Minor Encounter
By R. L. Keller
I HATE this, the lone swimmer muttered silently
to himself as he stopped, still thirty yards from the shoreline, and raised
just enough of his head out of the water to scan where he was headed. A small oath escaped, still silently, but one
he’d given voice to enough the last couple of days, since he’d received this
assignment, that his crew was starting to give him a wide berth as he
practically stalked his boat, the Nelson Institute’s mostly research submarine,
Seaview. Even his XO – and best friend –
was quiet around him. Very unusual, as
it was normally Chip who did most of the muttering when Lee accepted a mission
for his part-time employer, the Office of Naval Intelligence.
That
thought brought a moment of doubt to Lee Crane’s troubled mind. Normally Lee would let Chip rant but this
time he’d stopped it with a single word.
He’d hated doing it but for some reason that he couldn’t quite pinpoint
he’d just not been in the mood to listen.
Now he gave his head a small shake, instantly refocused on his mission;
he submerged, continuing to swim until he was near enough to shore that, laying
on the bottom, his dive tanks were only about six inches from the surface. The next several minutes were going to be
some of the most dangerous of the whole mission and Lee needed to concentrate.
The island
was so small that it didn’t appear on any but the most detailed maps of the
area. Its edges rose vertically out of
the sea except for the one spot Lee now lay facing. Here, at one time in history, a rock
structure of some sort had been erected, but all that remained of it now were a
few huge blocks at the waterline. That
was part of Lee’s hesitation – this was pretty much the only place to access
the island and therefore easily defensible if anyone happened to be
watching. Which led to the other major
issue – there was a full moon shining brightly despite the few clouds in the
sky. If anyone was watching the small
rocky beach, Lee was a sitting duck!
Lee wasn’t
even totally sure why he’d been asked to take this assignment. Well, ordered, by ONI’s Director, Admiral
Robert Jones. Although, as only an
occasional agent Lee technically had the option of declining. Lee had been part of a seven-man team, all
SEAL’s except for him, who had been sent to this island a year before he’d
accepted Seaview’s captaincy. Even after
all this time, memories of that assignment still haunted Lee, causing the
anguish and verbal outbursts of the previous days. Of the original seven only five made it off
the island alive, and according to Admiral Jones three more had been lost on
subsequent missions around the globe in the name of world peace. That left only Lee and Lt. Marcus Brookes,
the original SEAL team’s medic, and Brookes was in a VA rehab center, having
recently lost a leg on a mission to Afghanistan.
The island,
while small, had been the suspected home to a rather insidious band of
mercenaries. The interior of the island
was covered by dense forest, defeating intel flyovers, and infrared was made
useless by an extensive cave system within the long-dormant volcano which had
originally formed the island, hence the need to send in the team to find out
why so many ships whose routes took them in this direction disappeared without
a trace. No one had ever been seen
coming or going from the small island’s single landing spot but it was the only
land mass in the area of the disappearances and needed to be checked out.
Lee never
did get a satisfactory answer when he asked why he’d been sent along with an
established SEAL team to search the place.
Nor did he challenge Admiral Jones over it. Lee had worked with SEAL’s both before that
instance, and since, and had for the most part appreciated their skills and
professionalism. Once or twice he’d felt
that they might be a bit too ‘gung ho’ about the missions, but Lee was forced
to admit that he merely preferred to keep his assignments a little more quiet
and controlled than what the SEAL’s normally were forced into.
Whatever
the reason he was included, Lee was extremely happy to have them along when the
information-gathering mission turned into an all-out firefight for
survival. The cave system proved to be a
viper’s nest. They’d gotten control of
the situation but not before two SEAL’s were killed and all but one other,
including Lee, were wounded. Despite
that, there was still some good-natured hazing back and forth with the
detachment of Marines called in to clean out the island once the SEAL’s had it
secured, although it was kept mostly low key because of the loss of life.
Evacuated
with the other injured, Lee heard nothing more about the small island until
Admiral Jones’ call brought the whole mission once more crashing down around
his ears. More maturity – and more years
of dealing with the ONI Director – allowed Lee to challenge why he was picked
for the assignment. More experience
around Lee – and the fact that Admiral Nelson was sitting in on the video
conference – forced Jones into answering the question his expression said all
too clearly that he’d otherwise have merely blown off. Lee was the only surviving member of the
original team able to give an accurate evaluation of what, if anything, had
changed on the supposedly deserted island.
Lee had shared a quick look with Nelson; pointing out that there should
be any number of the Marine unit still on active duty apparently pointless, Lee
had nodded and Seaview had diverted from the charting mission she and her crew
were at the moment engaged in.
