JASON STEED Absolutely Nothing

by Mark A. Cooper

  “We were in love.” She beamed. “We never married, although we planned to when the war ended. He was stationed here during the war. You must have seen other Amerasians? There are many of your kind here.”

  “Em.” Jason paused and thought this could be the perfect cover for him. “Yeah I have. So doesn’t your boyfriends parent’s help out or the US government? Yung's father was an American; he would have had a benefit paid out or something to his son or you. Don’t the Amerasians get anything from the United States?”

  “No, they deny Yung's existence. His father wrote to his parents in America and told them about our son, but they would never accept him as a grandson. My family cast us out. They call me a whore. Yung's father was called Derek,” she said, passing a picture of him to Jason. The picture was faded and creased. “He taught me to speak English. Did your mother teach you?”

  Jason studied the picture. “Yes she did,” he lied. “My mother is ill. I need to contact her family in Tay Ninh.”

  “That’s too far for you to travel. It’s about one hundred miles away. How were you planning to get there?”

  “I don’t know, walk.” Jason shrugged.

  “It will take you days, and you being Amerasian will have more trouble on the way. I’m afraid for many people you represent a depressing time for us in Vietnam. They will blame you for the loss of their loved ones.”

  Jason sat back and rested his head against the stick wall. He felt tired. He hadn’t slept and was overcome with jet lag. He woke up with a start some seven hours later. He was annoyed at himself for falling asleep. It was just after three in the afternoon. He had wasted valuable daylight hours. He said his goodbyes and left the small family.

  After walking just a few miles he started feeling tired. The humidity was saturating and sapped his strength. He found himself on a dusty road. He passed burnt out and rusted tanks, Jeeps, and US Army troop carriers. He stopped and rested in a rusted army truck. The door squealed as he pulled it open to rest inside. He took advantage of his break to look at his map. Using his compass he could work out where he was. He was walking almost parallel with the Cambodian border.

  The route he had taken brought him to a river. He followed along the bank. The area was strangely calm and quiet, apart from the constant buzzing around his ears from the mosquitoes. He marvelled at the landscape and ever-changing weather. He could be soaked by rain or fried by the sun. he was nothing in his immense jungle. In his entire life, he never felt so insignificant. The silence was later broken when he came across two fishermen landing their small-motorized canoe.

  They eyed him suspiciously as they tied the small craft to a tree. “Con lai,” the older one shouted and waved his hand angrily at Jason. He picked up a small rock and hurled in Jason’s direction.

  “Oi, watch it! That nearly hit me,” Jason shouted back. The taller, younger fisherman picked up a stick and ran towards Jason.

  “Con lai! Con lai!” he shouted again. He attempted to strike Jason with the stick; Jason ducked and swept his attackers feet away from him, sending him down to the ground. The stunned fisherman sat on the ground, his pride hurt more than anything when his older friend started laughing.

  “Stay down, Captain Ahab, if you don’t want to get hurt” Jason said. “And while we are at it, stop calling me half-breed. That’s racist.”

  The fisherman climbed to his feet. e took out his fishing knife and approached, trying to scare the boy away.

  “Seriously, you’re gonna try and stab me now?” Jason asked with his hands on his hips. He studied the knife. It was thin towards the tip, suggesting it had been sharpened many times. He ran at the man and leapt into the air. He threw a kick and caught the man in the face. He grabbed the man’s wrist as he fell and twisted, causing the man to scream in pain and drop the knife.

  The older fisherman approached cautiously with a fishing pole pointing at Jason.

  “And all this because you think I’m a half-breed?” Jason cursed in disbelief although neither man could understand him. Rather than carry on fighting Jason took the easy option He pulled out the pistol that was tucked inside his belt and aimed it at both men. Immediately, they held their hands above their heads.

  “Go run,” Jason shouted he gestured with the pistol. Both men understood and ran off into the dense undergrowth. They had no idea what the boy was saying but were smart enough to run when they had the chance.

