The Prisoner
by
Linda Delaney
In the squalid, humid hut, the prisoner struggled weakly with the
tight, abrasive rope that held his wrists and elbows tightly behind his back.
There was no way he could free himself. It was impossible
for him to move, in any fashion. He had been imprisoned here for at least four
days by his count. The efforts of his captors to extract information from him
were taking their toll. He was sick. Very sick How
long could he resist? He hoped that rescue or death would come soon. He didn’t
know how much longer he could last. He shook with fever and pain and remembered when he'd been he'd been bound and
blindfolded, tossed into the back of a truck and imprisoned here....
The two American Officers in Formal Dress White uniforms came to archway
of the Stadium in Cristalina Agua. Captain Lee Crane and Lt. Cdr. Chip Morton
of the SSRN Seaview walked down the steps of the Stadium, where Miguel
Acevedo had just been inaugurated as the first President of the newly formed
nation of Nuevo Rios.
"Not bad for an Inauguration, huh, Lee?"
Crane grinned at his friend, "Well, to my mind, when you’ve been to
one, you’ve been to one too many. And you and I, my friend, have been to way
too many!"
Chip grinned back, "Yeah, but there were a few of ‘em that we didn’t
do too badly at!"
Crane laughed, "Well, I may have a reputation, but you, my friend,
and the ladies, well… they say the strong, silent types have all the good
luck…" his voice trailed off, as his attention was drawn to the sound of
helicopters coming toward the stadium complex.
"Chip! Look!"
"I see! And over there…" Morton pointed to the archway of the
Mall area where a convoy of trucks, tanks, and heavily armed men were rapidly
filling the Mall. The men were dispersing and deploying about the area. As if
on a pre-arranged signal, gunfire erupted. The entire area was covered with
gunfire from above, and ground level. The security team around the new
President grabbed the man, and hustled him out of the area. The many
dignitaries screamed and ran, many falling to the flying bullets.
Neither he, nor Chip were armed, so Lee grabbed at Morton’s arm, and
tried to make cover at a nearby set of columns. It wasn’t to be, for a spray of
bullets brought Chip down
Lee dragged his friend to the cover of a nearby stone stairwell and quickly
examined him. He had taken two bullets, one high in the shoulder, and the other
in his side.
Chip was rapidly losing consciousness. He grabbed at Crane’s hand,
"Get out, Lee! You’ve got to get out of here!"
"Not on your life, buddy! We came here together, we leave
together!"
Chip tried to push Lee away, but the effort cost him consciousness, and
his body went slack. Completing his quick examination of his friend, Lee
couldn’t find any exit wounds and quickly tried to help Chip, making makeshift
bandages from his own dress white jacket and sheltering him from the bullets
and shrapnel that flew around them. There was little else he could do until the
fighting stopped and he could get Chip medical aid. He knew that he needed help
and soon, but there was no way at the moment he could get it. So he hunkered
down, waiting and praying for it to be over soon.
And it seemed that just as quickly as it started, it was over. Lee could
see many of the dignitaries that had attended the Inauguration being shoved
into several transport trucks.
The armed men were sweeping the compound and Lee knew that it wouldn’t be
long before they were taken. He could only hope that they would get Chip the
help he needed. The blond exec was pale and getting paler, the red stain on his
shoulder and side spreading slowly in spite of the makeshift bandages. Lee knew
it wasn’t good. Taking the ‘tiger by the tail’ he stood slowly, hands raised,
and waited to be seen by the troops in the mall. It took them but seconds and
they were swarming over the two men. Chip groaned in his unconscious state as
he was poked and prodded by rifle butts. Lee was roughly pulled aside and his
hands quickly pulled behind him and secured.
"Por favor!" he said loudly. The men turned to look at him.
Clearly, an American Naval Officer speaking fluent Spanish was a surprise.
"Mi amigo es seriamente herido. Él necesita médica ayuda!"
The leader of the group, wearing an indistinguishable collar and shoulder
rank, came forward to Lee. "Señor, you speak Spanish… A Gringo…" he
paused and looked at Lee and Chip, seeing Crane’s torn tunic on the ground, and
the rank insignia on the shoulder boards of both men, "that speaks our
language is unusual. Very unusual." He walked to Crane and reached for the
dog tags he wore. With artificial care, he lifted them, and read, "Crane,
Lee B., Commander, USNR, " He looked at Lee, quirking an eyebrow,
"The Captain of the famous Seaview! Come for the Inauguration of
the traitor Acevedo! Well, well!!!! Your government will be very surprised at
what has taken place here…" He walked around the prisoner, gesturing to
the man on the ground. "Your fellow officer, a friend?"
Lee weighed the question carefully and, realizing he would be giving
nothing to this new enemy, simply said, "My Exec."
"AAHHH, so the United States sent the Captain and Executive officer
of the illustrious ship to represent them. The President of the United States
must think highly of the traitor!" He tapped his chin as if in thought and
then began to issue orders in Spanish.
Looking at Lee, he told him, "Since you speak our language I do not
need to translate. However, I will tell you that your friend will be taken to
the hospital with the rest of the hostages. I am sure that your government will
be more than happy to ‘redeem’ him from our charge, and we will see he gets
appropriate treatment."
He walked around Lee. "However, Commander, I do believe that the
Captain of the Seaview is about to die He
nodded to several men who moved to Chip Morton and carried him to one of the
transport trucks. Lee watched and saw many hands from within reach to carefully
lift the injured man into the truck. The part of his mind, concerned for his
friend, sighed in relief.
His captor bent down and picked at the remains of Lee’s dress tunic. He
stomped on it several times and ground it into the ground with his heel.
Satisfied with his work, he reached for Crane’s dogtags and pulled them off.
Lee felt his ring being pulled from his finger and his watch torn from his
wrist. One of the soldiers ran up to the officer with two dirty but
recognizable Navy covers.
The officer took the caps, tunic and jewelry and went to the driver of
the truck that Morton was in. He had a few words with the driver, and then the trucks
left the mall area and rumbled down a side street and out of sight.
Lee’s captor moved close to him, "My name, Commander, is Enrique
Saldivar. I am a Lieutenant in the People’s Army of Nuevo Rios. I was educated
in your country, in Los Angeles. The schools there are very good." He
laughed loudly, without mirth. "Lleve al preso al carro." ‘Put him
in the truck.’ He jerked his head to the two men holding Lee and they
pulled him towards a small truck. He was gagged, blindfolded, and his arms
bound together even more tightly. Then he was lifted and thrown into the back
of the truck, striking his head hard on the floor of the bed, the blow
momentarily stunning him. The motor revved up, several men got in, and the
truck began to move.
Lee was shoved into a small space near the cab, his long body bent into
an uncomfortable ball. Between the gag, the blindfold, and the oppressive heat,
he found it hard to breathe in that position. He heard the soft talk of the men
in the truck but paid little attention to it. His mind was on Chip Morton, and
his concern for his friend. Lee knew enough about bullet wounds to know Chip
was in a bad way, and he could only hope and pray that the Medical help
Saldivar promised would be good enough to save his life. He tried to focus on
his boat, his men… but focusing was hard. His head hurt and he found himself
drifting off, the pain in his head making him aware of nothing but the steady
hum of the truck’s motor.
Harriman Nelson paced the ‘front porch ‘ of the SSRN Seaview, staring,
but not seeing out the great boat’s transparent ports. Sparks had given him a
message a short twenty minutes ago from the State Department. It was terse, and
terrible.
NELSON
COUP IN NUEVO RIOS AT
ACEVEDO INAUGURATION… COUNTRY IN TURMOIL… CRANE BELIEVED DEAD … MORTON SERIOUSLY WOUNDED … PLACED IN A CAPITOL HOSPITAL
…REBELS REQUIRE ‘REDEMPTION FEE’ TO RELEASE ALL HOSTAGES … MORTON IS THE LAST
ONE TO BE ‘REDEEMED’ GET THERE… COURIER WILL CONTACT YOU BEFORE YOU REACH THEIR
WATERS…
ARTHUR THEES
Nelson paced and ran his hand through his hair. ‘Lee! Chip! God what
kind of mess have we gotten the two of you into now!? Just because the State
Department wanted to show off, once again, it’s at high cost to the both of
you, and all of us here.’
Nelson crumpled the paper in anger and frustration, and barked orders at
Bob O’Brien, Seaview’s acting Captain. The young officer, having been in
this position before, responded rapidly, and he knew that Nelson’s barking was
a sign of frustration and concern. Bobby had learned over the time of his
service on the boat, that if you did your job as you were supposed to, Nelson’s
bark was worse than his bite. So he quietly and efficiently went about
his duties and waited for the older man to give whatever further orders he
chose.
He turned to look at the Control Room crew. Each man was more than
studiously doing his job. Doing it well, almost too well. The tension in the
room was heavy. Word had spread that the exec was wounded and the skipper was
"missing" Finally, Bob O’Brien moved
over to Kowalski and the boat’s most senior rating quietly asked, "Mr.
O’Brien, sir. Could I get a couple of minutes of relief? I need to do
something, uh, well, kinda important, sir?"
In an equally quiet voice, O’Brien acceded to his request and replied,
"Consider yourself relieved, ‘Ski." As the rating rose from his
chair, O’Brien laid an arm on his shoulder and Kowalski looked in askance at
him. Almost gently the officer said, "Take it easy on the Old Old Man,
‘Ski. He can’t take too much more!"
"Yes, sir. Uh… I uh mean, no sir…. I mean, don’t worry Mr. O’Brien.
The men and I just want to let him know that we’ll do anything for him.
Anything at all… we wouldn’t, no, we couldn’t do any less for the Skipper or
Mr. Morton either. We gotta find ‘em and get ‘em back, sir."
Bobby patted the rating on the shoulder once again. "We will, Ski',
we will."
"Aye, sir. I’ll just be a minute or two… Thank you sir."
Kowalski turned and went forward to the nose. He stood next to the foot of the
spiral gangway, waiting for the Admiral to turn around.
