Fledgling: Jason Steed

  “He’s not slowed us down yet,” Wilson replied. “He helped his friend swim half a mile to shore and practically carried him up the beach. Even under fire, he didn’t run. He’s got guts, but we can’t take him with us. He’ll be a liability.”

  “We can’t leave him here. What if he gets captured? He could give out our position and objective,” Ryan said.

  Jason returned to the others. He looked at his hands. His fingernails were black with dried blood. “Can I borrow your knife please, Ryan?” he asked.

  Ryan passed it to him. “Are you going to kill yourself?”

  Jason ignored the question and used the point of the blade to clean his nails. He was not sure what to say to Wilson. He asked himself, What would Scott say? He tried to think of something. Finally, he took a deep, shaky breath.

  “Major, you have three options. One is you leave me here to fend for myself. Chances are the rebels will catch me. If they don’t kill me, they may torture me and find out where you are going. I am eleven. I have the same pain threshold of someone my age. Option two is you will have to slit my throat.” Jason dropped the knife, and it stuck in the ground at the major’s feet. He continued, “When you get back to the Ark Royal, you can inform Lieutenant Commander Steed that you slit his only son’s throat. He won’t be too pleased. Option three is you need someone to speak Cantonese. I grew up in Hong Kong and speak the language. I have not slowed you down and can keep up. I prefer option three, sir.”

  Wilson cracked a tired smile. “You got guts, kid. How do you know I won’t just slit your throat?”

  “With Kevin dead, you need me,” Jason replied, his fingers crossed.

  “Get some sleep. We leave in an hour,” the major ordered. He was abrupt but to the point. It was an advantage to keep Jason with them—for now.

  ***

  On the Ark Royal, Ray was passed a list of the dead, and he passed it directly to Captain Stephens. The captain’s eyes widened, and he shook his head. He sat down and picked up the radio microphone to report to the admiralty.

  “This is Captain Stephens from HMS Ark Royal. I have a list of the dead and wounded.”

  ***

  Back in London, Scott shouted to his parents to come and listen to his ham radio.

  “We have sixty-seven dead. I repeat—sixty-seven dead. I will read the names in no particular order.” Scott looked at his parents wide-eyed and mouthed “sixty-seven” in astonishment. Scott’s parents sat on his bed, holding hands, while he sat at his desk listening with his eyes closed to the broadcast. It took just five minutes to read the sixty-seven names, but it seemed to go on for an eternity.

  “We have two critically injured. They have a fifty-fifty chance of survival,” the announcer said and read the names of the injured.

  Scott looked at his parents. He punched the air with a big smile on his face. However, the captain went on, “Also, four cadets are missing: John Leigh, age fifteen; Todd Johnson, age eleven; Jason Steed, age eleven; Graham Bell, age thirteen. We know one is dead, as we have found another body. Sadly, it is decapitated. We are unable to identify this body.”

  Scott stood up and shouted at his radio. “No way. Jason is not missing. He can swim like a fish. He can! I’ve seen him. What the bloody hell are they shooting at him for anyway?”

  His mother ran over and hugged him.

  “Scott, he is missing. He is not dead,” his father said, but it was clear that even he didn’t believe his own words.

  ***

  Her Majesty the Queen held the tea strainer while she poured herself a hot cup of Earl Grey into her bone china teacup. She dropped in a sugar lump, annoyed as it splashed hot tea over her finger.

  Catherine watched with the queen and duke as the BBC newscaster read out the names and ages of the boys who had been killed. She held her breath and gasped a sigh of relief—that was, until the names of the four missing boys were called out.

  “What are you doing sending them to a war zone?” she cried at her parents. “What is wrong with you? Jason could be dead or hurt somewhere. Daddy, do something.” Her voice broke as her body started shaking with sobs.

  “I will call the admiralty and see if I can find out something,” the duke said. “Your friend is a tough little guy. I am sure he’ll make it.”

  ***

  Ray Steed traveled by helicopter to the Stoke. He was lowered down onto the deck and greeted by his old friend, Captain Giles. “Can I see Jason’s bunk room?”

