Read Ship of the Damned Online
Authors: James F. David
Ship of the Damned (12 page)
N
ew Mexico in August was a hellish place. The land was barren, the animal life invisible, all creatures hiding in deep burrows to avoid the heat by avoiding daylight. Vegetation was sparse—deep green and gray over red earth baked hard by a relentless sun. The mountains in the distance were rugged, jutting into pure sky. They had an Indian name, but Jett couldn’t remember what it was. Everything here had an Indian name. Thunderheads were building by the mountains, but from the dusty smell of the air Jett knew it hadn’t rained in weeks, and wouldn’t. There was a stark beauty to this land, but aesthetic appreciation was something akin to emotion, and Jett couldn’t experience it. What he did appreciate was the challenge of living here.
ew Mexico in August was a hellish place. The land was barren, the animal life invisible, all creatures hiding in deep burrows to avoid the heat by avoiding daylight. Vegetation was sparse—deep green and gray over red earth baked hard by a relentless sun. The mountains in the distance were rugged, jutting into pure sky. They had an Indian name, but Jett couldn’t remember what it was. Everything here had an Indian name. Thunderheads were building by the mountains, but from the dusty smell of the air Jett knew it hadn’t rained in weeks, and wouldn’t. There was a stark beauty to this land, but aesthetic appreciation was something akin to emotion, and Jett couldn’t experience it. What he did appreciate was the challenge of living here.
There were snakes out there, coiled under rocks, and rabbits and mice in burrows. He thought there might be bobcats too, and certainly hawks, but he had no hope of seeing them. Not in this heat. It wasn’t even noon, and already the day was over a hundred degrees. The animals who survived here were tough, disciplined, and well adapted to the rigors of the climate. He respected the humans who met the challenge of life here, too—not those who brought air-conditioning and swimming pools, but those who had come first and lived without modern conveniences. There was a Navajo
reservation nearby, he knew. He respected those people and the white men who had followed, displacing them, fighting for the land. The reservations here were huge, testifying to how worthless the land was. Crossing the fought-for land in an air-conditioned van, he felt pampered, and had an urge to turn off the air-conditioning and roll down the windows.
reservation nearby, he knew. He respected those people and the white men who had followed, displacing them, fighting for the land. The reservations here were huge, testifying to how worthless the land was. Crossing the fought-for land in an air-conditioned van, he felt pampered, and had an urge to turn off the air-conditioning and roll down the windows.
“Want some gum, Nate?” Ralph asked.
Compton was driving, wearing white shorts and a white tank top with a blue Nike swoosh over her left breast. Jett was in the passenger seat of the van, and Ralph rode behind them, his head between the seats, loudly smacking his gum.
“What kind, Ralph?” Nate asked.
“Spearmint. I chewed all the Juicy Fruit. I think I gots one piece of that pink stuff if you want it.”
“Not that pink stuff—that stinks. Pee-yew!” Jett said, holding his nose.
Ralph gave a little snort that passed for a laugh and broke into a huge grin. Ralph and Jett had been repeating that routine since they had first played it out on the airplane. Compton glared. She hated the routine, Jett knew, so he kept playing his role with Ralph just to needle her.
“Are we there yet?” Ralph said, head still between the seats, gum smacking loudly.
“Yes, Ralph, we’re almost there,” Compton said tersely.
Jett was amused by her irritation. Until they had picked up Ralph, she hadn’t shown any more emotional depth than Jett had, but in Ralph’s presence she was a different person; an emotional person.
“I was just asking cause I’m gonna have to go again,” Ralph said.
“You couldn’t possibly have to go again already,” Compton said.
“I didn’t say I had to go,” Ralph said. “I said I was gonna have to go.”
“We all have to go sometime,” Jett said.
“When you gotta go, you gotta go,” Ralph said.
Then together they said, “And we really gots to go!” Ralph snorted again, and smiled so wide that you could see his wisdom teeth. It was another of their routines, and Compton shook her head in disgust.
Jett found that he enjoyed Ralph’s company. Ralph reminded him of his brother, Jason.
Jett’s relationship with his brother ended after eighth grade. Jett’s father had taken the call from the principal, having ignored repeated requests to visit the school. When his father’s work boots pounded up the stairs, Jason cowered on his bed while Jett took position between his brother and the door. Storming in, belt in hand, his father paused, seeing the look on Jett’s face. Jett wasn’t the physical equal of his father yet, but his father was perpetually
drunk, and if it came to a fight the outcome wasn’t assured. Realizing this, his father held the belt in his hand, making no move to use it on Jason.
drunk, and if it came to a fight the outcome wasn’t assured. Realizing this, his father held the belt in his hand, making no move to use it on Jason.
