Chapter
6
Ali understood what Charlie wanted him to do. He was
to stay and take care of his mother. Charlie was leaving them one rifle and one
pistol. Charlie had shown Fatima how to shoot the pistol one day but hadn’t had
time to train her in using the rifle. A pistol was better for her anyway since
it could be concealed under her clothing easily.
Charlie kissed them both goodbye then headed out
before daybreak. He made it look as if he was heading south but then
backtracked and went to the boat launch which was located not far from the hut
just to the north.
He uncovered and moved the small boat from the side
of the catamaran to the shore. He was sailing south in minutes on a good steady
southern wind. In a few hours he was pulling into the river where they had been
the day before. He decided to venture as far as he could go and it was about
eight miles before he was in rapids that the small boat with its square sail
could no longer navigate. He guessed by the northern direction that he was
going in that this was the same river from the the falls where he had seen the
croc. His awareness was heightened at this thought. He would keep a sharp eye
out for crocs here.
As he pulled the mast down and entered reeds on the
southern side of the river he noticed two bodies floating face down near the
shore. He thought about checking them for clues about their origins but decided
against it. They could be diseased with something he might catch. It was better
to wait until he could view the living. Plus, he wanted to stow the boat right
away so he could “cammy up
and “get into
character,” a line he remembered from an old film.
He covered the boat with palm leaves and left it
close to the beach in case a quick getaway was needed. He set down his pack and
opened it. Inside he found his camouflage paint. It had been thirty years since
he last wore face paint but he took his time and created the same pattern he
used to wear when he was on operations “up river” in Vietnam. In actuality he
had spent most of his time out of Vietnam in nearby countries hunting targets
on “black missions.” Most of them had been the same. Go in with a team, find
the target and eliminate them “with extreme prejudice.”
He had loved the work back then, almost too much. It
was like when he was a kid hunting with his dad only better. The men he served
with were all like brothers to him. They had gone their separate ways after the
war. A few got together from time to time in order to share their recollections
or their “glory days.” He had opted out of most of that. In his mind it was not
productive to spend time in the past.
Lately though, as he had become part of his new
family he had been thinking a lot about how he had lived his life. Was God
trying to tell him something?
“That’s odd, “he said to himself out loud. He was
looking into the little plastic mirror that he used to apply his makeup and he
saw himself for the first time in months. He actually looked about twenty years
younger. Fatima had used his straight razor with precision the night before to
cut away his grey beard and moustache. He’d known he would be wearing war paint
and wanted it to be perfect.
He donned his camouflage shirt and pants. They were
clearly Air Force fatigues. Not a real tiger stripe like had worn in Vietnam
but they would do. He put the OD green watch cap on his head and then buried
his pack after putting it into a plastic bag.
As he touched up his warpaint he noticed the face in
the mirror was the same as it had been all those years ago. It was a bit
thinner now and the lines of his face were more clearly defined, but it was the
same. Time had been kind to him. Once he had given up the drink his diet and
exercise regime had been pretty good. He had been fortunate to stay so healthy.
Now it would be put to the test with his first long range recon patrol in this
century. He had been training the boy
each morning, a little PT run, some pushups, sit ups, and lastly flutter kicks.
It was just enough to hone the muscles into a familiar toned shape. He knew he
wasn’t as good as he once was but he was still pretty good. He had dispatched
the two back at the hut pretty easily. Even with age creeping up on him he was
convinced that he was better than anything this place could produce.
His patrol, if all went according to plan, was to
take three days. He expected to cover about twenty five or thirty miles in a
circular route. He was carrying minimal food and just the water in his small
backpack canteen. He had about two hundred rounds of M4 ammunition and a pistol
on his hip with six “getaway rounds.” He knew the ammo wouldn’t last long in a
firefight but it was enough to make a fast retreat possible or to take out a
small patrol if necessary to escape.
