The Power of a SEAL

by Elizabeth, Anne

  Leaper enjoyed being up before dawn, and life was even better if he could feel the spray of water in his face and taste the salt on his tongue. He could function on as little as four hours of sleep for several months. It wasn’t optimal, but he’d learned he could get by. If he was on a mission and had to doze, he woke himself up and put himself to sleep over and over again, staying tuned in to his environment.

  New mothers often did it subconsciously, listening for their babies during the night. When he’d been stuck going to therapy, he’d read several psychology magazines on sleep cycles, including a great article about a single father who was raising a newborn. He would hear her from the other side of the house and be at her bedside before he was fully awake. This man also claimed to understand the type of cries his daughter made and whether she needed a diaper change, food, or comfort.

  Leaper wasn’t sure if he would ever be able to distinguish such sounds. In his case, sounds meant potential enemy and discovery. If discovered by an enemy, it meant kill or be killed. The primal core of his nature tapped into this area easily after so many years of honing this skill set.

  He sat in the boat with his trainees, waiting. He’d already pointed out several landmarks and shared water-based facts. If only he had a fishing pole, he could catch dinner. He really needed to get out in his boat and take advantage of the opportunity to fish before the season was over. What use was a license if he never used it?

  His ears picked up the sound of a boat coming toward them.

  The unofficial dolphin/invader event would take place in a small alcove on the far side of the Amphibious Base, on the Bay Side. To be specific, it was off the Discovery Bridge near the Silver Strand. The water was just deep enough to be useful, and it was beyond the boat and ship traffic.

  “I’ve always wanted to swim with the dolphins,” said Captain Kirk.

  “Not that type of event. It’s a watch and learn,” advised Leaper. “If you want to swim gleefully with dolphins as part of a program, visit SeaWorld. In the wild, dolphins are very unpredictable, as I mentioned before. The bottlenose dolphin we’ll meet today will be somewhere in between these two extremes of captivity and wild, because the Marine Mammal dolphins function and work in the wild, but they live in a safe environment where they’re cared for by human beings. There’s a distinct difference, and we need to follow the rules, so hands in the boat.”

  “I want to pet one,” added Watson.

  “What did I just say? Do you think this is a freaking petting zoo? Eyes only.” Leaper shook his head. Had these guys not had coffee? Or perhaps they forgot to bring their ears to this event.

  The Marine Mammal boat rounded the corner. Finally, they had arrived.

  His trainees rocked the boat in their eagerness to see the dolphin. Several attempted to stand, and Leaper knocked their feet out from under them. “The next person who stands will be sent into the drink for a morning dip. Chill out.”

  Leaper looked over at the Marine Mammal boat. Kerry met his gaze and smiled at him.

  He nodded back. After five minutes of waiting, he signaled to her with palms facing up and hands spread to the side, the universal “What’s up?”

  She shrugged.

  Leaper checked his watch. He needed to get the recruits back to the Amphibious Base within the allotted time frame. A short field trip was fun, but there was still an afternoon schedule in place for his trainees that must be adhered to.

  He waved at Kerry and tapped his watch.

  She nodded. She got his signal now.

  He saw her speaking with a tall, muscular, balding guy. Leaper might have been jealous, but with the wedding ring on the guy’s hand and the way she kept glancing across the water, it was obvious who she liked—Leaper.

  Leaper was too close to the Amphibious Base’s Officer Country to shout. He knew training wasn’t Kerry’s area of expertise. The dolphin trainers were in charge. He noticed from their body language that there was one trainer bossing around two helpers, and Kerry was off to the side observing. She was possibly higher up on the food chain at the Marine Mammal Program, as the trainer appeared to defer to her now and then.

  Taking his cell phone from his pocket, Leaper put it in a dry-sack and stored it in a locked toolbox. Then he pulled his shirt over his head and dove into the water.

  He swam to the Marine Mammal boat and pulled himself aboard. “Can I be of assistance?” He extended his hand to the balding man. “Leaper Lefton.”

