JASON STEED Absolutely Nothing

by Mark A. Cooper

  Jason picked up the guard's gun and moved to his next victim. This guard was sleeping in a chair outside the general’s hut. Jason slowly approached along the wooden walkway. Below, the stream cascaded smothering the light sound of his footsteps. Jason thought it would be a perfect place to lower his unconscious body.

  “Oi!” shouted the startled guard clambering for his rifle. Jason launched into a kick and struck his face with his right foot. He had been taken by surprise as much as the guard. He thought the man was sleeping. “Giúp!” The guard screamed for help as he fell back, clutching his injured face.

  “Shut it.” Jason cursed. He pounced on the man and threw four punches into his face. Another shout came from up in the lookout post. The guard on lookout duty turned on the spot light. It shone around and soon found the injured guard with Jason pounding him.

  A shot rang out, narrowly missing Jason. The whole camp came alive. Jason cursed to himself. His plan had gone disastrously wrong. He pulled the pin from a grenade, jumped up, and threw it up at the lookout post. It exploded and blew it apart. The guard fell with the wreckage.

  The prisoners woke and peered out of the bars. “It’s a rescue party,” one shouted excitedly.

  Jason dived back down to the stream, found the switch, and set off the Claymore mines. The explosion tore apart the sleeping quarters. Two of General Chow’s men had got clear. They ran towards Jason shirtless, carrying rifles waist height, and shooting at anything that moved.

  “Look! Ione of ours down there by the stream,” Marcel Deschamps said, pointing at Jason. “He looks French, but small.” The others looked as Jason rose and opened fire with his pistol in his right hand, shooting at the oncoming guards. With his left hand, he tossed a grenade. “God he’s young, looks like a kid.”

  The words looks like a kid hit Ray like an atom bomb going off in his head. Ray’s heart pounded as he pushed past the others and forced his head tight between the bars for a closer look, deep inside he was desperate. Could it be that it was the one person in the world he loved?

  The prisoners looked in the direction of the explosions. A huge ball of flames shot across the compound. They could just make out the image of someone running fast along bamboo the walkway. A guard stood in his way and raised his gun. The runner jumped into the air in a flying karate kick and took him out.

  “Wow did you see that?” Marcel shouted. “Look at that little guy go.”

  As Ray watched, he could hardly believe his eyes. “It’s Jason,” he cried. Tears streamed down his face as he proudly watched his son sprinting towards General Chow's hut. The grenade exploded. The two men in pursuit were blown several feet up into the air. Fire had broken out in most parts of the camp and illuminated the whole complex.

  From out of nowhere, a soldier ran towards Jason, swinging wildly with a sword. Jason skidded and slid below the sword and took the sword-wielding soldiers feet away. The man's legs were sent up in the air. Before he landed, Jason pulled his victims arm over his shoulder and, in a classic Judo move, threw him. The sword pinned the man down into the ground through his chest. Another soldier ran towards Jason shooting his rifle. Jason dove into the stream and went under.

  For a few moments he was gone. Ray looked on, terrified that his son had just been hit. The guard searched the area, prodding the long grass with his rifle. An ear-piercing scream broke the temporary silence. Jason had sprung up from under the water and hit the man between the legs with all his power. It caused a vascular rupture on the man's reproductive parts. He whimpered and collapsed in severe pain.

  “Ouch, I bet that hurt.” Carl Bradley, the American journalist, grimaced. “That guy looks young. He’s got to be a US Navy Seal. They seem to be getting younger or I’m just getting old.”

  “No, he must be a French Legionnaire. Look at him go,” Marcel said. “We have been rescued by the French. Vive La France! That guys amazing.”

  General Chow aimed and shot his rifle at Jason. The bullet hit the ground near his foot. The mud splashed up and hit Jason. He ran forward crouching and keeping low. In this position, Chow could not see him for a good shot. He had to move further into the open by the bank of the stream.

  Chow paused. The boy was gone. He shot several shots into the water and cursed. He kept firing until he had unloaded his rifle, still cursing and screaming and calling Jason a half-breed. Chow’s attention was drawn to the prisoners who looked on. In anger, he fired at them before realizing his rifle was empty. He cursed again and threw the rifle at the prisoners. He took out his revolver and took aim.

