Chapter 11

Monday

I don’t remember anything else until Juana woke me up this morning. I was still groggy but knew what she had on her mind. “How’s our hero this morning?” she asked happily.

“Half asleep and dreaming that I have a gorgeous woman in bed with me,” I replied, receiving an enthusiastic kiss for my answer.

“Where is everyone else?” I asked, noticing that we were alone.

“School, hunting, or working,” she replied. “You also have a few people coming to see you today,” she said.

“School? What time is it?” I asked, finally opening my eyes enough to see the clock. “Holy shit,” I gasped when I saw that it was 10:26. “I can’t remember the last time I slept this late.

“Is that smoke?” I asked when I caught a quick whiff. I instantly expanded my consciousness to find the fire and discovered that the women in the family, as well as several of the SEALs, had four large cooking fires going outside.

“We’re going to cook several pigs today to help feed the troops and other guests,” Juana replied.

“I should probably go help with the hunting,” I replied as I continued to thrust up into Juana.

“Nope, Don says that you’re only allowed to rest, eat meals, tend to your women, and talk to visitors today,” she replied, laughing. “Besides, Helga went hunting with your brothers this morning. You were so far gone that you didn’t hear your com unit beeping. Sally answered and it was a farmer who wanted to know if you could help eliminate the feral pigs tearing up his fields. Your four brothers and Helga took care of it. They killed fifty-six feral pigs and left half with the farmer to distribute. They brought the rest back and after Aunt Peggy got what she wanted for the smokehouses, they donated the rest to the VFW in Houma and several other nearby towns.”

“Quit,” she giggled, playfully slapping my hands away when I began teasing her.

“Meanie,” I accused teasingly.

“You’ll get all you want today but the other women deserve time with you, too,” she laughed. “Besides, you need to eat breakfast, so you have enough strength to take care of all of us.”

She dragged me into the shower and only let me touch her while she washed me. She took her shower after kicking me out. Don grinned knowingly at me when I exited the bedroom. “Go eat,” he said, nodding towards the kitchen.

Mom, Aunt Peggy, Kamala, Qing, and Ling were in the kitchen, obviously making lunch. Each of them stopped and hugged me when I stuck my head into the kitchen, and then fed me an early lunch. One of the four attorneys for the Lucky Jim Trust was in the dining room when I went in to sit down.

“Can I get you something from the kitchen?” I asked.

“No, I was awake early enough to eat breakfast,” she teased, so I sat down to eat.

“Last night was impressive,” she commented.

“All I really did was find the danger. The sleds and other gear took care of everything else,” I replied once I swallowed the bite of my sandwich. “Ooooohhhhh, my favorite,” I sighed after a second bite of barbecued gator sandwich.

“I was surprised last night at dinner when I found out how good the barbecued alligator was,” she said, grinning.

“Are you excited about being Lucky Jim?” she asked. Fortunately, I’d just finished swallowing another bite of my sandwich.

“Hardly,” I replied grumpily.

“Why not? You’ll be rich, you’ll be famous, and look at how many beautiful wives you have,” she replied questioningly.

“How many reasons do you want?” I chuckled. “First, it requires a lot of time when I have to be away from those beautiful wives, especially since I’ve only been married a little over a week.

“Second, I don’t care about being rich as long as I have enough to provide for my wives. All I need is good soil, livestock, seeds, a good hunting rifle, and plenty of ammunition. The extra food and money are nice so that we can help war widows and their families, but I don’t need them to be happy.

“Third, I have no desire to be famous. I originally hoped that nobody beyond my family would ever know. Even though I only admitted to myself a few days ago that I was Lucky Jim, far too many people know already.

“As for collecting a lot of wives, the women in my life right now were there before I accepted that I was Lucky Jim. They have known me for years. They know that I’m a good provider and a hard worker, and they see how I treat Sally.

“Aside from being happy that we stopped the invasion and missiles last night, I’m not very impressed with my first week as lucky Jim,” I replied and took another bite.

“I’ll admit that I wasn’t surprised when we got another report of someone claiming to be Lucky Jim. We get about one a year, something my grandmother warned me about,” she commented.

