Uncharted Passage

by Julie Cannon

“None that caused the motherfucker that made this mess.”

  Hayden ignored the man’s profanity because she could hardly disagree. “Is the American embassy in Bangkok in operation?” The embassy would be coordinating relief workers and emergency supplies.

  “Yes, ma’am, the ambassador has set up in one of the hotels. Land lines are down, as you can imagine, and only a few cell phones are working. It’s been nothing but chaos since it hit. Nobody seems to be in charge. Christ, where’s the National Guard when you need them.”

  “Show me where the ambassador is,” Hayden ordered.

  “This way, ma’am,” Lieutenant Jeffers replied without hesitation.

  They stepped around a man and woman holding hands seated on the ground, and Jeffers’s initial words came back to her. “Is your wife all right?”

  “Scared shitless like the rest of us, but yes, ma’am, she is, thank you. She’s an officer’s wife. She knows what that means.”

  Hayden immediately thought of Emily and how she would make an outstanding officer’s wife. A snapshot of Emily on her arm clad in a stunning black dress and herself in full dress uniform walking into the officer’s ball flashed in her mind. Emily would be the most beautiful woman in the room.

  The crowds grew as they walked, and a sense of desperation hung in the air. It was almost impossible for them to get any closer to the hotel where the ambassador had established a satellite embassy. People were in various states of dress, some with shoes, most without. She heard snippets of conversation as they weaved their way through the throngs of people. Most were talking about how they had lost everything in the flood. No one had any money, passports, or any other form of identification. They had no way of proving who they were or calling their loved ones back home to tell them they had survived.

  It took some convincing, but Hayden was finally allowed to see the ambassador. Ralph Boyce was in his early fifties with more hair on his face than on his head. Sweat beaded on the top of his bald pate and his face was flushed from the heat. He looked annoyed when his assistant escorted her in.

  “Ambassador Boyce, I’m Lieutenant Colonel Hayden Caldwell, Army.” Hayden extended her hand. Boyce gave her the once-over from head to toe before tentatively shaking her hand. “I know it’s difficult to believe, Ambassador, but like everybody else, I was here on vacation. I was swept away by the water and just now made it back into town. How can I help you, what do you need?”

  Boyce looked at her skeptically as if she was an angel sent from heaven with mortal powers. “Colonel, if you have any clout with our government, I wish you’d get them on the stick and get us some goddamned help down here. Tens of thousands of people are dead, hundreds more in danger of disease, there is limited fresh water, and where there is, the lines are over a mile long. Four people have been stabbed when people tried to steal their water buckets.”

  Hayden had seen signs of unrest as she came into the city, but what surprised her the most was what she hadn’t seen. Nowhere was there evidence of the American military, or any military assistance, for that matter. The locals were doing their best to control the crowds and deal with the dead, but the situation was a powder keg ready to explode.

  Boyce rubbed eyes bloodshot with fatigue. “Sorry for that. I haven’t slept in two days. “What I need you to do, Colonel, is muster up some able-bodied citizens with strong stomachs and get a search party to the beaches from here north.” He pointed to a spot on a well-worn map spread out on the top of the table. “Bodies are everywhere, floating in the water, and starting to wash up on the beaches. We’ve got to get them rounded up and buried before typhoid or cholera or some other devastating disease takes over. The Thais have focused on locating survivors, but we’ve got to control the spread of disease.”

  “I’ll take care of it, Ambassador. One other thing.” For the first time in her life, Hayden’s personal interest took precedence over her professional duty. “Was the airport damaged? Are medical flights making it in and out?”

  “Yes, they’re starting to evacuate the most seriously injured the day after tomorrow.”

  Hayden was relieved. Infection had started in the cut on Emily’s leg, and she didn’t want to think what would happen if she didn’t get treatment soon. If it got too bad, she would be sent back to the States for further treatment. “That’s good news, sir. I’ll report back to you as soon as I know something concrete.”