  Ray and the others looked horrified. They had no protection from the insane general. Jason appeared from behind a burning hut and ran towards the general. He leapt into the air in a flying kick and caught General Chow’s arm. Both fell to the ground. The revolver span towards the stream.

  Both Jason and the general sprang to their feet. The general pulled out his dagger and circled Jason, like a fox preparing to move in on his prey. Ray took a deep breath. He gripped with all his strength at the bars, trying in vain to break them. He felt helpless watching his son being circled by the knife-wielding madman.

  Jason concentrated on the general. He waited for the man to make his attack. When he did, Jason sprang clear and caught the hand holding the knife with both hands and twisted. He pulled down, threw up his knee into the general's chest ,and threw the general over his shoulder.

  A solider fired a warning shot in Jason’s direction, but safe enough away, concerned he may hit the General. Jason, still holding the general' arm, twisted it further until he dropped his knife. Jason scooped it up and threw it at the solider. It span at terrific speed through the air and caught his arm, not doing enough damage to stop him, but it gave Jason enough time to take out his pistol and fire three shots. Two hit the soldier. The man fell back and tumbled down to the stream.

  Another soldier was running towards Jason with a rifle and bayonet. He never got much closer before Jason unloaded his gun into the man's chest. Chow had recovered. He threw himself at Jason, screaming, trying to bite, kick. and hit him. Jason stepped back and blocked his attack. Another guard had recovered from the explosion. He ran to the general's aid.

  Jason was attacked from both sides. He hopped onto his right foot and unleashed his left foot. It sprung out like a piston and hit the general in the face, breaking his nose Jason stepped forward and threw his right fist into the man's rib cage. He followed with six more to the man's face before spinning and throwing a waist height kick into the man's face. The powerful blow knocked him out and several feet across the stream.

  Another guard attacked him with a sword. Jason ducked, threw himself forward, and caught the man's wrist holding the sword. In a single swift move, he bent the man's wrist back and forced the sword back onto the guard. Jason kicked the guard’s legs away, causing him to fall on his own sword. Not content with that, Jason span on his right leg and threw a left footed Mae Geri kick at the fallen man on his knees that knocked him across the walkway facedown with the sword stuck threw his back.

  Jason paused for breath. He knelt down, taking in his surroundings and noticed the general had gone. His eyes darted around the complex for any more soldiers. For now, it was clear. He ran towards the prison hut and started to cut through the ropes holding the bamboo together. He passed the knife inside. The men were stronger than him. They soon cut their way out. Rather than let them out, Jason squeezed through the gap and ran to his father.

  “Dad,” Jason cried as he hugged his father. Ray clutched his son tight and nuzzled his face into his son’s neck. The others watched in amazement. Jason turned to the others. “We have to move. There are soldiers everywhere. Pick up some guns on the way out of the camp. Follow me.”

  They all squeezed through the opening and followed Jason. He ran in a crouching position, pointing at guns to be picked up as they passed . Ray stuck close behind his son. They followed Jason for twenty minutes before he stopped and took out his compass to get his bearings. He
gave his gun to his father. “Here, you take it. I’m a lousy shot.” He gave him his supply of bullets and looked back at the map. “This way. We're going southeast. We'll take the river and travel down towards the China Sea.

  “When are we meeting up with the others?” Marcel asked.

  Jason looked at him and, in a typical Steed fashion, raised his eyebrows. “Others? What others?”

  “The Americans, British, or French or was it a joint effort that rescued us?” Marcel asked in his strong French accent.

  “No others. Just us now. Come on, we have to move,” Jason said turning to move.

  Ray caught his son’s shoulder. “Jason, where are the troops? That’s what he meant. When and where are we meeting up with them?” Ray asked. lovingly massaging his son’s shoulder.

  “It’s just me, Dad. I had to do something. George Young said the governments couldn’t get involved so I kinda, em, snuck away.” Jason picked up on his father’s look. “I thought you would be pleased.”