  Giles nodded, stood aside, and gestured with his hand. “If you need anything, Ray, just ask.”

  Ray climbed the stairs down to the bunk rooms. Each room had a card above the open doorway with the team number. When he arrived at team nine’s room, he was surprised to see someone going through the clothing in the cabinet. Steed coughed to make his entrance heard. It was Sergeant Brown, who turned and saluted.

  “At ease,” Ray informed him.

  Brown looked at his uniform and read his name badge. “Sir, are you related to Jason Steed?” Brown asked, pointing at his bunk.

  Ray nodded and sat down on his son’s neatly folded sheets and clothing. “He was my son,” he said quietly.

  “Sir, he’s not dead. I know who the unidentified body is.”

  “How?” Ray asked and looked up. His bloodshot eyes stared at Brown, looking for any glimmer of hope.

  “The body—you know, the decapitated unknown body—is that of a youth, maybe thirteen or fourteen. I am sure of it. John Leigh was almost sixteen. They are all from the same team. I think they swam to shore. The unidentified body is Graham Bell. The shoe size matches Bell’s. I have just checked John Leigh’s and the karate kids’ shoe sizes. No match. It’s got to be Bell.”

  “The karate kids?” Ray asked, puzzled.

  “It was our nickname for them. They practiced together in their spare time on deck. Jason is a star on the ship. He kicked my butt big time when I was instructing hand-to-hand combat.”

  Ray smiled proudly, his eyes filled with tears. He buried his face in his hands and then drew in a breath. His eyes fell on a letter Jason had received from Princess Catherine. He neatly folded it and put it in his pocket. “You think they swam to shore?”

  “Yes, sir, it’s just a guess, but we have the bodies of Jeff, Rob, and Jim—or what’s left of them. I think they swam for it.”

  Ray stood and nodded. “I must return to the Ark. Thank you for what you have done.”

  “You’ve got a good kid, sir,” Brown replied. “He’ll be all right.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Ray returned to the Ark and reported to Captain Stephens.

  “Against orders of the admiralty, I sent a small unit to search the beach,” Stephens informed him. “They are coming back, and they have found a body of a very young cadet. I’m sorry, Steed. It doesn’t look good for your son.”

  With a shaky nod, Ray went down to the deck and waited for the small craft to return. Marines wearing black clothing and camouflage-painted faces carried in the covered body of a cadet. They laid the body on the cold metal floor.

  “He has been shot, sir. Two, maybe three times. But we believe he was shot on the beach,” the first marine told Steed. “The crabs and gulls made lunch of him too. It’s not pretty, sir.”

  Ray bent down. With his hand trembling, he lifted the sheet. He took a deep breath. The body’s head was missing. He searched the blood-covered pockets and fumbled across a folded piece of paper—a letter. Some of the words blurred, but it clearly read at the bottom: “Be good, Todd. Love, Mum XX.” He felt a flash of relief, and he felt sick for it.

  He hurried back to the officers’ workroom, where he and Captain Stephens were given brief details of the mission led by Major Wilson. Commander Cunningham from the Royal Marines took control of the meeting.

  “So far, it has been a success. We believe that Wilson and two of his platoon are ashore. Kevin Walker was killed. They are now without a translator and fourth man. We expect he may have a cadet with him, Joh
n Leigh. Leigh took his inflatable back to pick up the marines. Knowing Wilson, he will use him as a watchout—someone to back them.”

  Cunningham was interrupted by Captain Stephens.

  “How can you say it was a success? We have sixty-eight known dead, two missing cadets, and two others in intensive. Was this a smokescreen? Using Sea Cadets in inflatables so Wilson’s crew could go unnoticed through them?”

  “The mission on hand is far more important than the Sea Cadets, unfortunately. If we fail to get the cassette back, millions of people will lose their lives. We saw an opportunity and took it. If Wilson can meet with our man on the island and somehow communicate in Cantonese, we have a good chance of recovering the cassette.”