The older man, sensing someone looking at him, turned around. Slightly
annoyed, he asked testily, "Yes, Kowalski? What do you want?"
"Well, sir," he started slowly, uncomfortable in the presence
of the older man’s ire. "The men, sir, well, we’ve all been talking and
well, sir, we just want you to know that whatever you need to do to get the
Skipper and Mr. Morton back, just tell us, and
we’ll get it done faster than you can give the order, Sir."
Nelson’s frown quickly turned to a small smile and he laughed a bit,
" Thank you, Kowalski, thank you very much. His face saddened. "The captain may be dead for all we know, but
we'll do all we can to find him while we pay Morton's ransom."The Chief
will let you all know what we are going to do, and he’ll call for
volunteers."
"Yessir, but if you could, I want to be at the tope of that
list."
Nelson chuckled, "I’m sure it’s already there, son. But thank you, thank
you all, again." He clapped the rating on the shoulder, and Ski turned and
went back to his station.
Nelson moved to the Plot Table and called Bob O’Brien to join him. As the
young officer came to the table Nelson again spoke softly.
"Bob, let’s get the boat to flank and head for the waters off of
Nuevo Rios. State is negotiating to ‘redeem’ the American hostages. I want to
be there to get our men out as soon as we can."
"The Skipper, sir? Do you think he’s dead?"
"I don't want to. There's no body...State hasn't verified
it....there's still hope."
Nelson shook his head ruefully. "I just worry that one day his luck
is going to run out, and then, what would we all do?"
There was no answer that the young man could give him. He just shook his
head, and Nelson went slowly up the gangway to Officers’ Country.
Lee became more aware as the truck came to a sudden halt, and hands
roughly pulled him out of the truck and to his feet. He swayed with the
suddenness of being pulled erect. The gag was removed and he licked at his now
dry lips. He listened, and heard footsteps approach. The blindfold was ripped
from his eyes and he squinted in the sunlight of a small compound. Saldivar
stood in front of him.
"Welcome to your new home, Commander. It is small but it serves us
well. My men will ‘escort’ you to your ‘quarters’. I will see you
shortly."
He turned to the two men guarding Crane, and with a nod of his head and a
gesture, they dragged him to a hut in the center of the compound.
Crane was pulled into the dark interior and pushed to his knees in the
center of the hut. His back was pushed against the center pole and his legs
pulled behind him, around the pole. His ankles were bound together and fastened
to the pole. Then his knees were bound together in front of it, and also bound
to the pole. His wrists were briefly released, to be bound again behind him one
above the other to the pole, and then his elbows were pulled toward one another
and bound behind the pole as well. He found that he was unable to move much,
and any movement pulled at his arms and shoulders painfully.
Saldivar entered the hut, bending to enter thru the low doorway. He
walked around the small area once and then stood, blocking the little light in
the tiny fetid room.
"Commander, you have a great deal of knowledge that my superiors
want." He stepped forward, and was met by silence and burning dislike in
Amber-hazel eyes, alight with anger and more.
He took his gun, a .357 Magnum, and pointed the barrel at the center of
Lee’s forehead, stepping forward so that the tip of the barrel rested against
Lee ‘s skin, and he waited for the Captain of the Seaview to flinch or
waiver.
Lee did not. Instead, Crane met the man’s gaze squarely.
Saldivar kept the gun at Lee’s forehead for an interminable period of
time, then he slowly dropped the gun, and smiled evilly at his prisoner.
"I did not think that you would give in easily, Captain. I have heard of
your valor, and your feats on behalf of your country. But what I have in mind
for you, I don’t think that you or anyone would have anticipated. I would venture
to say that no one would even have thought of them… You will tell me all I want
to know after I am finished with you…I am sure of that. Very sure."
Lee replied, with quiet surety, "I wouldn’t count on it, Saldivar. I
wouldn’t count on it at all…"
"You are very certain, aren’t you? Well let me show you
something…" and he turned to one of his men. "Sanchez, me trae el
cubo! Bien."
The soldier stepped outside the hut and moments later returned, carrying
a large metal container. Slight thunking sounds came from the pail as it swung
slightly with the carrying motion.
" Dígame comandante, qué usted piensa en esto, esto es un leech." He spoke in Spanish so that the men
would understand what he was saying to Crane. He turned again to his men,
"Hernandez, quite su vestimento!"
Rough hands tore off Lee’s undershirt. Saldivar ran a hand over the
captive’s chest. "You are a very strong man, Commander. My pets will enjoy
you. They are hungry and anxious to feed. I have used them before, and they
tend to persuade my ‘guests’ to cooperate with me."
He pulled on a glove and reached into the bucket, pulling out a long
undulating slug-like creature. The length of it was somewhere around 18 inches.
He held it on his arm and smiled at Lee as the Captain involuntarily stared.
"I see you recognize this little pet of mine. I have many of them.
They are native to this land of ours. I believe their proper name is Haementeria
ghilianii. They are also called Giant Leeches." He moved closer to his
prisoner. "Do you know that they can take up to five times their body
weight in blood? Five times…they will do a bit of damage…" he came closer
still to Lee. "They also have a six inch long proboscis, to burrow into
the flesh with, if they cannot get a good enough hold with their three hundred
raspers. Oh, and did I mention that, unlike their cousins, they do not inject
an anesthetic when they bite and begin to slowly suck. They use mammal blood
for their nourishment. Once they are satiated they just drop off their host.
They leave a rather nasty wound that will continue to bleed for about ten
hours. Their saliva contains an anticoagulant. And an open wound, well it will
continue to collect all the lovely bacteria in the air…It can make for some
lovely sores… and wonderful pain in the victim, not to mention blood loss if
one or more of these lovelies are applied to the victim. Fever, infection,
blood loss, open wounds…do you want to begin to tell me all that you can about
the Seaview, let’s say beginning with her armaments?"
Lee swallowed, his dry mouth becoming drier as Saldivar explained what he
was planning. Slowly, carefully, Lee replied. His voice was low and raspy, his
words judiciously chosen, but perfectly clear. "Go to hell, Saldivar, and
take your men and your government with you…"
"One cannot say that you are lacking in courage, Captain, but we
will see in a few hours or so, after my pets have feasted on you… and then we
will see how brave you are…"
"You will get nothing from me, you bastard!"
Saldivar backhanded Lee, his hand connecting with Crane’s jaw and sending
his head hard into the pole, stunning him and sending the hut spinning around
him. Lee drew several deep breaths and attempted to still his stomach that had
been roiling as Saldivar continued his diatribe.
Leeches!! Lee shuddered inside, not wanting to let his captor know of
his uneasiness and, yes, fear. He had been trained by ONI to expect the
unexpected in cases of torture. He had heard tales of this type out in the
field but never expected to be subjected to it himself. He tried to prepare… to
set his mind to ignore what was coming. He began by turning his thoughts
inward, to his ‘lady’, and focusing on is boat, his men, and places other than
where he was right now…A sharp voice and another blow to his face pulled him
back to the hut…
"Commander, give me your attention, if you please!" Saldivar
hit him again. "I am asking you to tell me the armament capacity of your
boat! Now, or I will introduce you to my pets!"
The thought of the leeches made Lee’s stomach roll again, but he merely
shook his head slowly "NO!"
"Tsk, tsk… then I must do what I must. I know you will not enjoy the
experience, but perhaps it will loosen your tongue in terms of sharing the
information. As I said, we will see in time. I have not yet met a man that I cannot
get necessary information from, once my pets have begun their attempts at
persuasion I will leave you alone with them…" He turned to the two men who
had been at the door of the hut and began to issue orders in Spanish, but loud
enough for his prisoner to hear and clearly understand.
"Tome sus cuchillos, y haga muchos cortes todo concluído su cuerpo,
el suyo detrás, su pecho y brazos. Sea seguro hacerlo bastante de corrimiento
así que los leeches lo olerán y comenzarán a alimentar en él. Lo convencerán (Take your knives and make many cuts all
over his body, his back, his chest and arms. Be
sure to make him bleed enough so the leeches will smell it and begin to feed on
him. They'll convince him.)
The two men moved toward Lee with their knives drawn, and slowly began to
nick and slice at his arms and torso, one of them taking particular delight in
making several cuts across his scalp, allowing blood to seep thru his hair and
down the side of his face. The other one made several cuts on his cheek and neck.
By the time they were done, his body and head were a mass of bleeding cuts.
Thru it all he had remained silent, wincing with the cuts but not making a
sound.
The two men laughed and spoke to one another in guttural tones. He watched
and listened, his amber hazel eyes following each move, his mind steeling
itself for the horror to come. He began again to use the methods he had been
taught to move his mind away from his body, so that he would not feel some of
what was coming. As he watched, the two men lifted several long, slug-like
bodies from the buckets. Both of them were holding several in each hand, and as
they approached him the scent of blood caused the creature’s long proboscis’ to
extend. Lee tried to pull away but he was unable to move anything but his head,
tied as he was to the pole. He could only try to fight the nausea that sought
to control him
They held one to his head and the extended nose probed, found a cut on
his head, and dug its raspers deep into his skin. They laughed as he shuddered
with the creature’s penetration and laughing laid several others on his head,
holding one close to a cut on his throat. He couldn’t hold back the moan of
pain as the creature settled its raspers into his neck and began to slowly draw
blood. Enjoying their victim’s obvious pain, they then began to lay the
creatures all over his body. Laughing, one took a knife and slashed his legs
several times, cutting thru the soiled fabric of the white trousers, and
setting several of the leeches there as well. Low moans, and soon cries of
pain, came from Crane as one after another of the creatures bit and attached
itself to him. When they had finished, there were few parts of their victim’s
skin that remained exposed. They left him, laughing about the ‘Gringo’ and how
their Lieutenant was a smart man who would get the prisoner to tell him all
they wanted to know.
Lee Crane’s struggles quickly ceased. The pain and horror of what was
happening to him was somewhere beyond even his comprehension, and he allowed
the darkness of unconsciousness to engulf him.
