Gooseberry Island

by Steven Manchester

  The club’s active members included Lindsey, Courtney, Paula, Ana, Tonia, Sandi, and Christine. Boys were strictly prohibited, as there was always some significant man bashing to be had. As of late, though, Lindsey’s loving glow had been the main topic. Most of the women were happy to share in Lindsey’s love drunk stupor, remembering that they’d all felt the same way at one time in their lives.

  Lindsey sat beside Tonia and Ana on the couch. Tonia was an older, gray-haired woman who was recently divorced—and happily inebriated as a result. Ana was much younger, pretty with light hair and eyes. But she was already a man-hater and very angry at the world.

  “My ex never even called our son for his birthday,” Tonia said with a venomous tone.

  Lindsey sipped her wine and grinned. “For someone who swears she doesn’t care about her ex, you spend an awful lot of time talking about him, Tonia.”

  Tonia’s eyes lit up, and a smile quickly replaced her sour puss. “Some habits are easier to break than others I suppose,” she said, sighing heavily. “To tell you the truth, girls, I’m not sure you can ever stop caring for someone, especially when you’ve shared a love as deep as mine and Ron’s.” She smiled. “For now, though, it’s a lot more fun to hate him.”

  The three women shared a laugh. Lindsey stared off into space for a moment, her thoughts consumed with worry over David. Her expression changed from humorous to concern. Tonia immediately picked up on it. “Since it’s confession time,” the older woman said, “why don’t you tell us what’s bothering you?”

  “David’s amazing,” Lindsey said, “but…”

  “But?” Tonia asked.

  Just then, Courtney, Christine and Sandi joined the girls on the couch.

  Lindsey shrugged. “I don’t know. It might be nothing. It’s just that something was different with David the last time we talked.”

  “Different how?” Courtney asked.

  Lindsey shrugged again. “He wasn’t his usual funny and attentive self. I tried asking him what was wrong, but he dodged my questions and ended the call very quickly.”

  “But I thought you guys…” Sandi said.

  “Geez, Linds,” Christine jumped in, “I wonder what could be wrong? Maybe it has something to do with him fighting a terrible war in Afghanistan?”

  Lindsey’s eyes filled. “I know that,” she said. “I’m just not sure what might have happened to him, and I’ve been worried sick.”

  “We shouldn’t be over there anyway,” Ana mumbled under her breath.

  Lindsey’s head snapped around, and she shot Ana a look that mirrored Denis Wood’s murderous rage. “You don’t have to support the cause to support our troops over there!” she hissed defensively.

  “I know,” Ana said nervously.

  “I hope so,” Lindsey said, looking away.

  A thick silence fell over the group. Tonia finally placed her hand on Lindsey’s leg. “Just be there for David and listen. Don’t push.”

  “Yeah,” Sandi said, “he’ll talk to you when he’s ready to share.”

  Ana snickered and shook her head, drawing everyone’s attention. “Either that,” she said, “or he’s just a typical man, who’s completely inconsiderate and self-absorbed.”

  The others brushed off the bitter comment as though it had never been spoken.

  “Take it from me, sweetie,” Tonia added, trying to quell Lindsey’s growing fears. “Men can be just as mysterious as us. I wouldn’t worry, though. From everything you’ve told us, David’s a good man.” She looked at Ana, browbeating her into silence. “I second Sandi’s advice. Just be patient with him and he’ll come around.” She winked. “As long as there’s communication, respect and trust, love will always find its way.”

  Christine grabbed Lindsey’s arm. “I have to tell you, though, Linds…you also have to be sure that your boyfriend’s life doesn’t completely consume all of you.”

  “Precisely!” Ana interrupted. “To hell with any man who thinks he can just…”

  Lindsey stood and shook her head. “Thanks for the advice, ladies,” she said and then looked at Ana. “And you…you really need to get a new hobby.”

