JASON STEED Absolutely Nothing (24 page)

Ray was concerned with the leaking fuel and shouted at Jack. “Get Evans off and into the water. This is gonna blow.” He made his way to the front of the boat to help Jason. His son was knelt down, trying to prevent more blood loss from Cookie's chest. “We have to get off son, jump.”

“I can’t leave Cookie,” Jason said, fighting back tears. He looked up at his father. His face suddenly changed and he leapt to his feet. He had noticed movement behind his father.

General Chow had climbed out of the helicopter wreckage and onto the boat and glared at Jason.

“You!” The single word was spat out with a mixture of hatred and amusement. Cho straightened himself and aimed his pistol at Ray. Jason acted fact he spun on his right leg and threw a powerful roundhouse kick at his father. His foot caught Ray in the chest and ejected him over the side of the boat. The bullet skimmed past Jason’s foot where Ray had been standing.

“Con lai,” General Chow said pointing his pistol at Jason.

“Less of the Con lai nonsense. I’m British,” Jason shouted. His body was pumped with adrenaline. His muscle fibers contracted like recoiled springs. Once sapphire blue eyes became dilated and turned almost black as he concentrated.

“British boy. You are dead British boy,” Chow said in English. It surprised Jason. Cookie forced himself up onto one elbow.

“Jason jump,” Cookie shouted.

General chow aimed his pistol and fired two shots at the injured man.

“No!” Jason screamed. He leapt forward and threw himself at General Chow. His fist connected with Chow's gun hand, sending it flying in the air. It was as if Jason stepped outside himself. Seeing Cookie shot twice more broke him. Jason had lost his temper like never before. Using a method Wong Tong had told him only to use in a life and death situation, he pulled back his fist and aligned his body perfectly. His bones and muscles lined up with the target. Jason’s fist made a snapping sound before hitting its target. His shoulder followed through with the deadly blow that broke through General Chow’s skin, chest muscle, and three ribs. “Keeha,” Jason shouted.

General Chow’s eyes looked up at nothing. His body went into spasms before falling to the deck of the boat. Two of his ribs had splintered and penetrated his heart.

Two of Jason’s fingers were dislocated after the forceful blow. His hand became numb. He stood over General Chow, shaking in anger. He had never used the punch before. It would break through two-inch wood and even crack a brick. Wong had always told Jason he must never try it until he was at least eighteen and fully developed. Ray clambered back up onto the boat. He called to Jason and never got a response. Not thinking, Ray caught Jason’s arm from behind. Immediately, he was thrown over his shoulder and onto his back. Before he could move Jason had his left hand around his throat and his right fist back ready to strike.

“Jason, it’s me,” gasped Ray. Jason’s eyes were still dilated. His hand trembled over Ray's throat. “Jason it’s me, Dad. Get up son, this boat is going to catch fire any second.” Ray would never be able to describe the look his son was giving him, but it was terrifying. Something cold and dark. “Snap out of it, Jason.”

Jason blinked, took a breath, and released his father. He quickly got his thoughts together. “Cookie,” he said. He ran back to the front of the boat. The man was slumped on his front. Jason and Ray rolled him onto his back. He coughed up blood as he tried to speak.

“Don’t speak we’ll get you help,” Jason said in tears. His words where muffled by the roar of the British Harrier Jets hovering above. Cookie mouthed something; Jason leant down and put his ear to his mouth.

“What is it good for?” Cookie croaked through his blood-drenched teeth.

“Absolutely nothing,” Jason sniffed back. Cookie's mouth opened a final time as if he tried to smile.

A ball of flames chased across the boat towards them. Ray scooped Jason up and dove into the water. When they came up from under the initial plunge, the whole boat was in flames. The Vietcong boats kept their distant and watched while the Sea King Helicopter rescue team air lift Jack and Evans, followed by Ray and Jason.

Jason said nothing on the short flight back to HMS Hermes. He watched while the crew worked on Evans’s wound. The crew gave Ray a warm welcome back to his ship. He offered to have a bed made up in his room for his son. Jason turned the offer down. He preferred to be given no special treatment. He was given a bunk with the naval ratings. He enjoyed being with the regular sailors. They cursed, farted, and talked about girls. It was much more entertaining to a twelve-year-old boy than sleeping in the room with his father.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Jason was allowed on the ship's bridge the following morning. His father volunteered to resume his duties and the captain agreed. HMS Hermes was given orders to set a course for the United Kingdom.

Jason spoke to Scott via Morse code. Scott had been monitoring the Royal Navy’s radio signals. He gave Jason some disturbing news regarding Tay Ninh. Jason immediately asked his father if it was true.

“Dad, Scott said—”

His father interrupted him. “When you are on the bridge and in uniform, you address me as Lieutenant,” Ray ordered.

Jason huffed and carried on. “Okay
Lieutenant
, Scott said the village outside of Tay Ninh was burnt and bombed. Is that true?”

Ray got up and flicked through some papers and read them before replying. “It seems so. We never passed through the village. An informer seems to think they helped us escape, so the whole village was wiped out.”

Jason’s eyes welled up. He marched over to his father and snatched the communication reports and read them.

“Did you go through that village son?” Ray asked. Jason never replied. He was reading everything he could on the reports. Ray asked again and still never got a response.

“The children and Claudette haven’t been found. They must be in hiding. We have to help them,” Jason said and explained everything to his father.

HMS Hermes sent a coded message to the British admiralty and waited for a response. The ship maintained its position just off the Vietnamese coast and estuary of Ho Ming City waiting for a reply. At seven pm local time, HMS Hermes was given orders to set a course for the UK. Nothing could be done for the villagers outside of Tay Ninh.