In the Capital City of Nuevo Rios, Cristalina Agua, the small and
understaffed hospital was overwhelmed with patients. Many that were brought in never
even made it to the triage area. However, the American Naval Officer did.
Surprised Medical personnel quickly began to treat him, stripping his bloodied
garments and seeking the wounds. They set an IV, and prepared several
medications to administer. One of the nurses took his dogtags, and found with
them the medal that indicated Penicillin allergy. The nurse showed the
physician working on Chip and he shook his head sadly. The only available
antibiotics were Penicillin derivatives, which were cheap and plentiful. They
could give him no help there, and looking at the bullet wounds made the doctor
very concerned.
Quietly he spoke to the nurse. "Prepárelo para la cirugía, como
mejor es posible. Debemos quitar los puntos negros y hacer todos que poder. No importa
quién está en control de nuestro gobierno, debemos hacer nuestro mejor."(‘Prepare
him for surgery, as best as is possible. We must remove the bullets and do all
that we can. No matter who is in control of our government, we must do our
best.’)
The nurse ran a gentle hand over Morton’s face, wiping some of the dirt
from it. He moaned, and slowly became aware.
He heard hospital sounds, and voices, in a foreign language. His shoulder
flamed and the pain in his side traveled throughout his body in wave upon wave
of intense agony. He moaned again, and a gentle face came into view, a soft
voice coming from her lips.
"Comandante, haremos lo que nosotros lata para ayudarle. Le han
tirado y usted está en hospital del Ste. Martin’s en Nuevo Ríos. El silencio,
no intenta moverse."
With difficulty, he turned his head slightly. "I’m… sorry… I… I
…don’t understand…I … I don’t understand you…"
She realized she had been speaking in Spanish. She smiled slightly and
began slowly. "Commander … This is the hospital in Cristalina Agua. You
were shot and wounded in the coup’ d’ tat. You are very badly hurt." He
nodded and reached for her hand, pulling her face close to his mouth.
"My friend?" he whispered.
"I am sorry but no one was brought in with you, Commander. Now you
must try to rest. You are going to surgery. We are giving you a pain-killer, it
will help you sleep."
"No! Lee! Gotta know… where is Lee?"
His grip tightened on her hand, and she ran her other over his forehead
again, "Please, do not try to move, sir. You are badly injured."
"You…don’t understand! My… friend… My Captain… he… he was with
me!"
"There was no American with you when they brought you in." Her
soft hand lay on his forehead, cool to the warmth beneath it. "Please, let
us do what we can for you. We will try to find your friend, but you must
rest."
He nodded slightly and, still holding his hand, she turned to the doctor.
They spoke in hushed tones and he could understand very little… but he did hear
one word that tightened ice tendrils around his heart, "… es muerte!"
‘Dead! They were saying that Lee’s dead! NO!!!’ "NO!" he
murmured aloud as the slender fingers of the drugs worked their way into his
consciousness to drag him deep into oblivion.
The doctor watched as Chip’s breathing became even and regular. He looked
at the nurse, shaking his head sadly. "Consigámoslo al cuarto de
funcionamiento. No sé lo que encontraremos, o para esa materia si él incluso
sobrevive. Pero otra vez, no importa qué el gobierno nosotros servimos, un
oficial naval americano muerto no está en nuestros mejores intereses. Vayamos!(Let’s get him to the OR. I don’t know
what we’ll find, or for that matter if he will even survive. But again, no
matter what government we serve, a dead American Naval Officer is not in our
best interests. Let’s Go!’)
The nurse nodded and packed the IV bag on the gurney, walking next to
Chip as they wheeled him into the Operating Room.
"Admiral Nelson, we’re at the landing co-ordinates!" Bobby
O’Brien’s voice came over the speaker in his cabin. Nelson had been on the
phone making plans for rescue as soon as the word about Chip and Lee came to
him. He was bone tired, and disheartened. But he would not accept that Lee was
dead. He would go and rescue both men, wherever they were. He had a plan, he had
State’s approval, and he had 125 volunteers. He would find them!
He hit the button on the speaker on his desk. "Okay, Bobby. Take her
down and set for silent running. We don’t know what the political situation is.
Have Sharkey, Kowalski, Rodriquez, and Riley meet me in the missile room
in," he paused and looked at his watch, "uh, in 20 minutes, 1550.
Have them armed. I want fatigues, assault rifles, grenades, and the rest of the
materials I had Sharkey get together.. He’s coming with us." He paused,
thoughtfully, " and thanks, Bob. You’re doing a great job."
"Aye, sir. Thank you sir!" the second said, pleased with the
commendation from his CO.
He reached for the mike, "Sick Bay, this is Nelson. Jamie, are you
ready?’
"Yes, sir. I’ll meet you in the Missile Room. I have a few more
things to prepare."
"Okay, Will. In ten."
He clicked off the mike, and listened as the all call sent the men to the
Missile Room with the required equipment. He smiled. Lee and Chip had the crew
in top order. Even with their absence, Seaview ran like a clock, and he
also knew that a large part of the reason for it was the way that his Senior
Officers treated the men. Give them respect and they give it right back. He
rose, and slammed the desk as he stood. He had to find them… he just had to!
In the compound, Saldivar hit one man, and then the other.
"ESTÚPIDO!! Le dije utilizar algunos de mis leeches, no todos!! Lo
necesito hablar! Él ahora no puede!"(FOOLS!
I told you to use some of the leeches, not all!! I need him to talk! He can’t
now!)
"Pero, teniente, seguimos solamente órdenes... que el preso es muy
débil ahora!! él no podrá oponerse a su interrogación!" (But,
lieutenant, we only followed orders... the prisoner is now very weak!! He will
not be able to resist your interrogation!)
"No cuido! Idiotas! Vaya! Salga de mi vista!!!"( I do not
care! Idiots! Go! Get out of my sight!!!) The men scurried away from the
raging officer. Saldivar walked over to the hut that held his prisoner, and stepped
inside. After his eyes adjusted to the dimness, he walked toward his prisoner.
His men had taken all the now satiated leeches out of the hut, but the smell of
blood was still overwhelming. Saldivar shivered inadvertently. Crane's slowly
bleeding bite wounds were a most unpleasant sight. It made the Lieutenant smile
sadistically. His methods always brought success to his plans, and
extraordinary suffering to his victims.
Lee stirred and slowly looked up. His amber-hazel eyes reflected his
pain, but also his defiance. He fought the pain to look at his captor in the
eye.
"Not feeling very well, are you, Commander?" Saldivar asked
arrogantly.
"What’s it to you, Saldivar?" and he licked at dry lips but was
unable to moisten them. "I’m a dead man anyway."
Saldivar paced in front of Lee, "That is true, Commander. Your
belongings were given to your Embassy. I believe
my government has told them you are dead. There was a lot of death that day in
the Mall. Your body has simply gone missing." He laughed. "And you are
right. You are a dead man. But there are degrees of death. Many degrees. And
you and I are going to explore them. All of them. Little by little. You have so
much information that you can give me now, or you will give me later.
You are going to die a little bit at a time. Or, if you do cooperate, quickly
and swiftly. You cannot escape, I have seen to that, in the way that you are
bound to the pole. You are weak. You have lost a considerable amount of blood.
You have fed my pets very well." He reached
over and touched the wound at Lee’s neck. Then he reached in his pocket and
pulled a handkerchief to wipe his hand of the blood. He snickered. "Yes,
you are a considerably weakened man. And I am sure you are very, very
thirsty."
He clapped his hands together and one of the soldiers came into the hut.
"Venga me agua!"
The man scurried out and then back in, handing the Lieutenant a large
bottle of water.
"Gracias, Jorge." He locked eyes with Lee and, licking his
lips, took a long slow drink from the bottle, letting some spill on his lips
and run down his chin and neck. He never looked away from Lee and Lee did not
look away either. Saldivar smiled as he wiped his lips and neck.
"That was good. Very good. Cool and refreshing." He waved his
hand in the air in front of his face. " Tsk. It is so warm in here, is it
not? You would like some of this wouldn’t you, Commander?" He held the top
of the bottle close to Lee’s lips. Close enough so he could almost touch the
edge of the bottle, the few drops that still lingered there slowly flowing down
the side.
Lee licked his lips again, their dryness more than obvious in the near
presence of the water. Saldivar held the bottle slightly closer. Lee moved his
head forward, trying to meet the lip of the bottle, trying to get some of the
water that his captor was holding so close… so tantalizingly close. He pulled
forward, as slight as he could, and Saldivar took a step back. The bottle
wavered. Saldivar’s wrist shook slightly and the bottle moved again, the tip
coming close to Lee’s lips yet again. Then slowly, very slowly, Saldivar tipped
the bottle bit by bit, until the water began to flow out and onto the dirt
floor.
Frustration and anger filled Crane’s face. Saldivar smiled again.
"If you want some water, Commander, all you have to do is to give me the
information about the armaments of your boat. Simple really."
"No!" His tone belied how badly his body craved the water.
"Well, then, Commander. We will talk in a few hours. I will allow
you to think about what I want from you, and what you feel like. I will see you
in four hours then."
He turned on his heels and went out of the hut without a glance back. Lee
took a breath. His body shuddered. Weakness overwhelmed him. Black velvet arms
reached out to pull at him and he followed their trail, slowly going deeper and
deeper into the black.
Twenty minutes later Nelson barreled into the Missile Room, dressed in
fatigues like the rest of the men. The entire landing party was ready to go. O’Brien
and Sharkey had his equipment ready and Patterson, who was not part of the
landing party, had the maps the Admiral had requested of the City of Cristalina
Agua. The group of men huddled over the maps as the Admiral began to go over
the details of their mission. Officially, it was to ransom
Morton. They still had
to find out where Crane was, dead or alive. The
State Department courier had rendezvoused with the Flying Sub the day before,
and Nelson now had the ‘Redemption’ in his hands
He adjusted the pack at his side as he pointed to the map with his other
hand. " Here’s the beach that we have permission to land on. We’ll leave
the zodiacs there and proceed the three miles inland to the Capital. Once there
we will follow this street, here to the Hospital of St. Martin. We are to be
armed and at the ready, but we are not going to engage unless we are
challenged. We have the permission of the temporary government to be here, in
the open. Once we get Mr. Morton out of there, and get him on the boat, we go
back for the Captain. Intelligence tells us that if he's alive it has to be
somewhere in the jungle. That’s all they know…"
The men all nodded solemnly. Nelson looked at Jamison. "Ready, Will?
