The Artifact

This story is a new story line for me. It will be submitted in a category that I've never written in before. The story has an actual plot, and is not just a stroke story. If a stroke story is what you are looking for you may want to skip this title and move to one of the many talented authors on this website who specialize in that writing style.

This will be several pages long, and the sex takes a while to appear. If you continue to read, you will not be disappointed.

****

The beginning

I moved slowly and silently through the triple canopy jungle. In the month I'd been here I'd learned the rhythms of the verdant hell I now found myself in. It was unlikely that the enemy was nearby, I knew, the jungle told me.

My name is Jack, Jack Katz. With a first and last name like that you know that my nickname had to be Coats. My tour of Vietnam was as a draftee. On the appointed day, I went to the induction center, where they sent me to basic training and then I received orders to advanced infantry training. They gave me a few days of leave and then a long flight to Vietnam.

Growing up hunting and fishing by myself, I knew how to track and move. Before he died, dad taught me everything I had to know about the woods, animals and people. I was surprised at how much of my knowledge helped while I was walking point.

I was the FNG (fucking new guy) when I first got there, so they put me on point right away, whenever we went out on patrol. I was real scared at first until I found out how bad the NVA were in the jungle. Those city boys were only slightly better than our city boys in the bush. If it weren't for my slack man (the man a few meters behind me, carrying an automatic weapon), I could sneak up on those boys easily. With me on point, our platoon got a reputation for being the best in the jungle.

We were in a pretty active area, so we saw a lot of action. No matter how good I was, it was inevitable that I got wounded. It was only a small piece of shrapnel, which went through my arm, right under the skin. Until it got infected it wasn't serious.

By the time I was medevaced, my arm had swollen to nearly twice its normal size. I was in the hospital for about a month getting IV therapy. I was bored after the fever went away, and would frequently take my IV pole out for a walk. I saw the call for volunteers for long range reconnaissance on the bulletin board. I knew that it was what I was meant to do so I put in my papers.

I went right to the LRRP's, after I got out of the hospital and was given a much abbreviated training. The rest of the guys on my new team were much better in the bush than my old squad; but I was still so much better that it was natural for me to stay on point. Our job was usually to just find the enemy and report their location, size and what they were doing.

A six man team has little chance against even a company of the enemy, so we always tried to remain hidden, until we were ordered to snatch a prisoner. I tried to give the abort signal, but no one was paying attention.

When the sergeant initiated the ambush, I made sure that all the enemy was dead when I got up quickly, running and I said. "Sarge, we've got to evade. There are more on the way, we've only got a few seconds before they get here.

We began our emergency exfiltration, (started running like hell) as the sergeant told us, "We'll head for the first rally point. I'll drop off here and try to slow them down a little. Wait for me about six-hundred meters up there," he concluded to the assistant team leader.

I felt bad leaving the sergeant alone, but we all followed his orders. We were only about 400 meters away when we heard an explosion and a heavy volume of fire. It was possible that the sergeant survived, but the ATL kept going beyond the six-hundred meters.

I grabbed his shoulder and said, "It's time to hold up and wait for sarge."

There was a wild look in his eye as he said to me, "You wait here for him. We'll keep going and you both catch up when he joins you."

I dropped off to wait, but as he turned to go I said as quietly as I could, "You need to slow down a little; you're making too much noise."

There was no answer as they quickly left. I was listening closely when I heard them run into an ambush only a couple of minutes later.

I was sure that I had enemy closing in from either side. I set up a mine on a tripwire and melted into the jungle parallel to their lines of advance. I was nearly 300 meters away when I heard the explosion. I picked up the pace as I heard the two formations exchanging fire in the fog of war.

It was a little more than a day before I was sure that no one else was looking for me. I worked my way back toward where the rest of the patrol had met their fate. They had all been torn to shreds by automatic weapons. I took one of their dog tags from each body and moved to find the sarge.