  The man grabbed it and held tight for a few seconds. “Duckie Summers. Sorry for the delay. We were supposed to have a combat swimmer, but he hasn’t shown. Must be some kind of emergency. He’s usually very reliable. Do you want to reschedule for tomorrow?”

  Leaper’s lips thinned. “Today was the only day we had some flexibility. Can I be the swimmer?”

  “You need a tank. There’s a weight with the strobe-light clamp, and we, uh, don’t want you to drown.” Duckie picked up the device and showed Leaper how it worked.

  “I’m a combat diver and I free dive. I can hold my breath for a very long time,” Leaper said. He knew he could do it. The water wasn’t that deep off the coast of the Discovery Bridge near the Silver Strand. Hell, he could swim to the Base Commander’s house from here. “Give me a shot.”

  Kerry added. “I can vouch for him. We swam together. Besides, he’s a SEAL and a very strong swimmer.” She tucked strands of hair into her ball cap. “C’mon, Duckie, if Leaper says he can do something, I trust him.”

  “Don’t get litigious on me if this goes butts up,” said Duckie. “I still think you need a tank, because this device normally attaches to a tank.”

  “Understood.” Leaper nodded. “So, let’s pretend I have one. How does this work? Can you explain the process? What do I do—just swim under the boat and the dolphin will put the contraption on me?”

  “Yes, that’s about it. Though I’ll reiterate, this device has a strobe light, and I’ll attach the lead so we can grab you if there’s a problem. So here’s the breakdown of steps: the dolphin bumps the diver, releasing the device so it will clamp onto the diver’s tank. The strobe lights up, and we send combat swimmers to fetch the enemy. The lead is short so it doesn’t get snagged easily, but if there’s an issue, someone can dive in and grab it—just another way to provide a safety measure.”

  “Okay. Can we do this demonstration under my boat, so my trainees can see with my cameras?” asked Leaper, pointing over his shoulder.

  “Sure. Why not?” Duckie pointed to the two assistants, who opened the side panel on the boat and encouraged the dolphin to slide into the water. “I’ll wave at you when we’re ready to begin.”

  “Great. Give me five minutes to prep.” Leaper swam back to the boat and briefed the trainees on how to use the cameras. He watched them drop the cameras properly into the water so nothing got tangled in the mounts, and then he gave them an idea of what was going to happen. “My one request is that all of you stay in the boat, no matter what. Understood?”

  “Aye, aye,” they replied.

  “Look, the dolphin’s in the water,” said Watson. “Too cool.”

  “Right. Nothing can go wrong here,” murmured Leaper as he got back in the water and swam a few feet away. He turned back to the Marine Mammal boat and gave them the thumbs-up.

  Duckie waved.

  Blowing air out of his lungs in short bursts and repeating it several times, Leaper then took a slow, deep breath, filling his lungs to capacity. He dove under the boat, hamming it up on the underwater camera. He pretended to be sabotaging the prop when something hard and heavy clamped onto his ankle. It felt like a vise.

  His reflex made him kick out, and the impact landed on the dolphin’s body.

  The bottlenose turned quickly and lightly bumped his snout into Leaper’s abdominal. Half of Leaper’s air whooshed out. Dolphins give equal or stronger force to meet whateve
r is given to them, he thought as he looked around for the dolphin. He didn’t want to get blindsided again, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to respond.

  Clamping his mouth shut, he held tight to the rest of his air as the dolphin pulled on the lead attached to the mount. Something was wrong. Dolphins were not supposed to directly engage the enemy. The dolphins’ main jobs were to identify enemy divers, tell their trainers or handlers, and point out sea mines.

  Leaper was still one moment, on the move in the next. The dolphin was taking him for a ride.

  He flailed his arms, trying to reach the mount. Leaper didn’t make it as the dolphin pulled him swiftly away from his boat and toward the Marine Mammal boat—and if they went farther, into the direction of the open shipping lanes. He was fucked if he made it all the way out there.

  All hell broke loose as recruits dove into the water. When Leaper looked over his shoulder, he could see them. The water was clear, and their activity attracted the dolphin’s attention. It circled back to the trainees, dragging him along.