“That was your principal,” his father shouted. “Your idiot brother ain’t going to high school. They’re sending him to a school for retards. He’s damn stupid, and ain’t good for nothing, and he won’t learn nothing at that school except to wipe his ass and tie his shoes! That’s all retards can learn.”
Feeling the belt in his hand, he looked past Jett again, longing to use it, but stopped by the steel in Jett’s eyes.
“Just like his mother. Damn stupid,” his father said, then stomped out.
Jett held his brother through that night, listening to him cry off and on. Jett didn’t cry, but for one of the few times in his life he worried—worried what would happen to his brother without him.
Jett went to high school, excelling in class and standing out as an athlete. His father came to games occasionally, where he watched Jett score touchdowns and hit home runs. He bragged about his son, too, although he had never played ball with his boys or coached them in any way. Jett and his brother’s first baseball gloves were bought with money Jett had earned mowing neighbor’s lawns.
Jason didn’t fare well at his new school. He became morose and withdrawn, not coming out after school to play street ball, hiding from the shame he felt about being different. One day Jason wasn’t on the city bus that he took to and from his special school. Jett went looking for him, riding his bike along the bus route. When Jett saw the flashing lights of the police cars and ambulance, he knew immediately it was for his brother. The emergency vehicles were at the railroad crossing; a train was stopped on the tracks. Jett pushed through the crowd and past the police to see the pieces of his brother’s body being zipped into a yellow rubber bag. For the one and only time in his life, Jett shed a tear.
The police called it an accident when they took Jett home and told his father. “He wasn’t good for nothing anyway,” his father said, and Jett snapped, jumping him. Jett beat him senseless before the police managed to pull him off and cart him off to jail. The football coach took him in after that, and he went to Boston College on a football scholarship. He never saw his father again. Now he seldom thought of his long-dead brother, but being with Ralph brought back those memories.
They were following a poorly maintained two-lane road. The blacktop was crumbled along its edges, and potholes were frequent hazards. Now Compton slowed, turning onto a dirt road that headed into the desert. It was nothing but two ruts, and they were bounced around inside the van.
Compton’s recklessness amused Jett; he suspected that she was in a hurry to get somewhere where she could get some space between her and Ralph. Despite the rough ride, Ralph’s head still bobbed between their shoulders.
Compton’s recklessness amused Jett; he suspected that she was in a hurry to get somewhere where she could get some space between her and Ralph. Despite the rough ride, Ralph’s head still bobbed between their shoulders.
“It’s bumpy,” Ralph said. “I think it’s bumpy, don’t you, Nate? Do you think it’s bumpy, Karla, do you?”
“I can’t talk, Ralph, I have to concentrate on driving.”
“Okee-dokee then,” Ralph said, smacking his gum. Then he said, “Want some gum, Nate?”
Compton cursed under her breath as they started the routine again.
“What kind, Ralph?” Nate said.
“Spearmint. I chewed all the Juicy Fruit. I think I gots one piece of that pink stuff if you want it?”
“Not that pink stuff—that stinks! Pee-yew!” Jett said, holding his nose.
This time when Ralph snorted, something flew out of his nose, landing on Compton’s white shirt. It was yellow and wet. Jett smiled, feeling an urge to laugh. Compton’s face turned pink. Jett worried she might lose control and break Ralph’s nose with one of her fancy Tae Kwon Do moves. Fortunately, they reached the fence and she stopped, waiting while Jett got out to open the gate.
Jett used a shiny new key in the rusty lock. The lock mechanism responded to a twist of the key, and he removed the chain. Compton drove through, then Jett locked the gate behind.
He had been to Rainbow only once before and remembered the road as two ruts angling into the desert. When Rainbow was constructed there had been a paved road, well maintained chainlink fencing, and guard posts. Once the facility was finished, the paving had been removed to make the facility appear unimportant. There had even been a budget to keep the road looking unused and poorly maintained, like some forgotten path to an abandoned government base. With technological advances Rainbow had been automated and the budget cut, since fewer technicians were needed to monitor the facility, and soon the road really was under-used. Now, however, Jett could see the ruts cutting deeper into the desert, fresh red soil churned up along the sides, mixed with crushed sage. The trouble at Rainbow had dramatically increased the traffic to the facility.