Sarge had put up a good fight, there were three shredded bodies. From the way they were arranged, I could tell that they were killed by his claymore mine. There were four other blood trails as well. Sarge had been over-killed. He'd been tied to a tree and every inch of his body had been punctured. It really looked like he had been used for bayonet practice. His dog tags were missing, so I was unable to take a copy, but I knew it was him.

I withdrew into some thick cover to take stock of my situation. I was probably forty miles from the nearest American position. In addition to having maybe a regiment of NVA between me and them, there were several small villages hostile to Americans, not all of which were marked on the map. I was one magazine short of a basic load of ammo; I had two M26 fragmentation grenades a belt of ammo for the M60 light machine gun that was now missing and one green smoke grenade. I also had the hush puppy with three charged magazines (a silenced small caliber pistol used to keep the geese and chickens in a village quiet). I only had three days of food left, and only enough water purification tablets for five days. I had a little C4 that I could use to cook with, but I'd need that to boil water to purify it if I ran out of the tablets.

I checked the map one more time, planning my movement, I saw, with the route I had to travel, would take me several days to get back. I also knew that I had to Charlie Mike (continue the mission). My orders had not been rescinded, so I still had to attempt to snatch a prisoner.

I followed the curve of the valley the first night. Progress was extremely slow, since I was unable to see much. I had to stop frequently to listen, since I had no backup. I continued moving through most of the morning, because a thick fog obscured visibility beyond ten feet or so. I found a good place to hold up, and carefully camouflaged myself. I'd made better progress than I thought that I would. I should find a place to remain covert and refill my canteens tonight, pretty early. If my calculations were correct, I was less than a quarter mile from the river. The fog muted much of the sound, but I thought I heard moving water. Once I'd camouflaged myself heavily I lay still, resting. The hours I'd spent hyper-alert were now taking their toll as I reluctantly fell asleep.

I awoke with a start, a couple of hours later, aware of movement nearby. I stayed extremely still, trying to calm myself so that the hammering of my heart didn't give me away. I remained still, attempting to control my panic while more than a thousand heavily armed NVA regulars passed by on a wide trail, less than twenty meters away from where I was hidden. Most of them had bicycles, to which they had strapped impossibly large loads.

I stayed still after the last of the formation had passed by; trying to control the panic I was beginning to feel. When the next group started by, fifteen minutes later, I began to feel despairing of evading detection.

Over the next couple of hours, a division of infantry marched past my position. After the last of the formations passed by, I remained in place for more than an hour, watching the trail closely. A squad of hyper-alert NVA passed by, looking for people like me, who might be watching for movement. When they were out of range, I began to calm down a little.

I looked at the map, and determined my approximate location. The trail that I was watching was not on the map, but the river was very close. I saw that there were a couple of places nearby that would be a good place for a large group to encamp for the night and remain hidden. I figured that the unmarked trail would follow near the river until they had to cross. If I could get over to the other side, I might be able to follow their progress by sound alone. Except for the trailers, their noise discipline was terrible. I could follow them and continue to collect intelligence, following them while they traveled in the same direction as I was headed. A side benefit was that I could travel a lot faster; cutting the time it would take me by at least two thirds. I rucked up and prepared to move out. I wanted to get to the head of the column before they moved out, so that I would be prepared in the morning.

It took me less than an hour to find a place to ford the river. I figured that all the little people were at least five klicks up the river, so I mastered my fear and waded across. It took me less than a minute, but it felt like a lifetime. I went a few meters into the jungle where I could remain hidden and still watch my back trail. I waited, watching intently for fifteen minutes or so. I heard nothing but the jungle and the river. I finally felt safe enough to travel and began moving silently through the jungle once again.

All of life is compromise and balance. With the correct camouflage and infinite patience, you can pass within a few feet an alert sentry: however taking twelve hours to travel fifteen to twenty feet is usually impractical. If you are sure that the likelihood of the enemy being nearby is low, you can move much faster. I was able to move nearly a mile and a half an hour.

