JASON STEED Absolutely Nothing

by Mark A. Cooper

  “Jason he is not my God, he is our God. He looks out for you too.” Claudette smiled and kissed the cross she was wearing around her neck.

  “Well he didn’t look out for Cookie.” Jason sighed. “Come on, we have to move.”

  *

  Max Fisher was given an audience with President Ford to give him an update. The President was sat at a large table in the Pentagon, signing papers.

  “Morning Fisher. What’s this I hear that boy stole a boat and went back to 'Nam? Can’t the Brits manage to prevent a school boy taking a motor boat?”

  “Morning Mr. President, Sir, Yes he got his father and two other British back on the British carrier HMS Hermes and took off,” Fisher explained. “Although he stole a plane from us...” Fisher trailed off wishing he hadn’t made the comment.

  “Why? He rescued his father. What’s his plan now, take on the whole Vietcong army single handed?”

  “From what I can gather, Sir, he is a little... shall we say, upset that the Vietcong burnt down a village and an orphanage full of Amerasians. When he heard nothing was being done to help them, he went AWOL,” Fisher finished, speaking slowly and softly.

  President Ford threw the papers off his desk and stood. He leaned over his desk glaring at Max. “There are no Amerasians. There may be some orphans but they are not American and have nothing to do with us. Do I make myself clear?”

  “Er, yes, Sir,” Fisher stammered.

  “Whatever possessed the British to make a person like Jason Steed?” President Ford asked, taking his seat.

  “By all accounts, Sir, he is just an ordinary boy. I’ve met him. He’s a normal, cheeky twelve-year-old with vast martial arts knowledge. Add the fact he has faster than average reflexes and was trained to induce a high adrenaline rush into his system, he is a walking lethal weapon. Because of his size and good looks, many under estimate him, and he is able to achieve more. The truth about Jason Steed is that there is not a boy in the world like him,” Fisher said.

  The president rose from his seat again and wagged his finger. “I’m not sure what he’s planning Fisher, but I want to hear no more about Amerasian orphans is that clear?”

  “Crystal clear, Mr. President.”

  *

  Jason took the lead. The children snaked behind, following him. Claudette was at the back of the line. The pace was slow. It frustrated Jason. An hour had passed and they hadn’t gone very far. He stopped and waited for her to catch up.

  Claudette caught up. She had the two youngest boys with her. They held her hand and were both sobbing.

  “Shush keep them quiet,” Jason snapped. “Why are they crying?”

  “They have no shoes and their feet hurt. Don’t shush them,” Claudette snapped back.

  Jason paused and looked at them. He threw away the rifle he was carrying and picked up the four-year0old and sat him on his shoulders.

  “You carry the smaller one, but tell them they must be quiet. We are going on a trip, on a boat to America.” Jason sighed.

  “What about the rifle?” Claudette asked.

  “It won’t help. If we get caught, I can’t start shooting at the Vietcong. If they shoot back one of the children may get hit. Come on, let's go. Besides, I have some grenades, and I thought you said God would protect us. Let's hope he’s watching.”

  After just a few paces, Jason regretted his bold decision to carry the boy. He was heavier than he expected and it made the going much harder. The journey was agonizingly slow. Torrents of rain cascaded down on them; in some places, the water was waist deep for some of the smaller children. Jason gritted his teeth and pushed on. His neck and shoulder muscles screamed in pain carrying him.

  On higher ground, they paused for a rest. Jason was relived to lower the smiling boy down. He held Jason’s hand and asked “Phong ve sinh?”

  “What did he say?” Jason asked Claudette.

  “Phong ve sinh, means he wants to pee. Can you take him behind a tree? I will check the others,” Claudette said as a matter of fact. Jason looked down at the little boy who was standing crossed legged.

  “Em, what, me take him? Okay but if he needs more than a pee I’m not cleaning him.” Jason walked the boy behind some shrubs. “Go on then Phong ve sinh.” Jason gestured.

  When the boy finished he came back to Jason and held his hand. “That had better be rain water on your hand and nothing else.” Jason grinned. The small boy had no idea what his new friend had told him but he felt safe with him.

