My Journal

By Harriman Nelson

11

I’d expected some damage at the institute from last night’s storm, broken tree limbs and such, but nothing like this.

Not only had the brand new NCIMR entrance sign been shattered, (the remnants being scooped up by one of the city’s waste control trucks), there were additional trucks beyond the main gate when Lee and I drove up. One such truck was just leaving, its dumpster full of damaged roofing, broken shards of glass, wood, bent metal sheeting, ceiling tiles, furniture, along with insulation fluff, and God knew what else.

“Looks like more than half of the buildings are damaged,” Lee sighed as we stopped at the main gate for the mandatory ID check. I was rather embarrassed as I was unshaved, still garbed in Lee’s sweats, and hadn’t thought to pull out my wallet from my still damp clothes I’d tossed in the back seat.

“Never mind that,” Lee told me as I tried to twist myself around enough to reach them. “I’m sure Patrick recognizes you,” he added with a chuckle as he pressed the button to lower his window, showing him his ID.

“Good morning, Captain,” the guard acknowledged after a cursory check and looked at me inquiringly.

“The Admiral’s ID is in the back. But I can vouch for him,” Lee grinned.

Patrick nodded, but not without another glance at my bruised and swollen jaw.

 “Be careful of all the debris, sirs. Still some heavy ponding all around and some snakes have been reported.”

 “Snakes?” I asked, aghast. God, I hate snakes. I know they have a place in the Almighty's great universe, a part to play in nature, but I don’t care. I still don’t like them. Not very scientific of me, I know. But I’m only human, after all.

“What kind of snakes?” Lee asked, with a touch of excitement instead  of being  properly appalled as I was.

“What difference does it make?” I asked, irritated. “I just want to get to the apartment for a hot shower, shave, and a dry pair of shoes.”

“I don’t think Miss Hale knew which kind of snake she saw, Captain,” Patrick replied to Lee, ignoring my comment. “She just ran off screaming and took a sick day.”

“Can’t say I blame her,” I said, “why the interest, Lee?”

“Oh, I just suddenly find myself in the mood for a little fried rattlesnake,” he grinned, with an exaggerated smacking his lips.

“Oh gawd. Just get moving, will you?”

He laughed and waved to the guard as we drove through.

Perhaps I’d been too harsh with my boy. Yes, I knew he enjoyed fried rattlesnake, as long as it wasn’t too disgusting or putrid. Dude ranch fare courtesy of various ranchers, or road kill, (the way he usually obtained them, and not often), was a tricky business. A fresh rattler would be a treat. For him, anyway.

We zigged and zagged around soggy debris that workmen were shoveling into piles for the waste control trucks to scoop up.

“Look!” Lee cried out, baking hard and hydroplaning till he was able to put the car to a stop. Then he pointed to one of the aforementioned serpents swimming in one of the deep puddles. “Keep an eye on it!” he ordered as he pulled in to his slot. As soon as he stopped, he hopped out, opened the trunk and retrieved a tire iron.  “Is it still over there?” he asked me through my half open door, “you did keep an eye on it, didn’t you? What kind was it?”

“How the hell should I know what kind it is? I didn’t see all of it, and  I could hardly ask it, could I? The last I saw, it slithered to that stack of roofing over there,” I said, pointing.

 Workmen were already running away from the pile, yelling to each other to run for their lives.

“Ah, good!” Lee said and began to head in its direction.

“Wait, son,” I said, grabbing his arm, “you sure you should go after it? With nothing but a tire iron? What if you miss and it slithers up and bites you?”

“Gee, Harry, one would think you worry about me too much,” he laughed and eagerly headed toward his prey.

One day I’m going to have to have a long talk with him about his penchant for courting danger. It’s one thing to accept danger in the line of duty, but on his own time, well, you’d think he’d have a little more sense.

I turned my attention to more important matters, such as squelching my soggy way toward the Administration Building. It was busy with staff and workmen entering and emerging, carting debris out.

I was grateful for my private elevator as the others were pretty much stalled for use as damaged materials were being off loaded.

 As my elevator car hauled me upstairs I wondered if the patch job on my bedroom ceiling had held last night.

It hadn’t.

Most of the semi-floor’s ceiling and roof had collapsed, which meant my apartment was probably open to the sky.

I strode cautiously through debris to find my apartment’s door open, some of its  damaged contents removed to the hallway, including the dented fridge, its door off the hinges and its spoiled contents in an industrial waste bin. I could only wonder about the rest of the apartment's contents and  if they’d already been put into the waste control trucks I'd seen.

Boxes of waterlogged books and magazines were staked in the corner, soaked clothes and personal items were in boxes marked with scrawled ‘OM’ and ‘OOM’, (Old Man, and Old Old Man), and some boxes labeled with  question marks.

I was surprised when Ronald, clipboard in hand, emerged from the apartment.  

“Father? Caref….what happened?” he added, noticing my jaw.