After a little more than an hour and a half, I began hearing noises from the enemy camp across the river. I smelled the wood smoke from cooking fires, but there were no smoke columns that I could see. They must have dispersed the smoke somehow, that was something that I thought intel might like to know.

I finally got ahead of the formation and suddenly came up on a large blast crater. I figured that it had to be at least a 5 hundred pound bomb. It was full of stagnant water and the other side of the pond was up against another, even wider trail. I decided that I had to check out that trail as well.

The new trail was more like a road. Many of the trees showed evidence that their branches had been trimmed back so that large trucks could get through; but I saw no evidence of recent travel. The parts of the trail were wide enough for two large trucks to pass side by side. While I was following alongside the road I saw several more craters, and two burned out trucks that had been pushed off the road, into the jungle. When I looked into the cab of the truck, I saw the burned skeletons of the truck drivers that had been chained into their trucks. I noticed that there were a couple of places that parking places were cut into the jungle.

I didn't want to get too far ahead of the column, so I started looking for a place to spend the night. I froze when I saw a strange blue glow. Using extreme caution, I moved slowly in to find out what that strange illumination was.

There was a series of long ruined stone buildings, enclosed by a crumbling wall. Plants and vines covered most of the exposed surfaces; it was clear that this complex was a thousand or more years old.

In the center of the complex was a courtyard and the strange blue glow was coming from the far end. I pulled out the hush puppy, jacked in a round and slowly worked my way over to the light. The glow didn't behave like regular light. It didn't shine on any surfaces, nor did it cast any shadows. The closed I got to it the lighter everything became. It was easier to see, even distant objects despite the fact that there were no lights other than the glow. The silence was absolutely deafening. My curiosity and nervousness were mixed in equal proportions as I got very close to the source of the glow.

At first, I was disappointed when I realized that the source of the illumination was a statue of a seated Buddha. The entire body glowed, but the colored light became more intense on the chest, right over the heart. I stepped right up to the statue, no longer afraid, for a closer look.

I briefly pondered the source of the glow. I cleared my weapon and put it away; meditating on the mystery before me. I put out my hand and felt no heat coming from the source of the light. I suddenly, for no reason that I can remember, I put my hand right into the Buddha's chest. My hand penetrated the surface as if it were water. I grabbed what I felt inside and pulled it out.

It was a disc about the size of a small saucer, maybe about 1/4" inch thick, with a circular hole in the center, maybe an inch and a half in diameter. There were ridges, like concentric circles on both sides, with oriental (as opposed to European) writing on them, I was unable to read any of it, but as I looked at it I felt that there was a choice that I had to make. After just a moment, I felt relaxed, as if the decision had been made.

I couldn't tell you why, because I don't know; but I took the heavy medallion shaped artifact and touched it to my head, to my heart, to my stomach and then to my groin. My confusion and apprehension seemed to clear immediately as I put the medallion into my front pants pocket, grabbed my hush puppy, jacked in a round and went to find a safe place to sleep for a couple of hours.

I found a secluded section of the temple and went inside. Even though it was pitch black, I had no problem seeing without any light. I pulled out a can of my c rations, opened it up and began eating. I only had enough for six meals, but I'd had a full day and I was ravenously hungry.

I kept eating and eating until I was stuffed: I couldn't figure out what it was, but it was delicious. I set the tin down, and then picked it up to look closer. Ham and lima beans? I hate those, I'd only eaten them once and they were terrible. I got real spooked when I realized that the can was still unopened, but there was still a little bit of residue on my spoon. As scary as it was, for some reason, I was unconcerned.

I was full, comfortable, tired and felt safe so I stretched out to sleep. The disc in my pocket felt like a heated vibrator as I fell asleep. I couldn't believe that here, in a combat zone, within two miles of the enemy, outnumbered by probably eight thousand to one, I was awakened by the most powerful orgasm I'd ever had. My wet dream had caused me to coat the entire inside front of my fatigue pants with cum. I tried not to laugh at myself as I decided that this wouldn't be part of my report when I returned to the base.