As he set out to move he dropped down to his knees
and put his head to the ground and prayed. He gave thanks for the blessings of
his life and asked for a good day doing God’s will. After the simple prayer he
rose up and headed south into the jungle. After an hour of tactical travel he
came upon a trail that led up what appeared to be a hill to the southeast.
He found a spot just above the trail where he could
observe it without being seen. In minutes he improved his position with
camouflage using plants and leaves from the surrounding area.
The trail was under a thick jungle canopy. Charlie
looked at his watch and it read ten o’clock. He had been travelling for a
little over four hours. The rainforest was so thick that the area was very dark
form the shade of the all of the trees and bushes. He decided to rest a bit and
to take some time to study the trail below him. He pulled out his binoculars
from his pocket and started scanning the area.
He viewed the trail for about the next one thousand
yards. It wound from right to left but stayed fairly straight through the bush
heading up hill at a slight angle. The footpath was well worn. Some of the
footprints appeared to be fairly recent. Obviously this was a route that was
still being used by someone. It looked to be heavily travelled by large numbers
of people but no vehicles.
Charlie suddenly remembered an ambush he had
participated in while in Laos along the Ho Chi Minh Trail. He and his team had
sat for days in an observation post doing reconnaissance on the North
Vietnamese Army and supply routes into South Vietnam.
They had passed on a few “targets of opportunity”
including a general and several known Viet Cong commanders travelling in a
jeep. He had been the sniper on that patrol and had called his Radio Telephone
Operator for permission to engage. As usual, when asked headquarters said “no.”
They learned from that incident to act first and to ask permission later. The
old axiom it was easier to get forgiveness than permission certainly
applied.
Charlie remembered how it was never a good practice
to walk along a trail in Vietnam. Booby traps, ambushes and a whole host of
other issues could be the result of taking trails just like the one in front of
him. But here, the likelihood of a booby-trap was almost non-existent. Who knew
he was here? Nobody except for his family back “home.”
After a short rest he decided to take the trail for
a little ways and to see where it led. He considered veering off the trail but
the vegetation was quite thick. There were broad leafed plants, bushes and
trees were everywhere. He remembered a jungle like this in the highlands of
Vietnam. He had been a twenty-something year old superman back then who could
move with stealth in any situation. Now he took more time than he used to in
order to cover the same amount of ground. He was amazed though that his smooth natural
method of moving in the bush had not changed over these many years.
From a distance he looked like a slow-moving
stature. He was nearly impossible to spot at over one hundred yards. At fifty
yards he was difficult to see, and at twenty five yards it was not obvious that
he was moving with his camouflage against the backdrop of the jungle. He moved
in a natural zig-zag across the trail, moving from tree to tree. The trail
turned towards the east and began to get quite steep. It seemed to be going in a
circular pattern ever so slightly to the south.
Although it was midday it was still dark under the
thick canopy of the jungle. As he made his way up what appeared to be a
mountain he started to see small creeks and streams from time to time off to
the side of the trail. This was sure indication that the trail was winding up a
mountain. With all of the rainfall in the area the water needed someplace to go
and creeks and streams were formed over time by that runoff.
Charlie checked his compass and noted that he was
now heading due west. The only explanation was that it was a circular trail
winding its way up the mountain. The only question was how far up did it go?
After another two hours of moving up the trail
Charlie noticed that the trees were getting smaller and the dark trail was
starting to become illuminated. It was advisable to take a rest until twilight
or darkness fell. Without natural concealment provided by the dark trail he
could easily be discovered and have to retreat quickly without gathering much
information. Above all his primary goal in this reconnaissance was to remain
undetected. This new world was a dangerous place as his experiences with the
radio site and the Tuareg had demonstrated. The best way to survive was to
remain hidden.
It was now 3:45 in the afternoon. He decided to
leave the trail and to find a place to rest until sundown. Above the trail he
found a fallen log of a large tree behind some thick bushes. It was a good
spot. It had natural concealment and if he ended up having to fight he was in a
position with cover from the stump and an advantage of high ground overlooking
the trail.