Jason slept until almost noon. After he ate, he paced up and down the deck of the Hermes, blaming himself for the possible death of the children. When he noticed the ship start to turn and alter course, he ran up to the bridge and burst in and demanding to know what was happening. The captain was on the bridge talking with his father who was appalled by Jason’s behaviour.

“Jason, this is a war ship. You have to act your age you can’t just barge in here,” Ray snapped

“Why are we moving? What about the orphans at the village?” Jason asked.

“Our orders are to return to the UK. We have done all we can here, son. Get some rest. You still look tired,” Ray said. He gently roughed his son’s hair.

“I slept for fourteen hours. I’m not tired. I’m worried. We can’t just leave them to die.” Jason argued.

Ray tried explaining to Jason that unfortunately the children and most of the villagers would have been killed in the bombing and fires. Jason disagreed and stormed out of the bridge.

“Shouldn’t you go after him?” The captain asked Ray.

“No, Sir. He’s upset with the death of Cookie and I think he blames himself for the village, but he can’t exactly go anywhere can he?”

Those words would later haunt Raymond Steed.

*

Three hours later and Seaman Stuart Hill was found unconscious on the lower launch deck. He was carried to sickbay where he explained to his senior officer that Lieutenant Steed’s son held him in a headlock and somehow made him pass out.

The captain and Ray briskly marched to the sickbay to hear the story for themselves.

“Are you saying my son Jason knocked you out?” Ray asked.

“Yes, Sir. He moved like lightning. He was putting some fuel cans in an inflatable. I asked what he was doing and he attacked me. Held me in a headlock and was squeezing my neck. Then I remember being asked if I was okay when someone found me, Sir.”

“Is your son capable of that, Lieutenant?” the Captain asked.

“Yes, sir. His karate master taught him. They do something to the main artery on the neck.”

A voice came from behind. “Sir, an inflatable is missing.”

The entire crew on HMS Hermes started an immediate search for Jason, although both the captain and Ray suspected he had left the ship. The British Admiralty were furious with the news and demanded an enquiry into how a twelve-year-boy old could take a motorized inflatable and leave a warship without being seen. They were given new orders to wait in the South China Sea. The whole incident was embarrassing for Raymond Steed.

*

The Royal Marine rigid hull inflatable was perfect for cruising the estuary. Complete with a high-powered outboard engine, it had a rigid fiberglass hull and inflatable rubber tubing around the edges to help with buoyancy. Following a compass, Jason soon picked up the lights of the Ho Chi Minh City river mouth. He had blackened his face and was wearing black clothing. The inflatable was carrying six large cans of fuel. He sailed through the harbor unnoticed. Jason knew he would be in a heap of trouble for running away, stealing an inflatable motorboat, and knocking out an innocent sailor, but deep down he felt he had to do something.

By dawn, Jason was thirty miles up Ong Dong Nai River. He slowed the boat down to a crawl. He was unsure if the Vietcong would still be looking for him now that the British prisoners' escape had become international news. He hoped that they would now forget the matter, especially since General Chow was dead.

“Yes,” he said out loud. He found what he had been looking for, the old barge. Making sure his boat was well hidden from passing fishing boats, he tied it next to the barge and set off on foot.

Carrying just a map, compass, and water bottle, he started the arduous journey back into the jungle. He was annoyed with himself for not bringing mosquito repellent. They swooped in and dined on his blood. It was raining again. He plodded forward, heading to the village.

Shick, shick. The sound of a rifle being cocked made him freeze. He slowly turned to his right. Two rifles were pointed at him. A small Vietcong search team looking for survivors of the village were resting. Jason had walked right into them.

He raised his hands and tried his acting dumb routine again, but it didn’t work this time. They had been given his description and were elated to have captured him. Jason was strip-searched and kicked while he was dressing. They took no chances with him. A gun was pointing at him at all times. Jason watched them as they used a radio to contact their superiors. He could tell they were excited with his capture. He was forced to lay face down with his hands on his head while they waited for more troops and a superior officer.

Jason thought he may end up as a prisoner like his father, or his fate may be far worse. They sat around him, laughing and joking every now, and then they poked him with a rifle. He felt humiliated. Worse was yet to come. One of his capturers stood over him and urinated on him. Jason closed his eyes and tried to block out everything they were doing, hoping the nightmare would soon be over.

The stories Jason had heard from the Americans regarding the cruelty they put prisoners through was happening to Jason. The warm urine soaked through his clothing and touched his skin.

He started to get angry and annoyed with himself for not taking more care. He should have crept slowly through the jungle, not marched along like he was out for a Sunday walk. He took his hands from his head and placed them under his chin, trying to keep the mud and urine from his face. He was kicked and shouted at. He ignored them and was kicked again. A guard eventually bent down and pulled Jason’s arms back to behind his head again and forced his knee into the back of Jason’s head, pushing his face into the mud.

The four soldiers guarding him took a message on the radio. Jason could hear more footsteps. Three soldiers joined the others and stood around Jason. They were ordered to help guard him. The Vietcong high command wanted him alive and would take no chances.

He had made up his mind. He was going to die, and if he was, he would take some with him. The knowledge brought a wave of anger that ignited in Jason’s head. His short fuse was awakened. He fought to control his temper. The final straw came when another guard got up and stood over him and started to urinate on him. Jason’s entire body started to tremble. His pupils dilated darker than a hundred midnights. If they were trying to provoke him, they had finally succeeded and woken a human hurricane with a sting worse than a Fattail Scorpion.