  “Jason, we have to rest. They are tired and their feet are rubbed raw. Even those with shoes, they are poorly fitting and soaked,” she said and passed Jason a water bottle; he shook it.

  “It’s almost empty,” he said unscrewing the cap.

  “I had some. That’s the last of it. Drink it.”

  Jason put it to his lips and paused. The small boy he had been carrying watched him.

  “What about Tiny Tim here? He hasn’t had any.” Jason asked.

  “He’s called An Dung. You need it more than him. You are carrying him; he won’t survive unless you make it,” Claudette suggested.

  “An Dung? What kind of name is that! The poor thing. Who is gonna name there kid An Dung?” Jason grinned.

  “It means peaceful hero. It’s a common name here,” Claudette said.

  Jason took a mouthful of water and passed the bottle to the small boy. “Here, Tiny Tim. Not much left, but drink it.” The boy greedily gulped down the last few drops of water. “And don’t worry, I’m not gonna be calling you no Dung, Poo, or Manure names. From now on, you are Tiny Tim.” Jason smiled as he watched his little friend drink the last of the water.

  “We must keep going. We can’t spend the day out here tomorrow with no water. I know it’s hard, but they must keep up,” Jason said picking up, Tiny Tim and lifting him onto his shoulders.

  “Very well, but slower, Jason. They are only little and all tired, hungry, and thirsty,” Claudette pleaded.

  Chapter Thirty

  HMS Hermes received a telex message from the British Admiralty. They were to wait another twenty-four hours and, if Jason had not returned by then, they where to set its course for the UK. Ray was beside himself with worry; no one had heard anything from Vietnam. Doubts started to spread among the crew regarding Jason survival.

  Max Fisher and his intelligence sources reached out to contacts in Vietnam. No one had any information on his whereabouts; nothing had been seen of him or the children. Some started to even doubt that there was an orphanage full of Amerasian children. The Ford administration at the White House wanted to keep it that way. The US media was still running with stories of atrocities carried out by US troops to local woman and children. The last thing they wanted was a truckload of Amerasian kids turning up on the ten o’clock news.

  *

  Jason, Claudette, and the children trundled through the jungle. They stopped and hushed the children. They could here shouting coming from behind. Jason lowered Tiny Tim down and clambered up a tree for a better view.

  He quickly scuffled back down. “The Vietcong are right behind us. Keep going. I will catch up,” Jason told Claudette.

  He tied some twines across the path and wedged a grenade between a tree root. Carefully, he tied the twine to the grenade pin. He placed the others next to it and covered them with leaves. The Vietcong where gaining and would have him in their sights at any moment. Once his trap was set, he ran and caught up with Claudette. He swooped Tiny Tim up in his arms.

  “Claudette, we must hurry now. They are right behind us. Hopefully, there will be a big bang.” Jason panted.

  He pushed forward with the boy in his arms. A minute later and a huge explosion erupted behind them. The children screamed. Jason kept moving forward. Claudette and the children followed. A huge fist of black smoke escaped from the explosion that threatened to smack the clouds.

  After twenty minutes, Jason stopped and took Tiny Tim off his shoulders. His shoulders and neck were stiff. He rotated his arms to
bring them back to life. Claudette caught up with him.

  “Jason, we have to stop. I can’t walk another step.” She lowered the boy down that she was carrying. The other children sat around on the floor. they all looked in discomfort.

  “We made it. Here’s the barge.” He smiled and started pulling off branches and large palm leaves.

  “This, does it have an engine?" she asked.

  “No, but that does. I will tow it,” Jason said pointing at the Navy rigid hull inflatable. “It’s got plenty of fuel and a huge engine. I think it will pull it okay.”

  Claudette reluctantly agreed but had her doubts. Once he had cleared the debris, he had Claudette get all the children on board the barge, except Tiny Tim who stuck close to Jason’s side and refused to leave. They tied the front of the barge to the navy raft. Tiny Tim was put in a lifejacket so big his head just popped out the top.

  “You look like a turtle now.” Jason grinned. The small boy smiled, revealing a perfect set of baby white teeth.