He leaned against the tree and sat down. He started adding features and landmarks to
his hasty map. Each creek he had crossed, direction heading markers, and other
landmarks were included.
As Charlie snacked on an MRE he thought about the
current situation. In addition to the immediate threat posed by the “blue boat”
and its crew he was also concerned about the Tuareg he buried in front of the
house. “There must be more people around,” he thought as he chewed a chocolate
bar slowly. He closed his eyes for a moment and was soon fast asleep.
The sound of footsteps moving quickly up the trail
woke him from his light sleep. He was about twenty-five feet uphill from the
trail and he could see the trail below him through the twilight. A quick look
at his watch told him it was five fifty six pm.
Down below he could see a long trail of men carrying
things that looked like spears and clubs. They were silent as they moved
steadily to the top of the mountain.
Charlie took a swig off of his drinking tube, pulled
up his watch cap and poured some water into his cap and put if back on his
head. He looked through his binoculars and looked down the line of men. There were
about fifty of them. He had enough ammo to take all of them out at a safe
distance. He was definitely safe from their weapons as long as he didn’t get
too close.
As he looked closer he could see they were dressed
in a ragtag assembly of clothes. They wore mostly t-shirts and jeans. There
were a few baseball caps mixed in and ironically one I love NY shirt. Charlie
chuckled to himself and guessed that the proud wearer of the shirt hadn’t been
there recently. He knew used clothing was common in Africa so therefore it
wasn’t unusual to see any kind of American or European clothing.
As the group passed Charlie noticed one of them had
a pistol on his hip. He wore a red paratrooper’s beret and khaki pants and a
plain white t-shirt. He was flanked by two men carrying AK-47’s and sporting
bandoleers of ammunition across their chests. They moved quietly and quickly
past Charlie’s position and up the trail until they were out of sight.
Charlie waited for the last one to leave his sight
and then moved slowly down the trail to follow them. He wasn’t sure where they
were heading but he would follow them and find out. Their pace was quick and
steady. They moved with a definite purpose in mind. As the sun went down in the
western sky their pace seemed to quicken.
Charlie shadowed them from a distance of about one
hundred yards. It was more than enough distance for this kind of group. They
had no rear guard and obviously no concern that they could be attacked or
followed from this direction.
As they reached the crest of a small hill near the
summit they all crouched down in a line. The leader and his two bodyguards with
the rifles worked their way up and down the line apparently giving some kind of
last minute instructions. Then they fanned out in a long line to the right and
the left.
Charlie wasn’t sure what was on the other side of
the crest of the hill, but it seemed quite obvious what was about to happen.
Some kind of attack was about to take place. “But on whom?” He thought. “And
why?” He wondered who the “good guys” were and who the “bad guys?” were.
He wanted to move in closer but he didn’t see any
place that he could get a better view of what was happening without giving
himself away. It was a long way back to the boat he mused. “Better to stay
invisible for as long as possible.”
Charlie decided to stay put, at least for now. Just
as he took a knee to rest a bit he heard the screams of the warriors preparing
to attack. The shouts faded as they disappeared over the horizon. It appeared
to be an open field at the top of the hill with some large volcanic rocks
overlooking the crest of the hill.
Charlie looked through his binoculars at the rocks.
“That would make a good observation position,” he thought to himself. It was
about fifty yards away straight up a grassy hill to the left of the trail. He
saw the commander and one of his bodyguards began to walk over the top of the
hill. One of his bodyguards took a position near the rocks.
Creeping up the hill towards the rocks Charlie was
suddenly aware at how vulnerable he was. It was getting dark but he could still
make out silhouettes in the distance as they moved over the crest of the hill.
Creeping slowly towards the lone man in an “overwatch” position by the rocks he
pulled out his diving knife in case he had to put him down. It was absolutely
silent except for some shouting in the distance and a strong wind that was
blowing from the south.
