A young nurse’s pretty face comes into view and she smiles. “Hello!” she says. “You’re awake! How do you feel?”

  My voice comes out sounding like nails on sandpaper. “Okay.”

  “Let me get the doctor. I’ll be right back.”

  A few minutes go by and a U.S. Air Force doctor enters the room. “Good morning, Mr. Fisher,” he says. “I’m Dr. Jenkins. How are you feeling?”

  “Okay,” I say again. “Thirsty.”

  “I’ll bet you are. Nurse, give Mr. Fisher some water.”

  She puts a straw to my mouth and I suck the cool, lovely liquid into my throat. It’s like heaven. When I’m done, I ask, “Where am I?”

  “Edwards Air Force Base,” the doctor answers.

  “How . . . long have I been here?”

  “Three days.”

  “I’ve been out for three days?”

  “Mostly out. Occasionally you’d wake up for a few minutes at a time in a feverish state. Perfectly natural for someone who went through the kind of trauma you did.”

  “What happened? I remember the explosion—”

  “The protective shell of the CHARC and your scuba equipment saved your life. You rode a tsunami wave as if you were a piece of driftwood and ended up on the beach near Santa Monica Pier. It’s a miracle you weren’t killed but the CHARC is one tough piece of machinery. All you have to show for it are a broken arm and a lot of bruises and cuts.”

  “What about . . . what about radiation?”

  “Well, that’s what we’re not sure about but we think it’s going to be all right,” the doctor says. “The bomb went off deep underwater. Most of the radiation was contained below the surface. A lot of fish have died. Our beaches are littered with thousands of dead sea life—whales, fish, sharks, dolphins—it’s tragic. We think the wave you rode in on was well ahead of the spread of radioactivity. The air, ironically enough, is no worse now than it was prior to the explosion.”

  I shake my head. “Amazing.”

  “The military picked you up and whisked you away before any news teams got to the beach. No one saw you. Now get some rest, Mr. Fisher. You’re going to be fine. I’ll have the nurse fix a small meal for you and we’ll see how you take it. We’ve been feeding you intravenously since you were brought in. I’ll let Colonel Lambert know you’re back in the real world.” He pats my shoulder and says, “It’s good to have you back. It’s no secret around here that you’re a hero.”

  AFTER a yummy meal of Jell-O and ginger ale, with promises of a more protein-based lunch of eggs a little later, Colonel Lambert walks into the room. He’s all smiles and I’m really glad to see him.

  “How are you, Sam?”

  “Good, Colonel. I’m almost ready to get out of here.”

  “Well, you probably need to stay put another day or two. We have to check you out through and through. You were awfully close to a nuclear explosion, you know.”

  “Yeah. I don’t remember much of it, though.”

  “I bet you have a lot of questions.”

  “Colonel, I bet you already know what they are, so why don’t you fill me in on what’s been happening while I’ve been in never-never land.”

  Lambert pulls up a chair and sits beside the bed. “To put it bluntly, Sam, you saved Los Angeles. And you’ve saved Third Echelon.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “We were in danger of losing funding. The Committee in Washington had intimated as such but now they’re all conciliatory. Senator Coldwater and the other alphabet agency directors have sent congratulations to us for saving the day. I think the FBI and the CIA are kicking themselves that they didn’t get the chance to go after those MRUUVs, which technically is probably the way it should have played out. It just so happened we were there first and we had the intelligence. So, bottom line is you put a feather in our cap, Sam. Thanks.”

  “Does this mean we can skip my performance evaluation for this year?”

  He smiles and continues. “The nuke did some damage, though. Los Angeles experienced an earthquake that was five point three on the Richter. Most of the damage was on the beachfront communities and around LAX. The federal government will be putting together a relief package for those that qualify.”

  “It could have been worse.”

  “Definitely. Farther north, a tsunami hit Topanga, Santa Monica, Venice, and Marina Del Rey and that caused a lot of damage as well. We believe that’s how you ended up onshore—you must have been in it or on one of the smaller waves that preceded it.”

  “Where’d they find me? Who found me?”

  “The coast guard found your CHARC very near Santa Monica Pier right there on the beach. It was pretty banged up but you were snug as a bug inside. Surprisingly, the tsunami receded and didn’t leave much flooding except farther north in Topanga State Park. Most of the residential areas between the park and Santa Monica are now wading pools. All in all, the estimated death toll is around five hundred and fifty. There are roughly a hundred missing small craft that were at sea when the bomb went off. I imagine we’ll have to write those poor people off, too. They’re still taking radiation level readings but it doesn’t look as bad as you might think. I imagine the beaches will be closed for a year or so. The economy will be hit and it won’t be pretty. But, like you say, it could have been worse. It wasn’t as bad as the tsunamis that hit the Indian Ocean a year or so ago. If you hadn’t changed the course on that MRUUV, it would have been a completely different story.”

  It’s sobering news and very difficult for me to comprehend that such a fate was in my hands. “How do things stand internationally?”

  Lambert tells me how the military conflict in Taiwan turned out and that things are basically back to the status quo between the island and China. As for relations between China and the U.S., it’s too early to say.

  “China assumes no responsibility for the bomb. They’re blaming that entirely on General Tun and the Shop. Of course, Tun is dead and the Shop is no more. So they’re convenient scapegoats. I imagine our government will issue some kind of declaration condemning Tun’s attack on Taiwan and subtly insinuate that China could have done more to stop him. Anyway, that’s not our problem right now. We’ll let the elected officials handle that stuff.”

  “So the Shop is really gone. Hard to believe.”

  “Yes, but don’t go thinking your job is finished, Sam. There are plenty of other enemies in the world.”

  “Well, I hope you don’t mind, but I’d like to take at least six months off.”

  “Sam, I’m giving you a year off. You’ve earned it.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “No, I’m not. However, there’s a catch.”

  “If there’s an emergency . . .”

  “Right.”

  “Figures. There’s always an emergency.”

  Lambert laughs a little and I manage a smile. “How did you like working with Frances? And Anna again?” he asks.

  I have to admit the truth. “They’re great, Colonel. Give ’em raises.”

  “I already have. You’ll be receiving a nice bonus as well. Oh, that reminds me. I have a surprise for you.”

  “I hate surprises,” I say.

  “You’ll like this one.” He stands and walks toward the door. “Don’t go away, I’ll be right back.”

  “Where the hell am I gonna go, Colonel?”

  He leaves and I have a moment to look out the window. The sun is bright in a very clear sky. Spring is around the corner and I’d swear there are birds chirping outside. You’d never know that an atomic bomb exploded in the region just three days ago.

  Lambert sticks his head in the room and says, “I’ll leave you alone with your visitor for now. We’ll talk again later. Take care, Sam.”

  “Okay, Colonel. Wait, what visitor?”

  He opens the door wider and my heart sings when I see who it is.

  “Hey, Dad!” she says.

  Sarah runs to the side of the bed and plants a big kiss
on the side of my face. I wrap my free arm around her and hold her close as Lambert winks at me and closes the door.

 


 

  Tom Clancy, Operation Barracuda (2005)

  (Series: # )

 

 


 

 
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