  A wave of relief crossed Boyce’s face as she shook his hand. Hayden didn’t know exactly how she was going to do it, but she did know that she had a duty and an obligation to fulfill.

  *

  Nothing was easy about this. The recovery of bodies and body parts was something Hayden hoped she would never have to do again. She and Jeffers rounded up thirty-five volunteers, including twelve fellow military personnel also on Phuket for vacation, and set about the gruesome detail.

  The bodies that had been washed into the ocean when the water receded had been submerged for two days, subjected to the forces of Mother Nature. Bodies that looked perfectly intact as they floated on the surface were often missing eyes, lips, and fingertips where fish had eaten them away. Hayden was not prepared, and when she turned the first corpse over she staggered backward and heaved what little was left in her stomach into the salt water.

  Bloated arms and legs exploded in the recovery team’s hands when they pulled the bodies onto the shore. Those already onshore were dragged further inland, so they would not be carried out in high tide. In a feeble attempt to keep the smell and bodily fluids from getting on their skin, Hayden had ordered everyone to wear masks or something over their faces. Several times she saw a dead woman or child that reminded her of Emily or Jake, and her heart broke for the victims and their families. But at least those who claimed the bodies would know the disposition of their loved one and would be able to bury their family member and have closure. Thousands of others had been pulled out to sea or buried under yards of mud. There would never be a way to know how many people were lost, without a trace. Everywhere she looked, bodies were floating in the water, lying lifeless in the sand, trapped in debris, or wrapped around the trees that remained. Staring at the horizon, Hayden said a silent prayer for each one of them.

  The sky glowed red and orange, its colors trickling into the water on the horizon. She sat in the sand, exhausted, as she watched the sun slowly set. The waves were calm, gently breaking and sliding over the top of the sand like silk over the thigh of a beautiful woman. She could not imagine a scene so peaceful was capable of such destruction.

  *

  The next morning Hayden woke before dawn. She had told Ambassador Boyce the previous night that her team would resume the recovery at 9:00 a.m., giving her a little time to search the aid stations for Emily and the children. She had refused the ambassador’s invitation to have one of the few available rooms in the hotel, preferring to sleep with the other volunteers. She admired her team for their dedication and self-sacrifice when most had family members on the island and were trying to get home themselves. She had everyone’s names and would be sending letters of commendation to their commanding officers.

  She approached the first aid station confident she would find Emily. If not here, at one of the others. According to the ambassador, the first medical flights weren’t scheduled to depart until tomorrow, and she would find Emily before then.

  Dozens of sheets of paper with name after name were pinned up on large boards at every aid station. Pictures were identified with numbers of the dead or unconscious and those children too young to say their name. Wall after wall was covered with photographs of the missing.

  Hayden didn’t spend any time looking at the pictures. Emily was conscious when she’d put her on the truck, and there was no indication she would not be able to tell the medical staff who she was. The names were listed in alphabetical order, and she ran her finger down the list searching for Emily’s.

  After visiting eight aid stations and temporary hospitals, Hayden was frantic with wo
rry. There was no trace of Emily, and no sign of recognition on the weary faces of the volunteers who listened to her description. Her steps were more hurried and desperate with each room she entered, and she scoured the rows of injured with increasing despair. She felt like a mouse in a maze, searching for the right tunnel to get to the cheese she knew must be somewhere. With every dead end, she grew more despondent.

  She felt a connection with Emily that she’d never known with another woman. In part it was due to the heightened emotions of their ordeal, but Hayden refused to dismiss her feelings on that basis alone. Emily meant something to her. They had made love that was mixed with passion, desire, lust, fear, and joy at being alive. Hayden couldn’t leave without saying good-bye. With a heavy heart, she pushed open the door to the hospital and stepped outside. Her sharp mind was uncharacteristically muddied and she couldn’t think clearly. Emily was not here and she had to keep looking until she was forced to abandon her search for the day.

