TLA-Chapter 6

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.