This isn’t necessarily where I want you, but we need you. More important, Chip
needs you."
"I know, Harry." He offered a weak smile. "Not part of my
job description but I have to be with you. For Chip if no other reason."
Nelson merely nodded, and then asked Sharkey, "Ready, Chief?"
"Aye, sir. All’s ready and waiting for the word, sir."
"The word is ‘GO’ Chief. Let’s get moving." The men moved out
of the missile room and back to the control room where they reached the ladder
for the sail, and moved up one at a time to the deck of the boat. Waiting
deckside was the equipment they would need. The two zodiacs contained
backpacks, a collapsible stretcher, and a large pack of Medical supplies. Three
men went in each of the crafts, and rapidly made it to the shore. They beached
the zodiacs, secured them, and made their way through the small amount of
jungle to a gravel road that led to the Capital City. Remaining on alert, they
formed a small column and began to move quickly to the city.
They reached the outskirts of Cristalina Agua and, finding the main
street, made for the hospital. They were all amazed at the calm, and absence of
people and fighting in the city. All had imagined they would be moving into a
war zone. Instead, the entire city was quiet, with few people on the streets.
The only evidence of the Junta was the damage in the center of the city,
outside of the main government buildings. It was as if the city was deciding
what would take place next, before coming to life again. As they approached the
Hospital, the first sign of a military presence appeared, with several tanks
and a company of armed men surrounding the Hospital complex. Sharkey turned to
Nelson,
"It’s alright, Chief, we expected this. Just stay calm. I have the
right ID’s to get us through." He fingered the pack he was wearing at his
waist, well aware that Chip’s life as well as the men’s and his own hinged on
how he handled the situation. He wanted to charge in and take Morton out
without giving anything over. But that wasn’t what his orders were, at least
here and now. His own actions would come later. For now, they had to follow
directions to the letter.
He signaled the others back, and met with the guard at the main gate. All
the soldiers had their guns drawn and ready to fire, so he made sure that his
movements were slow and deliberate. Carefully showing both hands free, he
walked to the sentry.
"Colonel Aguilera, por favor."
The guard nodded and turned on his heel. Nelson stood in the sun,
waiting. After almost a half hour, the sentry came out of the hospital
building, followed by a large man in what had to be this country’s
interpretation of a Colonel’s uniform. His men bristled at the deliberate
insult that had been made to the man, and the country he represented. The man
wearing it was large in all aspects, about 6’2" and very obese. He had a long
mustache, and longer, greasy black hair that stuck out of his cover. He had
rather large, round eyes that seemed incongruous in his face, and thin, pale
lips. He was wiping at his face with a grey rag, and his uniform, brown in
color, sported large splotches in several places. He wore his tunic belt well
below his belly, his pants falling into knee-high boots that were well worn and
filthy looking. He looked slovenly and dirty, and in general the antithesis of
the man that he had kept waiting. That made Seaview’s men even angrier
at the entire situation.
The big man extended a hand to the Admiral in greeting. "Admiral
Nelson, my superiors told me to expect you. You do our small country honor,
sir." The slick words fell from the Colonel’s mouth like so much oil on
water. Nelson bristled at the hand rather than a salute, and at the man’s overt
attempt at familiarity.
Admiral Harriman Nelson cleared his throat, and ignored the hand. The
colonel looked and realized his faux paux. He saluted, and then stepped back.
"My apologies, Admiral. I was so… overwhelmed with your presence in
our small country…" he attempted to bow from the waist, and failing,
continued. "My superiors have given me the honor of ‘helping’ you get your
commander home. I was chosen because of my familiarity with English." He
broke into a slicky smile. "Well, sir. If you and your men will follow me,
I will take you to your Commander." He waved a hand and the sentry stepped
aside. Nelson turned to signal his men to follow, which they quickly did,
closing ranks around him, and allowing Jamison to fall in next to him. They
moved quickly through the corridors of the hospital to a room at the far end of
the third floor, where two armed soldiers stood guarding the door. Aguilera
spoke quickly and the guards stepped aside. He nodded to Nelson, and the two of
them, along with Will Jamison, moved to the doorway of the room.
"Here, Admiral. Here is your man. You can see that he is being well
taken care of."
"Will you allow Dr. Jamison to examine him?"
The Colonel nodded, "Of course, Admiral…Please, go ahead, Doctor.
And then tell your superior what good care we have taken of him."
Nelson looked about the room as Jamison moved to Morton’s side. The Seaview’s
Exec lay on an old-fashioned iron hospital bed. A sheet covered him to the
waist revealing two large white bandages, one on his left abdomen, the other on
his left shoulder. Two bottles hung at the side of the bed attached to IV
lines, leading to his hand. His color was extremely pale, and there was a nurse
nearby who was watching the unconscious man. Jamison went to the foot of the
bed and picked up the chart. He quickly flipped the pages and then turned to
the nurse.
"Do you speak English?"
She nodded, "Si. I speak English, Doctor."
"Could you please translate this chart for me and tell me what’s
been done for Mr. Morton?"
"Of course." She took the chart from his hand and, as he did
his own exam of the injured man, told him everything that the chart said. She
then went over the care given to Chip since the surgery. It had been two days
since the Junta and in that time, while the wounds themselves had begun to
heal, without the necessary antibiotic therapy he had begun to develop signs of
infection in the abdominal wound. The nurse had explained how they found his
medal with the penicillin warning, and since there was only that antibiotic
available they had given Chip nothing to stem infection.
Jamison quickly examined Chip, and then moved to Nelson and the Colonel.
"Admiral, I need the supplies that I have in the med-pack. I’ve got to get
an antibiotic into Chip right away." He stepped toward the door, but the
Colonel reached out to stop him. Surprised and concerned, he remembered where
and why they were here, and stopped.
"Colonel? I need to get my medical pack."
"I know, Doctor. But the Admiral and I have not yet concluded our
business, and until we do, I cannot let you do anything for your man."
Jamison looked at Nelson, "Admiral, Chip needs those antibiotics, as
soon as we can start them."
Nelson nodded, "I understand that, Will." He turned to the
Colonel. "Well, what do you want to do, Aguilera? I have what you want,
and all my government wants from you is to release my man."
"Yes, yes… I know, but this is a, how do you say… a delicate matter…
the redemption that you have brought with you, is, shall we say… somewhat,
lacking…. There are many who have helped this man, who have not been ….um,
properly thanked."
"Admiral! Please! … The longer we wait, the harder it will be to get
the infection under control, and the greater the risks for Chip."
Nelson laid a hand on Jamison’s arm. "I know, Will… I know." He
turned back to Aguilera. "Colonel, correct me if I’m wrong here, but I
take it that you want more than I have been instructed to turn over to
you?"
The Colonel laughed mirthlessly. "Admiral, you have to understand…
there are expenses that my government, because of these political problems,
cannot shoulder, we do not have …umm…enough supplies to properly care for our
own, much less foreigners…so we need to, well, look for, I believe you would
call it ‘financial support’ from outside sources." he shook his head,
"You do understand, don’t you?"
Nelson was ready to explode, but he kept his famous temper under control
as he spoke to the Colonel. "Colonel, the American Department of State has
negotiated with your government regarding this ‘circumstance’. The ‘redemption’
has been agreed upon. I have it here and am willing to turn it over to you… if
you allow my doctor to begin treating Mr. Morton, then perhaps you and I can
find a place to discuss this other ‘matter’ of your ‘concern’."
Adopting again the air of familiarity that Nelson disliked, the Colonel
put an arm around his shoulder and began to talk closely to him. " Ah, so
you do understand my position, Admiral. I have an office of sorts, down this
hall." He turned to the nurse.
"Ayude al doctor todo usted a desear, pero no lo deje salir de este
sitio, con o sin el preso. Y cerciórese de que usted guarde todas las fuentes
que él no utiliza. Podemos utilizar mucha de las medicinas del americano en
nuestra propia gente. Y recuerde, si él se va, su propia vida es
confiscado!" (Help the doctor all you want, but do not let him leave
this room, with or without the prisoner. And make sure that you keep all of the
supplies that he does not use. We can use much of the American's medicines on
our own people. And remember, if he leaves, your own life is forfeit!)
The woman looked nervously at the Colonel and nodded. Jamison went to the
door, took his bag from Kowalski, and moved back to Morton’s side. Will looked
at the tiny woman, dc and saw the terror in her eyes. Quietly, he asked,
"Nurse, your name?"
"Gloria, Doctor."
He nodded. "The Colonel threatened you, didn’t he?"
"I…I cannot say…." Her hand shook as she handed him a gauze pad
that he had pointed to. She looked down, willing her hands to stop shaking.
Finally she spoke in a small voice, "Yes, he did. And I will have to obey
him. I have a family, children, my husband is sick, and I need this job and the
medicines that I get here. I cannot let you leave this room, with or without
your friend." She moved to the bedside, opposite Jamison.
"Has he been conscious at all?"
"Yes, several times. He has been in much pain. He has been looking
for the Admiral, and his friend, Lee."
"Well, at least the Admiral is here. He’ll talk to Chip when he’s
done with your Colonel."
Gloria looked up sharply. "Doctor Jamison, he is not MY Colonel. He
represents the government that is in power now. In this country, governments
come and go. But the hospital has been sacrosanct until this junta. These men
came in and terrorized the patients and the staff, and then brought in all
these foreigners for us to treat. They took a lot of our patients out. We do
not know where." She looked infinitely sad. "They took the women and
the new babies, and the old ones… I am afraid to even think of where they took
them or what has happened to them…" Jamison reached over and touched her
hand gently.
"I’m sorry…" he murmured. "Very sorry."