  Ray concealed his grin. “I am Jase, but isn’t there anyone else helping you? Are we completely on our own out here?”

  “Yes. But I have a plan. We can travel along the river. We may find a boat or launch, get to the coast, and then try and contact your ship.”

  The men stood around in a group looking down at Jason. He felt slightly uncomfortable with the situation. He looked at his father and shrugged his shoulders.

  “Let me get this straight. You and you alone did all that?” Marcel asked.

  Jason nodded.

  “How did you get here son?” Carl asked.

  “I hid on a aircraft, got to Thailand, and borrowed a small plane. I had to crash-land it on a Vietnamese beach. They were going to shoot me down. I did the rest on foot or boat. The locals think I’m Amerasian so I can get around okay. A local orphanage near here gave me food. The kids had a collection of weapons I used. They find them in the jungle.”

  Ray stroked his son’s blond hair. “Will you ever learn to let others take care of adult problems? You should be at school, not out here getting shot at and blowing up buildings, not to mention armed guards.”

  “But Dad! They were gonna do nothing everyone was thinking someone must do something so I thought, well I’m someone and here I am.”

  “Then young man, we owe you a big thank you. But for now we had better come up with a plan to get out,” Marcel said. He took the map from Jason. “Where are we exactly?”

  Jason showed him on the map. “Here. We can follow the river. We'll have plenty of water, food, and maybe find a boat. It’s about forty miles,” Jason said.

  They watched as he pointed with his fingers across the map. Marcel placed his huge finger next to Jason’s. It made Jason’s hand look smaller than they were for a twelve-year-old.

  “Why don’t we just travel west to Cambodia? It’s ten to twelve miles. We could do that in a day. It makes much more sense it will be safer. We go west. If we move fast we could do it before tomorrow night,” Marcel said.

  “No, they would be expecting that. Wong Tong says to defeat your opponent you must do the opposite to what he thinks. We must go southeast. They would never think we would do that because it’s farther, harder going, and more dangerous. We have to travel through Ho Chi Minh City, but if we do it at night on the river, we should get through right under their noses.”

  “Who the hell is Wong Tong?” Carl asked.

  Ray looked at him. “Probably better not to ask.” Ray said.

  “Well, he’s your son.”

  “Trust me, it won’t help,” Ray said. He looked at Jason. “Marcel has got a good point son, it will be quicker. You did a great job getting us out, but these guys are all military trained. Let them take some of the load now.”

  “No, that’s dumb. We know the Vietcong are going to be after you. Where do you think they are going to look? We go southeast.” Jason did not try to conceal his exasperation. He folded up his map and tucked his compass in is shirt pocket. He started walking ahead and stopped when he realized no one was following.

  “Maybe we should split up,” Marcel suggested. “They will try and track us, but we should go west, it’s so much quicker.”

  They all discussed it for a few minutes. Jason stood away, impatiently tapping his foot with his arms folded. When they finished talking Ray strolled over to Jason.

  “We are all going West, Jason. It’s quicker and safer. It’s too dangerous to try and go through the city. Besides, it’s almost thirty miles farther. These men are tired and hungry,” Ray said. He went to put his hand on Jason’s shoulder, but Jason pulled away.

  Jason cursed. “Let the bloody French and journalists go west. I came here to get you, not them. Dad, I always trust my instincts. It has saved my life before and others. Wong Tong said always—” He was interrupted.

  “Yes son I have heard all Wong Tongs sayings. You quote them enough. Wouldn’t you rather be out of this jungle by tomorrow?”

  “Derrr of course I would. I stink of sweat, my feet are rubbed raw, the mosquitoes and leeches think I’m Christmas dinner, I’m hot, tired, and hungry.”

  “Well then—” Ray said.

  “But I’m also alive and so are you. I know it would be easy to go west but if it was that easy, the Americans would have won the war here. Dad, I beg of you. Please come southeast. Let the others try west. I hope they make it, but I know it will be safer this way.” Jason moved forward and held his father's hands. “Dad I’m right about this.”

  Ray stared into his sons sapphire blue eyes and nodded.