“Grandmother?” I asked.

“My grandmother was Evelyn Hancock, Director of the Lucky Jim Historical Society, and the person who verified the last Lucky Jim,” she explained.

“And you’re here to verify my claim?” I asked.

“Yesterday I was with the team of attorneys here to deal with the Army. There was already enough evidence to warrant helping you. Today I’m trying to get to know you a little better. All the other claimants I’ve met have been braggarts and looking forward to money, fame, or both. Their only interest was in themselves.

“A few of them even seemed to have some ability to discern danger, but the ability seemed to be fleeting and didn’t last very long. I’ve already heard about everything you and your family do for charities in the area. I even have reports from other states between Texas and Florida of a hunter on a fancy grav sled dropping off feral pigs to various charities, although the VFW seems to be the most visited charity.

“I heard about you helping to find that kidnapped girl and catching the rustlers in Texas. You’re using your ability to help others, not just to help your family and to try to get rich. Then, despite what the army tried to do yesterday, you went out last night and stopped the invasion the President said wasn’t happening. I think you’ve met the criteria to be named Lucky Jim. Don’t forget, neither of the first two men wanted to be known as Lucky Jim, either,” she reminded me unnecessarily.

I finally laughed. “A catch 22,” I commented ruefully. “To be Lucky Jim you have to want to not be Lucky Jim.” Even Dorothy laughed with me.

“This is just my personal opinion based on what I’ve seen and heard,” she cautioned. “I think that there are a lot more potential Lucky Jims than we are aware of. It’s my opinion that many of them react much as you did initially and decide they don’t want the renown, so they do nothing with the ability. Whether or not they retain any of the luck or the ability to sense danger, I don’t know.

“As I said before, others try to claim or use the ability and the luck for personal gain, not to help others. Of the ones I was able to talk to about it afterwards, all admitted that the luck and ability, along with any wealth they had managed to gain, were gone. I don’t know if it’s significant or not, but none of the ones I know of who lost the ability were redheads,” she said, grinning as she looked at my red hair.

“So, what am I supposed to do now?” I asked her.

“My suggestion would be to continue doing what you normally do. Take care of your family and continue to help other people however you can. If something big comes along with your name on it, I’m sure you’ll be the first to know,” she said with a teasing grin. “Try to remember that you might find it distasteful. Jim I had to lead troops into battle against his fellow countrymen. Jim II had to work with four regimes that he had previously despised. Who knows what, if anything, Jim III will face?

“Remember that you don’t have to manage everything yourself. Both Lucky Jim I and II had a knack for finding the right person to manage the projects they started. They’d start a project or agree to let someone else start something and then provide oversight, letting others manage the business while they looked for additional ways to help more people. You may end up with your fingers in a lot of different pies, as well as being involved with things you barely understand.

“At times, you may feel overwhelmed with all the responsibility. Both previous Jims turned back to farming, hunting, or other physical work when they felt that way. Maybe farming will help you find your balance, maybe hunting will do it, or maybe it will be something entirely different. Whatever it is, find something that helps you maintain your balance,” she advised.

When we finished talking, I found Don and reminded him that I needed to pack up my campsite and recover the chests. “Don’t be gone too long. Brigadier General Conklin, Lt. Commander Ferguson, and Lieutenants Palmer and Grant will be here in a little more than four hours,” he warned.

I hurried out to grab my grav sleds and ran into Helga as she was coming inside. “Hey,” I exclaimed in surprise. “Wanna help me dig up some buried treasure?”

“If you’ll be the pirate, I’ll be your captive and you can ravish me to your heart’s content,” she cooed as she rubbed me suggestively.

“We can do that, too,” I promised, pressing myself against her until she was pressed against the wall behind her. Then I kissed her. It was funny because she was strong enough to escape if she really wanted to unless I used martial arts on her.

We grabbed sleds and zipped to the small island. “Damn seagulls,” I complained when I saw several white splotches all over the top of my tent. Now, I’d have to wash the outside of the tent. After scanning the waters around us to make sure we were alone and wouldn’t be interrupted, Helga grabbed my hand and pulled me into the tent. Within minutes, I was imitating a pirate captain ravishing his surprisingly cooperative and enthusiastic captive. We both had silly grins on our faces when we exited the tent and began breaking down my camp.

