Ray nodded. “If he’s alive, that’s all that matters.”
“Okay then. His feet are covered in blisters and sores, and some are infected. He treated a bullet wound to his leg himself. It will heal, but the muscle is damaged. As far as the stomach wound goes…well, he has very dense stomach muscles. This probably saved his life. He must be very active in sports to be built like this at such a young age. He could make a recovery from this. His upper body is covered in mosquito bites, cuts, and bruises. He has two broken fingers. His small finger is broken in three places. I don’t think his heart is damaged. His face has cuts on his cheek, forehead, nose, bottom lip, and chin. He has a black eye, and his right ear was cut badly. We removed glass from it.”
“But…he’s alive,” Ray said, trying to process it all.
“He is alive but in a coma. His body has gone through hell. On top of that, he is very malnourished. This is just the physical damage. He stopped breathing for a short period. We are hoping he does not have brain damage. We have him on a drip, a monitor, and we are trying to do everything we can to keep him alive. It’s up to him now, but I don’t think he has anymore to give.” He opened his mouth, as if he was going to add something, but then shut it.
“What is it?” Ray asked.
Dr. Gupta peered at him over the rims of his glasses. “If he does survive, the emotional scars he’ll bear will take a lifetime to heal. What the hell were you doing using a kid on a mission in a war zone?”
“I—” Ray could not answer. His eyes filled with tears.
“I understand. It wasn’t your decision. You may see your son now.”
Dr. Gupta led him into the ER. Ray could hardly breathe. Jason looked so tiny, surrounded by monitors, tubes, and machines. His skin was pale, and he’d lost so much weight. Most of his body was covered in dressings and splints. Ray knelt down heavily on the floor next to Jason’s bed and wept. He gently held Jason’s right hand and prayed for God’s help.
***
Crash. Bang.
What was that?
Jason licked his dry lips. Voices? Yes. In English—but with an accent. Was it American? No, it was Australian.
Jason lay for a long while with his eyes closed, listening to the sounds of footsteps and doors opening and closing. He slowly opened his eyes; however, the brightness of the sun made him squint. The ceiling was white. He slowly tried to raise himself on one elbow, but he was immediately hit by a bolt of pain in his stomach. His throat was dry, and his lungs burned. He lay back down. He then became aware of someone breathing to his right. He turned his head and could make out the shape of his father asleep in the chair next to him. He was unshaved, and he looked pale.
After he mustered the biggest breath he could, Jason croaked, “Where’s my carrot cake?”
A smile of disbelief crossed Ray’s face, and his eyes bulged. He jumped up and shouted for the doctors. Dr. Gupta rushed in and spent the next hour examining him.
“The boy is like a young eagle—a fledgling with the heart of a lion,” he pronounced.
***
Three days later, Jason was back home in London. He was confined to bed, of course, but after he was home just an hour, Jason requested that his father phone Scott’s parents to ask if Scott could come and see him. Within five minutes, the entire Turner family was at the Steeds’ door. Scott didn’t bother to knock first. He simply dashed in, bolted up the stairs, and burst into Jason’s room.
“Hey, Scott,” Jason said, smiling. He propped himself up on some pillows. His father leaned over to help.
Scott took one look at him and said, “You look like a dehydrated zombie. I knew you were superman and you would survive, but Jesus, you look terrible.”
“Ha! Thanks for being honest.”
Scott insisted on seeing Jason’s bullet wounds.
“I am hoping they won’t scar too much,” Ray said, peeling back Jason’s pajama jacket.
“I can help,” said Dr. Turner from the doorway. “I’m a plastic surgeon. Once they heal, I’m sure I can do something with that and the scars on his leg. We have new procedures now, and we can use skin grafts. Once he matures, he will even grow hairs just like the rest of his legs.”
“I would want that. I don’t care what it costs,” Ray said.
“Don’t I get a say in this?” Jason asked with a smirk.
“Jason is part of our family. It will be an honor and won’t cost you a penny,” said the doctor, now looking at Jason’s leg.
