by Noah Waters
“Why would anyone drink coffee if it’s not strong?” Noah questioned.
“Are you ready?”
“As ready as I’m going to get,” she shot back. “After all does anybody have a clue what we are doing today?”
“Nope,” Casey replied. “Doesn’t matter, we can handle anything.”
“Speak for yourself,” she said.
Casey turned sharply as the rain continued to increase the pitter-patter on the patio. “Looks like the weather is going to get worse.”
“So said the weatherman this morning,” Noah replied as she grabbed her backpack and compact umbrella.
“Gramps is going to send over a car to pick us up. Should be here any minute.”
“Where do we report to?” Noah questioned.
“We always report directly to the sea marshals’ office. They will tell us where to go from there.” Noah’s mind quickly went through the items in her backpack. There was Dramamine, water, Granola bars, chewing gum, ink pen, and legal pad, her gun belt and all the items that included, a clip, and a radio. All the essential items were in place.
“Where’s your stuff?” Noah questioned.
“It’s in the hallway.”
“I think I’m ready.”
“You’re like any woman,” Casey responded. “Think you’re ready and actually being ready is never the same thing.”
Below the windows a honking of a horn could be heard between the drops of rain.
“Our ride is here,” Casey hopped up to attention.
Proceeding together, they left the apartment and headed down the stairwell.
Opening the exit door, all Noah could think was how thankful she was that she had grabbed her coat.
“Yeah,” Casey yelled as the cold wind and sharp rain struck his face.
“This is the way to wake up.”
“Oh, God,” Noah moaned. “Get in the car before the police are called for a disturbance.” They got in through the back door of the car.
“Forward, James,” Casey told the driver as if he were a millionaire San Francisco CEO. The driver slowly pulled forward. Noah could see lightning in the distance. From the view they had, the bay water was certainly unsettled, churning and splashing in all directions. If it was this cold and wet on land, her thought of the sea’s real temperature caused her some concern. Casey had been right. Whatever Mother Nature or the military had in store for them they could handle. She could have no better partner. Good or bad, they would face today together.
Chapter XXII
THE DISTINCT SMELL OF BACON GREASE SEEMED TO FILL ABDI’S NASAL PASSAGES; the smell of pork made his sickness worse. As the assistant chef, he scrubbed pots and pans in wall-to-wall grease. Abdi was of medium size; physical labor could be easily accomplished; however, the last few days it had proved to be difficult. He found himself growing weaker by the day. Perspiration dribbled through his crisp, straight, black sideburns as he proceeded to scrub the stack of large skillets with force. Today was his day to pull Kitchen Patrol. It could not have come at a worse time. Nausea had set in a few days ago and seemed to be growing worse. If the nausea was not a constant distraction, the recent onset of fatigue certainly was. The combination at times seemed more than he could handle.
“Are you about done for the day?” the master chef questioned as if Abdi seemed to be taking too long to complete the assigned task.
“Yes” was all that Abdi could muster. As the last skillet was cleaned, dried, and put away, he removed the greasy, darkened, and stained apron faster than usual.
“May I take a break?” he asked the master chef.
“Sure, 30 minutes, topside, max.”
Topside was a privilege for assistant chefs. If you were not an officer, standard quarters and entertainment centers were below deck. Abdi would often ramble through the lower layers speaking to different crew members on a short-term basis, but he rarely made it topside.
The trip to America was longer than Abdi had mentally prepared for. His recent sickness made the trip drag. He slowly shinnied up the ladder finally reaching the upper deck. The clanking of a steel door being pushed open revealed a blue sky with white fluffy clouds. He could feel the expansion of his lungs as he drew a deep breath grasping every inch of fresh air available to him. The seas were calm and Abdi could hear the deck hands whistling at the far end of the bow. Topside was a different world. He could not help but mentally compare topside to America.
He always felt the Muslim world was like a crew often kept below deck—hidden and subdued in the dark away from all others so as not to intoxicate humanity with their beliefs. Abdi could feel his anger growing. Yet within seconds, the sheer joy of being allowed topside returned. He felt comfortable with his mission more than ever. He would show America what it felt like to be threatened. To be a martyr, to be remembered, respected and praised by his people would be well worth what he must endure. No great deed can be done without sacrifice.
“Well, they let you out from the bottom, I see.”
Pompei was a long-term Filipino crew chief. “Come, my friend, enjoy the fresh air. The salt will do you good. Sit and let’s talk.”
Abdi welcomed a friend, especially, one who spoke to him.
“Have you been to America before?” Abdi asked.
“Yes, my friend, many, many times.”
“Are the people as they say?”
“How so?”
“Are they selfish, greedy, have no morals, respect not their women and serve only their God of money?”
Taken aback by such questions, Pompei’s eyebrows raised.
“My friend, no doubt, you understand there are many cultures with various differences. Who am I to say what rules the Americans? I am much more appreciative of the beauty of the country than of the people themselves. The countryside has various differences,” Pompei continued to explain.
“California has hills and valleys, cliffs that are as red as rubies. The odor of food is plentiful even from the docks.”
“Have you ever left the ship?” Abdi asked.