She shrugged. "Please do not be. There is nothing that can be done.
It is over and we move on." She looked into Jamison’s eyes, saw the
empathy there, and smiled sadly. "Thank you, Doctor. Thank you very
much." She looked at Chip, and then back at Jamison. "I think that
you care very much for your friend. He is most fortunate."
Jamison looked at the nurse. "We work and live together. We look out
for one another. We’re a family… big, caring family. The Admiral is the head,
the rest of us, brothers…that’s the way it should be. I guess, in our way, we
love one another as a family. That’s just the way it is."
"All of you and your men are very lucky to have that. As is the
Commander here." He held Chip’s limp hand in hers, marveling at the
strength of spirit of these men that she met.
In the small office, Harriman Nelson fought to control the anger and
revulsion he was feeling for this man, and the government that the Colonel
represented. Nelson had been told that the Military was in control, and was also
rather, ONI had put it, freelance. In other words, the agreement with the
government only went so far. The rest of the ‘negotiation’ for Chip’s freedom
would have to be with this man, who Nelson already detested.
The Colonel sat behind his desk and reached into a drawer, taking out a
bottle of whiskey, and two rather soiled glasses. He placed them on the desk
and filled one, liberally while looking at Nelson. As he sat in the only other
chair in the room, Nelson waved the bottle away from the glass.
"No, no thank you, Colonel… I try not to indulge when I am on
duty."
The colonel quirked a dark eyebrow, "I think you hold yourself to
too high a standard, Admiral. A small amount, with a friend, will not impair
your abilities."
Nelson smiled tightly. "My men… my doctor…"
The Colonel chuckled. "You are too moral a man, Nelson. You would
never be able to compete in our military. Never."
Nelson’s reply was quick, and quite clear. "I wouldn’t want to. Now,
to the business at hand, Colonel… because I want to take my man and leave your
country as soon as I possibly can. The ‘redemption’ that my government has
agreed to give to you is here. What else are you going to tell me that you
‘need’?"
"Why, Admiral, you wound me. I do not need anything. I am
just, how would you Americans say, ‘protecting my interests’. As I am sure you
can see, there is not much of a long career in this country if you do not go
with those in power. I am getting too old, and I enjoy life too much, to do
this balancing game much longer. I need to ‘cushion’ my reserves, so to speak.
And your need to get your man out of my country provides me with the perfect
opportunity. You are a wealthy man, Nelson. You can afford it, and furthermore,
so can your government." He leaned forward and wrote on a small piece of
paper, then handed it to the Admiral.
Nelson took the paper, looked at it and laughed in disbelief. Running a
hand through his hair, he snorted, and said, "You can’t possibly believe
that I would have access to that, here and now?"
Aguilera reached calmly for his drawer. He reached in and removed a
cigar, and offered it to Nelson. He refused and the Colonel calmly took it,
removed the tip with a silver clipper, inhaled the entire cigar, and then
slowly lit it. He leaned back in his chair and let the smoke slowly drift
upward. Calmly he spoke to Nelson.
"I know you do not have access to anything like that at this time.
However, I am a reasonable man, and I do believe that I have something that you
desperately want. If we can come to an agreement, then, well, you will get what
you seek, and I will get what I want… Let us discuss it, shall we…?"
"I want to know where Captain Crane is, whether or not he is alive.
That is what is most valuable to me."
"And that can be had for a price, Admiral. As I have indicated. I do
have, shall we say, access to certain facts that your State Department does
not."
"And I can offer you something more than what you have asked for…If
you are interested…"
Chip Morton fought his way out of the murky darkness. He didn’t remember
where he was or how he had gotten here. He did remember the pain however, the
overwhelming pain in his side and shoulder that flamed with the slightest
movement when he was aware. And he knew that it wasn’t often. He lay,
listening, as rising fingers of awareness slowly slid into his conscious mind.
He heard a voice, a male voice, one that he thought he recognized, and he
decided he should try to open his eyes and see if he was correct in his
recognition. That would be a huge victory for him. He took a deep breath, and
was rewarded with the sweet taste of oxygen flowing into his nose and lungs. He
licked at lips dry from days of unuse, and found ice chips being placed there.
He moved his head and found a soft pillow; moved his hand and found crisp
sheets. Ever so slowly he opened his eyes, and as blurred vision cleared, he
saw a metal frame above his head, metal bulkheads at his side. He heaved a sigh
of relief, realizing that he was home, and the voices belonged to Jamison,
Frank Lerner, and John Warner. He moved his head a bit more and realized that
he was in a bunk in the Sick Bay, on the boat.
Crashing concern overwhelmed his momentary relief. "Lee!" he
cried out hoarsely, attempting to rise, only to find strong hands held him in
place.
"No, Mr. Morton. No way in hell Doc is gonna let you up and out… no
way… now, just lay quiet and he’ll be right here."
"Frank?" he gasped, "How? How did I get here, the last
thing… the last thing I remember was a hospital… and nurses…When?"
Frank Lerner smiled at the Seaview’s Exec. "Doc’ll fill you
in on all the details, sir. Just lie back and relax."
"Frank, what about the Skipper… he was with me, and then I was shot
and in the hospital. They told me he wasn’t there…"
"I don’t know what the story is, sir. The Skipper didn’t come aboard
with you, that’s all I know. I’m sorry, sir. I’d tell you more if I knew."
Will Jamison came up behind the corpsman and laid a hand on Lerner’s
shoulder. "I’ll take over now, Frank."
Lerner nodded and rose. "I’ll see you later, Mr. Morton." Will
Jamison slid onto the chair and leaned over Chip taking his stethoscope
listening to the Exec’s heart and chest sounds.
Quietly, Chip asked, "Still beating?"
Jamison smiled, "Yep, and at a pretty good pace too! How are you feeling?
I know what your condition is, but I’d like to know how you feel."
"Like shit. Like someone chewed me up and spit me out and stomped on
me…"
"Pretty graphic but then again, I guess pretty accurate you gave me
a bit of a run."
Morton took a breath, glad for the strength he drew from the oxygen he
was breathing. "Where’s Lee?"
"Not on board."
"I’ve figured that much out, Will. Where is he?"
"The Admiral and some of the men have gone after him. They were told
where he was being held. The Admiral made a few calls, and they left. I’m
waiting to hear that they’re on their way back."
"S’my fault."
"What are you talking about?"
"My fault that Lee is wherever he is… if I hadn’t caught a couple of
slugs he’d be okay."
"That’s not the case and you know it!"
"Dammit! It is! IF he hadn’t had to watch out for me he’d be here
and okay!"
"Okay, just wait a minute… tell me what happened, will you… all I
know is that you were hit twice and taken to the hospital. If you’re feeling up
to it, that is."
Chip shifted on the rack and a low hiss escaped his lips. Jamison said
nothing, allowing him the private moment of collecting himself. He moved about
a bit more, trying to make himself more comfortable. Realizing that he
couldn’t, he sighed and began.
"We should’ve been carrying arms, but State told us that the country
was secure and that we didn’t need them. We were put up in one of the smaller
houses, with several of the other delegates to the Inauguration. Both of us
were, well, just plain uncomfortable. There was a feeling that everything
wasn’t as easy going as they were trying to make it out to be. Lee contacted
State and told them, but they told him he was being ridiculous. That there was
nothing wrong, and nothing was going to go wrong… So we kept alert, but again,
we weren’t armed, so how much could we do…" he paused and closed his eyes,
watching in his mind the Inauguration of the new President. The cheers of the
people had seemed genuine enough.
"We were taken in a limo to the stadium, and sat behind the new
President, about three rows back… Everything was going fine until we were
leaving to go to the Inaugural Dinner. Then about three companies of armed men,
tanks, several other smaller armed vehicles, all came into the mall area in
front of the stadium. Armed helicopters started to fire from above… The whole
place was being blasted, people were going down everywhere. The President’s
security guard hustled him away, I turned to run with Lee, and I got hit…don’t
know from where, or how, but man, I was down and out. I don’t remember much
after that except the pain. I know Lee tried to stop the bleeding, and I know
he tore up his tunic to make bandages for me. I remember him talking, but I
couldn’t tell you what about. Everything is a blur, nothing is clear. I remember
trying to remain conscious. After that, nothing much. I remember coming to in
the hospital, and the nurse talking to me in Spanish, and then English. She
told me Lee wasn’t there." He stopped, and took a deep breath. Blue eyes
bored into the brown ones. "I heard them talking. I know that they said he
was dead. That much Spanish I do know." He got quiet, digesting again what
had happened, then demanded, "Now, tell me everything you know about
Lee…everything. I need to know."
Jamison laid his hand on Chip’s arm. "I don’t know that much. I know
that the word from the government here to State was that Lee was dead and you
were in the hospital here, close to dying." He smiled at Morton. "I
think that I may have a hand in helping you along a bit… and according to your
nurse, that medallion with the Penicillin notice in one sense saved your life.
That’s the only antibiotic that they have there. So you didn’t get any, and
man, you had a lulu of an infection brewing in your guts… but I think we have
that under control now. Made your recovery time longer, but you are on your way
to recovery. "
"Will, you’re putting me off… what about Lee?"
Jamison shook his head. "The Admiral made a deal for information.
The Colonel at the hospital claimed Lee had been taken prisoner by members of
the Military. There is a base of operations about a days march from here. It’s
in the jungle, and Aguilera claims that the last he heard, they were trying to
get information from him and he was being ‘resistant’ to their methods. The man
in charge, a Lieutenant Saldivar, promised the new government that he would
have all the information about the Seaview before the week was up.
According to him, that was three days ago."
"How long have I been here?"
"We brought you aboard this afternoon. It’s been four days since the
coup. The Admiral and the men left shortly after he promised Aguilera and his
family immunity, and a way to the States. He promised to help him get
settled."
"But…"
"You and I both know that if he can save Lee’s life, he’d do almost
anything… and this seemed to please both men."
And where are we now? The boat I mean?"