  Everyone laughed. While Ana’s forehead wrinkled in thought, Tonia was happy to partake in some more ex-husband bashing. Lindsey grabbed Courtney. “Let’s go find another bottle of Riesling.”

  “And let’s drink it alone in the kitchen,” Courtney said.

  They both laughed.

  ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤

  Lindsey sifted through a stack of mail and was excited to find a letter from Sergeant David McClain. She quickly opened it.

  Dear Lindsey,

  I hope this letter finds you well. We just got done Skyping, but I never feel like I’ve said everything I need to say.

  As you can imagine, some days can get really rough over here. I suppose it’s hard to witness the things I’ve seen and not be affected. Whenever I seem quiet or distant, please don’t ever think that it has anything to do with you or us. I’m just trying to get through this tour the only way I know how. And I know that it can be frustrating for you when I don’t share the details of what’s going on over here. But trust me, Lindsey, you don’t want to know most of it.

  I miss you like crazy, and I love you even more.

  Please keep the emails and letters coming. They’re the one and only thing I look forward to.

  Love you,

  David

  Lindsey read the letter two more times before putting it back into the envelope. But I do want to know everything that’s going on, David, she thought and shook her head. It has to be even worse over there than I thought.

  ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤

  Hard weeks turned into long months. David and Lindsey talked on the phone, over Skype and via email whenever they could. They even resurrected the lost art of letter writing. Although many of their exchanges were melancholy, Lindsey had become David’s only ray of light in the darkness.

  After another foot patrol, which had become much more serious since the IED attack, David was summoned to the HQ tent by the company First Sergeant. David stood at parade rest before the large man, curious about the rare invitation.

  The man looked up from an olive drab folder. “You’re being plucked from your patrol for a special assignment, Sergeant McClain.”

  “Really?” David blurted, surprised. “What’s the gig, Top?”

  “I looked over your scores on the shooting range. Very impressive.”

  David nodded.

  “We need a man with your skills, your eye, to take out a tier-one target.”

  David steeled himself and waited to hear more.

  The First Sergeant opened a second green folder and revealed a black-and-white photo of a bearded Taliban fighter. “His name’s Mullah Abdul Raqeeb. Over the past six months, the son-of-a-bitch and his men have caused us one too many heartaches. In fact, we believe he’s directly responsible for the deaths of four American soldiers in an ambush that took place three weeks ago.”

  David leaned in to hear more. Four Americans, he thought, and felt a surge of adrenaline rush through his bloodstream. “I remember that,” he said.

  “Our latest intel puts Raqeeb at the same location, his mother’s flat, every Saturday night. So we’ll need you on a rooftop across from that flat. You’ll go in under the cover of darkness, twenty-three hundred hours on Wednesday.”

  “Wednesday?”

  “Yeah, you’ll need a few days to get settled in and learn the environment.”

  David nodded, continuing to study the photo and burn his enemy’s face into his spinning mind.

  “You’ll draw an SR-25 from the armorer. He’s expecting you.”

  David nodded again. “Got it, Top.”

  “And you’re being assigned Corporal Michaels as your spotter. He’ll carry your ammo and whatnot.”

  “Perfect. Nate’s a good man,” David said, and he was right. For whatever reason, Nathan Michaels had proven himselfto beunusually talented when sniffing out bad gu
ys.

  “Given the location, I was tempted to send you in there alone,” the First Sergeant admitted.

  “Because two men means twice the risk of getting caught?”

  The First Sergeant nodded. “Exactly. This mission’s going to require as much stealth as you can muster, so you boys will have to pull off a quick hit and run.” This meant they’d be stripped of any identification and, if caught, they were pretty much on their own.

  “Understood, Top,” David said.

  “Son, Raqeeb is a real bad guy. Who knows how many American lives you’ll be saving if you can bag him.”

  “If Raqeeb shows his face, I’ll do my job. You have my word on it.”

  He searched David’s face. “Remember, McClain, your mission is to ascertain the target and remove the threat—nothing more, nothing less. It’s imperative to keep any and all emotion out of it. Emotions jeopardize missions and put our lives in harm’s way. You understand?”