Mrs. Betton brought up a pot of tea and some carrot cake for the visitors.
“While you’re at it, can you do anything to make Jase less ugly, Dad?” Scott joked in a deadpan voice.
Jason rolled his eyes. “You’re lucky I’m bedridden. Wait until I get better. You are in for it.”
Chapter Seventeen
The following morning, Ray received an unannounced visit from Ministry of Defense Commissioner Brian Hurrel. Alone with Ray in his study, Hurrel explained that they had recommended that Jason receive the Queen’s Award for Bravery. It was the same award Ray himself was awarded years earlier. However, Jason was also nominated for a Victoria Cross for outstanding bravery in the rescue of Major Wilson, John Leigh, Peter Tucker, and Ryan Lentz. He went on to say that the following Tuesday, the queen was formally handing out honors. The press would be there, and if Jason was well enough, she would like him to attend.
“In a situation like this, we should ask him,” Ray said.
“Well, he’s not going to say no. Can we just say you will be there?” Hurrel said with a smile.
“No, we need to ask him. Follow me,” Ray said.
They walked up the large wooden staircase to Jason’s room. Ray knocked on the door, waited a few seconds, and went in. Jason was sitting up in bed, and Scott was sitting next to him. The two boys were playing chess.
“Jase, this is Brian Hurrel from the MOD. You are going to be honored with a VC and Queen’s Award for Bravery. It’s next Tuesday. I can get you a new uniform. Do you want to go?”
Jason exchanged an excited glance with Scott. He shook Hurrel’s hand. “Will there be TV cameras and newspaper people?”
Hurrel chuckled. “Sure. You will be on TV. The youngest person ever to get a VC and to get the Queen’s Award.”
“Then, I don’t want to go. Tell them thanks, but I did not do it for a medal.”
Scott nearly fell off his chair. He put his hand to Jason’s forehead. “Are you feeling all right, mate? The girls are gonna love this—I mean, not that you should do it for that, but—”
Jason shook his head and sighed. “I don’t want to be on TV. I just want to be normal. If I do this, when we go back to school, everyone will stare. I don’t want that. No, I would rather not—thanks.”
Hurrel’s smile became strained. “But this is a great honor. You can’t turn it down.”
“It was nice to get asked…but no,” Jason replied.
Ray said nothing. He had decided to let Jason make up his own mind.
“Okay, Jason,” Hurrel said. “What if we arrange a private ceremony? Just you and two family members? We can do it after the press has gone. We’ll say it’s for an unnamed military person. We do this on rare occasions for the SAS.” The sound of being treated just like the SAS made Jason’s eyes light up.
“Five family members, and I will do it,” Jason said.
“Good heavens, you want it all, don’t you?” Hurrel replied.
“Is it a deal?” Jason said, holding out his hand.
“For anyone else, no, but for you, yes,” he said and shook Jason’s hand. “I will make the arrangements, and I will show myself out—thank you.”
“Five family members? We don’t have five, do we?” Ray asked, looking at Jason with his eyebrows raised.
“Uncle Stewart, Nana and Grandpa Macintosh, you, and Scott. Imagine how excited they will be when we call them and tell them. Grandpa does not stop talking about the last time he met the queen at Balmoral. He will love it.”
>
***
That night, Jason had his first nightmare.
He dreamed he and Todd were on the beach. Again, the two shots hit Todd, pulling him away from Jason’s grip. He tried to hang on but could not. He woke himself up after he shouted Todd’s name, sweating and panting.
Ray ran into Jason’s room and turned on the light. “What is it, son?”
“It’s nothing. I was having a bad dream. I keep seeing Todd’s face and his eyes looking at me.”
Ray sat down and hugged him.
“Am I going to get these dreams a lot?” Jason asked.
“I hope not, son. Do you ever think of the people you killed? Or the others in your team who died?”
“No, the ones I killed, I just did what I had to do. I remember seeing Jim dead, but Todd was looking right at me when his eyes just went lifeless.”