  Dumbasses! They’d done the one thing he didn’t want them to do—dive in—and this was the dolphin’s environment. She had the upper hand, and several of the recruits belatedly realized that as it knocked them around with her powerful snout and tail. Several trainees gave up and paddled for shore, while others attempted to get into the boat, which the dolphin had conveniently flipped over.

  Soon, those still in the water swam aimlessly about as the dolphin circled and played with them.

  Fuck! At least the dolphin had abandoned him. Leaper managed to release the strobe-light mount.

  Perhaps he was too quick to celebrate as he watched more of the dolphin fiasco along with the Base Commander and his wife, who both stood on the grass in their backyard, pointing at them. He could hear their shouts of concern, and for a brief second, Leaper wished he had drowned.

  The Marine Mammal boat pulled up behind him.

  “The lead didn’t work. The dolphin liked it too much,” Leaper choked out as he looked over at Kerry and saw that she had covered her eyes with her hand.

  “What a bust!” She was shaking her head with a look of tense frustration. “I don’t know what happened.”

  Maneuvers gone wrong splashed across his brain in neon letters. So much for unsanctioned events! Leaper doubted they would ever get permission to train together again.

  He handed the mount to Kerry.

  “I’ll call you later.”

  “Sure,” he said flatly. “Thanks for trying. I have to handle…all this.”

  She nodded, and then the Marine Mammal boat took off. The trainer signaled for the dolphin, who eagerly responded and loaded onto the boat.

  Leaper watched the Marine Mammal group depart and then swam back to the trainee boat, flipped it, and hauled himself on board. Then he picked up those recruits still in the water and steered the boat toward the shore to get the rest of his group.

  “We never leave anyone behind,” he grumbled to himself as he lifted and secured the prop engine and then beached the boat on the lawn of the Base Commander’s home. This was Officer Country and an Admiral’s home. His trainees had made the worst choice ever, to aim for this place as a landing zone. They literally had signs posted outside the area warning individuals not to enter unless their reasons directly related to something of personal or vital importance to the officer residents and their families.

  Putting his feet firmly on this hallowed dry land, Leaper gave the trainees in the boat a stern look to stay and then made his way up the perfectly manicured lawn, where several of his trainees were already gathered. These guys were actually wrapped in towels, drinking lemonade and eating cookies too. He was so frustrated, he couldn’t stop the litany of swear words in his head long enough to choose just one.

  At least it looked like the trainees had the good sense to stay silent as the Base Commander’s wife plied them with treats. She was definitely one classy lady, but the Commander was striding toward Leaper with a furrowed brow and a deep frown and was undoubtedly going to give him an earful—or worse, a formal reprimand. Who could blame him? Who wanted a bunch of fumbling trainees, young men drenched to the bone and lapping up groceries like a pack of hungry dogs, standing on his back lawn, especially in front of his wife?

  What a goat fuck!

  Think fast, Leaper told himself. Think very, very fast.

  Chapter 5

  Leaper’s mind spun with emotion as he reminded himself, Anger is a powerful feeling fueled by bruised ego, indignation, frustration, and exasperation. If I cannot do anything useful with a bomb of this magnitude, then the best thing I can do is to get far, far, far away from humanity and find a very quiet and peaceful refuge to reboot. Alone was the operative word.

  “Hey, Lefton. Hold up!” shouted a familiar male voice.

  Leaper was in no mood. He didn’t want to talk to anyone. His long strides moved him swiftly toward his hog and an easy escape from the Amphibious Base. The Base Commander had handed him his ass, though the story Leaper had concocted about developing a new program for SEALs and Marine Mammals did stimulate the Base Commander’s interest somewhat. Of course, making shit up on the fly was Leaper’s favorite thing to do, especially as he explained that the dolphin outing was a test of his idea before he presented it to the higher-ups. It helped Leaper slide by; using his brains and wit was definitely his talent, but he had still endured a harsh lecture and load of crap from the rest of Command. It could have been worse, though.

  “Lefton, fucking stop. I need to talk to you,” shouted Poshen.

