Daniel Wyatt - The Mary Jane Mission

Tiger tried to be as quiet as possible, but when he went to move his right leg, a branch beneath his boot snapped. The old man heard it and looked over. He called to someone inside. Two women appeared through the door. All three took a set of steps down to the ground and walked towards the noise the old man had heard.

Once they got closer, Tiger stood and moved out directly in front of them.

MARY JANE

Captain Clayton informed the crew that the bomber was now outside enemy fighter range, and that they could relax.

Gabriel Schwartz began to fall asleep in the tail.

Mark Crosby lit up a cigarette and leaned back in his chair. He had done his job, but too bad it had gone for naught. It bothered him that they had to abort. He daydreamed about his wife and being home with her. He missed her something fierce. The war would be over soon, and he’d finally see her face to face for the first time in over a year.

Nevin Brown returned to reading his pocket book, listening in his headphones.

Butch Emerson was still shaking after the disarming episode in the bomb bay. The whole ship — the whole mission — fell on his shoulders. Relieved it was over, he could go back to concentrating on his controls. Barring any mishap, they would make it to Tinian, with a few minutes of fuel to spare.

Paul Lunsford and Carl Loran were still feeling frustrated that the mission hadn’t materialized. They both wondered if someone had infiltrated the mission — someone other than Ainsworth — and had the atomic strike canceled. Clayton convinced the crew, however, that they had no choice but to obey orders and abort. The codename — Electron — was given and that was that!

Dwight Marshall busied himself plotting the course home. “NAVIGATOR TO COMMANDER. TURN THREE DEGREES LEFT FOR CORRECTION,” he said into the intercom. “ONE HOUR AND FIFTEEN MINUTES TO IWO JIMA.” He then returned to his log notes.

Just then, the bomber lurched, as if it hit an air pocket. Brown heard a strong radio station that made him sit up. He listened for several seconds, then contacted Clayton. “RADIO TO COMMANDER.”

“COMMANDER HERE.”

“I JUST HEARD A RADIO REPORT. THERE’S A TYPHOON WARNING FOR THE MARIANAS.”

“WHAT RADIO STATION? OUT HERE?”

“SOUNDS WEIRD TO ME, TOO, SIR. BUT SHE’S COMING IN STRONG.” The bomber hit another air pocket. “WHOOPS, THERE IT GOES. I CAN’T GET IT ANYMORE. ISN’T THAT THE GOOFIEST.”

Clayton shook his head. What was with these air pockets all day? “I GUESS THE WORST ISN’T OVER YET. THANKS NEVIN.”

GUAM

Cameron and Robert entered the busy grocery store to stock up for the arrival of Typhoon Matilda. They were staying, although Denise and Edna had already flown out. The other Agana shoppers had the same idea as the two war vets. Robert had a transistor radio with him and listened as they turned into the first aisle.

“Listen to this, Phil,” Robert said, turning the volume up.

According to the weather report, the eye of the storm was within 400 miles of Guam. An immediate typhoon watch was declared. The two men looked at each other, concerned. This did not necessarily mean that Guam was in any immediate danger, the announcer went on to say, but it was a possibility. The movements of typhoons were always unpredictable. The eye was centered on the island of Pulap, Caroline Islands, to the southeast, where winds were reaching 135 miles per hour ahead of the storm, 120 miles per hour around the center, and the waves were reaching forty feet in height. To add to it all, eight inches of rain had pelted the island in only a few hours. The islanders were advised to stay tuned for the next advisory and be prepared to act if the watch was updated to a warning.

The trouble with warnings was that they could come a precious few hours before the typhoon’s advance, making it too late to snap up any emergency items. Les had experienced a typhoon already and he knew that once a watch became a warning, no one would find a flashlight battery or candle anywhere on the island. That’s why he had told his guests to get moving now, even before the watch was officially announced.

Robert turned the radio off and placed it in the buggy. Cameron leaned over Robert’s shoulder and checked the list that Gail had written for them. It was plain to see the groceries had to meet three major requirements. First, they shouldn’t have to be refrigerated. Second, they shouldn’t need to be cooked at all or very little. Third, nothing that would make people thirsty. So salty items were out . Luncheon meats, tuna, salmon, unsalted crackers, canned fruits, chocolate bars were in . Also listed were batteries, paper cups and plates, plastic forks, spoons, and knives. At the bottom of the list was… FILL CAR UP WITH GAS! They had already done that.

“I’ll get the utensils, Bob. I saw them at the front of the store when we came in.”

“Thanks.”

Cameron walked to the front and looked out the long glass window. Outside, the palm trees were swaying. The winds were gusting. At last report, seventy miles per hour. The sky loomed dark over Agana. Some rain was falling. Cameron bent down to a lower shelf and grabbed a small box of assorted cutlery and a package of thick cardboard plates. Although paper towels weren’t on the list, he snatched two rolls on his way back to the cart.

“Quite the vacation we’re having,” he said to Robert.

“Yeah.”

“You know, come to think of it, I can’t remember the last time I went grocery shopping.”

“Me neither,” Robert chuckled.

Half an hour later, they placed the groceries in the back of Gail’s station wagon, struggling against the strong winds. During the drive to Les’s house, Cameron, in the passenger seat, remembered a lecture he had given to high school kids a year ago. How ironic. He told the audience that the Hiroshima atomic blast was equal to 20,000 tons of TNT. But that was nothing compared to an average-sized hurricane or typhoon, which was the equivalent of 500,000 Hiroshima atomic bombs. The reason a tropical storm did not result in as much damage as a nuclear blast, he had said, was that a storm was spread out over a large area, perhaps three or four hundred miles and not concentrated on one “ground zero.” But, all the same, what power! And here he was in the middle of a typhoon.

Les and Gail were very organized. By the time Robert and Cameron had delivered the groceries into the kitchen, the young couple had deployed the emergency preparations. They had various containers filled with water and stationed at areas throughout the house. Even the bathtub was filled to the top. They weren’t taking any chances. In a matter of hours the city’s water supply could be contaminated by flooding — by either salt water or sewage — or be cut off entirely. On the kitchen counter were two flashlights, another battery-operated radio, a kerosene lamp, and a half-dozen tall candles. In the basement, where the group would weather the typhoon if it reached Guam, was a supply of toilet paper and two covered pails lined with plastic sheets — the emergency sanitary facilities.

Les helped with the first set of groceries bags, then said to his father and Cameron, “The latest weather advisory from the Typhoon Center has just updated the storm to a watch.”

“Here we go,” Robert replied.

JAPAN

The nearest person to Tiger was a young girl about fourteen. The old man stepped in front of her and looked the pilot up and down, while another girl, who had to be about eighteen, stayed back some feet.

“You are American,” the old man said in English, with a heavy Japanese accent.