  Jason pulled the rope on the starter. The engine roared into life. Slowly, he pulled off. The barge held fast and refused to budge. The children watched the outboard motor churn the water and waited for it to move. “Jason, it’s not working. Your boat is too small to pull us,” Claudette shouted over the engine noise.

  “Come on, move,” Jason said under his breath. He opened the throttle to full power the rope strained nothing happen. “It’s stuck.” Jason pulled back on the rope and jumped into the water and waded around the barge, trying to push it.

  Two of the children started pointing at something in the jungle and looked terrified. “Jason they have seen soldiers. We have to surrender,” Claudette screamed. Her normal calm, easy nature had disappeared. Jason noticed the panic in her face. He looked back at the jungle. Some three hundred feet away three Vietcong were running towards them.

  “Rock it,” Jason shouted.

  “Language, Jason,” Claudette scorned, thinking he said something else.

  “No rock the barge, from side to side like this,” Jason said, leaping onto the barge. “Rock it, rock it.” He shouted to her and the children. The barge responded and rocked from side to side. He leapt into the water and waded back to the inflatable. He smiled when he noticed Tiny Tim was unnecessarily rocking that as well.

  He opened the throttle up. Smoke and water spray covered the barge. The Vietcong soldiers ran towards the barge. It moved a foot. The more the children rocked it from side to side, it slowly moved from the ground and was getting into deeper water. One solider caught hold of the barge and started shouting at the children. Jason held Tiny Tim’s hands on the throttle. “Hold it here okay?” he said to the boy.

  Jason leapt into the water and waded back to the barge and headed for the soldier. He caught the soldier’s wrist and twisted it back. “Let go idiot.” Jason cursed. The soldier tried fighting back. He was kneed in the groin. As he crumpled, Jason took his revolver and fired two warning shots at the other two soldiers who were fast approaching.

  “Jason,” Claudette screamed. The barge was finally free and heading out into the river, being pulled by the inflatable. Tiny Tim was still holding the throttle as Jason showed him. Jason dived into the water and swam as fast as he could towards the barge. He managed to grip the side and pulled himself up. He ran across the barge and caught the rope. He pulled it shorter, pulling it closer to the inflatable. When it was close enough, he leapt onto the inflatable.

  “Good job,” Jason said, taking the controls. The barge followed behind and into deep water. Eventually, he slowed down and headed downriver, constantly looking back, concerned that they would be followed. He was expecting to see a Vietcong motor launch at any moment.

  Claudette and the other children were singing on the barge. They seemed happy, unaware of the dangers that lurked around every bend in the river. Jason briefly turned the engine off to refuel and carried on. Tiny Tim fell asleep. A strange feeling came across Jason; it was quiet as they passed Ho Chi Minh City. They were left alone. Fishing canoes and boats kept a safe distance. A Vietcong motor launch patrolled along the river's edge but ignored Jason’s inflatable towing the old barge.

  Six North Vietnamese River Patrol boats and a Russian built Petya torpedo-carrying Frigate with four-twin machine gun turrets cruised outside the mouth of the river estuary. on red alert and waiting for orders from high command.

  *

  The crew on the bridge of HMS Hermes watched as the United States Navy ship, USS Dubuque, made a slow pass by. The five hundred and seventy foot ship was two hundred shorter than the Hermes. As well as carrying helicopters, it also carried highly powered small watercraft and amphibious vehicles.

  “What’s she doing here?” the captain said out loud.

  “Not sure. I thought the Yanks had pulled out completely, Sir.” Raymond Steed said.

  The USS Dubuque slowed down to a crawl just outside the mouth of the river in the South China Sea.

  *

  Jason could see the sea the water was getting choppy and bounced the inflatable raft around as it pulled the heavy barge. His heart sank as from both sides of the river mouth came four Vietcong armored motor launches. He had no radio, just a revolver with a couple of bullets left. Out of any option, his only choice was to try and make a run for it. On full throttle, the water splashed up on the barge once more.

  Claudette and the children looked up, wondering why he was going faster. They didn’t have to ask they could see the approaching vessels. Claudette shouted something to Jason. He nodded, even though he couldn’t hear what she said.