“Not now.”

“Watch your step.  Floor's kind of slippery. You’ll stay with me and mother, of course. What the…” he gasped as he caught sight of Lee striding from the private stairwell, the freshly bludgeoned rattlesnake tucked into and swinging from Lee’s belt, it’s misshapen head facing downward, Lee’s duffle slung over his shoulder.

“Lunch,” Lee explained happily to us.

“Ron’s invited us to stay with him,” I said.

“Ah, thanks, Ron,” Lee said, in spite of his brother’s look of sheer horror. (I hadn’t considered Ron’s invite might not include Lee.) “But I think I’ll bunk aboard Seaview if there's no additional damage to her as the sub pen's carved out of solid rock. Or maybe I'll use my sailboat.”

Ron practically sagged in relief as Lee strode past and into the apartment just as Bates emerged.

“Ah, Admiral. We were wondering when you might get in and…” Bates stopped himself as he noticed my jaw but he knew better than to pursue the matter.

“Well,” Lee said, emerging, “all the electronics are fried. I guess you got the rest of our personal stuff out here…”

“We labeled them the best we could,” Ron said. “Had no idea you kept scrapbooks and journals over here too. They’re all a bit soggy.”

“Yes, well," he said, already knowing, since I'd told him, that Ron and his mother had seen some of the pictures and clippings about his career that had spilled out of one of the apartment's  scrapbooks.  "So, Bates," Lee continued,  "just what are we looking at? Can we set up some kind of emergency shelter for our employees if they have damage as well? Or even Santa Barbara residents if need be? Med Center and the Dental clinic? The admiral needs a filling replaced asap."

“The  gym is unscathed, except for a few toilets not flushing very well.  So it can accommodate about thirty people if we open it up for use. I'm not sure about the Med center and Dental clinic. Security is still investigating everything. There's some damage in town, but S.B. utilities are already working on the problems. No reports from staff not coming in due to damage. But a few sick days were called in from some of the admin staff when they heard about Miss Hale’s experience. That could be the very snake,” he added, nodding toward Lee’s lunch.

“Maybe. Let our staff and the mayor know we can help if needed.”

“Yes sir. By the way, Ron here has been a big help, just like I’d expect  a Nelson to be. You should be proud of the way he handled things, Admiral. Even took care of the press when they discovered we had some damage. Called the SB waste disposal units before I’d even arrived. And when Miss Angie reported a ceiling leak in your office, right under your apartment, well, he insisted on helping security allow him to join in checking out the place. Was a big help sorting through your things.”

“Father will be staying with me for now, Bates. Are you ready to go now, Dad? I’m sure we can get your soaked clothes laundered at the hotel. Your’s too, Lee, if the institute laundry can’t do them.”

“Thank you, but I’ll take care of my own clothes.”

“I’ll come back as soon as I can, Lee,” I said. "I really want to go over that report with you and discuss our pending clients.”

“By the way, Father,” Ronald quipped as I led him to the elevator, “rumor has it that you, were at the Sea View Sunrise hotel last night? Is that how you got a punch in the jaw? An irate mother?” he snorted.

“Not now, Ron,” I sighed. I was not in the mood for explanations, as innocent as they were.

“By the way, Harry,” Lee added, “I don’t suppose you’d care to join me for fried rattler a little later, perhaps dinner instead of lunch, since you're going to have to get that tooth fixed? Ron and Jessica too? If the work crew can’t let me use Seaview’s galley, I’m sure I can talk the cafeteria manager or perhaps even Chief Sharkey into letting me use one of their facilities.”

“But...well..."Ron began, "when  I told Mom I’d be loaning our place out to Father, she was kind of looking forward to treating him to dinner with us tonight. She was thinking perhaps the Hilton's Chicken Marsala and Tiramisu…I’d really hate to upset her plans or hurt her feelings.”

“It’s okay if you join them, Harry,” Lee said after only the briefest of hesitation that only I saw. “I can save you some.”

I did like the idea of Chicken Marsala. And I’m quite a fan of Tiramisu, as my waistline has proved at times. But I also knew how much Lee wanted to share his catch with me.

I was appalled to have been placed in such a position. I didn’t want either to gloat over who would be the victor for my company.

Suddenly inspiration hit.

“Thank you both, but I just remembered that I have a date tonight.”

“You?” Ron asked, incredulous.

“I’m not in my dotage, yet. And you remember Emily Black, Lee.”

“Yes, of course.”

Just then a girl screamed.

“Damage control,” I muttered to myself as I hurried toward Angie, who had apparently been informed by security of our arrival and used one of the regular  elevators. “It’s quite dead,” I said, as she pounded the now closed elevator button  furiously, while looking at Lee, aghast.

“It’s Lee’s dinner,” I added.

“Eeyoo! Can’t he put it away someplace?”

