The Crucible. Joaquin De Torres

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СКАЧАТЬ mind. “I still don’t understand what he was saying about the McClusky. Why did he even go there?” Kristina looked away evasively. Becca saw the door closing in Kristina’s eyes and dove for the knob.

      “All right, Kristina, what the hell is up? What’s wrong? There is a connection between you and the McClusky isn’t there? Something you haven’t told me. Please, tell me now. Don’t make me Google it!” Kristina nodded her head slowly, realizing that this was something she could no longer hide from her. She suddenly sniffed the air.

      “Are you cooking something in the kitchen?” she asked Becca.

      “No. We’re just having ice cream.” At that, Kristina looked at the far corner of the couch and saw a young man sitting behind Becca. His entire body was horribly burned; his uniform, skin and hair were gone; wisps of smoke curled off his grotesque body.

      “Go on,” the hideous vision said. “Tell her.” She closed her tearing eyes and opened them again. He was gone. But the room closed in around her, transforming. Her living room shifted, then morphed into the dark maze of stacked sleeping bunks. Her walls of framed art and photos blurred into gray bulkheads crawling with piping, air ducks and metal rivets. She was walking through berthing, making her way passed the sleeping bunks with her cleaning crew to the outer passageway locker where buckets and mops were stored. Everyone around her was happy and excited to go home in just two days. But first, the McClusky had to be cleaned before going into port. Kristina was there.

      “I had just exited berthing when the missile struck.” Her voice was a numb echo as she recounted. “Eight feet above the waterline it punched through the portside and severed the fire fighting water main. Then it separated into two parts, sending ignited fuel and shrapnel through the berthing area I was just in.”

      Becca’s eyes widened. The tears flowed freely now as Kristina's voice began to quake. Becca pulled right up to her and held her hands firmly.

      “The warhead detonated just ten feet forward of the first impact point. The solid propellant and fuel ignited, sending liquid fire through the berthing area.”

      “Oh my God!”

      “Temperatures reached 3,500 degrees. The overhead and adjacent compartments had already begun to melt when the temperature reached 1,500 degrees.” She looked up to Becca. “I watched those sailors burn to death. I froze as some people in the area tried to fight the fire. I sat in a corner unable to move at all. Instead of helping, I just watched them burn. Their bodies burned and I just sat there! They were still alive! They were screaming and crawling, begging for help. Becca, I couldn't move! I COULDN'T MOVE!” Becca pulled her in, cradling her tightly in her arms. Kristina quaked uncontrollably, wailing like a wounded animal.

      “Shhh, baby. It's okay. It's okay. I'm here with you. I'm here.” Becca quietly rocked her. After several long moments, she pulled back to look at Kristina’s face. She used her fingers to gently wipe away her tears while softly kissing her forehead reassuringly. Her quaking finally subsided, as she kept her head against Becca's chest.

      “I can't ever imagine seeing that again,” she whispered. “That's why I could never be a commanding officer.”

      “You were only 18. Things would be different.”

      “No. I can't ever erase those memories, those visions--the smell. They haunt me still. It all paralyzes me. If the situation happened again, I would freeze again, I know it. I couldn't help anyone then, and I wouldn't be able to help anyone now.”

      “You're wrong, Kristina. You were just a kid. But you've grown and trained into a strong commander--a strong person.” She pulled away to look Kristina square in the face. “You have to believe in yourself again.”

      “My father tried to--”

      “Your father is so proud of you, but even if he does get you out of the Navy, would you be proud of that? Walking away from something you love? Never attaining your dream? Never being able to face your fear and conquer it?”

      “What's my fear, Becca?”

      “This fear of command; this phobia of accepting a position that may put you in harm's way. You've always wanted to be a ship’s captain, not a lab rat. So face this fear and defeat it. Defeat it or you will never be happy. You will never fulfill your destiny. And the nightmares. . .will continue.”

      “You ask too much of me.”

      “Then let me ask you this: Who do you think would be more capable of leading a crew through such a horrid experience?”

      “Becca, no. It can't be me. It could never be me.”

      “It could only be you. Otherwise, we all would die. And the second chance to act, the second chance that God gives some people to overcome their past mistakes, would be wasted. Could you live with that?”

      “Why are you doing this to me?”

      “Because I love you; and I want you to receive everything you deserve. Baby, I would follow you into hell. And if such a horrible situation ever came up, there is no one better in the Navy who could get us through something like that.” Kristina was fixed on Becca's penetrating eyes, trying desperately to find faith and reason. When she opened her mouth, words that seemed locked forever in a cage, somehow were set free.

      “Help me, Becca. I want to believe. Help me get over this.” The tears flooded her eyes again, but she didn't look away. Becca pulled her back into her arms, the tears now streaming from her eyes.

      “I'll never leave you.”

      Chapter 8

      Wolf Among Sheep

      La Perouse Strait

      North of Rebun Jima

      Sea of Japan

      Beneath the thick bank of fog there was utter chaos. The strait was cluttered with merchant vessels and cargo ships traversing in both directions, churning the waters violently on a nearly invisible morning.

      Late November, before the customary winter closing of the strait because of ice packs, the nerves of the ship captains were as tumultuous as the waters themselves. Held out to sea for days because of seasonal storms lashing the Asian coasts; their cargos of grains, vegetables and other perishables already beginning to rot, many captains began to ‘run the strait’ at high speeds to make up for the lost time. Overdue cargoes meant reduced earnings and bruises to reputations.

      With their surface radars sweeping giant swaths ahead of them, search lights beaming to give notice and collision bullhorns blaring, the huge and lumbering vessels barreled forth at high speed. Running the strait was illegal for it was the reason for several fatal collisions in the past. But for the captains, it was a necessary tactic, and a crime worth committing. For three days vessels were alerted of the dangerous traveling conditions in the strait via the La Perouse International Shipping Safety Broadcast which vessels monitored religiously. Captains monitored the recorded English-language broadcast every three minutes. The broadcast was a warning and specific only to those traveling through the strait. Fishermen eager to fill their nets with the seasonal boon of huge halibut and carp needed the greatest vigilance as they trolled in the paths of the behemoths.

      The La Perouse Strait, СКАЧАТЬ