Paradise Warrior

by Jack Dey

  Ryan spoke the words Dulcet was thinking. "Copy cat?"

  "Maybe," Dulcet thought out loud. "Or maybe a setup?"

  "Can we speak to Leanne?" Dulcet enquired.

  "She’s still in hospital, but I guess we can only try," Ryan responded.

  Dulcet followed Ryan's police car to the hospital and parked in the visitors' car park. Ryan had parked in a special bay reserved for police vehicles and waited by the police car for Dulcet to catch up, then together the two men entered the hospital. Ryan showed his police ID to the counter staff and asked for Leanne Bates.

  The lift pinged, proudly announcing their arrival at the requested floor, while Ryan and Dulcet made their way to a recovery room, where a young constable was stationed at the door. Ryan announced his rank and flashed his police identification. Satisfied, the young officer pushed open the door for the two men and they walked in.

  An elderly man, whom Ryan suspected was Tom Henderson, was sitting in a chair on the opposite side of Leanne's bed and greeted the men. Leanne was awake and lying flat in her hospital bed. Tom’s sudden gaze towards the door piqued her curiosity and she turned her head stiffly, to face the direction of his stare. She recognised the two men immediately and offered a nervous smile at their presence.

  Dulcet stumbled and almost tripped over himself, staring in disbelief at the bandage covering a wound on Leanne’s neck.

  *~*~*~*

  Chapter 33

  A skinny man in long, grey trousers and a white shirt covered with a grey, long-sleeved cardigan and highly polished, black shoes marched briskly toward the news stand. Standing outside the news stand, he took a newspaper from the pile on the counter, dug into his pocket and handed the woman cashier a two dollar coin.

  His eyes were riveted on the headlines.

  "Your change, sir," the woman interrupted.

  He gazed directly at her, while his countenance turned abruptly from intense, cold concentration to a mild, unnatural, manic smile and at the same time, highlighting a pair of crazed, stone coloured eyes. The woman felt an icy shiver run down her spine, suggesting the owner of the unwholesome gaze was hiding something unhealthy.

  Just then, an elderly man tripped over on the footpath and landed heavily in front of the news stand. He had misjudged the kerb and fallen over, hitting his head. The skinny man raced over to the old man and helped him to his feet.

  "Are you alright, sir?" he asked with great concern.

  As a trickle of blood started to run down from the old man's wounded head, the skinny man called to the news stand, "Excuse me, madam, will you call an ambulance for this elderly gentleman? I really do think he should see a doctor."

  Within fifteen minutes, the ambulance arrived and the old man was loaded onboard. As the ambulance crew closed the rear doors, the skinny man waved to the old man and walked away. A shocked news stand cashier had just witnessed an extraordinary act of kindness. Maybe she had misjudged the skinny man. Then she recalled those eyes and she shivered again.

  *~*~*~*

  On a park bench under a tree, down from the news stand, the skinny man read through the headlines.

  "Leanne Bates?!" he spat. "Who on earth is Leanne Bates?!"

  He angrily tore the front page from the paper and screwed it up. And then he walked over to the rubbish bin and threw the paper into the receptacle and stalked off.

  *~*~*~*

  A thick file sat open on the old man's desk. He had just received a new sample, but he had to be quick; they were coming to pack up his laboratory and move him to a new site. He quickly powered up the electron microscope, while his excited hands trembled, fidgeting with the sample plate. Trying to line up the beam exactly with the plate, his shaking hands bumped it out of alignment, causing his frustration to boil over. Finally, he aligned the plate exactly and withdrew his hands in a emphasised attempt and then determinedly pulled the sample into focus. His nervous excitement swiftly faded as a double helix appeared.

  The old man pulled in a long breath and blew it out, disappointed. "Oh well, even though this sample is not the correct one, at least we know where to find the correct one now."

  He wandered over to his desk and closed the file and with a heavy marker, wrote negative across the front. While removing his glasses, he lifted the corner of his white lab coat and cleaned the lenses, then reached for the featureless phone on his desk and waited for the expected response.