What hadn’t
been asked was, why ONI had become suspicious that there might have been
changes to the island, and what business it was of the agency if there
had. Some things, Lee had discovered
over the years, were best left neither asked nor answered. Not so Chip, who started muttering the
instant Lee came back into the Conn after taking the video call in Nelson’s
cabin and started plotting the new course.
That was when Lee had momentarily stopped what he was doing, turned to
his XO, and growled, “Enough!” He’d
glared at Chip until the blond nodded, and Lee went back to his chart.
Now, once
more, the expression on Chip’s face crossed Lee’s mind as he lay quietly, still
submerged, pondering his next move. That
he would apologize there was no doubt.
And no doubt, either, that his long-time friend would accept it and the
matter forgotten. What did linger was,
why he’d snapped at Chip in the first place.
Lee shook his head softly – that was a puzzle for another day. This day – or night, rather – there were other
matters to attend to.
Lee’s
position allowed a watery view of the small landing area and during the time
he’d lain there, quietly watching, he’d seen no movement except for the casual
foraging of several species of small birds.
They actually relieved Lee of some of his tension; if they weren’t
worried about anything in the underbrush Lee shouldn’t be, either. They would no doubt startle when he emerged
from the water, which did cause Lee concern, and to that end started making
preparations. Moving slowly, he reached
down with his right hand and removed his swim fins, holding their straps
loosely in case he needed to quickly drop them.
His left hand pulled the waterproof tote he carried, the strap slung
across his body, a little more forward in case he needed to reach inside
quickly for his service revolver.
As
expected, the birds squawked and flew away as he cautiously stood up and headed
for dry land. But they seemed to be the
only ones to take notice. Lee let out
the expanse of air he hadn’t noticed he’d been holding and spit out his SCUBA
mouthpiece, then listened carefully as he headed for cover in the dense
brush. Once there, safe now from the
bright full moon, he stayed still again for several minutes. But as the night once more started to fill
with its normal rhythm of soft sounds, Lee very quietly and carefully exchanged
dive gear and wet suit for camo fatigues and hiking boots. He found a good hiding place for the gear and
arranged it carefully in case he needed to grab it in a hurry, then added a few
more branches of low brush to completely shield everything, strapped on his
belt with gun and holster on the right side and tactical knife and scabbard on
the left. His tote still held a few
items he’d brought along, just in case, and he again slung the strap across his
body, the tote laying comfortably against his back. Taking a few seconds to step back and look
around, to make sure that he could find his hiding place again, he headed off
in the direction of the cave system’s main entrance.
There
weren’t, he remembered, any game trails through the dense brush and forest for
the simple reason that there wasn’t any game on the island. It was therefore a complete surprise when he
heard strange sounds just ahead of him as he moved as silently as
possible. Stopping to listen, it almost
sounded like grass and shrub brush being ripped and chewed. What
the… Lee asked silently, and moved ahead even more slowly until he came
upon a small clearing in the brush but still covered by the heavy tree canopy
overhead. Its occupants, half a dozen
pigmy goats, paused in their grazing to watch him curiously for a few seconds
before returning to their meal. “I’ve
been sent to check on a herd of goats,” Lee muttered, barely a whisper. One of the goats stopped eating long enough
to stare at him and bleat softly, and it caused Lee to grin. But he got himself back on track and
continued toward the center of the small island, now starting to climb. The goats – at least Lee assumed that they
were the culprits – had made small trails but Lee avoided them for the most
part and kept to more cover, unwilling to relax and accept that they were the
island’s only occupants. He wasn’t quite
so surprised when he disturbed a flock of chickens who had been roosting in a
large bush. Their noisy departure
suddenly had Lee worried – like the small birds he’d encountered along the
shore, the chickens were a terrific early warning signal to any humans who
might be living here. Lee decided that
he’d lay low for a bit and watch for who – or what – might have been
alerted. But after almost half an hour,
when he’d heard nothing beyond the normal night sounds – and the occasional
goat chomping nearby, which still made him smile – he once more cautiously
moved forward.
His
caution proved warranted as he neared where he remembered the main entrance to
the cave system was. Lee expected to
find that the underbrush had reclaimed the area around the cave that the
mercenaries had cleared, and for the most part he was right. But there were still a few subtle signs that
someone – or something – was inhabiting the caves. He had just decided to find a better place to
hide and watch the cave entrance until morning when the decision was taken out
of his hands.
* * * *
Lee awoke
all at once, but a head that was threatening to disconnect from his body kept
movement to a bare minimum for several minutes.
