SEAL's Code (6 page)

“Son, you just passed the first test required to become a proud Army-strong recruit. Come on over to my desk and let me tell you about the destiny that awaits you.”

Fuck that.
He turned and faced the Air Force recruiter, dressed in a starched light blue short-sleeved shirt, stitched and patched with insignias he didn’t understand. His dark pants fit loosely, with a well-pressed line down the front from his waistband to the cuffs overflowing his boots. The sandy-haired man had freckles.

“Nice to meet you,” the man said as he extended his hand. “I’m Staff Sargent Brian Gibson. Welcome.”

“Thanks,” said Danny. “I like your jets.”

“Oh yeah, we got jets!” Gibson wiggled his eyebrows. “You fly?”

“Not yet, but always wanted to.”

“Not a problem. We can teach you how to, if that’s what you want to do.”

A lanky young man in a khaki-colored shirt waited until Danny eyed him and completed his handshake with the Air Force recruiter.

“We have jets too,” the Navy recruiter said.

“My buddy works your boat crew,” Danny said.

“The
SWCC
boats? That’s a helluva job.”

“Dangerous.”

“Not
for
everyone,” Gibson corrected.

Danny felt himself tense up. His eyes narrowed as he stared back to the man who had just issued him a challenge. “Let’s talk.”

They sat behind a grey metal, scuffed, and dented desk with a rubberized top like one Danny had seen at the nurse’s office at school. It appeared to be from the 1950’s. A bone colored, four-drawer file cabinet with a cactus plant perched precariously on top of it was all the adornment in the room. The rest of the walls were bare.

“Just moved in here,” the recruiter said. “I’m Petty Officer Oscar Green.”

His handshake was limp, something Danny detested. On the corner of Green’s desk were two plastic brochure holders containing pictures of troops in rubber boats braving a raging jungle river, sending a thirty-foot spray from the rear. The other brochure was entitled, “‘Only Easy Day Was Yesterday’,” and it had a picture of a man jumping out of the back of a transport plane, above the picture of a sniper covered in camo. He fingered the boat crew brochure as he spoke to Green.

“This is what my cousin does.”

“Yeah. The SWCC boats. Where’s he stationed?”

“San Diego.”

“Ah, Coronado,” Green corrected.

Danny didn’t like the subtle put-down.

“You like jets? We have an elite Navy pilot program. You’re gonna have to score pretty high on the ASVAB to get in. And you
do
have a college degree?”

Danny liked Green even less as the seconds ticked by.

“Wilson got into this, and he’d just graduated high school.”

“Wilson? Wilson Begay? The Navajo boy?”

He reeled at the affront. “Yes, he’s Dine, and so am I.”

“Your people helped us win World War II. We owe a lot to you Native Americans. You know the story of the Code Talkers and such?”

He wanted to tell the man about his grandfather, but didn’t like that it would seem like he was kissing up to the man. He would never kiss up to this man, no matter how much he wanted his information. “Look, I only have a little time. Catching a bus to the airport to fly back to Northern California. Can we cut the crap?”

“Sure. What’s on your mind?”

“I like what he does, but is this considered better? These SEALs?”

“Son, I wouldn’t get your hopes up. Ask Wilson about what it took. He barely passed.”

“But he passed.”

“He did.”

“So, of these two, which one—” Danny decided to change his tactic. “Which one do you think I would have the most difficulty getting into?”

Without hesitation, Green tapped the top of the SEALs brochure. “This one. No doubt about it.”

“Then that’s the one I want.” Danny picked up the brochure and walked out without saying goodbye to any of the men, who stood at ease, watching his hulking frame leave their sorry asses behind. He didn’t want anyone who knew anything about his family to be the one to sign him up. But he knew exactly what he was going to do when he got back to California.

‡

L
uci Tohe’s knees
were still wobbly. After the incredible night with Danny, she’d gone to the school, though it was a Saturday. Hoping to catch up on some of the work she’d walked away from on Friday. The phone call about her uncle, necessitated a trip to the Blue Fox.

The futility of their situation sometimes got to her. Between her mother’s small disability check, the tribal money, and Luci’s schoolteacher pay, they were barely able to make ends meet. She saved all her spare money for Sarah’s education, and had managed to store away enough for her first year, if they could find some kind of housing scholarship. Arizona had lots of scholarships available, but she’d have to stay in state. Sarah had her heart set on going to an art college in San Francisco.

Only three little years to go until Sarah was done with high school. Luci had already held her position at the school for three.

Halfway to having a life of my own.

Teaching wasn’t a bad job. And she had to be honest, though she’d told Danny otherwise, she did feel a calling to help some of her younger Navajo brothers and sisters learn so they had the possibility of getting off the res; or staying on it and finding a way to prosper without resorting to selling drugs or doing something else illegal to make fast money.

That was the problem with the kids, she thought. They wanted a sexier life in the city, but didn’t have the money to spend like they wanted to, or travel like they wanted to. Her forefathers had been stuck on the reservation because they weren’t given permission to leave, even during the World War II time when some of their nation were called and served in the Marines as Code Talkers. For many of those boys, it was their first time outside of the land of the Four Corners.

