My Journal

By Harriman Nelson

39

“Mmm. Now if that isn’t the best Mac &Cheese I’ve ever had!” Chip said after his first bite of dinner.

“You mean it, Mr. Morton?” Cookie asked from the ‘tween through, “you really mean it? You’re not putting me on to spare my feelings?”

“It’s outstanding,” I said, and he  knew that was quite a compliment, as I have never been all that partial to the dish.

“Ah, well, that’s okay then...I wonder what the skipper’s having tonight...”

“Well,” I said, checking my watch, “it will be awhile. I believe there’s a little race he has to win first. Chip, have Sparks connect us to the BBC...they’re still covering  Lee’s journeys,”

The UK’s news was first, of course, followed by a weather report, the coming’s and goings of the royal family and prime minister, and then...at last...the image formed of the two ancient towers....

“We’re waiting here at the historic leaning Asineli and Garisenda Towers. While the Garisenda tower is deemed to hazardous for visitors, the Asineli is still open. It stands ninety six point ninety two meters or three hundred and eighteen feet as Captain Nelson-Crane and Commander Jackson would say. The two Americans on Mrs. Piccadilly’s Culinary Tour will be racing each other on the four hundred and ninety eight steps to the top. Due to the narrow interior, they will race separately, being timed by officials. There is no prize, except the pride of accomplishment, and possibly a new Guinness World Record.”

“That’s not quite true,” Mrs. Piccadilly said, standing with several of the tour group. “I told the boys that the winner would receive an entire bag of Oreo Double Stuff Cookies, a little something they might enjoy from home. I understand both are rather homesick for American cookies, packaged or homemade.”

“Thank you Mrs. Piccadilly, and of course, they’ll both win the unbelievable view of Bologna from the top of the tower, including both the medieval and modern buildings. Ah, here our competitors are now. Captain, Commander, now that you see the tower up close and personal, what do you think of your chances? And can you even manage climbing up all those steps? Previous climbers have complained of queasiness, even seasick like reactions from the leaning steps inside.”

“Seasick?” Joe quipped, “inside a building? Nahh. ‘Sides, we’re sailors....”

“Well,” Lee said, considering,  “I'll admit I’m always seasick on a flattop.”

“That’s an aircraft carrier,”Joe interrupted for the benefit of the crowd.

“Most submariners are seasick on surface craft," Lee said, "but, this tower doesn’t seem to be leaning too badly, like the other one. And I know I'm not claustrophobic, but forewarned is forearmed. And, while I’d like to beat Joe in the race, I also know we might have to withdraw from the competition if conditions warrant.”

"Like, if you realize there's no way you'll beat my time,” Joe said with a smirk.

Lee simply raised an eyebrow.

“Sir.”

Both laughed and slapped each other on their backs. Lee was wearing his blue jeans, sneakers, and a Lamborghini T-shirt proclaiming that he 'Braked for Bologna'. Joe was wearing walking shorts, and a similar T-shirt, probably a gift from Lee, proclaiming he 'Braked for Pasta'.

The tower curator approached with a stopwatch.

“Who will be first to attempt the climb?”

“We’ll toss for it,” Lee said, “Mrs. Piccadilly, would you do the honors? Heads, me. Tails, Joe.”

A little flustered, she complied. I go the impression she’d never tossed a coin before and the curator had to assist.

“Tails,” she said, looking at the coin,  “you first, Commander”

“Here’s your body cam,” the curator said pinning it on Joe’s T-shirt, “reception is tuned to the BBC on spilt cameras. This way we can follow your progress more easily.”

By now everyone aboard Seaview was tuned to the monitors as Joe entered the old tower. The spiral wooden steps disappeared in to the top. Though rebuilt frequently and inspected regularly, they looked rickety  and the hairs on the nape of my neck began to stand up.

The curator waited for Joe to enter the tower with him, counted to three, and clicked the stopwatch as he said 'go!'

Indeed, the stairs were not built for more than one person at a time. At least there was enough light.

Joe had reached the fifth round when he became noticeably winded.

Lee, hovering over Mrs. Piccadilly’s cell phone camera, tuned to the body cam, surprisingly urged Joe on.

“C’mon, c’mon, you can do it, bro....”

Suddenly the ground shifted, and kept shifting. Violently.

“Everyone, get away from here!” Lee yelled, “Mrs. P. run! Down there!" he pointed to the wider area between stronger, more modern, and shorter buildings.
Joe! Joe!” he yelled, entering the swaying tower.

“We are in the middle of an earthquake,” the reporter puffed as she and the camera crew ran, but managing to capture the tower behind them.

“Like, tell us something we don’t know!” Cookie talked back to the screen.

Images from Joe’s cam looked down on the wavering stone and staircase, the lower steps beginning to break and fall to the ground.

“Joe! Joe!” we heard Lee yelling.

“Lee!” Joe’s voice screamed as the tower began to fall around him, “Oh gawd, Lee!”

Then Joe's cam failed and there was silence from within. The chaos outside was deafening.

“Ohmygod,” the reporter said... “get his cam back up!” she was yelling as she and her crew still trying to keep focused on the crumbling tower.

“There’s no signal!” a colleague shouted. “Oh God!” He added as the tower began to crumble.

Just then the Garisenda tower began to fall as well, joining its partner on its collapse downward.

Everyone was running and screaming. Police sirens  were blaring. There was fear and horror in everyone’s faces, the ones we could see, that was. But none of the other buildings appeared to be in danger of crumbling though windows broke and bricks fell.

Mrs. P. was  crying, "Oh my boys! My poor dear boys!”

 I’m not the only one aboard Seaview who had forgotten to breathe.