After thirty minutes of rough road they saw the complex, a two-story rectangular structure covered with rusty sheet-metal siding. A door and window were set in the end they approached. In front was a gravel parking lot. There were no cars in the lot, and everything was coated with a thick layer of red dust. Jett noticed many criss-crossing tire tracks. Along the side of the building to the left were large sliding doors. Compton headed for
these, and they slid open as she approached, letting them into Rainbow’s dark interior.
these, and they slid open as she approached, letting them into Rainbow’s dark interior.
A dozen cars were parked inside; now armed guards appeared, four of them surrounding the van.
“Are those policemen?” Ralph asked. “They don’t look like policemen.”
The guards wore street clothes and carried automatic rifles. Jett recognized half of them as OSP agents he had worked with in the past. He recognized two of the others as CIA, and suspected the rest were CIA or NSA. There were no uniforms in sight, telling him that the army was mustering somewhere else. An agent Jett knew as McIntyre came to the car, asking for identification. While Compton handed their ID cards out the window, Jett sized up the guards; only McIntyre was a good match. He was six feet tall and probably weighed one hundred and eighty pounds. He had a ruddy complexion and blonde hair with a reddish tinge. McIntyre looked them over, too, quickly dismissing Compton and focussing on Jett. He nodded slightly, acknowledging Jett from previous missions. Compton made her own assessment. She was less obvious than he and McIntyre, but Jett knew that she had measured each guard herself, noted their readiness or lack thereof, and was ready to act if necessary. Looking at the gearshift, he noticed with approval that it was in reverse and the engine was idling.
Agent McIntyre studied their ID cards, then stared long and hard at Ralph. Ralph rolled down his window and leaned out.
“Hihowyadoin?” he said. “I’m Ralph and this here’s Nate and this here’s Karla. What’s your name?”
The agent stared back, slightly amused.
“Call me Mac,” he said.
“You gots a 7-Eleven around here? I’m pretty thirsty.”
“No,” McIntyre said, handing back the ID cards. “Please get out of the van.”
The air was hot outside the van. Even so, Jett guessed that it was twenty degrees warmer outside the building. Ralph stepped close to the guard.
“Got any gum?” he asked.
“No,” McIntyre said.
Jett pulled Ralph along, holding his arm to keep him from introducing himself to everyone they passed. There were three lower levels to the complex at this end, and they used the stairs going down. At the bottom they passed through another security station. Most of the lower levels of the complex were devoted to the nuclear reactor which had been installed in the early seventies, eliminating the heavy power drain from the local supplier. The reactor took only a fraction of the space; the rest was devoted to
cooling grids and heavy water storage facilities for the spent fuel rods. The floor they had entered on was divided in half. The end they were passing through was filled with the banks of electronics necessary to monitor Pot of Gold and to keep the Specials inside. At the far end of the facility the space was a full three stories high, and in the middle of this space were three huge black rings sitting parallel to each other. Stairs led up to the middle of the first ring and a platform ran through the middle of all three.
cooling grids and heavy water storage facilities for the spent fuel rods. The floor they had entered on was divided in half. The end they were passing through was filled with the banks of electronics necessary to monitor Pot of Gold and to keep the Specials inside. At the far end of the facility the space was a full three stories high, and in the middle of this space were three huge black rings sitting parallel to each other. Stairs led up to the middle of the first ring and a platform ran through the middle of all three.
“Looky there,” Ralph said. “They look like giant chocolate-covered donuts.” Then, after a slow thought, “I’m hungry. Got a candy bar or something?”
Jett pulled a Hershey bar out of his pocket and handed it to Ralph.
There were offices and a ready room along the back wall, and they found Woolman waiting in one. He studied Ralph, who had chocolate on his face and hands, then called out to a young woman seated outside his door. Her hair was black, eyes brown, and she moved gracefully. Jett noticed that her sweater bulged along her hip, suggesting a holstered weapon.
“Take Ralph down for a can of pop,” Woolman said.
The young woman looked at the large retarded man doubtfully.
“Pop?” Ralph said excitedly. “Do you gots orange? I like orange the best but grape’s pretty good, too. I don’t like that Dr. Piper stuff.”
“Dr Pepper,” the woman said.
Ralph snorted and then smiled, the chocolate smear cracking open to reveal his teeth. Then his arm shot out and he hit himself on the side of the head with a loud thump.
“How could I be so stupid?” Ralph said. “I said Dr. Piper.” Grinning like a fool, Ralph said to the secretary, “Hihowyadoin?” Ralph’s hand shot out, and the woman reached for it reflexively, letting Ralph pump her arm. When he finally released it, her hand was sticky with chocolate.
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