“Bong….Bong….Bong” rang out from just beyond the
crest of the hill. The sound was unmistakable it was a church bell of some
kind. “Maybe it was some kind of signal,” he thought.
The figure was lying prone about ten yards in front
of Charlie as he crept closer. The blade he held in his hand had seen action
many years ago. It was not as shiny or new as it had been back in those days but
like him it was still ready and able to do the job if required. Charlie’s
footsteps were slow and patient. There was not a sound as Charlie moved in a
crouching position behind the man who was lying down next to a large volcanic
rock looking over his rifle at the scene below.
Charlie froze and brought his binoculars up to his
face. He could see there were two African adults, one male and one female on
their knees in front of the man with the beret and his other body guard. They
appeared to be begging for their lives. Behind them, on the porch of what
appeared to be a simple white church building there were about forty or fifty
children behind them on their knees and huddled together. They were wearing
traditional school uniforms with white shirts and dark ties and slacks or
skirts.
The “commander” took out his pistol and pointed it
at the man’s head. He looked like a priest but Charlie couldn’t be certain from
this distance. A shot rang out and the man slumped forward. Charlie acted
instantaneously and rushed the man lying down and quickly slit his throat.
“Shit just got real,” he said to himself. Crouched next to the dead man he
returned to his binoculars and could see the woman crying and pleading from her
knees. The two men grabbed her and dragged her into the church through the
double doors closing them after they entered.
He could see the children crying on the porch surrounded by “soldiers”
who were laughing and chanting.
Charlie reluctantly came to the conclusion that he
had to finish the job here now that he had already committed himself by
slitting the throat of the guy next to him. He grabbed the AK from him, it
looked serviceable. Turning him over he found a couple of extra magazines and
he tore off the bandoleer around his chest. He slung his M4 over his shoulder
and proceeded at a dead run down the hill towards the church. It was only about
seventy five yards away. He was running from darkness towards the church which
had a small lamp burning above the entrance. As he ran he remembered a scene from
an old movie where the hero charges at a superior opponent and comes away
victorious.
His first three shots dropped their targets one by
one. He got the men closest to the door of the church and the rest of them
scattered hearing the gunshots and seeing what must have looked like a monster
coming at them from the hill behind them. T
The door of the church opened just as Charlie got to
the steps leading up to the porch. He fired again and another went down.
Charlie could hear the woman screaming from inside the church.
As Charlie reached the top of the steps he could see
into the church where candles were lit around the altar where the “commander”
was wrestling with the woman who Charlie could now see was clearly wearing a
nun’s habit. He was having difficulty getting her clothing off as she fought
him bravely. Blood was coming from her mouth where he had evidently hit her
once already.
Charlie crouched down on one knee and aimed at the
figure standing over the woman forcing her down on the altar from behind. As
the man reached down and began pulling her skirt up the bullet struck him in
the head and he fell backwards leaving him on his back bleeding from the mortal
wound in his temple.
Charlie turned immediately and saw a group running
towards him with machetes. Several spears were thrown at him as well. He dodged
the incoming spears and shouted for all the children to get into the church.
They didn’t hesitate as Charlie fired off six rounds at a time and mowed down
the group running towards him at a distance of about twenty yards.
He dropped the AK 47 and the rest of the ammunition
and grabbed his M4 from his back. He charged out into the field where he could
see others were hunched over watching the carnage from a safe distance. Seeing
no alternative he chased down and killed about twenty five more of them before
he was exhausted. He wasn’t sure but he believed he got more than half of them.
Better to get them now than later was the easy math for him at that point. None
of them had tried to surrender and he was grateful for that. He had shot
prisoners before out of necessity but this would have been more difficult for
him to do if someone tried to surrender.
As Charlie walked back to the church after about a
ten minute battle with those brave enough to stand and fight he was a bit
disappointed that he was unable to get all of them. But he realized that he
wasn’t as fast as he used to be and the fact that they were running for their
lives in terrain they were more familiar with, well even in his prime he may
not have been able to get all of them.