  *

  “Sir, there’s something on the radar. Something’s happening,” the HMS Hermes' radar operator reported. The captain and Lieutenant Steed looked for themselves. “Look, Sir. Four boats from each side rapidly approaching the smaller craft in the center that is heading out towards us.”

  “Steed, do you think that’s your boy?” the captain asked, sucking on his pipe and peering at the screen.

  “I don’t know, but who else would they be chasing. Can we help him, Sir?”

  “The Yanks are closer and have started moving again towards him.”

  The radio operator became excited again. “Sir, the Vietnamese Petya Frigate is also on the move.”

  *

  Jason noticed the USS Dubuque. He was unsure what country it was to start with, fearing it was Vietnamese until he could pick out the Stars and Stripes flying proudly. The Vietcong fired a round of warning shots, one hitting the barge. Jason slowed down to a crawl. If he was on his own, he would have made a run for it. But with so many lives at stake, he had to obey.

  The Vietcong approached and told him to stop. He ignored them and kept it slowly moving closer to the USS Dubuque. Two rifles were pointed at Jason. Claudette shouted at them. “He is just a boy. These are refugees, just children.”

  For a few tense moments nothing was done. The Vietcong seemed unsure what to do. They didn’t have orders to shoot children and the USS Dubuque was getting closer. The Vietcong fired another warning shot, this time at Jason’s raft.

  “Claudette, tell them to stop. I have Tiny Tim here,” He shouted in French and lifted Tim in his arms. She shouted back at them and argued again that they were refugees and meant no one any harm.

  The USS Dubuque sent an armored motor launch. They had strict instructions not to open fire on the Vietcong, even if they were fired at. Jason smiled when he saw them approaching. “These are Amerasian refugees, they need water and food thanks for helping,” Jason shouted at the American launch.

  “No, son, we are not able to take refuges. We advise you to turn back to Vietnam with them,” an American voice said over a speaker.

  “What, are you bloody crazy? They will get killed and so will Claudette. She is French. You have to help,” Jason shouted back.

  The Americans pulled up closer to Jason’s inflatable. He watched as an officer made his way to the side. To his horror, two American soldiers had rifles poi
nted at Jason.

  Jason thought the officer looked around thirty. He was moderately handsome, but sharply angled eyebrows and slicked back hair gave him a vampirish quality. “You must be Jason Steed?”

  “Yes, Sir. If you know that, why are your crew pointing guns at me?”

  “Your orders are to return the children back where they belong, to Vietnam. That order comes from the highest authority.”

  “You’re having a laugh. First of all if I do, they will kill them, and me, and probably Claudette. No. And Claudette has it from a higher authority. She says God is watching over us, so I guess that trumps your guy. Beside these are Amerasian children. They’re half American,” Jason argued.

  “My orders are to ensure they stay in Vietnam. I have to advise you to turn back.”

  Jason studied his surroundings. He was surrounded by Vietcong armed motor launches. The US armoured patrol boat and in the shadow of the USS Dubuque. He felt uneasy having so many guns pointed at him from different directions and from both sides. “What would Wong Tong do?” he said to Tiny Tim. “That’s right, the opposite to what they expect.”

  “I like you Americans. I love your country and your root beer and chocolate malt drink are awesome, but I’m British and we never, never ever give up. These are half American children, and I’m a student at Quentin Roosevelt Military Academy. I’m sure your orders were to send us back for some crazy political reason, but I bet no one gave you an order to shoot children.”

  “You want to bet on that?” the officer asked.

  Jason opened the throttle of the inflatable and pulled away from the Americans. The Vietcong were unsure what to do. The Americans were just as bewildered. They got back on the radio and requested advice. Their orders were again to prevent Jason and the children leaving, but without deadly force. Two shots were fired at Jason’s inflatable; they both hit the outboard motor and stopped it.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Using the secret codes Jason had sent to his best friend, Scott Turner had been able to monitor all the radio messages and passed them on to the British Admiralty. He also made some calls to several news agencies around the world regarding the rescue of the orphans.