  A voice on the other end sang politely, "Evat One."

  The old man replied, "Com Evat Two. Sample two, negative. Go on sample three," and hung up the phone.

  Just as the old man completed his business, a relocation crew arrived, displaying highest level security passes attached to their uniforms. One of the black uniformed men directed a comment towards the old man.

  "Time to go, Professor."

  He nodded and removed three files from his unlocked drawer and placed them in a briefcase, one by one. The two files marked negative went in first and then the prize. He momentarily rubbed the cover of the last file as if he were caressing a valuable pet.

  "We will meet soon," he promised.

  *~*~*~*

  Ziegler's direct link to the twelve spoilt-elite disturbed his concentration for the second time in half an hour.

  "What is this? Communication Day?" Ziegler responded sarcastically.

  "Evat One," he answered sweetly.

  "Com Evat One. Good job on collecting the second sample. I knew you could come up with something if you used a bit of what we call, brains."

  The phone went dead in Ziegler's hand.

  "It is a good thing we do not require such a thing as a primitive brain," Ziegler said to the phone as he slipped it back into its cradle. He stood thinking about the comment from Com Evat One and a smile crossed his face.

  *~*~*~*

  The old professor ambled stiffly towards the outside frontage of his facility and gazed open-mouthed at a strange sight. Parked close to the facility were six lumbering military aircraft, with the access doors lowered into a giant ramp. The Boeing C-17 Globe-Masters were lined up in the darkness, giving the impression of giant, fat sausages with wings. The gaping cargo holds lay wide open, while unobtrusive red light spilled out onto the tarmac.

  A steady stream of personnel were shifting truck loads of equipment in haste, using night vision glasses, while the rest of the vast complex was in complete darkness. It took the old man a few minutes to reorientate himself. He was deep in the Nevada desert, in a place simply known as Area 51.

  Area 51 was a large, top secret airbase and community of scientific personnel, having every possible hi-tech tool and facility any scientist could imagine; something like a Walmart for scientists, in the middle of the nothingness of the desert. The base had come into being when an alleged UFO had crashed near Roswell, New Mexico, on July 1947 and pictures were leaked to the media. The media had had a field day with the sighting and every expert and nutter had a theory. To make things worse, the military added to the ruckus by making a statement to the public, then changed its content four times before finally, settling on a story about a crashed high altitude weather balloon.

  After continued media hype, the government simply closed the file by classifying the whole debacle, under secrets for the protection of national security, the highest security classification available, putting it out of the public arena forever.

  So they thought.

  The remains of the craft and supposed alien beings were transported to Area 51 under tight security and the secretive base developed around this legend, having unlimited government resources assigned to it and no explanation for the government's strange behaviour. Hidden from public knowledge, the activities of Area 51 soon developed into a fantastic culture of UFO legend and song. The heavy handedness of the high level of security and secretiveness surrounding the facility, only drove the masses into a deeper frenzy.

  Over the years, strange lights and aircraft had been photographed, coming and going from
the base at different times and at phenomenal speeds, adding to the fantastic stories developing around Area 51. It was the United States' most secret facility and the security surrounding this top secret base was unusual. The perimeters of the facility were guarded by hi-tech surveillance listening devices; infrared heat sensing devices; motion sensors and any number of cameras. People who consistently tried to breach the impenetrable wall and had fallen foul of its security services, simply disappeared.

  The old professor had no idea where his new laboratory would be located, only that the council had told him to move, and move he would.

  Meanwhile, the first orange rays of dawn were starting to appear on the mountains encircling Area 51 and the hot desert sun would soon melt away the tremendous cold of the desert night. In tune with the hive of night time activity, the huge Globe Masters were loaded, pre-flight checks completed and engines started. One by one, the flying warehouses took their turn in taxiing down the long runways of Area 51 and their four large jet engines thrust them into the sky, like an overzealous slingshot.