  The rest of the BUD/S staff wanted to know the intimate details, and they weren’t going to get any. Leaper was a private person and he didn’t share his trials easily.

  Fuck off, man! Take a hint and leave me alone. Leaper had only been trying to give his guys a taste of something new. Doing nice stuff can bite ya in the ass. Well, fuck this. I’m done with this day. I need to get out of here fast or I’m going to deck someone.

  Setting a hard pace behind the Quarterdeck of SEAL Team ONE, Leaper ignored the person attempting to flag him down. He wasn’t in the mood for bro time or comfort time or any other diversion. When an arm snaked out and grabbed his, Leaper spun around ready to fight. Prepare to die, thought Leaper in his best Inigo Montoya voice.

  Parker “Posh” Poshen, head of the instructor staff, looked mighty flustered, as if he’d wet his pants if Leaper took a swing. “Talk to me, Wild Man. I heard the Base Commander got ahold of you.”

  “What do you care? What the hell do you really want, Posh?” Leaper snarled. Using one of Leaper’s nicknames wasn’t going to do a thing. His second nickname was Bug Eyes. With over twenty years in the Navy, it was rare that Leaper lost his temper anymore, but getting reamed by the Base Commander sucked hind tit, and Leaper wasn’t sticking around the base while his temper climbed up notch after notch to full steam ahead. He’d learned when to stay and when to go; he needed to go. Stewing in pain led to fistfights and all sorts of dumb-ass shit—at least it had in the past, and he didn’t want to test the theory in the present.

  The best thing Leaper could do was get the hell out of Dodge and cool down. He knew just the person he wanted to let off steam with too, and it wasn’t this hairy monster standing in front of him. Seriously, the man had fur pushing out every side of his tank top, and he sounded like a wind-up toy on helium.

  “Don’t do it. Don’t leave. Those trainees need you. It’s my fault. I know I gave you a fucked-up crew, but you’ve helped them achieve so much. It’s beyond anything anyone could have imagined. Even the CO is impressed.” Nervously shifting his weight from foot to foot, Poshen added, “If you walk, the recruits will see you as ringing out, and you know the ethos—failure is not an option. So suck it up and get back to it.”

  Leaper gave the man a long, hard stare. “I’m not fucking leaving, you dickhead. It’s my day off. I cam
e in this morning to do something special for the trainees as a courtesy. Now I’m taking a freaking break from all of this, unless you have a problem with that. And if you do, well, I’m going anyway.” Leaper took two steps back, and then he turned and looked over his shoulder. “By the way, those fuckups are my people. They’re great. Ask Gich. I was the biggest nutjob to go through training, yet I survived and thrived. I was practically the mascot of the Goon Squad, I was on it so long. And for the record, my success rate on missions is pretty damn high, even when I get myself shot to shit. Only two shit storms under my leadership in over forty missions, which I know is two too many, but I’d take the place of those lost men in a heartbeat.”

  “Oh, I know. Sorry, Lefton. I didn’t realize you were just off for the day. And you’re right. Your crew is pretty damn lucky to have you instructing them. If they turn out anything like you, they’ll make superior operators.”

  “Damn straight.” Leaper nodded and made a beeline for his motorcycle.

  Posh just stood there and watched. There was nothing more to say, yet the man just stayed put.

  As Leaper mounted his hog, inserted and turned the key, and felt the engine roar to life, he let out a long slow breath. The corners of his mouth pulled into a grin. Under his breath he added, “Of course Command is going to fucking hate anyone turning out like me. Isn’t that just peachy fucking keen!”

  He triggered the Bluetooth function on his phone and it linked to the stereo connection in his helmet. Picking a song, the Lumineers sang “Ho Hey” as Leaper gunned the engine and took off like a bat out of hell. His eyes were glued to the road ahead as the band sang about living life.

  The music and the confrontations with the Base Commander and Poshen triggered a windfall of other issues, pent-up feelings he’d shoved deep inside of him, including the root of all of his frustrations: Where do I fit in? Was it possible these strange hurdles were arising because he needed to change his tack like a sailboat being pointed into the wind?