Not on my Watch

Chapter 17

                                             "But the thing about remembering is that you don't forget."

                                                              Tim O'Brien, The Things They Carried.

                                                                                      Decamber 18, 2013

                                                                                                 Jungle

          Delphin sat morosely in his hut, looking around the room.  It had been almost a week since Brina's death, and he still couldn't seem to muster even enough energy to get out of bed in the morning, let alone eat much or associate with anyone.  A few people had tried to draw him out, but he wasn't yet ready to interact with anyone.   He had his old clothing spread out on the bed in front of him, along with the tattered remnants of the parachute he'd been wearing when he landed in the tree, and the boots.  There was a pair of binoculars he'd had hung over his neck, thick goggles to protect his eyes, and ear plugs to protect his hearing.   He'd had a little pack around his waist that included some necessary survival items...flares, little packets of food, a whistle, a mirror, a first aid kit, and a few other things.

          He'd looked over everything, trying to find some article that might trigger a memory, any memory.   So far, nothing.  As he ran his hand over the clothes for what must be the hundredth time, he felt something he hadn't before...a slight rustling sound that didn't seem to match the cloth.  He paused, looking all around for a compartment or pocket in which something might be hidden.   He couldn't see or feel any. After checking both the outside and inside of the shirt he found what appeared to be little tiny stitching on the inside, like sewing.  It didn't match the seams. He frowned, as he considered how to break open the spot without tearing the cloth.   He finally took the little sewing kit he'd found and searched through it.  He was sure it contained something that would rip the thread.  He found the object he thought it was, and the name came to him.  Seam ripper.  Yes, that was it.  He took the seam ripper and cut the threads on the hidden pocket.

          When the thread was gone, there was an opening big enough for his hand to fit in.  He looked in and saw a single sheet of folded paper.  Reaching in carefully with his fingers, he pulled it out.   It looked worn and yellowed.  He unfolded the creased paper, smoothing it out on his lap.  There was writing on one side.   He was surprised he could read it, as it was in a different language than the books in town.  English, his mind told him. Intrigued, he began to read:

           To Captain Vin Frost, Air force, Pine Valley Experimental Range, Southern Utah.  Could that be his name?  Don't let anyone else read this...... It didn't take long to read.   The message and some of the names mentioned seemed vaguely familiar.   He even read the name Rowan.   He turned over the paper, searching for other clues.  It was then that he saw the symbol.  It looked like some sort of animal footprint, inside of a strange, six-pointed shape that was whitish blue. The image appeared in his head, as well.

           He saw himself looking down at the same symbol painted on a piece of cloth.   He appeared to be in an enclosed space, and there was another man with him, shorter than he, but in very good shape.  The man seemed familiar. Both men were in military uniforms.  The other guy clapped Delphin on the shoulder.  "Hey, Bro, that's it.   You came up with the perfect symbol for the two of us to use to send each other secret messages."