2. Jack Redley Kelleher
2
JACK REDLEY KELLEHER
Oahu, Hawaii
Perching on a hill concealed behind a row of ferns, I peer through my binoculars, observing a squad of Marines approaching a compound where four hostages are held. Humidity is at a stifling ninety percent, and the temperature continues to rise, reaching the high seventies.
I bet these jarheads would rather be sipping cocktails in an air-conditioned bar, listening to the strumming of a ukulele. But they’re here on a mission. While they are trained, they still have much to learn. None of them have experienced the chaos of battle or the intense pressure of a life-or-death situation.
“Staff Sergeant Mitchell,” I instruct, asking for an update on the time elapsed.
“Sir, they have five minutes until they reach the extraction point.”
Concern fills me. They haven’t even located the hostages.
I continue to observe until the squads depart from the compound. Now, a dense jungle lies between their current location and the extraction point.
“Let’s go,” I say to Mitchell, and we leave our post to join the Marines at the edge of the Kahuku Range.
I look into each Marine’s eyes, watching sweat covering their faces, their shoulders rising and falling with each breath.
“Sergeant Perry reporting, sir,” the squad leader says. His face paint fails to conceal his worry. The trainees are familiar with my reputation on this island, and this one clearly wasn’t expecting to meet me today, thinking Mitchel was in charge. He then announces, “We have successfully retrieved all four hostages, sir.”
I acknowledge the sergeant, then inspect the squad with a stern expression. “Welcome to week three of your AIMC!” I declare. AIMC, or Advanced Infantry Marine Course, is a rigorous seven-week training program designed to refine the squad’s infantry skills in a realistic setting. “Today was your lucky day. You got me whooping all your sorry asses.”
I pace in front of the line-up, then stare at the leader. “You’re three minutes behind schedule, Sergeant.”
“We faced a counterattack and found two wounded Marines separated from their squad.”
“They’re a vital aspect of the mission, not a pretext.”
“Yes, sir.”
I then deliver the fate of the Marines. “The air support designated for your unit’s extraction faced fuel constraints, and their location was jeopardized, so the pilot received orders to terminate the extraction. You exceeded the permissible time for maneuvering the path to the target, and you failed to secure the property within the specified timeframe.”
“Understood, sir. It won’t happen again.”
“You’re all dismissed,” I order .
Mitchell takes charge, barking, “Debrief in fifteen!”
Despite the additional three minutes, the men performed better than expected. The mission parameters Mitchell and I established were practically impossible, but today’s most important lesson is that they upheld the principle of leaving no Marines behind. And that makes me proud.
As the day comes to an end, I make my way to the waterfront. Finding a comfortable spot on a smooth rock, I retrieve a folded sketch from my wallet. The lines on the paper are well-crafted, a testament to Ava West’s exceptional talent as a courtroom artist. Not only does she possess the skill to capture an image, but she knows how to reveal the essence of a person—which is exactly what she did when we were in Bozeman.
The relentless Montana wind messed up her hair the night we met, and I tried to get the wild strands off her face. The silkiness of her blond curls left my fingertips tingling as her azure eyes and peaches-and-cream complexion became visible. God, how I wanted to kiss her. Only Ava could drive me to act with impulse like that, although I kept my self-control.
Our introduction was brief because neither of us enjoyed small talk. We were both there to support Morgan, her best friend, after she narrowly escaped a murder attempt. Despite that, Ava and I managed to find time for one-on-one conversations. We discussed the books we love. Mine being Helmet for My Pillow by Robert Leckie, a memoir written by a World War II Marine veteran, and hers being The Help by Kathryn Stockett, a novel set during the civil rights movement.
Time flew by beautifully when we talked, whatever the topic—the military, visual art, psychology. Despite her girl-next-door appearance, she exuded intelligence and maturity. Our six-year age gap seemed irrelevant. There was a profound depth in her heart that hinted at the ability to carry weight, perhaps both mine and hers. It was evident when our conversation innocently veered toward the topic I dreaded the most—birthdays. In that moment, I realized she was unlike anyone I had ever met.
Believe it or not, I didn’t have a real birthday on my actual birthdate until I hit thirty. There is no relation between my pessimistic view of birthdays and parental neglect or anything of that nature. It’s all because I was abducted at the age of seven.
I was born in New York, but a significant part of my childhood is missing from my memory. Nothing made sense when I found myself inside a Florida monastery, a nun feeding me, asking me my name. I had no idea who I was—it was like my braindead self watching my body doing its own thing. Only thanks to my brother’s perseverance, I was reunited with him and my dad three years ago, and I had my first real birthday celebration. It felt peculiar, but I experienced it nonetheless.
When people hear my story for the first time, pity is usually the first reaction I see in their eyes. But not Ava. She was surprised, naturally, but instead of offering apologies or trying to understand what I had gone through, she showed belief. ‘You may not have all the answers, Jack, but you’ve got all the fight within you. Take a moment to give yourself credit for who you are now,’ she said then. That brought me comfort, and it felt as if we were connected even before we met. Still, there were many things I chose to conceal.
Now, the more I look at the sketch, another impression starts to emerge. People say that every artist leaves a piece of themselves in their work. Perhaps it’s merely my imagination, but I see her presence behind my own face.
Holding onto the sketch, I gaze ahead. The sun is at its prettiest when it sets. I’ve seen sunsets all over the world, and I can say the best ones I witnessed are in Montana—especially in Bozeman when I was with her. But there’s something undeniably captivating about the vibrant hues of the Hawaiian sky at this time of day.