Once everything was packed onto the sleds, I grabbed the sledgehammer I had brought as Helga gave me an odd look. “Buried treasure, remember?” I asked her teasingly.

“There really is buried treasure?” she asked, both surprised and excited.

“Just behind the brick wall,” I replied, pointing to the exposed part of the wall I had cleared the sand away from yesterday. As much as I hated breaking the wall and destroying the secret cache, I’d noted yesterday that the latching mechanism and hinges had been completely corroded, probably by the salt water that had filled the cellar with sand.

Giving the “door” part of the wall a hard whack next to one of the hinges, I was sprayed with chips of brick. The bottom corner of the door moved into the opening about two centimeters. I gave the upper corner a solid whack and got a second shower of brick chips as the upper corner moved almost three centimeters. One more whack of the lower corner knocked the left side of the door into the opening. It took two more strikes where the door latched to knock it completely loose.

It took us ten minutes to get a loop of spilon securely around the heavy brick door and to drag the nearly thirty-kilogram slab out of the opening. Once we had it out, Helga and I stood it on edge and let it fall so it was out of our way. I shined a flashlight into the opening and found only what I expected, a thin layer of sand, and the three chests.

I reached in and tried to move the first chest, but it was too heavy; it was even heavier than the brick door had been. After tying spilon cable around the chest, Helga and I braced our feet against the wall and muscled it out. The next two chests weren’t as heavy, even if they were larger than the first one.

Helga wanted to open them right then, but I convinced her to wait until we got home. I used a cargo sling and one of the sleds to lift each chest, setting it carefully on one of the tenders. When all three chests were on tenders, we tied them down securely and then grinned at each other, despite how much we were sweating from the exertion. We were also covered with sand. We spent several more minutes breaking camp and packing the last of our gear on the sled tenders.

Running naked into the cool water of the Gulf, we rinsed off the sand as best we could. We redressed and climbed onto our sleds to make our way home before the expected visitors arrived. Since there were still more than two hundred construction workers, as well as the bivouacked troops, we headed into the barn to unload before uncloaking. Well, I headed into the barn. Helga scurried off to find Sally, who found my other wives and significant others before joining me in the barn to see what we had found.

Already knowing what was in the other chest, I started with the two filled with jewelry. The girls oohed and aahed over each piece as I carefully set it out. “You should let the others come out to see what we have, too. Go take over for someone so they can come out and look,” I told them.

Sally pressed her body against mine suggestively. “If we’re good captives, will the pirate captain let us choose something after he ravishes us?” she asked suggestively.

“We’ll see,” I replied thoughtfully, “but the pirate captain will definitely spank some cute, bare bottoms if his captives don’t get back to work,” I growled as I squeezed said delectable bottom. She gave me a kiss and scurried away, giggling with the other females.

I was still carefully removing the jewelry from the two chests when Aunt Peggy, Mom, and the rest of Don’s wives came in. “What did you find?” Aunt Peggy asked.

“Two chests of jewelry and a chest of gold bars,” I replied, continuing to set out the pieces of jewelry so we could see everything.

They looked at the jewelry. Most of it was necklaces, rosaries, and rings. The necklaces varied from simple, unadorned silver crosses to exquisite, filigreed gold crucifixes, as well as necklaces with enough jewels to buy a small town. The workmanship on the different pieces varied from amateur to master craftsman.

The rosaries had beads of gold, silver, jade, and pearls, as well as one that looked like the beads were made of polished stone that had been strung on a leather thong before the leather deteriorated. I made a mental note of the aura of the jade and the pearls, and recognized the auras of many of the other gems from what I remembered from what Don and I had claimed previously.

Several necklaces had gold or silver doubloons attached to a chain using a bezel. The rings looked to be mostly men’s heavy rings, and many had a large jewel or even a doubloon mounted on the ring. The women continued to rotate through to look at everything. I had been making mental notes about which item or items each woman seemed drawn to, considering giving them as gifts to the women in the family.