“Only accompanied and for short periods of time. I have no desire to leave my ship for the sea is my mother” Pompei declared, “and the ship is my home. I have been a sailor for more than 30 years. Is this your first tour?” Pompei questioned Abdi.
“Yes and my last.” Abdi lowered his gaze.
Pompei’s concluded from Abdi’s last statement that Abdi must not have liked either his position or being at sea.
“Look, my friend, the water connects all cultures and worlds as one,” said Pompei as he faced the sea.
Abdi showed no interest. “How much longer before we arrive?” he questioned.
“Not long now, my friend. We should be arriving soon. I hear from the weather broadcast that we will be entering bad weather. It should be just ahead.”
Pompei was used to bad weather. Abdi found that hard to believe for he had never seen the sky so blue. Pompei leaned across the deck’s railing and proceeded to reminisce.
“Yes, my friend, before these recent attacks, the American shores were much freer to roam. Today, I hear that freedom has been revoked unless public papers are in hand.”
Abdi thought to himself Or unless you have a plan in place. One more deep breath caused the resurgence of his nausea. The slight swaying of the vessel seemed to enhance his fatigue. Although the wind was cool, Abdi could tell he remained warm inside.
“Thank you for your time,” Abdi reached out to shake Pompei’s hand.
“Anytime,” Pompei replied. “After all, an unhappy cook makes for an unhappy crew. If I’ve learned anything at sea, it’s that.”
The gate guard waved the vehicle through as it headed for the sea marshals’ Operation’s office. Noah reached down to grab her bags as Casey, out of the corner of his eye, spotted Commander Dewey stepping in time as he approached the vehicle.
“Good morning, sir.” Casey immediately saluted as he exited the passenger side.
Dewey promptly retu
rned the salute. “Good morning, Casey. Noah,” the commander called.
“Yes, sir.”
“We have brought you and Casey in this morning for a special assignment. Are you up to the task?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Then let’s waste no time in getting started.” Dewey turned while Noah and Casey quickly followed him.
The walk from the sea marshals’ office to the gym was only two blocks. Commander Dewey wasted no time in providing a briefing.
“You two are going to be our first high-risk boarding team. We have selected two of our finest. The highest boarding team will be called upon any time there are extenuating circumstances. Circumstances that include high seas, strong winds, precise intelligence, and unknown threats—they all qualify for this type of boarding. The high-risk teams will be responsible for having equipment ready 24 hours a day. The location and names of the vessel may be unknown all the way up until boarding time. The boarding will not be announced because that could cause the ship’s crew to react defensively. But, first things first, we have to get you from point A to point B.”
Dewey opened the gym door slowly. Casey and Noah proceeded through hanging on to every word the commander spoke.
“We are going to run you through similar high-risk scenarios that we would expect to finish at sea,” the commander stated. “We will cut in half the time we provided you in regular boarding training. The climb must be accurate, but swift. All training will be done in full gear. Are there any questions?”
With no questions, Casey and Noah immediately began to load up. Their BDUs already on, gun belts were quickly snapped into place, flashlights checked, radio batteries checked, communications gear tested, boots securely tied and strings hidden, reflectors were attached to the shoulders of the bright orange float coats and strobe lights secured. With float coats on and zippers interlocked, Noah could not help but think about the time she spent hooking her belt gear together into a solid unit. In case of an extreme emergency, such as losing her grip from the Jacob’s ladder, she could immediately disengage the belt and release all the heavy equipment immediately. She knew that once in the water, if the temperature did not get her, the propeller draft certainly would. There could be no error or any extra weight. If she were to survive, it would take every ounce of strength she could muster to swim to the top and engage her emergency beacon signal.
Commander Dewey stepped toward Noah’s gear with an interesting expression on his face. “Excellent set up,” he replied.
“Thank you, sir,” she responded, hoping she would never have to use the disengagement button. The final snapping of her zipper was drowned out by Casey’s shrill whistle test.
“Let’s get started folks,” Dewey called out punching the start clock. Running from one end of the gym to the midcenter court, Noah and Casey were equal in timing. Throwing her body forward with a spring-loaded jump, she managed to land higher on the Jacob’s ladder which cut her time. Within seconds, the challenge was on. Petty officers at the bottom of the Jacob’s ladder were swinging the ladder to and fro to simulate stormy weather conditions. The sudden shift in motion caused Noah’s mind-set to shift. She could feel every muscle tense—hanging on all of a sudden became the ultimate goal—losing her grip would be instant death. Her thoughts lasted a few seconds.
Commander Dewey’s voice could be heard cracking the silence. “Fifteen seconds.”
My God, Noah thought, I haven’t even started the climb.
Immediately the thought of her strength became secondary. A verbal instruction, “Go! Go! Go!” was repetitive. Thinking before she acted, Noah found herself proceeding at a rapid pace to the top.
“Ten seconds,” Dewey’s voice resounded throughout the gym.
The swinging became stronger. Finally reaching the top beam, Noah knew she had to descend even faster. She realized that a step-by-step approach would never work. Tightly securing the rope in each gloved hand, she began to slide down the ladder. She squinted and hung on for dear life while allowing the rope to slide through her thumb and forefingers. The shrill whistle was piercing, yet before the silence returned she felt her foot on the wooden floor.