“A fair days’ work in any case,” he said to himself.
He gathered the extra AK and ammunition from the man in the doorway and put it
next to the other rifle and ammunition sitting on the porch.
He walked into the church and saw the nun had
gathered the children at the front of the church near the altar. She was
speaking to them in a local language he didn’t understand. They had removed the
two bodies to the ground outside.
As he walked up the aisle one of the boys was
holding the pistol taken from the commander and pointing it at him. He looked
to be about sixteen. Charlie looked at him for a moment and shook his head as
he raised is rifle. This had the intended effect and the boy lowered the weapon
handing it to Charlie. Charlie checked the chamber and removed the clip. It was
empty and he handed it back to the boy. He then removed his watch cap and
smiled as he said, “Hey sister do you speak English?”
She looked up at him and smiled as she said, “Yes my
friend. God bless you for saving us from those animals. Welcome.”
Charlie nodded and said, “it was no problem sister I
am glad I was able to help. Sorry I didn’t arrive sooner to help the father.”
“You did your best. God’s will be done.”
Charlie looked around at the boys and girls. They
ranged in age from about four or five to about seventeen or eighteen. They
turned and stared at him smiling and staring.
“They have never seen a man with green skin,” the
sister said laughing. It was clear that she knew he was a soldier of some kind.
She said a few words in the local dialect and the
students filed past him slowly. They smiled and said “thank you,” and a few
touched him as they walked by.
“Great,” he thought, “Now I’m a headmaster of a
Catholic school.” He took a knee as the nun walked up to him and he said a
silent prayer of thanks. He laughed a bit at the irony of the situation.
“I am Sister Patience, “ she said putting her hand
out for him to shake. He grabbed her hand as he stood up and shook it briefly.
“Charlie John Wayne,” he said, “pleased to meet
you.”
“Where are you from Mr. Wayne?” She asked.
“I think you can guess, “he said as nodding
respectfully.
“You must be an American. Only an American would do
what you did here. We are grateful but you know they will return to finish the
job.
“Well sister, I reckon we have some time to prepare
for that don’t we.” Charlie said as a matter of fact.
She smiled and nodded. “So you will stay then?” She
asked hopefully.
“Yeah this looks like a good place and I have a boy
who needs to be in school.” Charlie liked the sound of that.
“He is welcome. Do you have a wife?” She said.
“Yes I do. I will go and get them and bring them
here.”
There was a small service for the father whose name
turned out to be Elijah. After the memorial they buried the bodies of the
soldiers Charlie had killed. Twenty eight total. He was without remorse as they
buried each of them. “Tough break,” he
thought. None of them had really stood a chance opposing him. They were mostly
young about eighteen or nineteen with no training whatsoever. It had been like
shooting fish in a barrel. Most of the group he had seen marching up the
mountain had gotten away. The ones with courage were here going in the ground
tonight.
Once the shooting started most had just frozen like
deer in the headlights. Without training most of them didn’t know how to react
when faced with an enemy capable of killing them. Clearly many of them had
killed before, but none of them had been in a real fight. Charlie killed them
like chickens one by one.
Sister Patience explained to him that all of the
children there were orphans. The school had been built in the 1970’s by
missionaries but soon after that they had stopped coming The Catholic Church
assigned a priest there soon afterwards and they received permission to take it
over from the group that had founded it.
The place was so remote that in the old days it had
taken four hours in a jeep to reach it. It became a self-contained society with
a few families living close by who worked at the school and in the fields.
Usually one or two priests and a staff of four or five would supervise things
at the school.
The children helped with the labor. There was a
large garden with vegetables and some livestock. There was beef, lamb and pork
as well as chickens and other fowl
Unfortunately during the bad winter years the
harvests had been bad. Many of the children and two of the priest had died. All
of the livestock had been killed to feed the community of about fifty people.
Now they were down to thirty-nine after the death of father Elijah. That made
thirty eight souls that Charlie was now responsible for.