  The professor sat in the cockpit with the pilots and the engine noise was deafening, reverberating through the cavernous plane. He had no way of knowing how long they would be in the air, or his intended destination.

  *~*~*~*

  Chapter 34

  Juliana lay awake in their double bed, staring at the dark ceiling. The absence of Des' presence lying next to her, made her ache with loneliness. The last two months had been charged with so much tragedy that she thought her tear reservoir must be nearly empty. She had never cried so much in her life. The disappearance of Gracie had torn her heart out and when Des had shown his true colours, in sacrificing his life for the little girl's, her heart tore again.

  Dan's words echoed in her mind, "Father does not plan bad circumstances for us, but if we fail to listen to His warnings and His knocking on our hearts, we will walk unguarded and unwillingly into Satan's territory."

  Father had Juliana's full attention now and in the quiet, the whispers of His love flooded her mind. Strength and a deep peace bubbled up within her. The tears began again but this time, they were tears of joy. Somewhere in the darkness, the Spirit of God was at work and the injured heart of a broken woman was being renewed. Juliana's emotions were bursting with joy and love for the Father, as the Spirit worked.

  She cried out softly through her tears, "I love you, Father."

  And then she drifted off into a peaceful sleep, her dreams stirred by the gentle, loving presence of the Spirit, refreshing every part of her being.

  *~*~*~*

  The young resident doctor took a break in the staff room. He had been on his feet now, for eight hours, excepting for a few quick minutes here and there. He glanced at the clock on the wall. It was 11 pm. He was just about to blow on his hot coffee and draw in and taste some of the sweet brew, when his pager went off. He removed the wearisome device and angled it to the light to read its message.

  Required urgently in ICU.

  "This could only be trouble," he remarked to no one. He raised himself to his feet, tipped the coffee down the sink and made his way to the service lift. The lift pinged as it announced the ICU floor. A worried nurse met him and explained that Mr Freeman's EEG electrical signals were changing. The resident hurried into Des' room and studied the printout. Electrical activity was erratic.

  "Get in touch with Doctor Mason. Tell him that Mr Freeman's activity is erratic and I am preparing him for emergency surgery."

  The nurse’s concern was immediate and she flushed with anxiety.

  "I think his brain is swelling again."

  *~*~*~*

  Dan and Linda met Juliana at the hospital. Early morning emergencies at the Freeman household had become a familiar routine for them. The hospital rang Juliana around midnight and she in turn, had rung Dan. Juliana made her way up to the nurses' station just outside ICU and recognised one of the nurses who had been assigned to her husband.

  "What's going on?" Juliana enquired worriedly.

  "They have prepared him for emergency surgery. They think his brain is swelling again."

  Juliana turned to face the doors of the lift as it arrived, while her face expressed what Dan and Linda had expected. She hurried over to the couple and motioned for them to sit on a nearby lounge, settling either side of Juliana, while she explained what was happening.

  "His brain is swelling again. Can we pray?"

  The couple were taken by surprise at the power of Juliana's prayer. It felt as if Father had walked into the middle of them and was holding onto them. Her face was vibrant with the passion and love of Christ, as she pleaded with the Spirit to intervene. They felt their hearts burning within them and somehow they knew Father, indeed, had heard and was involved in the situation.

  *~*~*~*

  In surgery, Doctor Mason prepared himself to relieve the pressure building in Des' skull. Just as he was about to operate, Des thrashed violently, causing nurses and doctors to rally and restrain his body. A syringe was emptied into Des' arm and the thrashing subsided. Just then, the heart monitor went crazy and started to slow and then it flatlined, while they worked on him for precious moments, with no response and as time went by with increasing frantic activity, a defibrillator was brought in to try and shock his heart back into a rhythm.

  But the ECG heart monitor still remained unresponsive.

  Doctor Mason was just about to officially call the time of death, when the ECG suddenly started to beep again. Stronger and stronger the pulses came, until it was a normal, strong pulse. The brain monitor started to normalise, while the electrical impulses became steady once again.