He considered himself a good agent so admitting that he’d been ambushed
totally without warning and instantly rendered unconscious was decidedly unnerving. And extremely puzzling when he discovered
that he was lying in a fairly comfortable army-type cot, in what was obviously
living quarters in the cave. There was
quite a nice cooking fire arranged in a corner, with a brace for hanging either
a cooking pot or spit set over it. Some
rudimentary shelves held a few canned goods in another corner, along with some
books whose titles Lee couldn’t read because his eyes weren’t willing to focus
that well yet.
“Crane!”
was yelled loudly, and Lee traced the voice as coming from around a corner in
the cave where more light he assumed indicated the cave opening. His hand reached automatically for his
revolver even though his brain told him it wouldn’t be there. His still slightly fuzzy brain was
registering total confusion as his hand rested easily on the gun’s grip when
another yell came even more loudly.
“Crane, you dang well better be awake!”
Shaking his aching head, he slowly rose and walked unsteadily toward the
voice, his right hand still resting lightly on the weapon. As he rounded the corner and had to close his
eyes against the sudden blast of bright sunlight he heard a snort. “Chill, Crane. If I’d wanted you dead you’d be dead. Besides, I already unloaded your revolver.”
Lee
finally opened his eyes enough to see who was speaking. On the left side of the cave’s entrance,
unnoticed the night before, a bench of sorts had been chiseled out about two
feet off the ground and facing the rising sun.
On it sat a man of average height and build, dressed in what had once
been fatigues but were now a bit ratty.
They matched the man with his long hair and beard. Lee was sure that he’d never seen the man
before, even though he obviously knew Lee.
Or, more likely, he’d seen Lee’s dog tags. He’d for sure searched Lee’s tote because as
Lee just stood there, trying to make sense of what was happening, the man
opened one of the nutrition bars Lee had packed and took a bite.
And almost
immediately spit it out. “Blech,” the
man growled, glared at the wrapper and then at Lee.
Lee
couldn’t help himself; he laughed.
“Admiral Nelson insists that those are fully nutritious survival
bars. We keep insisting that any
nutrition they might possibly contain is totally useless because the bars are
inedible.” He took another step, out
into the morning sun, and discovered another small seat carved into the rocks
on the other side of the cave entrance.
“There’s several chocolate bars in my tote,” he offered as he sat down.
“Ate them
already,” the man admitted a bit sheepishly.
Lee chuckled softly and laid his head carefully back against the
rock. “Sorry about that. Just be glad that I recognized you before I
drop-kicked you off the nearest cliff.”
Lee turned
his head just far enough to be able to see the man. “You know me,” he said quietly.
The man
didn’t answer for a bit. When he finally
did, it was even quieter. “Milt Minor.”
At that
Lee turned fully and stared. “You’re
dead,” came out before he could stop it.
Lt. Minor had been part of the original SEAL team, but reportedly killed
on a later mission.
Minor
grunted. “Wish I was,” was growled. Both men were silent for several minutes. “Should be,” came softer.
But a few
things were slowly starting to make sense to Lee. “Admiral Jones knows you’re here,” he
said. He turned back toward the trees,
not looking at Minor, and closed his eyes
“He
suspects,” came after another long pause.
“Had no right to make it back.”
“Been there
a time or two,” Lee told him softly, his voice filled with sincerity as a few
previous missions flitted through his mind.
“Couldn’t…” Minor stopped with a strangled gag.
Lee sighed
heavily. “Yeah,” he commiserated.
“Filed my
discharge, left the VA hospital as fast as I could, and disappeared.”
Lee let
that sink in for a bit. “Why Jones?” he finally
asked. While ONI occasionally used
SEAL’s, they weren’t technically under the agency’s chain of command.
“My Mom’s
cousin.” From the original mission Lee
knew that Minor’s parents were both deceased and he had no other close
family. Or rather, hadn’t claimed
any. “Couldn’t handle it.” While Minor didn’t specify what he couldn’t
handle, Lee nonetheless nodded.
It was an
all-too-familiar story. The news was
unfortunately full of men and women from all of the Armed Forces suffering from
Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, unable to deal with normal life after what
they’d been forced to see and do. If
they were lucky they got the help they needed to reintegrate into society. A lot of them dropped out and ended up living
on the streets, surviving as best they could.
But for way too many it led to them taking their own lives. Some people had demons that they simply
couldn’t overcome.