"Just outside the 3 mile limit off the coast of Nuevo Rios. We’re to
wait to hear from them. They figure they should reach the site by daylight. And
the Admiral believes they won’t be expecting an attack. That they can get Lee
out."
" … Just what does he think the chances are that Lee is still
alive?"
"If he didn’t think that the chances were good ones, he wouldn’t
have put himself and the others at risk… you and I both know that." He
looked at his patient, who was struggling to remain awake. "Chip, I think
its time you tried to rest. You’re going to be needing a lot of sleep if you
hope to get out of here any time soon."
"Mmm…maybe you’re right… am tired. Talk more…later… Let me…let me
know…Lee…" Jamison waited until Chip’s breathing became regular and
steady, and then he pulled the sheet up to Chip’s chest, checked the IV lines
and bandages, and went to his office to update Chip’s chart.
Frank Lerner came into the office. "How’s the Exec, Doc?"
"He’s okay, Frank… Vitals are good. Incisions are still weeping a
bit but they look clean. His temp is 101 but its no longer rising. He’ll have a
prolonged recovery but I think he’ll be okay."
"He’ll get better faster if we can find out about the Skipper. We’ll
all be feeling better once we hear from the Admiral, and we’ve got the Skipper
back."
"That’s a given, Frank. And I hope that we hear soon… It’s been four
days. Four long days, and I hope against hope that Lee Crane is alright…"
Lieutenant Saldivar walked into the hut. He had a grudging admiration for
his prisoner… Some men would have broken at the very sight of the leeches.
Others at the first touch. But this man, this Captain of the Seaview, he
had not broken yet! Crane was in shock from blood loss, feverish from the many
festering open wounds left by the bites of the creatures, and had been starved.
A man could live a long time without food, but not water. And they'd given him
none. It had been four days, about the maximum time before dehydration would
lead to death. Either he would, finally, tell them all they wanted to know, or
he would die. One or the other would have to happen soon.
He walked over to his prisoner, and reached down, grabbing a handful of
hair. He pulled Crane’s face up, to look at it, and to force him to look back,
if he was conscious enough to do so. Crane’s face was bathed in sweat, fever
running rampant. His lips were dry and cracked, he had a growth of beard, and
his color, for all the darkness in the hut, looked pale to his captor. Saldivar
slammed his prisoner’s head into the pole he had remained tied to. "Wake
up! Wake up, gringo!!"
The jarring impact to his head dragged Lee Crane from the whirling
delirium he had been swimming in. There had been so many images… some
frightening, some warm and welcoming. But always, there was the reality of his
imprisonment whenever he was drawn back into the squalid hut. He tried to open
his eyes and focus on his captor, but Saldivar’s face kept getting larger, then
smaller, and then larger again. He couldn’t help the croak that escaped from
his throat, sounding oddly like a laugh. For that sound the lieutenant hit him
hard across the jaw, and the entire hut tilted sickeningly. He wretched with
the nausea that followed, dry heaves from a stomach long empty of any contents.
Saldivar let his head go and stood back until the heaving of Crane’s body
ceased, then he stepped forward again and grabbed at Lee’s chin. Bending down
to meet his prisoner eye to eye, he asked, "Have you changed your mind,
Captain Crane? You and I both know that there is not much time before you die. You know you can't take much more." I can make
it easy for you. Make you feel better. You would like some water wouldn’t
you?"
"Not… on … your… terms…" Lee croaked weakly, barely audible,
his eyes defiant. And at that moment Saldivar knew he could not break this man.
He could either let him die, or take him deeper into the jungle with them and
see what good he would be as a bargaining chip if the Junta should fail. He
would have to contact his superiors for direction. He would rather kill the man
and be done with it but, if he was nothing else, Joaquin Saldivar was first and
foremost a soldier. And he knew he had to follow chain of command. Of course,
if his prisoner were to die in the meantime….
He hit Lee again, swearing an oath in Spanish and then said, " I
will return shortly, Captain. When I do, we will see just what your fate is
going to be…"
Lee watched him leave, and then allowed himself to give in to the slowly
beckoning darkness. It hurt to breathe, he couldn’t move, and he was, literally
dying of thirst. Perhaps he could do Saldivar a favor and die before he
returned…. But no, that would give him a victory, however small, and Lee Crane
was not about to give any enemy a victory if he could help it. He slid slowly
into the darkness, and was grateful that at least there, there was a respite
from the pain…
The small group of armed men crept through the thick plant growth.
Staying close to the ground, they inched their way to the edge of the compound.
In the early morning it was easy for them to move and remain unseen. The men
moved closer and closer to the group of huts, many eyes searching for a sign of
the Captain of the boat. Silently they split apart to form a circular
perimeter, weapons ready, waiting for the signal from the Admiral for to move.
Nelson carefully searched the compound. He had seen many like this
before, in his long career and all his experiences with ONI. Funny how unimaginative
the ‘other side’ often was when it came to leaders, beliefs, and physical
deployment. No wonder people like them were defeated by the movers and shakers
in democratic beliefs. And no wonder they resorted to horrific treatment of the
men and women they thought would hold the key to the information that they
would give them the power they all so desperately sought.
If these thugs were anything like the others of their kind, then the
pattern would hold that Lee would be there in the center hut. Nelson shook his
head, fearful for the life of his friend, in the hands of animals like these
for four days now. ‘Four Days!! Dear God! The things that they could do to a
man in four days!!’ He shook his head, not wanting to pull up images that
were floating at the edge of his consciousness. He’d seen too much, been
through too much to even begin to imagine what Lee could be going through. He
shook his head, and pulled his mind and focus back to the compound.
It was a poor excuse for a base of operations. There was a circle of huts
on the perimeter, with one larger one on the south side and one in the center.
They were wood and mud, with leafy branches for the roof. There were no windows
in the center hut, and only one doorway. The others had several windows and doorways.
The center hut was of heavy mud that looked several inches thick. There was no
way that anyone held there could dig their way out. That would be a perfect
prison. Deciding that Lee must be in that hut, Nelson then formulated his plan
of action. Several signals were sent to the men, and they encircled the entire
compound. They had come armed with light artillery weapons, grenades, M-16’s,
and heavy-duty side arms. Kowalski carried a small missile launcher, Sharkey
and Nelson Uzi’s. At Nelson’s signal they began to bombard the area with all
possible armaments. Loud explosions broke the air. Amid the shouts of the men
and the cries of the native animals, some of whom had been wakened from their
night’s rest so unceremoniously. Men ran about the compound, dodging bullets,
and shells. The Seaview men moved in, closing the circle. Many of the
defenders fell to wounds, and some died. Others fled into the surrounding
jungle. One man ran to the center hut and disappeared within. Nelson ran after
him.
"Too bad, Commander," Saldivar taunted Crane hurriedly,
"Too bad. I had other things planned for you. But now, well, now you are a
liability. I am going to have to kill you. I didn’t want to make this easy for
you, Crane. I wanted you to pay long and hard for your lack of cooperation.
Although I also must admit I have not met anyone who has resisted me this long.
You are well trained. A pity that training is going to go to waste… a real
pity," he cocked the gun and aimed it at Crane's head.
"Don’t," Nelson interrupted, at
the door, slightly out of breath.
Saldivar turned with surprise, keeping the barrel of the gun squarely at
Lee’s temple. "So, a rescue attempt, is that what this is all about?"
"You could say that… Step away from him."
"I do not think so. I believe we have what you would call a
standoff. Neither one of us is going to give an inch. And I do have the upper
hand. Even if you shoot me now I could still squeeze the trigger kill him."
Nelson looked at Lee and saw that his eyes were closed. He was either unconscious
or waiting. His quick glance told Nelson that there was nothing Lee could do to
help him end the stalemate. So he continued to stand, gun pointing at Saldivar.
And Saldivar continued to keep his gun at Lee’s temple. In the background, the
noise in the compound continued to indicate the ongoing battle for control of
the outpost. For the next few seconds time felt as hours as neither man
waivered, holding fast.
Suddenly an explosion, near the rear of the hut set the building to rock,
the rear wall to crack. The roof also shook and the ground rocked. Both men
staggered. Saldivar was thrown off his feet and the gun went flying out of his
grip. Nelson was thrown to his knees but he managed to keep a grip on his
weapon. Saldivar was crawling to get to his gun. Nelson steadied his own.
"Stop! Right where you are! Don’t move another inch or you’re a dead
man!" The Admiral's voice was terse, tight and commanding and for a brief
second Saldivar hesitated. Then he grabbed the gun. Nelson fired, once, twice.
Saldivar fell. Nelson rose and quickly felt for a pulse. Satisfied, he reached
for Crane and felt for a pulse.
"Calvary's arrived," Lee barely managed to speak as he opened
his eyes.
To say that the Captain of the Seaview had been savagely treated
would have been an understatement. Nelson shook his head sadly, and said
"I’ll have you free in a few minutes. Just hold on." He took the
knife he had on his belt and began to cut away at Crane’s bonds. The sounds
outside had stopped and a shadow covered the doorway. Rodriquez and Kowalski
entered.
"Admiral, compound’s secured." Kowalski announced. Seeing
Crane, he stopped, and swore, "Holy shit! Oh, Skipper!"
"Merde!" Rod exclaimed. Both men moved immediately to help
Nelson free the Captain.
First they freed his ankles and knees, and then gently released his
elbows and wrists. He fell into the waiting arms of Nelson and his men, crying
out with the pain of his release. As soon as Nelson had him, ‘Ski handed his
canteen to the Admiral. Gently Nelson held the lip of the canteen to the
Captain’s lips, pouring a small amount into his mouth.
Lee let the water lie there for a second, as it soothed his dried mouth
and tongue. Then he swallowed it, letting it slide slowly down his throat.
"More." He rasped.
Nelson gave him some, and waited as he swallowed. The heat that was
radiating from Crane’s body made him suddenly aware of how ill and hurt Lee
was. He nodded to Rodriguez and the rating went out of the hut. Nelson and
Kowalski began to try and make Crane more comfortable before they had to move
him, to get him back to the boat. Rod returned to the hut carrying a stretcher
and a pack. Kowalski took the pack as Rod set the stretcher up. ‘Ski took one
of Crane’s arms and looked for a spot to start an IV line. His training in
field emergencies by Jamison had stood him and his Captain in good stead on
many occasions, and this was another one where it would be put to good use yet
again.
