowed away the day before they were to leave and the rest as they say is history." This last said in a voice so subdued and low Ellison had to strain his hearing to catch.
"You mean to tell me you.wait a minute! You started college when you were 16.that means you, you're trying to tell me you're 19 years old!? No way! And sneaking on board ship like that! You're lucky to have survived!"
"I'm not trying to tell you anything! I am 19 years old and I have, had ID to prove it!" Blair said bitterly. "Those soldier took everything I had, ID, passport, my pocket watch, swiss army knife." his breath hitched again as memories overwhelmed him for a minute. Ellison moved to the side of the small cot, hand reaching out, hovering over the young man, not knowing what to say to help. Blair ruthlessly pushed aside the memories. He sensed Ellison at his side, couldn't see him through the darkness, but somehow knew the big man was close. "I'm okay Jim. Just had a bad moment there. I'm fine, really." He knew he didn't sound convincing. A callused hand briefly touched his forehead.
"I didn't mean for you to get upset Blair. I guess I didn't realize how, I mean, I didn't think.." Ellison ground to a halt. He knew the words, but they wouldn't come out as he intended. "You don't sound okay Chief. Why don't you try to get some sleep now?"
"Nah. I think it would be better for me in the long run to just finish this, if you don't mind?"
"No, go ahead, but only if you want to."
"Lemme see now where was, oh yeah, stowaway. And you're right about the survival part man. This was a freighter, not real old or anything like that, but the first day out at sea? I was sooooo sick man! I bet I was puke green all over! That's how they found me. I was hanging out a porthole, trying to expel my toes! I have never been so sick! The captain was livid that I was on board and was ready to turn the boat around but a bad storm that wasn't supposed to reach that far south caught them and I was sorta forgotten for a while. They left me locked in the infirmary for 2 days!! Not that I was hungry or anything like that. The ship surgeon or doctor or whatever kept feeding me seasick pills and one morning I woke up and suddenly I could sit up without feeling like I was upside down or moving sideways. Anyway, the captain finally remembered me and hauled my butt up on deck. Dr. Stoddard saw what was going on and rescued me from being keelhauled or made to walk the plank, which might have been better after the reaming out he gave me! Made me feel about 2 years old. He managed to convince the captain to send a message back to the states so my Mom wouldn't be so worried." Blair laughed, but the laugh sounded sadder than almost anything Ellison had ever heard. Before he could ask, Blair continued his saga.
"My Mom, Naomi Ruth Sandburg," this said with love and tenderness, "was always on the move. I could've told Dr. Stoddard that she probably wouldn't get the message for weeks, maybe months, but he wasn't listening to me at that point. Naomi was like the original flower child man. Offbeat, into Yoga and meditation years before the hippie movement. She was great man! And beautiful! Seems like almost every man she ever met fell in love with her and wanted to marry her. But she never settled down with any of them, just kept it her and me, moving around, seeing the world."
Ellison cringed when he heard who Naomi was to the young man. Now he understood why Blair had broken down when he talked about Naomi. Blair pulled himself together and forged ahead.
"Dr. Stoddard told me in no uncertain terms what he thought of my careless and childish actions. He said I could continue with the group, but only until my Mom could make arrangements for me to get back to Washington. And that I would work while I was with them. I think he was secretly happy to have me along, but he had to keep up appearances, you know. Seems he asked to have me added to the expedition's company, but the University said absolutely NO because of my age! I mean, I had already been to South America with him and there's always trouble brewing down there. But, I guess they knew what they were talking about, now that I think about it. 'Cause here I am and I am in sooo much trouble and I'm being so much trouble."
"Yeah, Chief, you should've listened to wiser heads. Just think of it. You would still be home, going to class, dating, all the stuff young men are..hey Chief? If you're 19, what's your draft status?"
"A big 4-F man! I am sooo near sighted it's not funny. And I lost my glasses ages ago. And, I'm told, I'm too damned short for the military minds that make up all these stupid rules!" Ellison stifled a laugh at the indignant tone, grateful that Blair couldn't see the grin that threatened to split his face.
"Well, don't sweat that Chief. I can see well enough for both of us."
"Yeah, and about that 'night vision' thing of yours. I mean, is it only at night or is your vision as acute in daylight? I mean, do you, uh, can you see things that are pretty far away, I mean, better than most people? I've done some studies where." A hand closed gently over his mouth, stopping the spill of words.
"Listen Junior. I've explained all I'm gonna explain about the vision thing. Now, if you're tired, why don't you settle down and get some shut eye?"
"Nah, I've slept off and on for 2 days man! I'm tired but too wired to sleep right now. You want I should finish my little story here?" A quiet chuckle was his answer. "Well, we finally landed in Thailand and found a couple of old trucks waiting for us that Dr. Stoddard had arranged for. Those pieces of, uh, automotive cow droppings broke down like every 20 miles. Thought we'd never reach Laos at the rate we were traveling. Dr. Stoddard had been sure that Naomi would have gotten her message and had someone waiting at the docks to take my butt straight to the nearest airfield, but he didn't know my Mom like I do! I figured she was in Tibet or something, learning how to levitate maybe. Anyway, Dr. Stoddard wouldn't leave me behind, so he left word at the American consulate where we were going and directions how to find us. Two weeks later, we were finally in Laos and it took another week to work our way into the hills. And guess what!? I was the only one there who could translate for the indigenous people!! Thought Dr. Stoddard was gonna blow his stack. Not one of his grad students had learned the right dialects!"
"We worked and lived with four different tribes from March through August. We had just finished up our work in the last village, packing up all our notes and equipment when a big commotion broke out. I should've known who had caused all the ruckus. I mean, only my Mom would show up riding a water buffalo, led by a Buddhist monk! She had no idea that it was totally bad form for them to come into the village that way! Took us all afternoon to clear up any misunderstandings and bad feelings. Didn't faze Mom one bit. She just hugged everyone in sight and kept telling me how 'beautiful' I looked with my long hair and stuff!" Blair laughed again, a gentle laugh full of love and sorrow. He cleared his throat, "she stayed with us as we headed for the last tribe we had on Dr. Stoddard's agenda to study. Oh god how I wish I'd just turned that water buffalo around and made her leave. I got her killed Jim!" The voice was now a harsh whisper; "I got my Mom killed."
End of Part Three