by J. T. Lewis
He seemed more than a little hesitant, “Well, it’s probably nothing really. As you know, I’m always taking courses to increase my accreditations, and my current focus is forensic anthropology…the study of humanity. Through studying their bones and other considerations, we try to make connections between people, their history, and their relationships…their ancestors.”
“I’m fairly new at this discipline, but I am extremely excited about what I know so far. Anyway, I like to look at people’s faces, at their bone structure, trying to figure out where their ancestry lies. When I look at Miss Tran’s face, I definitely see evidence of her Vietnamese ancestry there. But…there is something else.”
“Most people would be able to tell she is part Caucasian Percy, I don’t mean to be disrespectful, but you don’t need a degree in anthropology to figure that out.”
“No, you don’t. I do however see indications that she has similar bone construction as that of a family in this area, who as it turns out, has a very unique facial bone structure that is always passed on to the descendants, at least all of them I’ve ever met. It’s a very dominant part of their gene makeup. At the very least, her Caucasian ancestors hail from the same part of the world as this family.”
“She has never mentioned being related to anyone around here Percy. Who is it you think she may be related to?”
I have never seen Percy squirm before until that moment.
“Well Gabriel, unless I miss my guess, the family she is related to, related to….is…well…yours!”
Chapter 46
August 27, 1998
“What the hell Percy!” I said, shocked by his outlandish theory.
“Now hear me out Gabriel; I have no way of proving this of course, but your family has always had a uniquely shaped, angular bone structure of the head. You have it; your father had it, and I’ve seen pictures of your grandfather too…it’s very pronounced.”
“Abby has very similar features, very pronounced, more so than her Vietnamese features. I probably wouldn’t have noticed so much except that your face is so gaunt now, the two of you looked like…well, father and daughter standing there. The darkness of the lab helped bring out some shadows that accentuated the similarities.”
“And of course,” he continued, “you did serve in Vietnam.”
“Hell yeah I did, but I didn’t….
Memories flooded back, memories I had pushed out of my thoughts…for decades.
***
July 27, 1973
“Great idea Celtic!” I chided myself softly, “Could you have volunteered for a worse mission?”
Our Swift Boat slowly made its way up some nameless tributary of the Mekong River. It was 2:00 in the morning, a hot sticky night, just like every other night in this God forsaken land. There was no breeze; the air so thick that you could feel it pass as you moved through it. I had only been in-country for a couple of weeks and had not gotten anywhere close to getting used to the oppressive heat here. I suddenly had loving thoughts of my life on a carrier that I had given up for this duty.
“Just had to get into the action, didn’t ya?”
We were carrying a squad of marines for an insertion upriver; they were lined up along the sides of the boat on their bellies, rifles pointed toward the banks. I was manning the .50 caliber, standing, with not near enough armor around me for my comfort.
Everything was quiet…until my world filled with a blinding light and a deafening roar. I was flying through the air, then, hitting the water…the last thing I remembered.
***
I shook my head, bringing me back to the present.
“I need to sit down.”
Percy rolled a tall lab chair around behind me, and I sat down. My mind was reeling from the implications of what Percy had just told me. Something like this had never entered my mind…no, this was impossible.
“This is just some sort of guess, right?”
“Oh my yes,” Percy explained patiently, “but an educated one Gabriel, an educated one.”
This was impossible; I had actually spent very little time in Vietnam, having been wounded in the first couple of weeks of my tour when my PCF (Patrol Craft Fast) had been blown out from under me.
More memories of that night mixed into my thoughts, it had not been one of my favorites…
***
I came to in the water, my life jacket having saved me by keeping my head above water. Opening my eyes, there were tracers flying by overhead as Viet Cong along the banks tried to finish us off. I felt with my right hand along my hip….still there, the Colt. I felt a little better for that. The noise was deafening.
Suddenly, there was screaming, off to my left. I could make out someone floating twenty yards off. Turning to swim, searing pain shot up my left arm…it felt broken. Trying to keep low and out of sight, I rolled onto my right side, attempting some sort of side stroke. I tried kicking, pain again, in my right leg. I saw my boat in flames, what’s left of it.
“Shit,” I whispered to myself.
Pull with right arm, kick with left leg…slow going. The guy was still screaming. I tried shushing when I got closer, but he couldn’t hear me. I see it’s one of the Marines when I got closer.
“Buddy!” I whispered loudly, “Keep it down or they will blow us out of the water!”
He heard me. “Who’s there?”
“Celtic, where ya hit?”
“Something sticking out of my gut…metal”, he pants, “and my head hurts, bad, I can’t see! I need help! Is help coming?”
“Right now it’s just me. Can you move your arms and legs?”
“I can move my arms ok,” quieter now, “but my legs…when I move them, the thing in my gut moves too, hurts like hell!”
“Ok, we’re gonna get outta here, I need you to do a backstroke with your arms, I’ll guide you. But for Christ’s sake, keep it quiet!”