“Did I make it?” she questioned.
Still shaking and trembling, Noah had forgotten completely about Casey. On her right, Casey too seemed to be shaking, bending at the waist to take a deep breath before slowly rising to imitate a wild bull in the woods.
“Whoa, that was a helluva lot of fun,” Casey cried.
“You must be out of your mind,” Noah replied. “Hot damn, you don’t do that in Ohio.”
“OK, kid,” the commander responded. “Take it all off and into the pool.”
Casey’s heart rate accelerated immediately. The mere word “pool” almost caused Casey to go into tachycardia. He was relieved to find the large Olympic pool with a large rubber raft in it. Noah couldn’t help but laugh herself. Her first thought had great comedic value.
“They’re going to test us to see how fast we can paddle.” Casey’s turned into a quirky smile.
“They wouldn’t,” he exclaimed. Having no clue, he wondered if Noah was right.
There were no paddles in sight. They would have no time to make any further assumptions. “We are going to simulate high winds,” the commander said. “With that, you will have no control over the distance from the raft to the edge of the pool. This may often be the case in reality for a captain of a vessel in high seas. A captain is totally at the mercy of Mother Nature. When the whistle blows, you will go into the raft. The wind machine built behind the water will slowly advance in speed. This will simulate rough seas. Your raft will be unmanageable. Your mission is to use whatever means necessary to get close enough to jump to the side of the pool.”
Noah’s mind started spinning as the raft started drifting to the middle of the pool with the wind machine turned on. She could not immediately come to grips about how they could get close enough to the pool’s edge to assure a jump of any kind—much less a safe one. Commander Dewey removed a key from his pocket and proceeded to the corner closet. Noah’s first thought was, Good, he is going to give us a small motor engine. She was disappointed but thankful when he returned with two small oars.
The size of the oars generated a response that she did not intend for anyone to hear.
“Small oars in an Olympic pool with strong winds is going to be like using a teacup in a basement flooded in 6 feet of water.” The commander shoved the oars into her hands.
Once more, the shrill of the whistle provided no time for further assessment. Into the raft they jumped. Before they could be seated, the wind machine had been turned and started to pick up speed. The pool water began to sway. The fan was set to increasing speeds and Casey proceeded to call out orders.
“Keep it as close to the side of the pool as possible.” Casey’s voice had determined their purpose. “We can’t afford to drift to the middle. Keep your weight as balanced as possible. The waves will increase. A flip over will certainly kill us.” Before he could finished his last statement, the waves had increased and were coming in faster. The drifting was stronger. “We must oar as a team. Oars in! Oars out! on a command call. Are you ready?”
“Ready,” Noah cried.
By now, the water was splashing into the raft. Steadily, precisely and with all the strength the two of them could muster, they worked. Casey’s cry echoed throughout the pool area,
“In! Out! In! Out!”
The waves grew higher. The water inside the raft, deeper.
“In! Out!” Commander Dewey cried, “Ten seconds.”
“In! Out! In! Out!” Casey’s orders came faster. Noah could feel every muscle in her shoulders, arms, and hands pulling as each oar entered the water. Her mind and eyes couldn’t take in the fact that they were actually getting any closer to the side of the pool. One hundred percent concentration was on Casey’s call. He called faster and faster as the waves grew stronger and stronger. He had seen the side and within seconds realiz
ed it was time.
“When I say, ‘Now!’ spring up and leap forward.”
Noah quickly glanced up to see the side of the pool within reach. Casey knew that once they stood they would leave all balance behind. The raft could possibly slip and if their jump was not strong enough they would land in the center of the raging water.
“Two more calls, give it everything you have. Bring this baby home.”
At the end of the second call, Casey’s cry could be heard far and wide.
“Stand.”
They laid the oars down simultaneously.
The two leaned forward, “Jump” and jump they did.
The pain shot through the bottom of Noah’s feet as she could feel her weight on the side of the cement pool. The heavy gear applied great pressure. Silence fell. Casey had landed further on the platform and at a safer distance—due to his days of running, no doubt. Noah fell forward to lay flat on the poolside; she gasped for breath.
Casey had landed on his back and remained silent lying in the wet cement area. He started to laugh once more.
“Can you believe we do this for a living?”
Noah said nothing. Commander Dewey walked between the two sea marshals, squatted down, and with a deep, husky voice replied, “Welcome to my high-risk boarding team.”
Chapter XXIII
THE CLAPPING OF THE THUNDER, EVEN THOUGH DISTANT, BLENDED IN WITH the ringing of the telephone. Rachel had fallen asleep while leaning against the headboard. Half awake, her fingers scrambled across the nightstand searching for the cell phone.
“Hello.”
“Rachel?”
“Yes, sir.”
“This is Gramps. Can you report in to the Operations Center as soon as possible?”
“No problem, master chief.”
“Please bring all of your camera equipment. We’ll be making history soon, so it should go on official record.”
“I’ll bring everything, master chief.”
Rachel’s relaxed body began to tense as she felt the warm touch of Bobby’s hand on her shoulder.