The two large jewelry chests appeared to be a matched set. They were fifty cm wide and deep, and seventy-five cm long. Each chest had each been carved from a single piece of wood, and the exterior and top of the chest had once been intricately carved with scenes of wooden sailing ships, carvings that had deteriorated over time.

The smallest chest was thirty-six cm wide and deep, and sixty cm long. That chest looked more like a wooden shipping crate except that the lid was hinged instead of nailed on. The chest was filled with gold ingots and looked as if it had been constructed specifically to fit the ingots. I couldn’t even slip a playing card between the ingots.

Even Don came out to see what I had found and liked my idea of giving some of the jewelry as gifts. He helped me transfer everything into the family vault. “It’s a good thing the new vault will be finished in a couple days,” I chuckled.

“I never foresaw this much loot,” Don said as we stared at everything stacked as neatly as possible on the shelving units and then on the floor. “Your vault will be ten times this size. I’m having them build a second one off the lower tunnel, right beside this house to supplement this vault.”

When we finished, I took a quick shower to wash off the rest of the sand and salt from swimming in the ocean. Don was sitting at a wooden picnic table talking to Brigadier General Conklin, Lt. Commander Ferguson, and Lieutenants Palmer and Grant when I finally made my way back outside. The troops were lined up at two of the spit-roasted pig halves and the women in the family were slicing off thick slabs of meat or dishing up any of a dozen dishes to go with the pork. There was even a roast turkey and smoked tuna for those who didn’t eat pork. I laughed, thinking that it must look like chow time in a mess hall.

I was surprised at how quickly the men were served. Our family members followed, serving themselves even faster. Once we had plates, Don and I led the four officers into his study so we could talk.

“You’ve been busy,” the General said to me with a grin. The other men all chuckled.

“We have three things we’d like to discuss with you,” he said. “First, since you captured the subs, they belong to you. However, the warheads for the missiles are nuclear, and legally, you can’t own or possess fissionable nuclear material. The government proposes to purchase the missiles, as well as any of the submarines you don’t want.

“The problem with that is the government has only recently begun to have enough income to fund the wars without going further into debt. They propose to apply part of what they owe you against whatever taxes you and your family owe each year.

“In addition, the Acting President spoke with a ... Dorothy Shaw...” he said questioningly after referring to his handheld computer screen. “She suggested that they allow you to purchase any public or government-owned land that you want as long as it’s not part of a National Park and the proposed use conforms to existing zoning or to the surrounding area if it’s not zoned.

“Second, the Acting President understands your reluctance to be identified publicly, but still wants to present you with an award. She suggested holding the presentation in the Oval Office with herself, the Secretary of Defense, and the four top leaders of Congress present. She wants one photo, and will have your face blurred in the one they release to the news agencies so that nobody will recognize you,” General Conklin said, almost begging.

I glanced at Don. He had a grim, but knowing smile on his lips as he nodded slightly. “Fine,” I sighed reluctantly.

“I think you’ll like the third thing,” the General said after releasing his own sigh, this one a sigh of relief.

The General nodded to Lt. Commander Ferguson who cleared his throat and looked at me. “Your dad enlightened me about your unique abilities,” he said, making me cringe inside.

“What’s that saying? If you want to keep a secret, tell nobody,” I thought.

“He also explained about the extensive training you have undergone for the last three plus years, as well as your years of experience tracking and hunting since you were four years old.

“We’d like you to come to Fort Bragg for testing to see if you’re up to our standards. Don assures me that you are. If so, we want you to work as a civilian contractor to lead these two squads of SEALs in Nicaragua so we can finally finish off the rebels there and concentrate on Colombia and China. If we do this, your uncle suggests that we let Lieutenants Palmer and Grant make final command decisions, but that they take your observations and suggestions into consideration, especially if you warn them about anything,” he explained.

“They’re okay with listening to me? I’m barely sixteen,” I warned.