He started slowly moving his arms, the power of his strokes surpassing mine easily. We started to pull away from the mêlée; the enemy’s shooting was lessening. I could see some of the gooks along the shore, looking for survivors. I quickly shooshed my Marine again, “Keep it quiet; they’re looking for us.”
We were heading downstream; soon we were around a bend, out of sight…for now. Would they come in boats, looking? Right then, we needed distance. But soon, we would need cover; it would be daylight in a few hours.
***
“Ah jeez Percy, this is some kind of joke, right?”
“It could be many things old friend, but joke it is not, is not.”
“I was wounded right out of the chute Percy; I wasn’t on duty two weeks when they blew our boat out of the water.”
“Well, it’s quite apparent you survived! Where did you recuperate?”
“Saigon, at an Army hosp…”
Then something hit me….and it hit me hard.
***
I woke up in a hospital, unsure of how I had gotten there. Trying to sit up, I felt pinned down by weights. Raising my head revealed my left arm in a cast, a huge cast. My right leg was also plaster coated, being held up with a cable from the end of the bed by some kind of contraption.
“Well hello there Gabriel!”
A blonde nurse in khakis, double silver bars on her collar indicating she was a Naval Lieutenant. She was studying a clipboard intently, the edges of her lips curled up in the start of a smile.
“Where am I, Lieutenant?”
Hooking the clipboard on the end of the bed, “3rd Army Field Hospital, Saigon, and it’s Captain, a huge difference in the Army I assure you.”
“Sorry m’am,” I say embarrassed, and confused. “How did I get here?”
“You were evacuated here after an Army patrol found you along the river. They said you were floating down the river nearly dead. Your right hand had a death grip on a wounded marine, seems you had been dragging him downriver for almost a day.”
I was starting to remember, after we cleared the bullets, we floated down strea
m for a couple of hours. When it started getting light, I had found a large branch that we latched onto, giving us some cover for most of the day. A few times we had heard enemy patrols along the bank, and I had pulled out my Colt, not knowing if it would even work after being submersed for so long.
Luckily, none of them had spotted us.
Jim…yes, that was his name, Jim Nightingale; he was in a lot of pain, falling in and out of conscious all day long. My wounds only hurt if I moved, or if something bumped into my arm or leg. Then I would have to stifle a scream, which I believe I managed….most of the time.
As the day wore on, we were more unconscious than conscious, and at some point, Jim must have let go of the branch. I also remember being thirsty…very thirsty.
“Is Jim ok?” I asked her, suddenly remembering my Marine.
“His condition is serious because of his open wound in the river, but it looks like he will pull through. We stabilized him here, but he’s on his way to Hawaii now.”
I felt better that he was still alive; hopefully he would pull through.
My eyes started feeling heavy; I was pretty sure it had to do with the shot the nurse had just given me. Just as everything was getting hazy, I could hear the nurse in the background saying, “It seems you have been nominated for a Bronze Star for your efforts Gabriel, congratulations.”
But I was long gone.
***
Waking in the dark, I heard movement to my left, “Who’s there?”
More movement, and then a beautiful face appeared before me. “Anh Ly,” she said in a loud whisper, “but you can call me Ann.”
She was Vietnamese, very nice on the eyes.
“What is your name?” she whispered again, taking in my injuries. Her English was very good, just a little halting here and there, probably educated at a better school in Saigon.
“I’m Gabriel,” I said, also whispering, “are you a nurse?”
“No, no, I just clean up at night, I have some training in case something happens while I’m here, but mostly I just call a nurse.”
Looking around, she spotted a chair across the room. Retrieving it, she set it down on the right side of my bed, away from the cast on my left that restricted my movement that way. Taking the seat, she started… “So, tell me about your self Ga-bree-all.”
Chapter 47
August 27, 1998
“Oh crap!”
“Something strike a chord Gabriel?” Percy asked with a small smile on his face.
I hesitated a moment, then told him about meeting Ann. “We met at the hospital; she worked in the ward at night. Whenever she finished her duties, she would come over and sit with me, we would… talk.”
“It seems there may have been a little more than talk my friend, more than talk.”
“That’s the thing, there wasn’t…until my last night there. We got to know each other very well over the three weeks I was laid up. And all we did was talk…until that last night. When she was sure everyone was asleep, she came over to my bed and pulled the curtains closed and…said goodbye, well, you get the picture.”
“Certainly, you were close, nothing wrong with that.”
“But I had no idea anything like this might have happened. I wouldn’t have left her there if I had known.”
“I imagine she could have found you if she had wanted to Gabriel; the hospital had records.”
“We even wrote back and forth a few times, mailed through the hospital…she never mentioned anything like this. Eventually, my letters started returning; someone had written on the back that she no longer worked there. I had no way of tracking her after that; I was being released and sent back to the States.”
“There must have been some reason she didn’t feel the need to tell you Gabriel. But I don’t think it’s any coincidence that Abby is here now, do you?”
My stomach was in knots.