  “There is a large barge slightly North of here, em but it’s got no engine,” Jason said trying to suggest something. He noticed his father's disappointed expression. “Yeah that won’t help, will it? But I’m right about going South, Dad.”

  Ray looked at the others. They were waiting for his answer. “Marcel is right. It would be better if we split up into two teams. We will all go west. It will be quicker and easier.”

  Marcel took four others. The three British crew stayed with Ray. Jason was furious with his father. He was physically shaking in anger. He felt like he was being treated like a child. They said their goodbyes and watched Marcel leave. Ray told him they would travel half a mile north before heading west.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Jason sat on a tree stump, watching as Marcel and his team left. They saluted him. He reluctantly returned the salute and nodded when they thanked him and said goodbye. Ray introduced Jason to the British team. Cookie was from Glasgow, Scotland. He was thin but tall, just over six foot six. He was originally a member of the 1st battalion Scots Guard. Every other word he spoke was a curse word. Jason liked him. He made him laugh.

  Then there was Evans from Wales. He was average height and weight. Most of the time he was humming a tune to himself. The third British member was Jack from Yorkshire. He had an acne-scarred face. Extremely thin and wiry with short blond hair. He was missing the little finger on his right hand. He told Jason he lost it in a card game. Jason never understood if it was a joke or he was serious.

  Ray asked Jason for the map and compass. Jason threw it at him. He was still angry with his father for wanting to go west. Ray had everyone join them. He used the gun as a pointer.

  “Okay, guys. we have a long journey. We are here and we need to get to here.” He pointed down the river to the east coast.

  “But, sir. You told Marcel you agreed with him and said we would be going west,” Jack said.

  Jason watched, not sure what his father was planning.

  “Jason’s right. It will be safer to go Southeast, hard going yes, but safer. If Marcel gets caught and tortured and asked what way we went, what is he going to tell them?" Ray asked.

  “Genius, Sir. I can see why you’re a Lieutenant now,” Evans said.

  Jason beamed; Ray looked at him and winked.

  Ray went first. He had heard that local people were getting injured or maimed from land mines left over after the war. Like any
father, he felt protective. Jason was relegated to following him. The other three followed closely behind. Apart from Jason, they carried a gun each and the little ammunition they picked up.

  They emerged one by one from the jungle. They sat and bent over, drenched in sweat and rain. It had only taken an hour to reach the river. They drank from the dirty water, pushing away the bugs that swam on the surface first. Jason plunged his head under to wash off the sweat and all the dead mosquitoes he squashed on his face and neck. “Hey young’un drinking that water will give you the squirts it will,” Cookie said in his broad Scottish accent.

  Jason wiped his mouth. “So? You will get the squirts too.” Jason grinned.

  “Nah, I’m Scottish. Unlike you Southern softies, we’re born standing up with boots on,” Cookie joked.

  “My mum was Scottish. My grandparents live near Glasgow.”

  “Och aye that explains how you are so tough and rescued us. You were incredible back there. You kicked the stuffing out of them.” Cookie grinned.

  Jason studied his knuckles; they were cut and had bled after his fights with the guards. “My skin’s not so tough. My knuckles always split open when I hit someone hard.”

  Cookie glanced over and laughed. “Aye that a be the English in ya. You can blame your father for your soft skin, laddie.”

  Jason laughed. He took an instant liking to Cookie. He looked up at his father. “Dad, it’s your fault my knuckles always split.”

  Ray glanced up from the map. He waved his hand to swipe away a fly and continued looking at the map. Jason felt strangely relaxed. He knew they were still in great danger but with his father next to him, he felt at ease. He was enjoying spending time with him and the others. The dangers seemed to have vanished now he was here with his father and the three British troops.

  Ray watched his son laughing and joking with Cookie. Seeing his son laugh made him smile. It was the side of Jason he loved. The part he witnessed earlier at the prison camp disturbed Ray. He was, on one hand, proud of the way his son took on all the guards but, on the other hand, he was unsure if the physical attacks on people and death that Jason had witnessed at such a young age would cause emotional scars for him later in life.