“Your actions yesterday were not the actions of a typical sixteen-year-old. After you left, we watched and listened to both the confrontation with the army and then the action that you took against the submarines. You conducted yourself in a very professional manner both times. We want you to get a military physical, and then we’ll run you through some of what the Marine Raider troops have to accomplish to make sure you’re up to it,” Lieutenant Palmer explained. “We won’t have time for Hell Week at this time, so we will defer that for later.”

“I haven’t been trained on how to use a mortar or artillery. We had planned to do that soon, but everything kind of spiraled out of control,” I warned.

“If you pass everything else, we’ll see about getting you basic instruction in areas where you need it. Everyone else on the two squads knows how to use a mortar and you won’t be teaching anyone how to use a mortar or artillery, so you’re good there,” he said.

Once again, I looked at Don and he nodded again. This time, he had a huge grin on his face. “Any idea how long the testing will take, and do you have a rough idea of how long it will take to deal with the last of the Nicaraguan rebels?” I asked.

Lt. Commander Ferguson replied, “The testing will probably take one to four weeks. After that, it will probably take a week to a month of training with the troops so you’re all on the same page. The rebels ... who knows? Optimistically, I’d say two months, but six months would be more realistic. Your dad says it will only take two weeks once we reach Nicaragua, so take your choice.”

“When do you want to do this?” I asked.

“The sooner, the better,” he replied. “We’d like to have the operation already underway in case President Atkinson makes it back into office. Few enough people will know about this operation that he may not find out about it until it’s too late if he’s reinstated.”

“How about tomorrow? I can be there any time you need me to be there,” I offered.

Lt. Commander Ferguson thought for a few seconds. “If you can be at the front gate at 0600, I can have someone there to meet you. They’ll get your physical started immediately. We have a flight out of Port Fourchon at 0500 so we should be back about the same time that you finish your physical. Then we can assess your conditioning and marksmanship, and run you through the other physical testing,” he mused aloud.

“Sounds good,” I replied. “You’ll want a second person to meet me at the gate to receive my weapons. I’ll bring my own 10 mm assault rifle and sidearm, as well as 11 mm and 13 mm sniper rifles. I’ll do the marksmanship testing with both my own and standard issue rifles and pistols to see how they compare.”

“Those were some fancy weapons that you were carrying last night,” he commented.

“Next generation weapons we’re trying to get the military to look at,” Don explained. “They integrate with the targeting system of the grav sleds as well as the newest combat helmet. They’re lighter, more durable, and more resistant to problems from humidity and precipitation. They have a larger magazine and have integrated sound and flash suppressors. Oh, and they jam much less frequently. Like you said, the government is just getting to the point where the wars aren’t pushing them deeper into debt, so they’ve been reluctant to start changing battle rifles, even to see a significant improvement.”

“I’ll have to try them,” Lt. Commander Ferguson commented. With our business concluded, the three officers headed outside to be with their troops.

“Excited?” Don asked me once they left the study.

“Yeah, but I’m also bummed,” I replied. “I just got married and have two more women waiting to marry me, but I’m headed off to Nicaragua for who knows how long.”

Sally came in about then, her face a mix of pride and grim determination. “When do you leave?” she asked tersely. “Peggy warned us,” she said when she saw my surprise that she already knew. “We were upset at first, but she explained that it was something you had to do. Helping people is just part of who you are. She also reminded us that Don said you’d be fine,” she added emotionally.

“I leave about four tomorrow morning. Tomorrow, I get a physical and then start physical conditioning testing. I should be at Fort Bragg for about a month. If they think I’m ready, we’ll leave after that. If not, they’ll schedule more training. Don thinks it will only take a couple of weeks in Nicaragua. Lt. Commander Ferguson thinks two to six months,” I replied.

“Take as long as you need to make sure that you come back safely,” she said tearfully as she hugged me.

After Sally had finished hugging me, Don and I loaded two grav sled tenders. The second tender was loaded with ammunition and pencil sticks for the sleds. The second sled had my arms, as well as ammunition and magazines for them.

“Com me if you need more ammo. I can have it to you in an hour or two,” Don said. He made sure that I had two sets of each of the three primary rifles I used, so Lt. Commander Ferguson and the others could try them.