“And look at her name; Gabriella, the feminine adaptation of your own?”
“Oh my God,” I said softly, now convinced beyond a doubt.
“But why this way? Why didn’t she write or call, or introduce herself right off. Why the subterfuge?”
“No one knows for sure except her, but I may have a couple of theories. Quite possibly, she wanted to see what kind of a man you were before revealing herself. That way, she could just leave if she didn’t like what she saw. Secondly, you were out of the country when she arrived, when she arrived.”
A sudden thought, “She met me at the Lima airport, on the way back. She just showed up before the flight; how would she know that?”
“She works in Allen’s department; she probably heard that Allen had asked you to come home. Seems she was very determined to meet you my friend. After she met you, she may not have had a good moment to reveal her secret; you have been quite preoccupied since your return.”
It was all making sense…sort of.
“I haven’t contributed anything to her life to this point; why would she want to meet me? I would be like a deadbeat dad to her; she should hate me.”
“People want to know their roots, Gabriel, know their roots. Her mom must not have held any ill will towards you, or Abby wouldn’t have known where to even start looking. She must have passed on things about you to her daughter, including your name it would seem.”
Sitting there, I was confused and guilt ridden, if I had only known.
“How about you?” Percy asked. “Will you now be revealing yourself to her, now that you know?”
“I can’t say,” I told him truthfully. “I don’t know what to do; I just didn’t see this coming.”
“She seems like a nice girl.”
“She’s a damn nice girl! Anybody would be proud to have her as a daughter.”
“Shit Percy, just shit!”
Patting me on the shoulder with a fatherly smile, “I’ve seen you work through worse problems Gabriel; I’m sure you will get through this as well, as well.”
I sat there for another minute, finally standing up, shaking Percy’s hand distractedly.
“Thanks Percy…I think.”
Turning, I started out of the lab, still not sure how to handle this, still not sure what I thought of this. But I was nervous, more nervous than I had been for awhile. More nervous than staring down the end of a gun, at least then I was the only one that could be hurt.
“Shit!”
Chapter 48
August 27, 1998
The man walked into the small holding area, handcuffed and led by a rolly-polly deputy named Jason Glad. Looking at the tub of lard standing next to him, he thought to himself that he would be glad to wring Jason’s neck for him; the guy was a waste of flesh.
The sliding gate slammed shut behind them, before the loud Brumpt of the electric lock in front of them blared as this gate then rolled out of their way. Jason Glad tried to walk forward with the prisoner, but the man stood steadfast, anchored to the floor, his straight white teeth showing in a big grin. The deputy looked confused, even scared for a moment, before screwing up his courage and giving the prisoner a big jerk.
“All right all right, you don’t need to push Jason Glad.” He said the last name with a sneer, and truth be known Jason was wishing he was any place but locked in a room with this guy.
“Get your ass in the seat Pierce, you got company.”
Just looking at him, one would never guess that Pierce Leffler at one time had been the most wanted man in Indiana. At 5’6”, he was an unassuming man of average build, with wavy black hair and pale grey eyes that twinkled when he smiled. When he had been free and had access to his wardrobe, he would cut quite a path through the ladies.
He was back at the county jail for an arraignment on another murder charge, his sixth. Already on death row at the state prison at Michigan City, Pierce was glad for the excursion back to the southern part of the state. He would be tried and convicted of this murder also, but so what? They could only kill him once.
Pierce smiled as a thought jumped into h
is head. When he had been finally captured three years ago, a reporter from the county paper had asked him why he had restricted his murderous spree to only Indiana.
Putting his most serious face, he had calmly explained that he had two reasons really. The first one was that he was trying to stay under the FBI’s radar; he didn’t need those guys after him.
Leaning forward then, he got a big grin on his face. The other reason, he explained, was that he loved fucking with Indiana policemen; it was like screwing with the keystone cops!
At the time, he had melted into laughter at his own joke, waving off the additional questions the reporter had tried to put forth. The interview was over; he had said all that he wanted to say.
It still tickled him, every time he thought of the quote.
He thought himself quite the comedian.
Coming back to reality, he finally looked through the glass, surprised at the person sitting on the other side of the booth. More sober now, Pierce pulled out the chair, sat and scooted it in close to the table top in front of him. After the guard left, the man on the other side of the glass indicated the phone, and they both picked up at once.
“I take it you remember who I am?” the visitor asked Pierce as he put the receiver to his ear.
“Sure, I remember, Padre,” the prisoner said evenly. “Never did know your name…what shall I call you?”
“For the purposes of this conversation, you can call me…James.”
“Ok, James, what are you doing here? I thought our business was over years ago?”
“Truly it was, but I may have some…new business you might be interested in; I need a favor.”
Looking down at his orange jumpsuit, Pierce put forth his best sneer before saying, “I’m not in much of a position for any new business at the moment. Why don’t you get with my secretary and she’ll squeeze you in at my very next opening, which I believe will be…IN HELL!”