  “I do, Top. One shot, one kill.”

  “Good. And if you and Michaels can slip out right away, great. If not, you’ll need to wait it out until the right opportunity presents itself.”

  “So no backup on this one then?”

  “We’re rangers, McClain. Obviously, if the shit really hits the fan, we won’t leave you out there for dead. But for the most part, you boys will be on your own. It’s up to you to get out of there.” He peered hard into David’s eyes. “You up for this, son? I realize it’s a lot to ask. But you’re our best chance at…”

  “I got this, Top. Like I said, I’ll do my job.”

  The First Sergeant smiled and placed his hand on David’s shoulder. “Hoo-ah,” he said.

  “Hoo-ah,” David echoed.

  ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤

  David sprinted down to the communications tent and logged onto his email account. He was happy to find that he had a message from Lindsey in his inbox:

  Hi handsome,

  Just been thinking about you and wanted to drop you a quick line to let you know that you’re not alone, even if it might feel like you are sometimes over there.Keep your attitude positive and strong, David, and know that you’re in my prayers.

  Love,

  Lindsey

  Love, he repeated in his head and grinned. These whispers from home made all the difference in his darkened world. He hit reply and wrote:

  Beautiful, I’ve been thinking of you too—always! I’ll be in touch in a few days. Getting farmed out to another unit. No big deal. Just work. I’ll be dreaming about you the whole time. Love you, David

  5

  Dressed as Afghan locals, David and Nate slithered through several back alleyways, moving quickly within the shadows. As though they’d been residents all their lives, they reached their location, accessed the building and ascended the stairs. Once they reached the rooftop, they chalked the door so that no one could follow in their quiet footsteps. The downside, David thought, is that we’re trapped like rats.

  While David put in his ear piece and checked that his microphone was strapped to his neck where it could pick up the slightest whisper, Nate conducted a communications check over a secured net. Seems odd, David thought, considering we’ve been told we’re pretty much on our own out here. He looked at Nate, thinking, No matter how this goes down, the cavalry isn’t coming for a while.

  The radio stuttered one last time. The commo check was successful, and both soldiers went silent.

  The mission was specific and clear; he and Nate were tasked to remove one target, a high-ranking official within the Taliban ranks. According to current military intelligence reports, Mullah Abdul Raqeeb visited his mother in the neighborhood, though the frequency varied from weekly to once a month. It didn’t matter. Their job was to secure a position—unseen—and remain there until they could obtain their target and complete the mission. One shot, one kill, David told himself again. A second shot might give away their position as the enemy would be looking for muzzle flashes, echoed sounds, or movement. Movement is our greatest enemy, David reminded himself. And they’d do whatever they had to do to get out of there alive; either get out right away or wait for as long as needed. This took discipline and minds that could wander to kinder places without giving away their position.

  From the moment they lay prone on the rooftop, David went through the checklist—an invisible range card—in his head. Methodically scanning the street below, he studied left to right and back again; it was an invisible grid that covered every inch. Rooftops, no movement, he mentally checked off. Her windows, nothing. Southwest corner, no one. Street is clear. Southeast corner, no one.

  He and Nate needed to become quickly acclimated to their new environment. It could mean the difference between success and failure, life and death. David was cast into a heightened vigilance that teetered on sheer panic. The sounds from the street below were so foreign and frightening at first. His heart beating hard in his ears, he told himself, Control your breathing…and do your job! These words had been pounded into his head since the first day of training: controlled breathing was critical to success. He took three deep breaths and resumed his scan. Rooftops, no movement. Her windows, nothing. Southwest corner, no one. Street is clear. Southeast corner, no one. He took more deep breaths. Slow down, he told himself, firmly. Relax.

  Night crawled into day, but neither he nor Nathan was able to sleep.

  ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤

  In the morning, David went through his usual checklist as he’d conducted hundreds of times already. Rooftops, no movement. Her windows, nothing. Southwest corner, no one. Street is clear. Southeast corner, no one. He looked sideways toward Nate, who was going through the same relentless scan. Their job was to pick up movement or anything out of the ordinary. When the environment and everything in it became normal—which didn’t take as long as David once thought—the intense vigilance was driven by a deep-seated training, which proved just as effective.

  The position of the blinding sun, as well as shadows creeping up the walls, were just some of the things to be taken into account. Besides wind and elevation, these would be factored in before taking a shot. The trick was to be three chess moves ahead of an enemy that only knew how to play checkers.

  With the hot wind whistling over the black rooftop, the sounds from the street below soon became familiar. Each one was distinct in its own right: a vendor hawking his wares in his foreign tongue; window shutters opening and closing at the same time each day by an old woman hanging out the day’s wash; children playing soccer; an old man with a limp, dragging his dead foot behind him. Even civilian vehicles began to sound very different from military vehicles.

  Rooftops, no movement. Her windows, nothing, David checked off. Southwest corner, no one. Street is clear. Southeast corner, no one.

  To help pass the time, David eventually created a backstory for each of these people; the old man’s a war hero, the limp a souvenir from an incoming mortar round. David also imagined several of the kids playing professional soccer as adults.

  And then there was always Lindsey. I wonder what she’s doing right now, he thought.

  ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤

  With her motion sickness wristband fastened securely, Lindsey met Courtney and Christine on the dock a half hour early for the whale watch and checked in.

  A preoccupied teenager shuffled them onto the boat where they met an earthy, crunchy naturalist. “I’m Jenna,” she said. “Our captain for today is George Cournoyer, and Randy will be our first mate.”

  “What does the first mate do?” Christine asked, ready to get the day underway.

  “You’ll see him preparing the boat to depart and dock. He fixes things, helps in the galley…pretty much everything.” She sized up the two women and smiled. “Now tell me what your jobs are today.”

  They stared blankly.

  “To listen, be safe and have fun.”

  “Fun, fun,” Christine repeated, being a smart ass.

  Watching the whales along Stellwagen Bank promised to be the experienc
e of a lifetime. Cape Cod was the feeding ground for the world’s largest mammals—majestic creatures that could measure up to seventy feet long and weigh sixty-five tons. With her Red Sox ball cap pulled down tightly, Lindsey felt excited.

  As they moved across the bay, the harbor slowly faded away and the shores of Cape Cod became visible. They could make out the tip of the Cape by the Provincetown monument and the Race Point Lighthouse. The weather was so clear, Jenna pointed out the crest of the Boston skyline.

  The sea conditions were fair. After Courtney concluded her tough line of questioning, the three ladies sat back and enjoyed the smooth ride on the open deck. There was no better place.

  “How’s David?” Christine asked Lindsey.

  “He’s good,” Lindsey quickly replied.

  “At least that’s the story she’s sticking with,” Courtney said, half-joking.

  “He’s fine,” Lindsey said, trying to convince herself just as much as her friends.

  Their cruise out to the whales took all of an hour. As Jenna was describing the maritime colleges on the Cape, one of the giants surfaced, blew a stream of water straight into the air and looked at them. Jenna went right to work. “If everyone will look on the right side of the boat, you’ll see our friend the fin whale.”

  People quickly shifted positions.

  “Weighing up to sixty tons, the fin whale is the second largest of the great whales and can reach a maximum length of about eighty feet. It’s one of the fastest of the great whales and has even been called the ‘Greyhound of the Seas.’ As you can see, fin whales are black on the right side of their lower jaw and white on the left. The reasons for this are unknown, but it may have something to do with their feeding habits.”

  The loner whale submerged itself and disappeared.

  “The finner eats small fish as well as krill. Fin whales used to be hunted in the Antarctic, but their numbers became so few that they’re now protected.”

  “Did you see that?” Lindsey asked the girls, excitedly.

  “How could we miss it?” Courtney asked.