  A blast of hot, muggy air hit her face and she immediately started to sweat. People were milling about and the unmistakable stench of death still hung in the air. The rows of bodies grew as more victims of the tsunami were discovered. Hayden’s step faltered as she approached several rows of bodies smaller than the ones she had just passed. She hoped that Jake and Victoria had been located by their family, and said a quiet prayer for those in front of her who had not.

  *

  Emily lay drenched in sweat on the hard cot. By the time the doctor had been able to see her, her leg was horribly infected. She fought through the fog of consciousness and opened her eyes. The ceiling was cracked and the paint had started to chip along the jagged line. If she stared at it too long, the line would start to spin and disappear as she lost consciousness.

  Finally, she was awake when one of the nurses was taking her vital signs. “Where am I?” Her voice cracked and her throat burned.

  “You’re in Phuket, in one of the hospitals.” The nurse shined a light in her eyes. “Do you remember what happened?”

  “There was a tsunami. I was washed…” Emily started to cough. Her head pounded.

  “Okay, that’s enough. Relax and take a few deep breaths. You got a pretty bad cut on your leg. It got infected and you’re a pretty sick lady.”

  “My leg?”

  “You’re going to be fine. You’ll have a nasty scar, but we caught the infection in time. It’s going to take a while for you to fully recover, but you’ll be up and about before you know it.”

  “How long have I been here?” Emily asked, having no sense of time. She couldn’t remember being put in this bed.

  “Well, you were here when I arrived, and that was two days ago.”

  Two days or longer. What happened? Suddenly it all came back to her. The water, the rescue, Jake and little Victoria, Hayden, the night they spent together. Did Hayden make it back? Had she been looking for her? She needed to know.

  “Is anybody looking for me?” she managed to croak out before another coughing fit took over.

  “Not that I’m aware of. Have you been separated from someone?”

  Emily wasn’t sure how to answer the nurse’s cautious question. Obviously she was probing carefully, suspecting someone close to her might have been swept away. “Not exactly. I mean, yes. I was rescued by a woman. We were separated when the Red Cross picked us up.”

  “Well, I’m sure she’ll reconnect,” the nurse said. “You were able to give us your name before you passed out, and according to your chart your parents were contacted. You’re going home on tomorrow’s flight.”

  Emily’s head spun. Hayden hadn’t come looking for her. She’d said she would. Her parents were coming? No, she was going home. Home? To Michelle? She didn’t want to go home to Michelle. Michelle was not home anymore. Hayden was home. Hayden was safe and warm and strong. Thought after thought swam in her head, and she tried to get up but collapsed back onto the pillow and fell into exhausted sleep again.

  *

  All the trucks looked alike. Hayden could not remember which truck had picked up Emily and the children. Hell, she was so relieved they had been rescued she barely remembered what the driver looked like. She had to find the truck. She had to talk to the driver. He would know where he took Emily.

  Everywhere she went the stench of death and decay permeated the air. The grocery stores had no electricity to keep food fresh, and water-damaged meat and produce were a haven for flies. For God’s sake, it had been three days since they had been rescued and five days since the actual tsunami, and some people still didn’t have fresh water. Ambassador Boyce told her that relief supplies were making their way inland, but progress was slow due to the broken terrain and lack of undamaged vehicles. Those trucks that could get through were still searching for survivors.

  Her recovery team had been disbanded, the volunteers able to go home eager to begin the new year with the devastation behind them. The only one who remained was Lieutenant Jeffers, and that was partly because his wife Susan was a nurse and had volunteered to help in one of the clinics. Hayden had described Emily to her, even down to the birthmark on the left side of her lower back. She was desperate to find Emily, and at this point she didn’t care who knew what.