  He was pleased with himself when he worked out how to start the little motor on the canoe. He picked up his backpack and cast off. The canoe didn’t go very fast, but it was much easier than walking, and he was sure he would be able to get to Tay Ninh before the fast approaching deadline. Jason still had no plan on how to find the actual prison or how to free his father but was sure he would think of something when he needed to.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The following morning, a five-man team from the Vietnamese army searched the river for the gun-toting boy. They never found him. The Vietnamese army was told to keep a watch out for him. Jason had travelled over forty miles before the early hours of the morning.

  Dark rain clouds had blocked the moonlight and made it absolute darkness. It seemed to fold in on all sides around him and made it dangerous to keep going. He found a suitable place under a fallen tree to hide and tie up to. He slept in the canoe, spending much of the night swatting mosquitoes that fancied his blood.

  Jason ate some of the fruit he had bought from the market the day before and drank a bottle of his water. He knew he would eventually have to drink the river water with the purification tablets but wanted to put it off for as long as possible. Earlier he had noticed a dead cow in the water that was rotten and full of maggots. He didn’t relish the thought of drinking from the same source.

  After studying his map, he worked out he was back in Cambodia. So far he had only seen a few fishing canoes. Often he waved, getting nothing back in return other than a nod, and that’s the way he preferred it as he continued up stream. Unknown to him, three patrol boats were heading down river in his direction. One of them was carrying General Chow. He was really disappointed when the war ended with the United States. He enjoyed the action, killing Americans and torturing them. Part of him still believed that the war was raging on.

  *

  Back in the United States, Max gathered the reports from Thailand. News of the stolen aircraft being flown by a blond haired boy had also broken in the UK and US. The information that it was forced down and had to make a crash landing on a beach in Vietnam concerned Max. The Vietnamese official statement was they were still looking for the pilot. Max was unsure if that was true and wondered if Jason had got away or had himself been taken prisoner.

  Max contacted SYUI in London and spoke to George Young again. George had called Scott Turner but he had not heard from Jason either. Scott played sick and was allowed to stay home from school. He wanted to monitor his ham radio. A year earlier Jason contacted him while in Jakarta via Morse code. Scott hoped if Jason was alive he may try the same thing.

  *

  The river meandered back into Vietnam. Jason was getting low on fuel and knew it was only a matter of time before he would be forced to ditch the canoe and continue on foot. He rounded a bend and his engine started to splutter, eventually stopping. He tried in vain, pulling on the starter rope, to start it, but without fuel it refused. Pausing and catching his breath, he thought he could hear something. He listened hard and heard it again. It was a motorboat. Good they can tow me to shore, he said to himself.

  As the boat approached, Jason was horrified to discover it was a Vietnamese Army armoured motor launch with at least five soldiers on board. He ensured his gun was well hidden under his shirt and waved at them. They ignored his pleasant smile and pulled alongside. One kept his automatic rifle pointing at Jason.

  They shouted something at him. He pointed at his mouth and acted dumb. Again they shouted. Jason smiled and held out his hand. He pointed at his mouth and shook his head. They seem to
understand that he could not speak, but one still climbed on to his canoe and searched it. He came across Jason’s backpack. Jason dreaded what they might find. The solider shouted and he pulled out the map, compass, and three grenades. Another two guns pointed at Jason from the crew of the motorboat.

  The solider held the grenades under Jason’s face and shouted at him. He pointed in the undergrowth, pretending he had found them. The guard struck Jason across his face, knocking the boy down on his back. Jason pointed again at the undergrowth. Eventually, they seemed to understand that he had found them. As they were used and American, they assumed he had come across them in the jungle. It was not uncommon for locals and children to find weapons and other military items, even dead bodies, left behind from the war. Very often children would step on a land mine and get killed or seriously injured.