 Just before the last ten feet of their tower collapsed, Lee emerged,  Joe limp and draped over him in a fireman's carry. He and Joe were both bloodied, a bone was sticking out from Joe’s arm and another from his leg. Looking back, Lee yelled. "Hit the deck!” and fell to the ground, covering his friend with his own body, one arm bent over his head as what was left of both towers downfall strew stone, brick, wood and masonry on top of them, and several yards outward.

“Ohmygod,” I heard whispered all around as Chip grabbed my arm to support me, Sharkey on my other side.

It took awhile for the dust to clear.

“There they are!” Mrs. P. exclaimed, running back toward Lee and Joe, though glass and brick were still falling from some of the buildings. She wasn't the only person ignoring imminent danger of being hurt, as they too, helped to pull debris off of Lee and Joe, as Lee tried to uncover himself and turn Joe over.

Joe? Joe?" Lee coughed, as he cradled his friend, "C’mon bro...breathe for me!" he screamed as he began to pound on Joe's chest and breathe into his nostrils and mouth...over...and over...then, finally, wailing, "No!!!"

Mrs. P. gently took Lee in her arms and held him as he wept. Suddenly Joe gasped and heaved, then managed to hold out his good arm and grabbed Lee's hand, "Lee? Oh God. Thank God you’re alive…thanks, bro...heck of a race." Then he passed out.

Lee had a hard time catching his breath, and not just from the emotion, no doubt his lungs were inundated with dust and debris. I could also see more blood on his skin and clothing.

“You,” he coughed, still on his knees with Joe, “you okay Mrs. P.? Everyone  okay? Be careful...bound to be aftershocks…”

“I think the worst of it is over,” one of the broadcasters  said, “there is some damage to buildings, cars, some people, but the captain and commander seem to have gotten the worst of it. Over here!” he yelled and waved at the fast approaching police.

“Admiral,” Will said, panting, as he’d probably run from sickbay after he knew Lee was alive.

"Get anything you need for triage and take as many corpsmen and volunteers you can to render assistance to the town,” Chip ordered. “I’ll pilot. O’Brien, you take the conn. Admiral, contact the mayor and airport to let them know they can count on us for help.”

“Right away, Captain,” I said formally as the men aboard Seaview moved like a well oiled machine as was their custom in any emergency. Lee would be proud, I knew.

Reports were coming in to the BBC, but no deaths had been reported by the time the flying sub headed to Italy.

Despite our offer to volunteer our services, only Doc and the corpsmen were drafted to assist by the local authorities. So far there had only been reports of minor injuries. And I could tell that Will was torn between assisting where directed or caring for Lee. But he was used to duty so he did as requested.

I was forced to wait in the hospital waiting room for word on my boy.

“Admiral?” Mrs. Piccadilly asked approaching me, still covered in dust, and  slightly bandaged due to the cuts she’d incurred in her dash back to the boys, “may I join you? I think you could use a friend right now...”

“Please,” I said, patting the chair beside me, “thank you for all you did.”

“Me, oh I didn’t do much...now, the captain, on the other hand...you must be so very proud of him.”

“Careful, Mrs. P.,” Lee said, startling us by his sudden appearance,  filthy with a few new areas of shaved scalp for his new stitches. “Might give me an inflated ego.”

“Oh, my boy,” she said embracing him. “I'm so glad you’re okay. And the commander?”

“Well, he won’t be running any races soon,  but he’ll be fine once they finish with the casts. He also has a concussion. They’re going to keep him overnight for observation. Which means he can only look forward to Jell-O or Chicken Soup for supper. I was wondering…maybe I could sneak something in to him later…if wherever you planned on for tonight is still serving after the quake…might have some damage….”

"The café we were going to go to is fine," Mrs. Piccadilly said "so is the hotel, except for a few broken windows,  though I don't know how many of the group will care to have anything after such a scare. Oh, there's one thing more, Captain....I'm afraid your new car...well...part of the parking garage fell on it..."

"Right now, I don't give a damn. As long as everyone's okay..."

“Captain Nelson-Crane?” a nurse approached and had him sign a release form, “I couldn’t help overhearing. I’m sorry, but you cannot bring any food into Commander Jackson. Against  the rules.”

“But…”

“I assure you that we’ll feed him something far more satisfying than Jell-0 and Chicken Soup, heavens, the very thought. Now, you’re cleared to leave. Just make sure you keep those stitches clean with the wound cleanser and topical antibiotics we’ve given you. This is a copy of the medical report for you to keep and to show to your physician. I understand he'll be arriving back here soon."

“Thanks.”

"Visiting hours are over for now, and will resume between four o’clock and nine o’clock. You can see Commander Jackson again, then.”

“But…”

“Even you have to follow orders here, Captain,” she said and left.

We got back to the hotel before Doc joined us. When he did, after a cursory exam, he gave us the okay to go get a quick bite at the cafe'. Which we did, after Lee had returned to the hotel to clean up and change.

It wasn’t long before I sent the Seaview volunteers back to the flying sub and home without me.

I hoped Joe wouldn’t mind me using his bed after Lee and I returned from seeing them off, but I really didn’t want to leave Lee alone after such a traumatic day. He hadn't objected to my suggestion that I stick around while Joe was in the hospital. (Hey, I had to give Lee some kind of excuse other than the fact I was anxious to just keep an eye on him.)

It's very late now, and Lee’s tossing and turning a bit, and moaning some...I think it's time I woke him up and made him talk about what happened again. Oh,  he’d already told me about crawling up the debris to reach the injured Joe, and sliding down the debris with him clinging to his back, all the while the damn tower was about to cave in on them. He also told me that when Joe hadn't roused, when Lee believed him to be dead, that he felt utterly lost.

Yes, I'd better wake him, force him to talk about it again. Might help him to get  a restful sleep instead of dreaming about the day.

And I need to tell him no matter might happen in his life, God willing, he’ll always have me.