Paul McKellips - Jericho 3

“Hell, I’d rather die!” Sea Bee yelled to the shock of both Ruth and Dr. Blauw. “Almost 50 years on a dairy farm, and you want me to give up bacon and cheese and hop on a treadmill? Why, just so I can live another four years?”

Blauw lowered his eyes and stayed silent as Seabury calmed down.

“We’ll also start you on some medications, Mr. Campbell. I’m going to start you with Donepezil, or maybe Aricept, and see if your system can handle it. We may go to Memantine in order to regulate the glutamate if we need to.”

“Dr. Blauw, will any of these pills cure Alzheimer’s?” Ruth asked.

“No, no I’m sorry, but currently there’s no cure for AD. We’re working on it, all over the world in fact, and we’ve had breakthroughs but no cure yet. I spend almost half of my time here doing research with animals, trying to find the next puzzle piece in the equation.”

“Are there any other options? Fish, beans, walks and pills, anything else?” Ruth asked.

“Well, there are some clinical studies.”

“What do you mean?” Ruth asked.

“It’s one of the last phases of the biomedical research process. A scientist has an idea and writes a grant to NIH. NIH awards money, and researchers, oftentimes at universities, conduct basic animal research. The discoveries are then acquired by pharmaceutical and biotech companies as intellectual property. Then they try to develop a medicine or a therapy that targets your disease and is also safe to take. If those applied animal studies are successful, then the Food and Drug Administration authorizes a limited clinical trial where patients with that disease take an experimental medicine, therapy or procedure. That’s a human clinical trial.”

“Well, I don’t think Seabury will be a human guinea pig,” Ruth said.

“Now wait a minute, Ruth, I like it. My son’s out there on the front lines of God-only-knows-where. The least I can do is get on the front lines of this damn thing,” Seabury said with a new sense of purpose. “When do I start?”

“Well, there are several trials we can choose from. I can make some calls and see which ones will take you. You’re not what we call ‘early-onset,’ so options are limited. I can call you in the next week, to discuss what’s out there.”

“Dr. Blauw, please just set it up with Colonel Raines. She understands all of this gobbledygook better than we do,” Ruth rendered as she stood up and reached for Seabury’s hand.

“I appreciate that, but due to doctor-patient confidentiality, I can only discuss this with immediate family members unless you provide a waiver.”

“Well, I’ll sign whatever you want.”

“Very well,” Blauw said as he wrote out a prescription for Aricept.

Ruth signed the waiver at the nurse station then pulled Sea Bee out of Exam Room #3 on her hand-leash.

FOB Lightning

Paktya Province, Afghanistan

US Army Captain “Sonny” Sanchez closed the door to the private dining room in the DFAC and then put a chain and padlock through the two metal door handles. Fourteen men sat around the four dining room tables, including Camp and Finn.

“Gentlemen, next time y’all call in Special Forces, please make sure you get here on time. We don’t like to wait,” Sanchez said to start the meeting.

“Sorry, captain, but we’re at the mercy of your Army’s ring routes. The birds get here when the birds get here,” Finn said with a little irritation.

“Once we got the order from General Ferguson, we drove 180 miles through the mountains and IEDs at night in the middle of March and made it here on time. I expect the same moving forward from both of you.”

“Captain, I presume you’re aware that Captain Campbell here is a Navy O-6 and a former SEAL?”

“I don’t care if he’s Santa Claus, and you’re his elf. This is my mission, and we go by my book and my clock. Clear?”

“Crystal!” Camp said with a reassuring smile. He liked Sanchez already.

“And no more ranks and honorifics. ‘Sanchez’ is good enough. We’re Special Forces Operation Detachment Alpha, based out of Kandahar for now, soon to be your best friends. Before we get started, I need to ask who else knows about this mission.”

“What mission?” Camp recited with a straight face.

“Let’s keep it that way. Campbell and Finn, any nicknames we should use?”

“Call me Camp.”

“Well, Finn is kinda short as is. Call me Billy if you need to.”

“Camp and Finn it is. Before we do the brief and work on the plan, just want you both to know that we muster in the truck pool at 0200. We’ll leave sometime after that. One assault pack each, bring your own food, medical and kit for at least seven days. We’ll restock later. We have extra gear that you’ll receive at the appropriate time. Questions?”

Neither Camp nor Finn flinched. It wasn’t their first rodeo.

“All of us read the SITREP ya’ll wrote for Command in Kabul with regard to your female IED and the intel gathered. Likewise, we have a copy of the video you saw at Command, and we’ve already begun to assess clothing, flags, weapons — including hi-res serial numbers — backgrounds and acoustics. We’ve also asked for an assist from Langley for video upload plot points. What about the Terp? Does she expect anything or assume anything is going to happen?”

“We literally walked over here from the LZ. I haven’t even stopped in the Troop Medical Clinic to see her. She might be dead for all I know,” Camp said.

“Roger, then stay away from the TMC and do NOT, repeat, do NOT have contact with her again until mission completion.”

“Aye, aye Sanchez… but she traded information for the safe return of her son. What are we going to do with that?”

“Not a damn thing, Camp, but when you return from this mission you can tell her whatever you think she wants to hear. No other rescue than Major Banks has been authorized for the mission. Anything else? Good. First we cover mission planning, then we roll for rehearsals, mission and re-entry. Brick?”

“Gentlemen, I’m the CW2 on this detachment. Sanchez will take Team One, and I’ve got Team Two. I’ve created the mission plan for both and will run the rehearsals. Once I say we’re prepared to execute the mission, Sanchez will then brief the plan to Command. Once they approve, we stage and go,” Brick said as he searched the room for questions.

Brick was a tactical expert, a Chief Warrant Officer, grade two as commissioned by the President of the United States.

“Fine, let me introduce the team,” Brick continued. “Manson is our Master, he and Colt have weapons; Geek and Chip have intel; Ham and Dex take the comms; Dino and Jazz run demolitions; while Country and Bulldog handle engineering. Lynch and Veggie have medical. Camp, you’re going to shadow Veggie since you’re a Doc, and Finn you work with Geek on intel. We normally roll in two seven-man elements, but with you two added we’re going eight each with this mission,” Brick finished and took his seat.

“Just in case anyone decides to get loose lips on Skype or with Terps in the TMC… the mission plan will be spelled out once we hit stage at the rehearsal point. Questions? Good. See you at 0200,” Sanchez said as he walked over to the front of the private dining room, entered his combination and pulled the chain and padlock off the DFAC door.

University Hospital, Clinic and Research Center

Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

Lieutenant Colonel Raines walked quickly through the front doors of the University Hospital, Clinic and Research center and took the elevator to the fourth floor where a glass-enclosed sky-bridge walkway would take her over to the research center and labs.