There was a good road leading out of the compound up
towards the peak of the mountain off in the distance. Charlie could see it
peeking through the clouds. It was clearly a volcano judging by the triangular
shape with a crater at the top. The details of the mountaintop were clearly
visible in the full moonlit night.
The children were put to bed after a simple meal of
yams and a spicy vegetable sauce. Charlie sat with Sister Patience out on the
large porch of the simple two story dormitory building. It reminded him of the
old World War II era barracks he had lived in during Navy basic training. They sat drinking tea and she told him the
history of the place and how they had survived the two years since “the
change.”
According to Sister the school had received few
visitors because of its distance from any towns or villages. When the mail
stopped coming everyone just figured it was corruption and inefficiency. As
they were a self-sufficient society unto themselves the only real contact they
ever had with the outside world was when the Church sent out new staff or one
of the students came of age and decided to leave. Then one of the priests would
start up the old truck out in the garage and take it to the next town down the
mountain about five hours away down the old dirt road that was impassable
during the rainy season.
Nobody knew the world had ended until the Sultan’s
men arrived about a year ago demanding taxes and notifying the priest that they
were now under the “protection” of the Sultan of Zanzibar.
“Zanzibar?” Charlie said incredulously. “It must be
at least two thousand miles to Zanzibar.” Sister Patience was not well educated
in geography so she just shrugged her shoulders and said, “yes I know its
someplace to the east of us.” Charlie reasoned that it was entirely possible
that the “Sultan” had started a kingdom named Zanzibar somewhere closer to
where they were now. Maybe he had been born there or just liked the name.
She told him that the messengers had been polite and
respectful. There were two of them-a man and a boy. They wore white robes and
indigo headscarves. The priest gave them a goat and a cow and some vegetables
which they packed on their camels. They
promised to return in one year to collect again but they never returned.
Everyone had assumed that the sultan had found more important things to do than
collect taxes from such a remote place.
Obviously the protection had worked since they
hadn’t had any problems until today. Sister Patience had told him based on
their clothes and language she thought them to be a Congo militia. Charlie
didn’t argue with her but he was pretty certain it had been the two Tuareg he’d
buried in Fatima’s front yard.
The following morning Charlie wished them farewell
and headed back down the mountain. They had assembled the entire school and the
children all swarmed him with hugs and begged him to return as he walked across
the field towards the trail. He told them he would return in a few days with
his wife and son. They would help to build defenses and to protect the school
until it could stand on its own and defend itself.
His return back down the mountain was uneventful. It
was shorter than he thought as return trips often are. It was a good thing that
it had been an easier journey since he was exhausted and feeling his age. Each
step was measured and precise. Only the minimum effort was put forth. His body
ached and he began to notice some of the nicks and cuts he received in the
fighting. His knees were sore and stiff.
He had wanted to sit and rest a few times but pressed on knowing how hard it
would be to get up again once he sat down.
Charlie reached the boat at sundown. He was
confident in his ability to navigate at night with his watch but decided to
sleep until day break. Returning in the morning made sense. He found his pack
and laid out some fresh clothes. He disrobed and got into the warm water. The
waves were barely noticeable and he floated for a while on his back. It was
dusk and the black night sky was taking over from the blue of day right above
his head it seemed. He could begin to see the stars and the blackness of the
night enveloping the blue as he floated. The current was gently pulling him away
from shore. He stood up in the shallow water and moved back to his right and
stepped on something hard. At first he thought it was a rock but then it moved.
He got an instant surge of adrenaline and he jumped out of the water and
grabbed the pistol out of his holster sitting on the pile of clothes about a
foot from the water’s edge. He pointed the pistol at the water but whatever it
was swam away quickly. He guessed it must have been a small croc.
“Note to self,” he said dryly. “Never take a bath in
the river at night.” He no sooner said that when a moving object caught his eye
to his right about twenty feet away. It was a croc and a big one; perhaps ten
feet long or more.