Minor had,
it seemed, found his own salvation on this deserted island. Lee wondered how he’d managed it, but wasn’t
about to ask. It did, however, explain
the goats and chickens. And why Jones
had been adamant about sending Lee, and only Lee, in to check on him. He also wondered what, if anything, Admiral
Jones expected him to do now. Did he
think Lee could talk Minor into coming home?
Minor
seemed to read his mind. “I’m not going
back,” came flatly from Lee’s left.
“Wouldn’t
think of trying to force you to,” Lee admitted with a rueful shake of his still
aching head. “Why here?”
Minor
didn’t immediately answer. When he did,
Lee got the feeling that he was quoting something. “When the world overwhelms, I’ve found it
helpful to accomplish just one little thing.”
He sent Lee a quick glance, and Lee nodded that he understood. “I remembered this place,” Minor continued
softly. “Seemed like a good place
to…” His voice trailed off.
“Figure
things out,” Lee finished for him. It
was Minor’s turn to nod. “Anything you
need?” His question was twofold and he
nearly held his breath waiting for an answer.
Minor blowing him off might be an indication that the PTSD had
progressed to a point that he’d lost all hope.
On the other hand, Lee
reasoned silently, he did make that
comment about accomplishing a project… Lee
remained totally still, waiting for Minor’s answer.
There was
a long enough pause that Lee was getting seriously worried. “More chocolate?” Minor finally responded,
almost hesitantly.
Lee let
out the breath. If Minor was open to at
least this level of help, all was not yet lost.
He sent the man a quick grin.
“Think I might be able to arrange that.”
He thought back to his quick perusal of the cave. “Canned food?”
“That
would be nice,” Minor admitted with a sigh, reinforcing Lee’s evaluation of
Minor’s overall mental state. “Remembered
the fresh water spring from the time we were here. Have a small garden. Some things grow, some don’t.”
Lee
nodded, his eyes still closed. “Probably
only big cans this trip,” he admitted.
“That’s all Cookie orders.” He
glanced at Minor. “We can plan a little
differently our next trip in this general direction.” He almost held his breath as he let Minor
process the fact that Lee would be making more visits.
“No
‘nutrition’ bars,” Minor ordered. Lee
laughed out loud. “Got eggs, some milk,
lots of fish. The occasional chicken or
goat.” Minor sighed. “Can’t get into the supply of those very
often.”
Lee
nodded. “Canned meat,” he added to his
mental list. “Flour, sugar, beans. Rice?” he asked, and got another nod. “Can probably toss in some fresh bread.” He sent another glance at Minor. “Some more fatigues,” he added to the list.
Minor was
silent for a bit. “Why?” finally came
out, almost hesitantly.
It was
Lee’s turn to seemingly read minds.
“Because I can empathize,” he said softly.
“Will
Nelson?”
Lee sent
him a genuine smile. “Yes, he will,” Lee
assured him. He frowned slightly as a
thought hit him. “Doc will probably want
to include a medic kit. He’s fussy.”
It was
Minor’s turn to smile. “Kits I can
handle. Doctors…”
“No
sweat,” Lee quickly assured him. “This
one is pretty cool.” He sent Minor a
quirky grin. “And you didn’t hear me
admit that!” Once more, after quickly
shared grins, there was silence between them.
Almost
three hours later, after a rather one-sided radio call by Lee to Admiral
Nelson, Lee waited on the small rocky beach as a zodiac made its way toward
him. Launched from Seaview, her Conning
Tower barely visible in the background, the zodiac held two men and a
substantial number of boxes. Lee wasn’t
at all surprised to recognize Senior Rating Kowalski, but shook his head when
he realized that the other man was Admiral Nelson. Little was said as the zodiac landed and the
boxes quickly stacked above the high water line. That done, Lee retrieved his diving gear and
prepared to board the zodiac.
“You’re
just going to leave all that stuff there?” Kowalski asked, then sent Lee a
totally embarrassed look. “Sir,” he
added in almost a squeak.
Lee let
him off the hook with a quick grin.
“They won’t be there long,” he assured the rating. He did catch a strange look on Nelson’s face
as he prepared to help ‘Ski shove off and head back to the submarine. The Admiral instantly turned his back, but
Lee was pretty sure that he understood.
Nelson had wanted to personally make sure that it wasn’t Lee, after some
of the things he’d had to deal with in his life, who made the same decision Lt.
Minor had. He purposely put a smile in
his voice as he continued. “Let’s go home,”
he told Kowalski, and was gratified to see Nelson’s stiff shoulders start to
relax.
~ ~ ~ ~
“Resolve
to find thyself; and know that he who finds himself loses his misery.”
Matthew
Arnold