  Mason glanced sideways at the resident in shocked surprise. "We need to monitor him around the clock. I have no idea what just happened, but at the moment, he doesn't need our help."

  Soon after, Des was wheeled back into ICU.

  Doctor Mason knew Juliana was waiting for news, but had no idea how to explain what had just happened. He decided to tell it straight. Juliana's response shocked Mason, even more than what he had just witnessed. She assured him she knew exactly how to explain the sudden turn of events and reached in and hugged him. Her face was beaming and her eyes were filled with tears of joy.

  Dan was thanking Father in his heart. He had witnessed Father's handiwork, first hand, and He had used Juliana's prayers to boost her faith, and theirs.

  "Can I see him?" Juliana pleaded.

  Mason conceded, "Just for a moment. He’s had a rough night."

  Juliana approached Des' bed. The steady beeping of the ECG reassured her he was still alive. She touched the top of his hand and softly whispered, "I love you, Des. I met Father tonight and He is with us. I have to go for now, but I will be back as soon as they will let me."

  She started to leave, but suddenly, turned around to face him.

  "I just want you to know, I am proud and honoured to be your wife and you are my knight."

  As she reached the door, she thought she heard his ECG quicken. Juliana stood for a moment, holding the door open to Des' ICU room, looking back at him.

  Dan and Linda watched her for a long moment.

  Linda pressed into Dan's embrace and whispered, "That, sir, is the look of a woman falling in love, Father's way."

  "Really? And how do you know that, Mrs Harop?"

  "I have been there, Mr Harop."

  *~*~*~*

  Chapter 35

  The past five days aboard the tiny wooden boat had stretched An-Dung’s patience to the limit. People were in his face everywhere he turned and personal hygiene was anything but personal, while the constant pop, pop, pop of the engine exhaust was driving him nuts. Day and night the deafening noise continued, until he felt like he was about to scream. It was impossible to hold a conversation and the close quarters, body odour and the constant, gentle rolling of the boat were making him feel sick, to the point of distraction.

  His ire rose when his thoughts turned to Cong and his determin
ed coup. If he had, taken care of him, as so many of the guard had suggested, he wouldn’t be aboard this nightmare boat, but enjoying his spacious freedom afforded by his position. He couldn’t do anything about his current circumstance and tried to deflect the anger eating at him and concentrate on something else.

  His attention turned instead to the recent, amusing incident that had bolstered morale aboard the wooden tub. It had been four days since Mot Lang Quen had put a group of young, cocky Thai pirates out of business, sending their venture to the bottom of the South China Sea and changing their outlook, from tormenters to tormented, in a matter of moments. It was an ironic situation that had a twist. Mot Lang Quen had been responsible for the downfall of the Thai pirates and in an indirect way, he was also the tool Cong had used to dethrone him and sink his kingdom, too.

  The weather had been fine and humid and the seas calm. Feeling the need for some space, he used the premise of the relative calm to join the old man at the back of the boat, a position that was off limits to the passengers when the sea turned rough. An-Dung tried to engage the old man in conversation, but all he would offer was schedule and weather updates. Natuna Besar was within a day's sailing, according to the old man. They would take on fresh supplies and fuel before tackling the Selat Sunda Straits, between Java and Sumatra and then, the open Indian Ocean.

  Even though the Java Sea between Java and Borneo was a safer prospect, weather wise, the seaward side of Jakarta would offer less traffic and less chance of attracting attention. They would sail halfway between Java and Christmas Island, one of Australia's furthermost islands and head east, using the South Java current to reach Ashmore Island and hopefully, attract the attention of the navy, just off the northern coast of Australia.

  The old man had chosen to take a less direct route to Australia. It was a lot longer, but would be a much safer route, considering who he had aboard. Criminal groups would not expect him to take such a long detour and find him in these parts, especially taking into account the time of year and the size of the boat.