Feeling pain from the contact, Lee pulled his arm from Kowalski’s touch.
Seeing the open wounds on Crane’s arms and body, now crusted with blood and
dirt, made Ski’s stomach toss, and his anger rise.
"Easy, Skipper. I just need to find a spot for an IV."
"Sorry, … just hurts…all over."
"I know, Lee" Nelson responded. "But let Kowalski do what he
can so we can get you out of here."
"Be… glad… to leave."
Nelson laughed sharply at the Captain’s black humor.
"Saldivar?" Lee asked, his voice emotionless.
"Dead… and no great loss, that I can see."
"He… he liked what he was doing…wanted armament and information
on Seaview." Crane took a bit more water, swallowed, and began to
choke. He shook with the cough and Nelson held the Captain tightly until the
spasm passed, perhaps hoping to pass some of his strength into the suddenly frail
and very damaged body.
Softly angry, Nelson added, "All the more reason to be glad that
animal is dead. At last…"
Quietly, "At least… he can’t hurt… anyone…else."
"Mmmm, at the least, Lee. And I sincerely hope that when he met his
maker, that Worthy One sent him where he truly belonged."
"Yes." Lee agreed.
Kowalski found a vein, and as gently as possible inserted a needle to
start an IV in Crane’s arm. He taped it in place and then connected a bag of IV
saline to it. "This should help you a bit, Skipper. Doc gave me a couple
of meds I can add. I’ve already started an antibiotic, for the fever and
all."
Lee looked at Kowalski and nodded ever so slightly.
"Skipper, we’re going to get you on the stretcher." Over
Crane’s head he caught the Admiral’s eye, communicating the unspoken message
that the Captain would soon be unconsciousness. With his cursory exam, ‘Ski
could see that Crane was at the end of his endurance.
Now groggy, and allowing himself to give over to the horror he had been
through, Crane shuddered several times. Forcing himself to focus on Nelson’s
face, he asked, "Chip?"
"Safely ensconced in Sickbay waiting, I’m sure, to hear about
you."
"Good… the men?… the boat? … you?"
"Everyone, everything is fine, Lee. And now we’ve got you and we’re
heading back to the boat… Now, everything is fine…"
Nelson watched as Crane’s eyelids slowly closed. Kowalski watched until
Crane’s breathing became a little less labored and his body relaxed, then he
spoke. "I think we can move the Skipper now, Sir. It won’t hurt him as
much."
With extraordinary gentleness, Kowalski and Rodriguez lifted their
Captain and placed him on the stretcher. Both men cringed, seeing first hand
the multiple bite wounds all over his body. Crusted, dirty, and oozing pus in
places, they saw them on his legs, arms, and torso. Carefully, ‘Ski laid the IV
bag at the head of Crane’s stretcher. He laid a light cover over him, and with
uncharacteristic care tucked the sheet into the sides of the stretcher.
Offering his superior officer a hand, he helped Nelson to his feet and
packed and closed the med bag. Swinging it over his shoulder, he bent to pick
up the head of the stretcher as Rod took the foot.
They moved out of the hut into the compound, Nelson following the
stretcher and seeing the complete destruction that his men had succeeded in
achieving. The only building still standing was the hut they had exited. The
rest of the buildings had been totally destroyed and there were no prisoners to
be seen.
COB Francis Sharkey moved to Nelson’s side and stopped, looking at his
Captain on the stretcher. Laying a hand on the injured man’s shoulder, he shook
his head. His large eyes were glistening as he spoke to Nelson. Close up lines
"The Skipper, sir? Is he…?"
"We’ll know more when we get him back to Seaview,
Francis." He paused, looking around at the total destruction. "Any
prisoners?"
"Not a one, sir." Nelson detected a note of pride in the CPO’s
voice. "Nothing left for them to hurt anyone else with. Begging your
pardon, Sir, but we’re about to blow the hut. Once it’s gone, the compound will
be leveled. No one will be able to use it for a while. You all had better get
out of the way." More quietly," What about the body inside,
Sir?"
"Let it go with the hut, Chief." Nelson replied gruffly.
Sharkey nodded and raised a hand, thumb up. There was brief movement and then a
muffled ‘whump’, and the hut collapsed in a heap. Taking a final look
around the remains of the men and the compound, the Admiral looked at his men,
then at Crane, and said "Let’s get the Captain home." All the heads
nodded as one and moved out of the ruins, everyone protecting and carefully
taking turns carrying the stretcher…
Hours later, the party reached the waiting zodiacs at the deserted beach.
To Nelson’s pleasure Will Jamison stood waiting, his lean frame looking
somewhat awkward in fatigues.
The Admiral smiled wearily at his CMO. "Good to see you, Will."
"Would I be anywhere else if Lee is needing my services?"
Nelson shook his head and said quietly, "He’s in pretty gruesome
shape. We found a bucket of leeches, the giant ones. They were dead but they
had fed. Fed well," he swallowed, "on Lee, Will. He’s covered in
bites. He’s shocky, dehydrated, and looks like he hasn’t had a thing to eat or
drink since they took him. Kowalski can tell you more. I know he’s got an IV
started and he gave him something for the infection. He didn’t want to start a
pain med, not knowing…."
Jamison nodded at Nelson, a ‘we’ll talk later’ look on his face, and
moved to the stretcher. Riley and Paterson had been the last ones to carry it
and they carefully set it down on the sand, hustling to the zodiacs to get them
ready to go back to the boat. In quick order the boats were readied, men and
equipment aboard, and on their way to Seaview. At a predetermined spot
the boat was contacted and she surfaced, ready to pick up the landing party.
Experience made quick work of getting the men back aboard, and the
zodiacs secured. Within fifteen minutes Seaview slid below the surface,
setting her course toward Santa Barbara.
The Captain of the boat was quickly carried to the Sick Bay. Jamison shed
his fatigues, and with his scrubs beneath them was quickly able to begin to
work on Crane as they laid him on the gurney in the center of the bay. With
Frank Lerner, John Warner, and Kowalski to help, he began to quickly and
thoroughly examine Crane, and begin to treat him. Rapidly they set two bags on
an IV holder, one of blood and the other saline with several antibiotics. He
quickly stripped Lee of the remains of his his clothes. Against the clean white
sheets, the damage to his body was clear. His arms and chest, as well as his
back and legs, were covered with bites from the leeches. Many of them were
crusted over, dirty and weeping pus. His entire body was covered with a layer
of dirt. Since they had the IV lines running, Jamison decided to first clean
him and then continue treatment.
‘Ski, John and Frank took steel bowls and soft cloths and began to gently
wash down the Captain’s body. They made several changes of water and heavy antiseptic before they were satisfied that
his wounds and the rest of his body were clean. Then they began the difficult
task of bandaging the wounds. They soon found that the only way to cover and
treat them was to wrap the gauze around his body, holding the many pads in
place. When they were finished with their task, Jamison once again stepped to
the gurney. The wounds on Lee’s head were cleaned and dressed, and Jamison
thanked the men and sent them to the mess for coffee and a break. He then took
over again and continued to evaluate Crane’s condition.
Finally he turned to Nelson, who had been standing in the doorway the
entire time, and gestured him to the opposite side of the gurney. Nelson looked
at his Captain and friend, and swore. Lee’s color was almost as white as the
bandages that he was wrapped in. The dark circles beneath his eyes were darker
than usual; his face, with its four day growth of beard, thinner. Nelson fished
in his pocket and pulled out Lee’s ring, tags and St. Christopher medal.
Looking at Jamison, he asked, "Okay if I return these to their rightful
place?"
Jamison nodded, and Nelson took Crane’s hand and slid the ring on his
finger as Jamison gently eased the tags and medal over his head, letting them
lie on his bandaged chest.
"Well, Jamie?"
"Well, what Harry? Will he live? Yes, he will. Will he be here for a
while? Yes, a long while. He and Chip will be residing here until we reach
Santa Barbara, and then they go to the Med Bay. They will be there for a while.
So you have the boat and the crew for a cruise without them. Several cruises,
if I have my way."
"What’s his condition? How bad off is he?"
"Harry, he never comes in here with something simple. These ‘events’
are never, ever easy on him. How bad is he? Well, shock and dehydration for
starters. His blood volume is down to about two thirds. Fluid levels are about
the same. His body is badly damaged, at least 30 bites on his chest and back,
and about an equal number on his thighs and arms. Two on his head. Two on his
neck. There are deep abrasions on his wrists and elbows, and his shoulders show
signs of severe muscle strain. His lower legs are having some problems with
blood flow. You said he was on his knees for most of his captivity. That could
explain it. Some aspirin therapy should help. All that said, I don’t have any
idea where his head is… this had to be a horrific experience for him. Once I do
a blood screen, and determine that he hasn't been drugged, I can place him on
pain medications. There’s no way he’s going to be able to get comfortable. I’m
monitoring heart and brain activity because of the blood problem, and yes,
we’ve got ALL the tubes in that he hates, except for the respirator. Thankfully
we don’t need that. If he should wake at all, we’ll try some water and liquids.
But he is strong, and more than that, stubborn. He’ll recover, faster if he
lets us help him."
Nelson smiled at the doctor. "Operative question… If he lets
you…"
Jamison nodded. "We’ll see."
"And Chip? What about him?"
"Let’s just say that he and Lee will be roommates for a while.
Neither wound was life threatening. The shoulder had some muscle damage and it
nicked the collarbone pretty badly. He’s going to be in hellacious discomfort
when he gets off the pain meds. The wound in his side, well, it tore up some
tissue, grooved the liver, and left him with a fairly bad infection, but we’ve
got that under control now. He’ll probably be feeling better in a week. That
DOESN’T mean he’ll be out of my clutches in that time. He was awake a while and
asking after Lee. We told him we were going for him, and Chip seemed to rest
better after that news."