“I can get you some help if you need it,” Ray murmured.
Jason shook his head. “I can take it…I think.”
“I used to see your mother’s face when she was lying in the hospital. Eventually, it fades. I am sure this will get better. Once you get new memories, the old ones will fade. But if you ever need to talk to me, I am always here. There’s no shame in asking for help.”
***
On the day of the ceremony, Uncle Stewart swore his uniform had shrunk at the cleaners. It was too tight around his middle. Scott wore a new suit his mother had bought for the occasion. Jason’s grandparents wore their Sunday’s best clothes. Jason wore his Sea Cadet uniform. His left arm was still in a sling, and his hand was bandaged. He walked with a slight limp, but the doctors assured him it would go away once he started exercising again.
When he came down the stairs wearing his uniform, his father stopped and stared.
“What?” Jason asked.
“I have never seen you in uniform before. You look so grown up…and as I am in uniform, you know you should salute me,” Ray teased.
Jason grinned. “That will never happen. Here, in this house, you are just Dad.”
“Will you grow your hair long again at the front?” Ray asked.
“If I can get away with it. If not, it’s no big deal.”
The rest of the morning passed in a blur. All Jason could think about was seeing Catherine again. When they arrived at Buckingham Palace, members of the secret service ushered them into a large deserted room packed with chairs. Jason and the others sat and exchanged puzzled shrugs.
The door at the back opened, and the queen entered. With her was another man in a suit carrying a blue velvet cushion. Two others followed. She stood at the center of the stage. A footman gestured Jason to come forward. As he did, he noticed Catherine in the corner. He broke into a wide smile. Then, he bowed his head.
The queen began to speak: “Our country owes you a great debt. You have showed great bravery and courage in the rescue and support of fellow Sea Cadet Todd Johnson. I hereby award you the Queen’s Award for Bravery. I would also like to award you the Victoria Cross. This is our country’s highest award for bravery. You showed great courage and bravery in securing the release of four captured British subjects. Your country thanks you.” She walked down the steps and pinned both the Queen’s Award and the Victoria Cross on Jason’s chest. She turned, walked back up the steps, then looked back at Jason and paused. “Master Steed, in this instance, I have something to add.”
Jason looked up at the queen.
“I understand you have been writing to my daughter, Catherine. This has to stop.”
For the briefest instant, Jason was tempted to tear the medals off his chest and hurl them into the queen’s face, but then the old lady smiled.
“I don’t want you to write to her anymore. I would prefer it if you started seeing each other again.”
Ignoring all protocol, Jason ran over to Catherine and swept her into a hug.
***
On Thursday, Jason dressed in his Sea Cadet uniform and asked his father to drive him to Liverpool. They stopped at the address the admiralty had given him. Two boys played football in the street, and a small group of girls played hopscotch on the pavement. The houses were all the same. The only difference between them was that each of the front doors was painted different colors.
“Do you want me to come in, Jason?” Ray asked.
“No, I need to do this alone,” Jason said, picking up a blue velvet box. “But thanks, Dad.”
“I’ll be waiting here in the car then.”
The children stopped playing and watched Jason walk up to the house. He knocked hard on the brass knocker. A girl, aged about fifteen, opened the door and looked at Jason.
“Oh, my god, I thought you were someone else. Can I help you?”
“Is your mum home? I am a friend of Todd’s.”
The girl nodded mutely, and Jason followed her down the thin hallway. Todd’s mother sat in the corner on a couch watching the TV. She was a plump lady with a round, reddish face. She had dark brown hair that was gray at the roots.
In the center of the room against one wall was a small gas fire on a brown-tiled fireplace. The mantelpiece was full of sympathy cards. In the center of the chimney hung a large picture of Todd, probably his last school photo.
“Mum, it’s a friend of Todd’s,” the girl murmured. “He wants to see you.”
Without looking up, she replied, “I can’t deal with him. Ask him to come back.”