  She hitched a ride with one of the aid workers who headed back to his base camp for more supplies. She must have asked eight or nine people if they had knew which truck she was looking for or who the driver might have been. She ignored the looks she received from people as she went from driver to driver asking questions. The more places she looked, the more places there were to look. The more people she asked, the more despondent she became. Finally, after scouring what felt like the entire country for several more days, Hayden admitted to herself that Emily was gone.

  She had never met a woman like her and suspected she never would again.

  Chapter Eight

  Four Months Later

  Fort Tanner Army Base

  Braxton, Alabama, April 2005

  “Get your fucking hands off me!”

  Hayden heard the expletive before she saw the speaker. Her head started to pound. She had left standing orders to be called if and when the protesters arrived, and when the notification came she was up to her elbows in dirt. Military bases up and down the coast were the target of a band of activists protesting President Bush’s decision to send more troops into Iraq. The protesters were generally peaceful, but lately they’d started crossing over into the bases, where they were arrested for trespassing. Hayden had a suspicion her base was next.

  “I said let me go.”

  Hayden quickly checked that the military police under her command were not mishandling the protestor, then turned her attention to the crowd. A group of men and women, mostly in their thirties, were milling around the guard shack carrying signs and placards. So far only one had stepped over the white line onto the base, and she was the one currently swearing at the officer.

  Hayden tipped her head slightly, the brim of her hat shielding her eyes from the glaring sun. The protester was sitting on a metal folding chair under the awning that was being used as a temporary holding area. Her hands were handcuffed behind her back, the position confirming, without a doubt, her gender. Hayden’s hands didn’t tingle and her crotch didn’t throb at the sight of the perfectly formed breasts like they would have before Khao Lak. Before Emily.

  Four months had passed since Hayden had returned from Thailand, and she had not once looked at another woman. The other lesbians on the base were pissed, and Hayden knew her friends worried over her change in behavior. They made vague references to trauma and dropped hints about long-term therapy, but Hayden reassured them that she was just not interested.

  When she’d first returned, Emily had occupied her thoughts most of her days and all of her nights. Hayden often dreamed there would be a knock at her door and Emily would be waiting on the other side. But that could never happen. Emily only knew her first name, and with all the places to live in the world, Hayden doubted th
ey were neighbors.

  She tuned in with half an ear as the officer began to question the woman. The rest of the protesters had lost their verbal punch when their friend was arrested. She was obviously the leader, and her flock was left wandering aimlessly around, faced with the decision to follow their leader in solidarity or to leave before they, too, were arrested. From the diminishing numbers, most were choosing the latter. Their leader was brimming with attitude. Hayden caught a few fragments of the conversation with the arresting MP.

  “Yeah, yeah. I know the drill. Anything I say can and will be used against me… Just finish the paperwork, Einstein.”

  Hayden froze, her full attention centered on the voice. It sounded familiar, but she couldn’t quite place where she knew it. The noise of the passing traffic kept overriding the voice of the woman. She thought she detected a slight Southern twang but couldn’t be sure. It held more than a hint of sarcasm, that she could be sure of.

  “Oh, come on, Marshall Dillon. Stop being a hard-ass and unlock these cuffs. I’m not a terrorist sent to blow up your stupid little base. I’ll sign your stupid little summons and promise to show up in court.”

  Hayden’s heart started to race. It almost sounded like…no, it couldn’t be possible. Feeling foolish for even entertaining the idea, she stepped around a couple of her colleagues to get a look at the woman causing the commotion. She almost doubled over from a blow in her gut. Everything around her disappeared. The hair was slightly longer, the skin a little paler, but the body was unmistakable and the face even more beautiful than the one she couldn’t forget. Emily.

  *

  Emily was furious. She didn’t know if she was more angry at her fellow protesters who had suddenly gone quiet or herself for getting caught up in the protest and stepping onto the base. She didn’t need this hassle, another in a long line of events that had somehow spiraled out of her control. First Michelle. Then the falling out with parents, and the media attention that had dogged her return from the nightmare of Khao Lak. Nothing was simple anymore.