Just as the sun sinks behind the horizon, I fold the sketch and tuck it back into my wallet. I’ve accepted that she will never be a part of my life. Sooner or later, I’ll need to erase her from my thoughts or face the consequences of holding onto a hope that will never come to fruition.
Suddenly, my phone buzzes. Sam. Why on earth would my older brother call me at this time? Most likely, he’s going to try persuading me to come to Helena again and join his company, Red Mark Rescue & Protect. It’s an organization specialized in rescuing missing children. A cause close to home and the reason why my brother founded it. While I’ve been considering the idea, for now, I still feel I belong to the Corps.
“Sam, brother, wassup?” I answer.
“Hey, you’ve got a minute?” His tone is neither persuasive nor friendly. “Morgan wants to talk to you.”
This is unusual. Morgan and I rarely speak to each other. In fact, I haven’t talked to her at all this year, and it’s the end of summer already.
“Jack?” She’s only calling my name, but I can tell she’s really shaken up.
“Morgan, what’s going on?” Warning particles flutter in my gut.
“Ava is missing.”
My stomach buckles. “What do you mean she’s missing?”
“She left her fiancé and was supposed to meet me here in Helena yesterday. I tried to call her, but she didn’t answer.”
She left her fiancé? I don’t know much about him, only that he’s an asshole.
“How about Quinton?” I ask .
“Quinton was with her the last time we spoke. At the time, she was just outside L.A. She should have been here ages ago. Ty has been searching with a few Red Mark guys, but there’s no sign of her.”
Tyler Hunt, Morgan’s husband, is the head of operations at Red Mark. If he hasn’t found her, that means Ava isn’t in Helena. Besides, Morgan and Ava are like sisters. They seem to be able to sense each other.
My answer is easy. “I’m on my way!”
I speed back to base. Fortunately, the traffic flows smoothly despite the bustling activity of both tourists and locals as dinner time approaches. I manage to catch my captain just as he’s leaving.
“Please, sir. This is an emergency.”
The captain flashes a displeased smirk, but he about-faces. “Come on in.” He opens his office door. “What can I do for you, Lieutenant?”
“I request a leave of absence, sir.”
“Have you uncovered another lead about your kidnapper in Florida?”
I was only transferred to Hawaii a year ago. I spent most of my career at Camp Lejeune in North Carolina. The captain has obviously heard about my pursuit.
I have made several requests for leave in order to uncover the truth about what happened to me, but my efforts haven’t yielded any results.
“No, sir,” I answer.
“If you need to be in that part of the country, I can put in the good word so you’re transferred to Panama City. You’re a trained combatant diver, are you not, Lieutenant?”
“I am, sir.”
“They surely need a diving instructor like you there.”
“I appreciate the offer, but I must go to Montana. ”
The captain’s expression turns perplexed. “Montana?”
“It’s an emergency involving a friend, sir. A very good friend.”
In the eye of the military, ‘a very good friend’ is not a compelling reason to call it an emergency, and I can sense my captain’s disapproval through his gaze. Ava is more than just a dear friend, but I’m at a loss when it comes to explaining this to him.
Ava and I only spent a few days together. When we parted, I tried to play it cool. But inside, everything in me throbbed, like I was driven to the point of desperation. I wish I’d given her more than just my jacket or a friendly hug when she looked to need extra warmth. Sadly, we only used the weather as an excuse to get close to each other—nothing more.
The captain raises his eyes to me, expecting further clarification. I could’ve pretended the emergency concerned Sam or my father, my only family, but I prefer to handle the situation without lying to my superior.
Realizing I’m not going to even defend myself, the captain continues. “You haven’t taken leave in over a year, and you’re one of the most dedicated Marines I’ve known, maybe even obsessed. However, I have a knack for reading minds, Lieutenant. Is this friend of yours the one who’s been distracting you?”
“Sir?”
“Granted, you were never distracted while on duty, and you haven’t put a foot wrong in any given mission. I heard about your actions in Kabul when the city fell. You were offered a flight out, but you declined, letting your men depart instead. You were one of the last few to leave.”
“Any leader in my position would have done the same. Those men had a family back home.”
“Here’s the thing, Lieutenant. To me, you act like you’re on duty all the time. And don’t deny it. You try to hide the fact that you’ve been thinking of her .”
A creeping warmth makes its way up the back of my neck, leaving me uneasy. Seven months ago, I discovered that she had given birth to a baby. That means she was pregnant when we met. It was painful, but I still care about her. Perhaps more than just caring, but less than love, because love cannot simply blossom in a matter of days.
My captain knows how to read me, but I attempt to deny him anyway. “With all due respect, sir, that’s not true.”
He narrows his lips as he reclines against his leather chair. “How long do you need, Jack?”
He calls me by my first name only when we’re off duty or when he softens his stance during a disagreement. I know he will understand, but something shifts in me. I feel a sense of belonging to the Corps, but what I feel for Ava surpasses that loyalty. For her , I’ll do anything.
“The whole thirty days,” I respond.
“You’ve dedicated your life to the Corps. It wouldn’t be right for me to deny your request. But if there’s a chance you may exceed your allotted time, you must inform me beforehand.”
“Understood, sir.”
“You’re dismissed.”
“Thank you, sir.”
I rush back to my apartment at the base, where the boxes containing my research on my abduction await me, like pets welcoming their master home.
It has become a routine for me to dig into the photos, maps, and leads after a long day in uniform. Night after night, I tirelessly piece together the fragments—attempting to reconstruct my childhood and identify the man who destroyed it— only to reshuffle them and start over. I collect scattered visions from my dreams and nightmares and combine them with solid evidence, yet they never quite align.
But tonight, it’s not about me. It’s Ava who I need to find, and I won’t rest until I do.