Tale of the Raging Sea

Chapter 1

Life on the West Coast was far more dangerous than life on the East Coast. At first, I was thrilled they were sending me to California for duty. New York was great an all, but can turn up an opportunity to be stationed in California? I imagined a relaxing getaway full of palm trees and the honor of getting to meet America's stars. In reality, everything was far from relaxing. I spent my days scouting out suspicious characters that threaded on the shorelines and making sure the Japanese, and the Mexican Americans, didn't "cross the line", so to speak. Playing babysitter was not a fun task, nor did I want to be one either. Yes, life was hell in California. I have a few bumps here and there to prove it. For example, as I was walking to along the shore, someone threw a glass bottle at my head. It shattered on impact and I had to get stitches along my face. Of course, it wasn't as bad as it could of been, but it still angered me. I found the people responsible and had them arrested. As they walked past me, I could see the utter hate they bore in their eyes, face full of distaste and anger. A part of me felt sorry for them. The way my fellow Shore Patrol Officers treated foreigners was inexplicably inhuman. I couldn't understand, or ignore the constant cruelty these people faced.

One day, I sat with my fellow seamen and had a very heavy conversation on race. Some of them threw racial slurs back and forth and laughed, as if the jokes were the funniest things in the world. It disgusted me how they drank to every slur they made. One of them bumped my shoulder with his glass full of beer.

"What's wrong, Jackson? What's with the sour face?" He asked, words slurring of how drunk he was. His eyes were all over the place, like a compass out of control. His breath was repulsive. I had to get away from the guy before he caused me any trouble.

"Nothing." I said, then took a sip of my water.

"Ah, you ain't fooling me." He replied, tapping my shoulder once more.

 I paused before speaking. "I'd appreciate it if you didn't do that."

Not a moment too late, the drunk SP Man bumped my shoulder yet again. This time, I wasn't going to take another nudge. I stood up from my stool, fist ready to knock the guy out, but someone placed their hand on my chest. I didn't bother looking at who stopped me. All I wanted to do was drive my fist into the man's face.

"Leave." The voice said to the drunk SP Man. The drunkard didn't take that as a light threat. He looked at me, chuckled to himself, then drank the rest of his beer, before setting it down hard on the bar counter. After he left, I heard a sigh, followed by a few nervous gulps and the sound of the background music playing again. I was so angry that I didn't realized the people in the bar stopped to watch what was happening. Apparently, this mystery person made everyone nervous. I didn't bother to look at them. I smack their hand away and sat back down, folded my hands together, and exhaled loudly. 

"I didn't need your help." I told the person. They sighed and sat next to me, on my left. I took a glance towards them, and stopped at their sleeve. It bore a US Flight Captain insignia patch, which had three yellow arrows pointing towards its owner. The Flight Captain gave me a hard stare. I don't know if was to scare or to intimidate me, but it sure wasn't working. Although, his electric blue eyes were alarming. I took a sip of my water and waited for a response. The man realized he had no effect on me and looked down at his hands and chuckled to himself.

"You've got some nerves." He said, taking off his hat. He placed it in front of him. I couldn't lie. The golden eagle that sat in the middle of his hat was captivating. The only metal I got was a badge for my services. Made me feel a little inferior and jealous. "Is that how you thank the people who help you?"

I shrugged my shoulders. I really wasn't in the mood to be nagged at by a superior officer. "Wasn't looking for it, so thanks, but no thanks." I replied, giving him a sarcastic smile. The FC leaned forward and rested his arms on the counter.