  The solider took his backpack; Jason stood and protested. He knew he needed the map. He jumped across onto the launch and held out his hand for the items. They laughed at him and pushed him back. One of the soldiers on the boat who Jason suspected was in charge said something to another and pointed at Jason. He wanted him searched. They suspected he was Amerasian, after all, they had come across thousands of them. But this boy was very fair and had sapphire blue eyes and not a hint of Asian.

  He bent down and started to search Jason. It would only be a matter of moments when they discovered the gun he had on him.

  Jason caught the soldier’s collar with his left hand and pulled the soldier towards him. At the same time Jason unleashed a blow with his right fist. He hit his target, the man's windpipe. It happened too quickly for the others to react. He leapt forward grabbed a grenade and pulled out the pin and held it shut. They all froze, afraid to move. Just their eyes followed him. The officer in charge tried to calm Jason down. He smiled. The others kept their guns aimed at the boy. They knew if they shot him he would drop the grenade with the pin out and they would all die.

  Jason has never used a grenade before. He wondered how long it took to go off once he let it go and released the trigger mechanism. What if it goes off instantly? He tried to act calm, but deep down he was more terrified of the grenade than they were.

  He gestured for them to lower the weapons. Slowly they lowered them. He beckoned them to step onto the canoe. One by one they clambered aboard the small-motorized canoe. The officer tried to stay, but Jason picked up a second grenade and gestured again. It was enough to move him off the launch. When they were all on his canoe he untied it and pushed it off, this was the most frightening part. He knew as soon as they far enough away not to get hurt by the grenade they would open fire.

  After looking over the boat's control panel, Jason threw it towards the forward arrow. The launch slowly started moving. He placed the other lever at full power. The engine roared, and the propeller churned the brown murky water behind the boat. Jason threw one grenade into the canoe and the second grenade into the water behind him. He ducked down and covered his head with his arms.

  Chaos erupted in the canoe as the soldiers tripped over each other trying to pick up the grenade, the second grenade exploded in the water, throwing up water all over the men. Eventually they found the grenade that Jason tossed into the canoe. It still had the pin in it and was harmless, but it did as he intended and caused enough distraction to get clear. The water soaked men screamed abuse at Jason. Two of them opened fire.

  A few bullets hit the motor launch, but the Vietnamese soldiers all standing on the canoe caused it to wobble. They were unable to get a good shot. Jason stayed down and waited for the pounding of bullets to subside. They continued and increased coming from another direction. He poked his head up to take a look. They were no longer shooting at him from behind. He crouched down and was relieved his grenade hurt no one. He crawled to the front of the launch so he could peek a view over the front. To his horror, he was heading directly for another Vietnamese launch.

  The main machine gunner was pounding Jason’s launch with bullets. Two other soldiers also fired their automatic weapons at him. He had just moments before they collided. He placed the last grenade next to two five-gallon Jerrycans full of gas. The other launch was getting perilously close to Jason’s. He could hear them shouting. They assumed he was shot. He pulled the pin of the grenade and, at the last second, steered it into the path of the other launch. Seconds before it collided, he jumped up and dived deep into the water.

  It felt warm and sluggish, covered with a layer of rotten vegetation. It was like jumping into the dirty bath water of whole football team. The water was scummy and dark green and smelt awful. As Jason broke the water's surface, he could feel the green slime and algae running down his cheek and over his lips.

  He took a breath and swam deep a powerful breaststroke that took him deeper. Something whizzed past near him, and he realized that he was still being shot at. The farther down he went, the safer he would be. As he pushed himself down, he wondered what creatures might be in the water. Crocodiles? Piranha fish? Pythons? He could barely see two or three inches into the water's murky depths. His thoughts were quickly dispelled when the two motor launches collided with a crash. A few seconds later a huge explosion erupted. It was deafening to him under the water. With his body crying out for oxygen, Jason pushed himself up towards the surface. He expelled his air and desperately kicked upwards. He gasped at the air once he broke the surface.