"Jamie, I’m…"
"Staying here… I know." He looked at Nelson, seeing how much these
last four days had taken out of him. "Look, Admiral. Why don’t you go to
your cabin, take shower, and change. By then we’ll have Lee settled in a rack
next to Chip and your chair will be there."
Nelson smiled at his CMO. "You know me too well, Will. Much to
well."
Jamison smiled back. "Perhaps, Harry. Perhaps. Not a bad thing, I
think. At least I know you and your ‘boys’ well. So go on, now…get out of here,
let me do what I have to for Lee. Neither one of them is going anywhere for a
while."
Nelson returned to Sick Bay roughly 20 minutes later. He found that
Jamison had put Lee into a rack that was at a right angle to Morton’s. Either
man could see the other if he woke. Jamison had placed a fairly comfortable
chair in the center of the racks for the Admiral.
Frank Lerner saw Nelson come in and came over to him with a mug of
coffee. "Admiral, sir… coffee with the Doctor’s compliments."
Distracted, Nelson took the mug and thanked the corpsman. Frank moved to
the racks, holding the senior officers and checked their vital signs, making
notes on the charts that hung on the side of each rack. He turned back to the
OOM, and smiled. "They’re resting well, sir. Doc’s pleased considering
their conditions, and he said he thinks they’ll make a good recovery."
‘Thank you, Frank…" He sank into the chair and sat back, his eyes
moving from one man to the other. Gradually, his eyes grew heavy and he slipped
into a sound sleep, aided by one of Jamison’s potions.
Lee awoke slowly. He was cautious about where he was, and just how he was.
He found that he was afraid to move; fearful of what tube or wire he would pop.
He knew he was in Sick Bay, he could hear the familiar ping and peep of the
various machines. Amazement washed over him when he realized that he was
breathing on his own, the ‘instrument of torture’ nowhere to be seen. With
trepidation he moved an arm, and moaned slightly as pain radiated down the
entire limb. He felt like his shoulders were on fire and his arm had been used
for some sort of a target. He moved the arm again, and realized it was swathed
in gauze. Shifting slightly, he let out another muffled groan as protesting
muscles and tissue told him his body did not want him to move it.
The groan brought Nelson to his side and he looked into the amber hazel
eyes, filled with pain, and also recognition of Nelson.
"Admiral? How long…?"
"A few hours, son. How do you feel?"
"That’s something that I’d rather not be doing…feeling… you don’t
really want to know."
Nelson snorted. "I’m sure."
Jamison’s head appeared in Lee’s line of vision.
"Hello, Skipper. How are you doing?"
"Can I have some water?"
Jamison nodded and moved away, coming back with a cup of water with a
straw. He bent over and held it to Crane’s lips. "Have to go at it slowly,
only sips at first, Lee."
Crane nodded slightly, and took only a few sips. When he was finished
Jamison took the cup away and held a gauze pad he had soaked in water to
Crane’s lips.
Lee let the cold water soothe his dry lips, and then when Jamison took the pad
away, he thanked the doctor. "Thanks, Jamie. That feels better… "
"That’s good, Lee. Look, I’ll be in my office if you or the Admiral
need me. I’ll send you some coffee, Harry. "
He nodded to Nelson and the Admiral looked at him with some degree of
skepticism. "Hold the coffee, Will. I think I’ve had enough of your
special blend tonight."
Jamison grinned, "Caught me! Well at least you slept for a while.
You needed the rest as much as these two." He looked at Crane. "And
don’t get too complacent, Captain. You are due for a cocktail of your own
shortly. I’ll send Frank with it."
"Humpf!"
Nelson moved and sat on the edge of the rack, after letting the side bar
down. He looked carefully at his Captain and friend. "Well son?"
"Don’t worry about me, Admiral. I’ll be okay. I … I didn’t tell him
anything."
"I wasn’t worried that you did, Lee. I know you. And in spite of
what you’ve gone through, I know that you wouldn’t tell them anything."
Lee looked hard at his CO, and shivered, his voice dropping to a whisper.
"I can’t tell you what it felt like… all those…things…on me… biting…
sucking… I…"
"Easy, son." Nelson laid a hand on Crane’s shoulder. Crane let
a small cry escape with the touch and Nelson pulled away as if he had been
struck. The Captain was immediately repentant.
"I’m sorry!"
"No, sir… just hurts… all over… can’t get comfortable…" he
moved slightly and cried out again.
Nelson stood, and called, "Jamie, Lee needs that pain-killer
now!"
Frank came over to the rack with a needle and put it into the IV line.
"Skipper, that’ll kick in in a minute or two…Take it easy, sir. It’ll
help"
Lee nodded slightly. " Thanks Frank." He murmured.
"Admiral?" he asked, addressing Nelson, "How’s Chip? Will he be
alright?"
Nelson nodded. "Yes, Lee. A bit the worse for wear, but your quick thinking
probably saved his life."
"Mmmm… good… glad he’s okay…." His eyes began to get heavy and
his speech slurred a bit, as the pain-killer began to work. "Tired,
sir….jush… tired…. Shleep… now…."
"Yes, Lee. You sleep now… we’ll talk when you’re feeling
better."
"Mmm yes… later…" He slipped into sleep, Nelson waited until
his breathing was deep and regular, before he got up from the rack. He saw the
blue eyes watching him from the opposite rack and he moved to Chip’s bunk.
Sitting on the side of his bunk, he looked at the XO.
"Is he going to be alright, Admiral?"
"Doc seems to think so, Chip."
Morton swallowed hard, "What… what did they do to him? All I can see
from here are bandages."
"I’ll let Lee tell you when he’s feeling up to it. Just know that he’s
going to be okay. Just like you. Although Jamie tells me that the both of you
will be enjoying his hospitality for a while."
"Well, sir. Right now, I’m not going to argue the point or the
prescription. Give me a few days and I may might, but not right now."
Nelson laughed and rose. "Why don’t you try and get some sleep. I
think we can all use some."
Chip nodded. "Sounds like a good idea, sir." He gave Nelson a
half grin, "Have to build up my strength so I can harass Jamie for a
while…"
Nelson nodded again, this time in agreement with his XO. "Yes, and
you and Lee do that so very well."
Two weeks later, Med Bay, Nelson Institute of Marine Research…
Lee Crane sat in a soft chair in the sunroom on the second floor of the
Institute’s small hospital. It was a bright sunny California day.
Unfortunately, his mood did not reflect the day. He had just been told by Will
Jamison that despite his progress healing, he was not going home anytime
soon.
He and Will had had a loud and long fight, with the CMO winning the
battle – for now! He would find a way to get out of here. His shoulders were
better, the bites were healing, and he had talked to the doctors that Will had
recommended about his experience. He was ready to go home. To his house, his
bed, his kitchen, and his idea of meals. He was ready. He rose and flexed his
shoulders. They were starting to feel better. Now if the bites would just stop
itching….
Chip Morton walked slowly into the sunroom. His steps were slow and
steady, but unaided. Jamie wanted him to use a cane but he had adamantly
refused. The pain in his side from the wound was making walking slow, but he
didn’t need a cane. He saw Crane and his smile brightened. He looked at the
Captain. Crane was wearing his NAVY sweat shorts and slippers. The rest of his
body was covered in bandages.
Crane looked at Morton. His usually fastidious Exec was wearing a robe,
unbelted, pajama bottoms, and slippers. Two large white patches of bandage were
visible under the robe and his left arm was in a sling to decrease the strain
on the healing shoulder.
Both men shook their heads and Crane said, "Boy oh boy, are we a
sorry looking pair! Me, I look like son of the mummy and you, well, you look
like an old man, hobbling in here like that!"
"Well, at least between the two of us, we have one set of working
parts! Did the Admiral tell you what he wanted?"
Crane lowered himself back into the chair. "Nope… just said to meet
him here at 1200"
Chip levered himself into a chair facing Crane. "That’s what he told
me… wonder what he’s up to?"
"Hopefully he’s not going to replace us!!"
Both officers laughed, and turned as Harriman Nelson barreled into the
sunroom. He reached into his pocket, pulled out a cigarette, lit it and inhaled
deeply. He leaned back against the wall and looked at his senior officers.
"It’s all arranged."
"What’s that, Admiral?" Lee asked
"I’m breaking the two of you out of here. With Will’s
permission."
"Sir? Will said that we were here for at least another week to ten days.
No going home!"
"Well, you’re not going home, exactly. You are both coming home with
me. Maria has been asking what she can do for you both. She and I and Will and
your secretaries have gotten this plan together and you are both getting out of
here and coming home with me. Jamie will come by once a day, and Frank Lerner
is going to be staying at the house as well. I’ve plenty of space, you each
will have your own rooms, and you won’t be here in the hospital. You’ll be almost
home. "
Chip stuttered, "Admiral… I don’t …"
Lee added, "Sir, I…."
"Enough! The car will be here in an hour. Will is going over
everything you’ll need with Frank, and Sharkey is bringing over clothes for the
two of you. Maria will have lunch when we get there and the rooms are ready and
waiting."
The two officers were speechless for the moment, then both thanked the
older man, as they rose to follow orders to get ready to leave the Med Bay.
They were surprised and delighted, and began to tell Nelson as the three of
them left the sunroom.
As the sun was setting, the group on the deck at Nelson’s house, were
enjoying the quiet moment and the brilliant sunset. Chip and Lee had settled
into their rooms, and Frank had immediately forged a surprising alliance with
Maria. Jamison was happy because he still could supervise the two men, but they
were not in a position to harass him. And he also knew that Maria and Frank
would handle them well. He looked at Nelson, who was looking exceedingly
pleased with himself. "Good idea, Harry. Very good idea."
Nelson smiled. "I thought so, Will… a good idea indeed!"
Finis
Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea”® and its characters, indicia and designs are trademarks of Irwin Allen Properties, LLC. © Irwin Allen Properties, LLC and Twentieth Century Fox Film Corporation. All rights reserved.