“I think that was the general idea he had bringing it up here, but now…” I said, spreading my arms, and nodding to the broken fridge in the hallway. Just then the reptile’s tail rattled.

Angie screamed again and hid behind me.

Lee pulled it free from his belt, and stomped on its already misshapen head a couple of times until the rattle stopped.

“Sorry. Probably just a muscular contraction.”

“Or it wasn't dead, only unconscious,” Ron said, “next time Bro, make sure you dispatch your lunch, dinner, or whatever, completely.”

“It’s really none of your business how I catch my prey,” Lee said, “and I’d prefer it if you didn’t call me ‘Bro’. That nickname’s reserved for Joe and Chip to use. You can still call me Lee, though.”

“Cheech, Captain, why the hell should I do that, the way you feel about me calling you brother.”

“I said ‘Bro’. That’s a term of affection as far as I’m concerned, not a relationship. I have no problem with  ‘Brother’.

“Boys, enough!” I interrupted, “now’s not the time or place.”

 “Sorry, Angie,” Lee said, “Rattlesnake’s really quite tasty. Perhaps you’d like to have dinner with me….”

“With that on the menu! No way!” Angie shouted,“thank God,” she added as the elevator arrived and she escaped.

Lee shook his head, dejected as he checked one of  his ‘OM’ boxes and put his snake into it, atop his wet things, pulling out a soggy scrapbook.

“Ruined,” he said sadly. “Mom gave me this one…”

“Your mother’s?” Ron asked. “Gee, and here I was thinking you were saving every clipping you could about your glorious career.”

“Enough, Ron," I said. "Why don’t you help by carrying some of my boxes down to your car.”

“Wait,” Bates said. “Those boxes are too moist mow. They’ll break apart. I’ll call for a luggage rack.”

It wasn’t long before Ron was driving me to his hotel.  I was really looking forward to that hot shower it promised.

I even washed my hair. Ron was gone, probably returned to work,  and Jessica had disappeared to God knew where by the time I’d showered, shaved, and attired myself in  freshly laundered clothes, that housekeeping must have brought up, although there wasn’t much the hotel laundry could do about my ruined shoes.

I turned clicked on the wall TV in the room I'd be sharing with Ron, and flipped channels, stopping on the local 24/7 broadcast station.

 I almost wished I hadn’t.

They were replaying the early morning newscast. A news truck was in front of the institute, using their powerful lights to illuminate the pre-dawn sight of the shattered sign, most of it on the ground shattered into pieces, some of it dangling from the front gate.

Ronald was in the midst of things, speaking with the press, clipboard in hand. He looked very official.

“….Well, we won’t know just how much damage there is for a while. As for the broken sign, I’m sure my father won’t consider it an ill omen, and I certainly don’t. My brother might be superstitious about it, however. After all, the old sign we’ll have to replace it with doesn’t have his name on it,” he laughed.

“How are things going with your new job?”

“I only just started this morning. I don’t have my name on the office door, or even an office of my own, for that matter. Yet anyway. But I’m hoping it won’t be too long. Still, the place is pretty much run as if it's military and you know much red tape that means.”

“Did you serve in the military like many of the employees?”

“Actually I was busy with my education. If I had served, however, it would have been the Marines.”

I couldn’t help snorting. Ron, a Marine?

“Some of our sources tell us that your father and the captain spent the night in a top secret meeting last night in a local hotel due to the damage here. Do you know anything about that, what it was about? When did Seaview arrive, anyway?”

“Well, I’m told my brother brought her in using the  undersea channel right into the dry dock.”

 “Do you know how long the submarine will be out of commission?”

“Hopefully not too long. We do want to keep as close to schedule as possible. She is a business asset, after all.”

“Do you know of anything planned to keep the Seaview from being so attractive to horny bull whales in the future?”

“Well, it won’t be by painting her red,” Ron laughed, “that’s what my brother’s always bugging father for. Can you imagine it? A red submarine? Sometimes I think my brother’s been concussed a bit too often for his own good. Well, if you’ll excuse me….”he finished up and returned through the gate with a smile and a wave.

My stomach churned.  Burning actually. Now was not a good time for a dentist. The broken filling was simply that, a small section  broken off the rest of the filling. My tooth itself was still protected from air and saliva. It was the sharp remaining edge that was irritating the inside of my cheek. 

And so I called Ron to get me in to see Dr. Winesap right away. I was going to take a taxi, but he insisted, with permission from Bates, to return to the hotel to pick me up and drive me to the Dr., who, upon examination, assured me that as the last time, this was simply stress related and before I knew it I was awakened from another hypnotic session.  I have to say, I felt so refreshed I almost forgot to call Emily to arrange for our date that I’d lied to my boys about.

Back in my office I called the Dental clinic, arranging an immediate appointment, then called Emily. She agreed to a date and I let her decide on where we’d be dining.

As for the cuisine? Well, I’m pretty sure it won’t  be fried rattlesnake.