  “Wilson has a translator,” Ray said, hope welling inside him. “We know Todd Johnson made it to shore before he was killed. We suspect John Leigh did. The other missing team member is Jason Steed, my son. He can speak Cantonese. He grew up in Hong Kong. He would have let Wilson know this.”

  “Lieutenant, you can’t really believe Wilson would take an eleven-year-old with him?” Cunningham asked.

  “What would you do?” Ray bluntly replied.

  ***

  Wilson, Pete, John, and Ryan hiked as fast as they could through the thick jungle brush. Jason had to jog to keep up.

  “He said he’s going to recommend you get a medal,” John whispered to him.

  “What? Who did?” Jason asked.

  “The Major. For what you did for Todd.”

  “Well, I didn’t do enough. He’s dead. No medal will take him home to his mother.”

  “You can’t blame yourself, Jase. You said your father’s on the Ark. Is that right?” John said.

  “We have to keep quiet,” Jason whispered. He was in no mood to talk. He was hurt, exhausted, and his friend was dead. And if they didn’t succeed in their mission, countless others would be dead soon as well.

  Wilson stopped abruptly and removed his binoculars. After a quick peek through them, he spoke quietly to Ryan and Peter and then waved John and Jason forward. “It will be light soon. We need to get under cover and hide out.”

  After they hiked over a small incline, they found a small valley dense in trees and shrubbery. Pete crawled under a large bush, and the others followed. It was cramped but very well hidden.

  “Okay, guys, we need to get some sleep. It will be hot soon, but this should keep us cool,” Wilson said, trying to get comfortable amidst the mud and leaves.

  Jason lay back and closed his eyes. He discovered he was thirsty and hungry. All he could see was Todd’s eyes looking at him as he died. He tried to think of other things: Catherine, Scott, the ship. How many of the cadets had been hurt or killed?

  ***

  The sun was up when Jason awoke to the sound of Ryan’s moaning. The pain in his shoulder had worsened. Peter tried to comfort him by talking lightly spoke about football and what they wanted to do when they got back to England.

  “When I get back, I’m gonna have a few pints and watch Liverpool FC on the TV. Then go home with my girlfriend,” Pete said, smirking and sucking on a cigarette. “How about you, sir?”

  “See my kids. Take my wife out for a meal. And come home and have some private time together,” Wilson said.

  “What about you, John?” Ryan asked.

  “There is a girl I like at school—” John replied, grinning.

  They all looked at Jason.

  “A trip to Disneyland? Or go out for an ice cream?” Ryan teased Jason. “Come on, kid, if you could be anywhere now, where would you like to be?”

  “Back on the Stoke with Todd, Jim, Jeff, Rob, and all the others,” Jason quietly replied.

  His remark stopped the conversation dead for the rest of the day.

  ***

  Once it was dark, Wilson announced his plan. “About seven miles from here is the village. It will take us approximately two hours to get there. We have to cross the river. It’s deep and fast. You need to swim fast without splashing—can you do that?”

  John and Jason nodded.

  “When we get to the other side, kid, you stick with me. John, stay with Ryan and Peter.”

  As they crept on again, Jason said to himself, he calls John by his name. Why does he have to call me kid? But he knew it was just the hunger, thirst, and exhaustion talking. Everything irritated him.

  As they approached, they could hear the Angke River. It was over sixty feet deep and a hundred feet across. Wilson waded straight in, and Jason followed. By the time he was waist-deep, the current was already pulling him off track. Wilson started swimming upstream at an angle. Swimming straight across would carry them a mile downstream by the time they reached the other bank. After half an hour, they’d only made it halfway across the river. Jason’s body was tired. He was hungry, and he needed sleep. He watched Wilson’s shaved head glistening in the moonlight. Wilson kept on going, and Jason continued to follow, wondering where John, Pete, and Ryan were. He didn’t dare look back and lose valuable ground. He could no longer swim quietly. His arms and legs were heavy, and they made splashes. With each powerful energy-zapping stroke, his breathing became heavy as he fought for air. He closed his eyes and kept going as fast as he could against the powerful current.

  A hand grabbed his collar.

  “Can you reach the bottom?”