  Heat from the burning wreckages stung his face; his heart sank as he noticed some bodies floating lifeless on the water. Some men were alive and helping the wounded. He turned, put his head down, and swam for the opposite shore. The swim was exhausting. His clothing weighed him down, and he had lost his hat. He finally got to shallow water and started to stride out towards the shore and among the reeds.

  A third launch rounded the corner. Standing on the front with folded arms was General Chow. The launch immediately opened fire with machine guns. The water around Jason came alive as bullets pounded the surface. It was only a matter of time before he was hit. He dove back under the water after taking a deep breath. The water above was still pounded with bullets as he swam back out to deeper water. He poked his head up for a second to get a breath and noticed the man with a patch over his eye. General Chow looked right at him and pointed.

  Jason thought he looked like a pirate as the bullets hit the surface again. Jason dove down to the riverbed and scuttled along the bottom. The boat drew closer, slicing through the water.

  Jason pulled a large reed out of the riverbed, cut the end off with his knife, and blew down it. Before he could congratulate himself on his brilliant idea, another burst of gunfire spat across the water in his direction. He dove back down into the water and used it as a snorkel to breathe.

  General Chow’s launch got closer as it searched in vain for the boy. It came almost on top of him. Chow raised his hand and the shooting ceased. He looked around the area with his hands stuck on his hips, looking presidential.

  He continued to search for the boy; he wanted to see his dead body. He remained on the front of the boat shooting at anything that made a ripple in the water. A frog, a fish, he didn’t care. Someone had to pay for killing and injuring his men.

  After an hour they gave up. They assumed he had been shot or drowned. General Chow cursed and spat. For good measure, he threw some grenades into the water. They waited, but a few dead fish and a turtle floated to the surface; no boy. Jason had travelled further downstream and was out of harm's way.

  Jason waited until he heard the motor launch's engine disappear before his head broke the surface of the water to take a look. He was safe for now, although he had used up much of his energy. He was relieved to eventually get back on shore. He still had his map, his gun, and compass but had lost his backpack.

  He tore the sleeve off his shirt and tied it around his head like a bandana. He hoped it would cover his blond hair and make him look less like a westerner. At least it had stopped raining, he thought as he looked up. The sun was riding high across a blue
sky decorated with puffy clouds. All the scents of Vietnam drifted in—the smell of the trees and rotting vegetation in the jungle, the sharp tang of the river.

  He sat and rested in deep thought, reflecting on the day. The dead bodies caused by his actions lay heavily on his mind. When he had last talked with his mentor Wong Tong he asked how he could forget the death he caused because it was still happening every time he closed his eyes and tried to sleep. Wong Tong had told him, “There are two kinds of people Jason. Those who save lives, and those who take lives. You, young Jason, fall into a different category, one who save lives by taking lives.”

  It gave Jason some comfort.

  Chapter Nineteen

  The nine remaining prisoners were marched out of the cell. They were forced to kneel in a line. A Vietnamese guard prodded them with his rifle. He hit the American journalist harder because the scene was being filmed. The film would later be shown on TV news stations around the world. Many commentators asked why the US, British, and French governments has not intervened.

  Ray Steed stared straight ahead. He was unsure if Jason would be watching. He wanted to ensure that the last time his son watched him he would not be showing any fear. A few others sobbed. Some simply held their heads down. As far as Ray was concerned, Jason was safely tucked away at the American military academy.

  *

  The BBC showed the news in the UK the following day. Scott Turner watched with his parents. He fought back his tears as he watched his best friend's father appear unafraid and defiant in the face of death. He had heard from George that Jason was missing and hoped that his friend would soon make contact.

  News stations showed the news across the United States. Members of Congress met with the president. All agreed nothing could be done. All US personnel were ordered to leave the area. Even the Red Cross pulled out of Vietnam in fear of the volunteers being captured and facing the same fate.

  The prisoners were marched back to the cell. All of them looked defeated. They chatted, trying to lift each other’s spirits. They spoke of family, what countries they had visited, and wondered when the Americans would rescue them.