“Shit,” he shouted. “They’re everywhere.” In that
instant he changed his mind about sleeping at the river’s edge. He quickly
changed and set up the boat. In minutes he was paddling out to sea.
A steady breeze was blowing south so he would be
able to tack home pretty easily he thought. The ocean was quite calm and the
full moon was illuminating the sea with a grey dim light. It gave him all the
light he needed to make the two hour journey back to his home beach.
As he sailed up the coast of Africa he thought about
all of the places under the ocean now. He had visited many of them in his navy
days. Places like Lagos, Abidjan, Accra, Monrovia and Dakar were all under the
Atlantic now. They had all been thriving cities and now a few minutes later in
geological time they were under water. Gone without a trace. He wondered what
this new continent looked like. It was smaller than before but how much smaller
was the question.
It was clear that the Atlantic had risen
considerably in North America and Africa. It was likely that it had also wiped
out most of the European population centers that hadn’t been destroyed in the
war. The best guess was that there wasn’t much left of Asia either after the
water and nukes were finished.
As he sailed north he pondered the fate of the “dark
continent.” There probably wasn’t much left here either. East Africa was more
likely to have survived the tidal waves but large cities like Addis Ababa,
Kampala and Nairobi had too much industry not to be noticed by the target lists
of both sides. Even so-called “neutral” countries if they possessed
infrastructure and resources would be seen as a “threat” by the competing
militaries, or contract mercenaries. Unfortunately there was no shortage of
missiles and warheads so eventually every known population center in the world
would be attacked.
Nuclear war had finally come to the world. Despite a
half century of cold war dominated by a series of “hot” low-intensity proxy
wars the genie had finally come out of the bottle. Judging by the conversation
he had on the phone back at the radio site he figured someone or something was
still fighting it.
He remembered a conversation he had with one of the
company vice-presidents shortly before he retired. Charlie had been called in to “unfuck” was
the technical term the guy had used, a satellite system that was designed to
track and destroy incoming ICBM’s from space. He told the business school grad
with a bachelor’s degree in electrical engineering that their system wouldn’t
work in combat. The young idealistic executive looked at him with disdain and
said, “Well Charlie the dinosaurs died off too. Someday we’ll join them.”
Charlie just shook his head and walked away. He’d contemplated beating the
short, fat little rat to within an inch of his life but decided he wasn’t worth
the effort. Undoubtedly the only thing the little runt cared about was his
house in the hills, six figure salary and his 401K and pension plan. Charlie
knew that jackasses like him, if they were running the world, would soon end
it. He had always secretly hoped that the Chinese would have a Gorbachev of
their own who would save us from the brink of a nuclear war.
That hadn’t happened apparently. Charlie wondered
how it all had gone down and what had happened in the Middle East. “Probably
still glowing,” he thought. There was a good possibility that when India and
Pakistan started throwing multi-kiloton punches at each other that a few
probably strayed off and hit Tel Aviv. No tell ing really but sooner or later
it would have popped up on someone’s target list. It was probably under three
hundred feet of water now anyway so it didn’t really matter what had happened
at the end did it?
Charlie shrugged and started moving the tiller a bit
to the left causing a gentle change in direction towards shore. He was getting
closer to home now. His thoughts changed to the “ones that got away.” Surely
they would tell their story to the sultan or whoever was in charge of their
group. He wondered if they were related to the people in the blue boat. It
might take them some time to reconstitute their force and to build up the
courage to try again. It was certain though that they would try again sometime
in the future and he was determined to be ready for them. Hopefully by the time
they came back he will have built up the defenses to a sufficient point.