  It was Wilson, who was now standing waist-deep. They were just a few feet from the shore. Jason put his feet down, but they were quickly swept away. He was too short and light to stand. Wilson pulled him back and walked the rest of the way, dragging Jason by his collar.

  “It’s below my waist now,” Jason gasped, staggering ahead. He looked behind but could not see the others in the darkness. He and Wilson waded out of the water to the bank. Jason knelt down on his hands and knees, trying to get his breath back.

  “Kid, you said you wouldn’t slow me down—come on.” Jason pulled himself to his feet and followed. After maybe twenty minutes, the lights of a village peeked through the trees. Wilson pulled out a small map. Using a cigarette lighter, he looked it over. Jason used the opportunity to sit down.

  “Okay, this way,” Wilson ordered. He got up again after a three-second rest and carried on walking. They crept along a tiny mud road. Every thirty feet or so was a small home, mostly constructed from mud and tin. Jason’s wet boots and socks rubbed his feet. Every step became more painful. He knew there was no point saying anything to the major. He just had to keep following.

  Wilson stopped and looked at his map once more.

  “This is it, kid,” he breathed. “Stay close behind me.” They crept up to the entrance of a small home. A large, thick gray cloth hung over the doorway to make a door. Wilson held his rifle at waist level and slowly pulled the cloth back. They tiptoed inside.

  Jason was shaking uncontrollably. He tried hard to stop. He was not sure if it was fear, hunger, exhaustion, or a combination of everything. He had not eaten since breakfast the previous day.

  “You’re on, kid,” Wilson whispered as something stirred in the house. First in Malay and then in Cantonese, a frightened voice called, “Who is there?”

  “We won’t harm you. This is the Royal Marines,” Jason replied.

  “I am Lee Chu.”

  Wilson flicked on his cigarette lighter and lit a candle. The yellow flame revealed Lee Chu and his wife, lying on a mattress on the floor. Next to them was another mattress with two small children. All of them stirred and yawned. In the corner were a table and four chairs, some wooden boxes on the floor, and a tiny wood-burning stove. Damp clothing hung across the room. Lee Chu slowly got up and walked toward Jason.

  “Let me see it first,” Lee Chu said.

  Jason turned to Wilson. “He wants to see something. Do we have something for him?”

  Wilson was looking out a small gap between the doorway and the cloth door. He pulled a plastic bag from his pocket and threw it in Jason’s direction.

  Jason walked over to the table and sat down.
He invited the man to sit, while he opened the bag and spilled its contents on the table. It contained $5,000 in U.S. currency and a letter granting him and his family refugee status in Great Britain. The letter was written in English and Chinese. It had been signed by the British defense minister himself.

  The man read the letter and smiled. “We have it,” he told his wife, who then nodded and smiled. The two children had joined her on her bed. They watched Jason’s every move with their large black eyes. It was obvious that they had not seen many Westerners. A boy with blond hair must have been very rare. Jason noticed a very large bunch of bananas on the floor.

  “I need you to keep your end of the agreement and tell me where the cassette is,” Jason said. “Plus I need something else.”

  Lee Chu angrily barked in English, “I tell you where the cassette is—nothing else.”

  Jason put his hand on the letter and money and pulled it back toward him. Wilson stepped toward the table and raised his rifle at Lee Chu.

  “Is there a problem, kid?”

  “No, sir, it’s all right. Please leave it to me,” Jason turned back to Lee Chu. He pushed the contents back to his side of the table. “Please sit. You’re right. That’s all you have to give us. I wanted something else. If you say no to the additional request, you still get this.”

  Lee Chu sat down and nodded. “What else do you want?” he asked in Cantonese.

  “I have not eaten in two days. Can I have some fruit please?”

  Lee Chu started laughing, exposing brown, decayed teeth. He stood and pulled six bananas from the large bunch and passed them to Jason.

  “Thank you. Where is the cassette?” Jason asked, hungrily peeling a banana.

  One of the children, a boy aged about three, wearing just his underwear, walked over and stood next to Jason and stared at him while his father spoke and Jason wolfed down the fruit. He couldn’t remember anything ever tasting so delicious.