I pulled the disc out of my pocket, noticing that it appeared smaller now. It was now only a little larger than the palm of my hand. For some reason I put the medallion into my soft cover, put it on my head and went back to sleep.

I woke again, and realized that my mind was freer of distractions, and delusions, than it had ever had been. I was easily able to analyze all of the options open to me and found it simple to choose the best one.

I knew that the next thing that I needed to do was take the artifact and hold it on my stomach while I went to sleep. The only way to describe the sensations going throughout my whole body is to say that while I slept, I felt my body glow. I could feel myself become stronger and fitter. Even though I was asleep, I knew that sleeping was my choice, not a requirement.

When I woke again a little while later, I knew that I had to hang the medallion shaped artifact around my neck. Whenever I was in the field, I always carried extra bootlaces. I fed the end of a lace through the hole in the center, tied the ends and put it around my neck, under my shirt, against my chest. Somehow I knew that this would be the most painful of all. I lay back down and went to sleep.

I was asleep, but I felt the emotional pain of every personal loss I'd ever had. From finding Sarge's body to seeing the body of my dog Skippy, run over in the street, when I was four years old. It felt like bands were being tightened around my chest so that I could not breathe. Even though I was asleep, I felt the medallion burning into my chest, like a hot coal had been placed there.

When I finally woke up, the artifact was gone, as was the bootlace. I wondered where the medallion had gone, but was untroubled by the fact that it was missing. Maybe I should have been, however I seemed to know instinctively that it was unimportant that it was gone. I was fully rested and was ready for anything that might come. I cleaned my weapons, checked the area to verify that I'd left no trace of my presence and left to follow the enemy column.

****

The NVA sent out trail runners early in the morning, with light loads, traveling at high speed to check the trail for ambushes. I was able to know what they were thinking as they hurried along. They were hoping to make it to the large base that they had, twenty-five miles up the trail, by the end of the day's journey, where they would be able to see a show, treat their sick and injured and rest for maybe a week.

The river crossing was only a mile from their base, so they would hurry as much as possible. It would be nearly dark by the time they got the full division there, but they were all looking forward to a week of R&R.

I still felt the throbbing in my chest as I followed along. The artifact was gone, but I had a minor scar that looked like a burn in the shape and size of the medallion, right over my heart. If it weren't for the scar, I would have begun believing that I'd dreamed the whole thing up.

The day passed swiftly, I was fully aware of everyone in my area. I could read their minds. It was a little past three thirty when the main body began crossing the river. I was surprised that their feet only went up to their ankles into the water. I watched from sixty or seventy meters away. They all double timed across the river, on what I later determined was a submerged bridge wide enough for a truck, in company sized groups. I got an estimate of seventy-eight hundred personnel.

I saw a colonel, who for some reason, I knew was an intelligence officer. I thought about what a coup it would be if I were able to capture him. When that thought crossed my mind, I saw the colonel shake his head as if trying to clear it. He then said something to the major who was with him, turn back around and walked back over the bridge to the side the Americans were on.

The major called an armed senior enlisted man over and told him to guard the colonel. The Sergeant ran over to where the colonel was standing, keeping a sharp watch with his weapon at the ready. I realized that I was able to make people do whatever I wanted them to do, using just my mind. I ordered the major to direct one of the bicycles and the two privates rolling it to go to the colonel. I then had the colonel lead his party five hundred meters beyond the bridge on the trail, still on the other side of the river.

I made the major and the bridge security element forget all about them, when they followed the rear element across the river. I was able to cross the river within a couple of minutes without being observed. I had the four NVA continue walking down the trail.

I walked them about two miles down the trail when I felt the presence of an American patrol. I made them all stand still, hit them on the back of the head with the butt of my M16, made them all fall down unconscious, bound them, gagged them, blindfolded them and then I snuck up on the L-shaped ambush that the American unit had set up.