Now, Dine youth were stuck on the reservation because of economics. Tending herds of goats or sheep, and sitting by the fire telling stories like the older generation did, somehow wasn’t interesting enough. And the old way was not to talk in a braggadocios manner, so some of the great stories of heroism and sacrifice fell on ears of those who were texting or watching TV. They were turning away from the old ways.

Luci was a girl of ten when her uncle approached her about having sex with him. She’d resisted him every time he caught her alone. Telling her mother didn’t do any good, either, until one time one of her
new papas
heard about Corwin propositioning Luci and beat him to a pulp. Many in the community hailed Ray as a hero and wished he’d killed her uncle, but instead it sent Ray off to the slammer for a year, Luci was beaten by her mother every night for a week, and she still had to dodge her uncle’s advances. That only lasted a few weeks. A Tribal policeman and his FBI counterpart witnessed one of those attempts, and that’s what sent her uncle away.

So, the news that Corwin was possibly coming home, was not welcome. He’d fallen in with a gang in prison. One of her male cousins, who braved visiting him told Luci he had new inkings on his face, of all places. To mark a man’s face was to leave a permanent mark on a person’s soul.

Luci knew when he got out, his total focus would be on her and her little sister. This time she didn’t fear for her female dignity. She feared for her
life
.

Luci scanned her classroom. It was reflective of the colors of their land. She used the shades of the rich rose-colored mountains, the milk chocolate colored earth, and the faded greens of the cactus and brush that grew there.

Her English Honors class could hang with the best of them, she was proud to say. If she could just keep them interested long enough, they’d make it out of high school, into college somewhere, and hopefully, to some kind of future. What she didn’t want was for them to forget their roots, their heritage. They were natural born writers and poets, as well as working with things of the earth like reeds, silver, and stones. These days wool was plenty, though the weavers and other artists were decreasing in numbers.

Raging hormones were taking over, and the kids had difficulty with the old stories and ways, preferred gangsta rap and emulating the prison stroll and lifestyle. She wished she could have gotten off the res, could take her sister now, like Danny’s mother had done. But she had no money to do so unless she friended one of the wealthy tribal boys who drove fast cars, souped-up pickups, and flashed cash like it was water. She was ashamed to admit to herself that she’d even considered this. For the sake of her sister.

‘You thrash like a scared doe in the woods, little one,’
he had said before he placed his mouth on her flesh and kissed her tenderly. She’d told herself she liked things rough, and she couldn’t get attached to the man having sex with her. But last night, he’d made her cry with the beauty of who he was, as if some ancient medicine man had sprung up inside his body and had placed his sacred corn pollen inside her belly. The encounter in his bed was like tasting forbidden fruit, something too sweet and fragrant to last.

Before turning off the lights to head home, she took one more look at her classroom. Like the sand paintings of her people, it was order out of chaos. Patterns and colors uniquely their own, with chaos all around them outside the safety of the school walls.

When she arrived home, Sarah was studying in the living room where the light was brightest. She was playing country music in the background, turned down low.

“Where’s Mama?” Luci asked, as she hung up her jacket and set down the large satchel, which doubled as a school resource catchall and overnight bag.

“Said she was going out looking for you. Where
were
you?”

Luci noticed an edge to Sarah’s tone. She smelled fear.

“I told her I’d be late,” she said while pawing through the refrigerator.

“She had company last night, and they didn’t leave until very late.”

“They?” Luci examined Sarah’s complexion since her younger sister wouldn’t look her in the eye.

“Two of them this time.”

“As in they took turns?” Luci could not imagine her mother had stooped this low.

“No. Not quite. Only one of them stayed with mama.” Sarah still wouldn’t look at her.

Luci’s stomach churned. Staring down at the shiny, long hair of her fair-skinned sister, Luci was sure she’d see a blush on her pink cheeks. She’d long suspected Sarah’s father was a white man.

“Sarah, next time this happens, you call me. No way should you be around this.”

Sarah leaned back in her chair and set her pencil down. Her eyes were filled with tears and her lower lip quivered. Luci was instantly at her side.

“Tell me they didn’t hurt you.”

“Mother’s changing, Luci. The alcohol and other stuff is making her brain crazy. She offered…”

Luci pulled Sarah into her arms and let the young girl sob into her chest.

“Tell me. Tell me everything.”

“Nothing to tell,” Sarah said between sobs. “After mother left for the bedroom with the other man, he whispered to me I’d be okay. He was different. Asked me to pretend he’d roughed me up a bit, make it look good. Oh God, Luci. I was so scared.”

“So she stayed home at least last night,” said Luci.

“I don’t remember what time they left, but it definitely was before sunrise, Luci. She woke me up, said they were going to get stuff for breakfast.” Sarah looked at her watch and solemnly shook her head.

Luci had always wondered how a child could bring himself or herself to kill their parents. Now she understood.

‡

S
pecial Agent James
Logan’s undercover name was James Akee. He’d been working with a special task force, funded by a grant from Washington, set up to stop the proliferation of violence and drug use at the Navajo Reservation. A number of young girls had been reported missing and they thought there was a connection.

Runaways only happened once or twice a year, which was still too often. Years later, the community would find the girl in Las Vegas or Los Angeles, usually strung out on drugs and doing tricks. But lately, they’d found two girls left dead on the side of the road, and rather than a rare occurrence, it was becoming a larger and larger problem; so much so, that the citizens of the reservation wanted action.