The room went silent. She then slowly looked up and saw Jason standing at the doorway to her living room and said, “Oh, I am so sorry.” She swallowed and pushed herself to stand up, but Jason shook his head and waved her back down. “You must be Jason?” she continued. “The last letter I got from Todd…he wrote that you were friends. The admiralty told me his friend helped him to shore and up the beach—was that you?”
Jason opened his mouth, but the words died in his throat. Seeing the tiny home, seeing how much Todd’s mother and sister resembled his friend—he couldn’t take it. His eyes welled up, and tears ran down his cheeks. His bottom lip quivered.
Todd’s mother held out her welcoming arms. He ran to her and hugged her. For the first time since Todd had died, Jason cried uncontrollably. She kissed his head.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t want to get like this,” Jason said, weeping.
She wiped his tears with her fingers. “Thank you for trying to save him. He liked you. He wrote and told me how you helped him get over his homesickness.”
“I want you to have this.” Jason sniffed, passing her the Queen’s Award for Bravery.
She blinked at it, her eyes moistening. “I can’t take this. It’s yours. You deserve it.”
“I can’t get him out of my head. I can still see him looking at me when he—” Jason paused. “You know—Please keep it. Todd was a hero and a good friend of mine. He loved all his family. I knew I would be welcomed by you.”
Todd’s mother squeezed his hand. “You are welcome here any time, Jason. I hope you can get over the trauma.”
Jason nodded in thanks, hugged her again, and quickly hurried toward the door.
“Wait!” his sister called. She bolted up the stairs and came back down with a handful of martial arts magazines. “Take these please. I know Todd would have wanted you to have them. They’ll just go to waste here.”
Jason swallowed and took them. “Thanks,” he croaked.
His father kept quiet as Jason settled into the front seat and sniffled.
“I’m proud of you, son,” Ray said gently, passing him a tissue. “That’s not an easy thing you just did.”
Jason nodded. “I feel better now. I will write to them. They are nice people. Look, they gave me a couple of karate magazines. Todd never got to read these.”
“You’ll keep his memory alive,” his father said as they drove down the street.
Jason flicked through the glossy pages. “Wow, Jet Chan has become the Under-Eighteen World Karate Champion,” he read out loud.
“This Jet Chan—do you know
him?”
“Yes, I fought him in a competition in Hong Kong. He does jujitsu.”
“How did you do when you fought him?”
Jason grinned, and for the first time since he’d been home, he felt almost normal. “What do you think that big trophy was for?”
Chapter Eighteen
The day before Ray was to return to the HMS Ark Royal for another long tour, he told Jason he was taking him out for a meal—just the two of them. Jason got dressed up in shirt and tie and waited for his father to return from his trip into the city. When he saw his father’s car pulling into the driveway, he shouted bye to Mrs. Betton and slammed the door behind him. Then, he stopped short. His father wasn’t alone. Two other people were in the car. Scott was in the front seat, and Catherine was sitting in the back.
“Surprise!” his dad, Scott, and Catherine shouted at once.
“How did you get Catherine away without the secret service?” Jason gasped.
“It wasn’t easy, but as long as we stay together, we are fine,” Ray explained.
Jason jumped in the back with Catherine. He leaned forward and squeezed his dad’s shoulder. “Thanks, Dad. Where are we going?”
“There’s a pub I know not far from here. It serves great food, and hopefully, it’ll be dark enough so that nobody will recognize our special guest.” He smiled at Catherine in the rearview mirror.
Within minutes, they were snaking their way through a series of winding country lanes. Rain began to patter on the roof as darkness fell. Every so often, Catherine leaned over to tickle Jason. He couldn’t stop giggling.
“Ouch. That’s my wound. Stop it!”
Suddenly, Ray slowed.
A car was idling in the middle of the road ahead, blocking their direction. As they drew closer, Jason noticed two men in dark raincoats standing on either side of the vehicle.
Ray stopped about twenty feet away from the car and the two strange men. The windshield wipers thumped in the silence.
“I’ll go and see what’s up.”
Fledgling: Jason Steed Page 16