Charlie estimated it would take about three months to build a solid Cavalry
style fort around the school. They might have enough time. It was impossible to
know how much firepower lay back in their lair and how far away it was. Based
on the location of the school it was not an impossible task to defend the
children. The men he had faced were little more than a mob. Once he had
eliminated the leader they had been unable to resist him. It was obvious that
they lacked training and discipline. That was always the problem with mercenary
fighters. They are only there for the spoils of war whether it’s a paycheck or
booty and if they are dead they can’t spend it. That made them weak and
cowards. Not all of them, but enough that against a motivated and determined
enemy they could not prevail. Charlie thought about how mercenaries had taken
over the US military in the late 90’s and early 2000’s. Ever since a former
defense secretary became a CEO at one of the big service contracting companies
it had been the Wild West. After 9/11 happened the no bid contracts were “easy
pickens” for the former oil service companies turned defense and government
service companies. Pure profit, that’s what they were. Yachts in places like
Houston and Charleston were bought by the dozen as war profiteers emptied the
US Treasury. They wanted the “whole enchilada.” Their man became VP and they
were given carte blanche to graze on the US treasury. “Look what they did to
the world,” he thought shaking his head. For a moment he thought of all the
people that had been slaughtered in the opening days and weeks of the war. Then
the plagues and natural disasters came. It was just like the good books said it
would be. “All because of greed that most useless and evil human
characteristic,” he thought. “Well not this time,” he thought. “I’m here and
I’ll do my best to see that greed and evil doesn’t prevail again.”
He could see the outline of the beach where he had
launched just minutes before the full moon set behind on the sea behind him. As
he came through the shore break he could see Ali waving to him from the beach.
He rushed out into the waves to help him bring the boat in.
“Papa, Papa!” Ali shouted as he pulled the boat
ashore. He was a strong lad Charlie thought. “Never had a candy bar or a video
game in his life,” he laughed to himself. “Look at you Ali you are stronger
than a young bull.” He laughed jumping out to share an embrace with the boy who
hugged him like he’d never been hugged before by any of his own children.
“What’s a bull,” Ali asked. Charlie laughed and told
him it was a boy cow.
“So you are an old bull?” Ali asked with a straight
face.
“Yeah I guess I am,” Charlie chuckled. “I guess I
am.”
They caught up on the events of the past couple of
days as they walked back to the hut. Charlie downplayed the killing that had
taken place. He reminded Ali that he had only done what was right and
necessary. He also downplayed the pleasure it had given him. Not the taking of
life so much as the thrill and rush of adrenaline of combat. He hadn’t felt
that alive in close to forty years. “Yes it felt good to fight again.” He told
Ali. “But I only did what I believed was Allah’s will.” Ali accepted his words
and he knew they were true. He saw his new father as like one of the heroes
from the Quran. Maybe someday he could be like his father insha Allah.
When they both arrived back at the hut Fatima
screamed with joy and ran out to hug Charlie. She started kissing his cheeks
and squeezed him so tight he almost coughed. He just stood there for a moment
as she held him. She didn’t want to let go and put her head against his chest.
“Yes honey I’m happy to see you too,” Charlie
laughed as she released him. She couldn’t contain her happiness. She smiled
from ear to ear. Charlie noticed she had a beautiful smile. “Never saw a
dentist in her life and yet she has perfect teeth,” he thought.
As they all sat down and ate a meal together Charlie
explained to Fatima with Ali’s help that they had to leave. He expected her to
protest because it had become a home to them now. Instead, she just smiled and
accepted it. Seeing that he was surprised by her lack of reaction she grinned
and said, “Halas. I you wife. Go where you go. “He understood perfectly.
Charlie looked at her face for any indication of doubt or concern. There wasn’t
any. She truly was his wife and Ali was his son. They would follow him to the
end of the world without question. Again he said a prayer of gratitude. His
faith in a God he barely understood was growing every day. Despite all of the
insanity he had witnessed over the past couple of days he felt good and at
peace. The rains came shortly after they entered the hut. The big drops pouring
down made a calm gentle sound as they hit the thatched roof and the broad
leaved plants outside. The smell of wet jungle filled the hut as he drifted off
to sleep.He slept deeply for the first time since he had arrived.