The tender for my sled carried everything that wasn’t weapon related. I made sure the magazines for the onboard 10 mm on my sled and the tubes for the pencil sticks were empty.

The women were obviously upset when I got back inside, but they had my clothing packed by the time I got to the bedroom. I took it outside and secured it on my sled tender before returning to the bedroom. Even though it was still light outside, we went to bed, but it was much later before they let me go to sleep.

Tuesday

I was surprised that breakfast was waiting for me this morning. Everyone over the age of five was awake to see me off. “You boys remember what I taught you about hunting safely and in pairs,” I told my four brothers that I had taught about my hunting system.

“We will, and we will get to help with catching shrimp this year,” Joe said proudly.

“I’ve got a standing offer of help from several men in town who want shrimp, in addition to the ones who accompany us every year. I’ll let the boys start learning how to help on the boat and then have them ferry blocks of frozen shrimp ashore,” Don explained when he saw my concerned look. I’d started to worry thinking that only the four boys would be there to help Don.

Then my mothers descended on me, hugging me, and telling me to stay safe. Mom looked proud once you saw beyond her tears. My wives did much the same except they were a lot more physical. When they finally released me, Don shook my hand and gave me an emotional hug. “Do us proud,” he said, his voice tight with emotion as he released me.

Before tears could cloud my eyes too much, I was on the grav sled. With a final wave to everyone, I cloaked and headed into the cloud-filled pre-dawn sky. I had to climb to two thousand meters to get out of the clouds. While my nav computer kept me on course and warned of any other air traffic within two hundred klicks, flying through the clouds was cold and wet, and it was colder above the clouds. Having noted the clouds this morning, I had worn my rain gear and thermal clothing. Fifty-two minutes after leaving home, I cruised up to the gate at Fort Bragg.

“Jim Reynolds reporting as per Lt. Commander Ferguson’s request. Someone is supposed to meet me to show me where to go and someone else is to receive my arms and ordnance,” I explained.

“Ward, Caplan, your visitor has arrived,” the gate guard shouted to someone inside the guard shack.

“Weapons?” Petty Officer Caplan asked me.

“Everything is on the second grav sled,” I replied.

“Fancy,” he commented, looking them over.

“I shut off and locked the onboard weapons systems,” I told him, getting a look of surprise in return. I didn’t tell him that I also limited it to three meters above ground and a top speed of fifty knots.

“They’ll be safely locked in the armory,” he assured me as he climbed aboard.

“Follow me,” Petty Officer Ward said, hopping aboard a second generation grav sled. “You transferring into the Marine Raiders?” he asked when he slowed and pulled back alongside me. “The schedule I have shows you getting a physical and then starting the final qualifying physical challenges for the Marine Raiders with a few extra tests for the SEALs,” he commented. He also noted my black camo fatigues.

“Nope, I’m just a civilian. The extra tests are because the SEALs hope I can help them with a special mission. The tests for the Marine Raiders are because I want to be in the Marine Raiders when I enlist in two years,” I explained.

“Two years?” he gasped. “I thought you looked a bit young, but I can’t believe that a sixteen-year-old can pass the Elite Forces Standard Physical Testing,” he scoffed. “I gotta find Clyde and put some money on this,” he laughed.

“Don’t bet anything you can’t afford to lose,” I warned.

“Yeah, right,” he snorted.

Several minutes later, he led me into the medical building. I had left my sled securely locked and cloaked, tethered high enough to be out of everyone’s way. When the Petty Officer told her who I was, the receptionist inside looked at the notes on her desk and called one of the nurses to take me to a room. “I’ll be back in an hour; I have to eat breakfast. I’ll be in the waiting room when you’re done,” Petty Officer Ward told me.

“Strip down to your skivvies and the doc will be in soon,” the nurse told me as she closed the door to the exam room. I’d barely finished stripping when the doctor knocked and entered the room. He stopped and looked at me appraisingly for a few seconds.

“This will definitely be unique,” he commented. “I had to sign a non-disclosure agreement this morning before I would be allowed to do your exam. Aside from your apparent age and the fact that you’re a civilian, what about you qualifies as secret?” he asked. At least he sounded curious, and not upset.