Carter's Odyssey

By Terry Murphy

The year was 1992 and, Leon Carter, started on a, first time, international holiday.
He is involved in the hijacking of the aircraft that he is on and he becomes one of three hostages. The three spend some time in a Tamil Tiger stronghold as prisoners. Leon manages an escape and to gain some help from Sri Lankan locals. In turn he helps them to rid their community of local thugs. His new friends get him stowed away on a ship. He helps the crew overcome pirates and this puts him in favor with the captain, who must still deal with him as a stowaway. Leon is put ashore on the coast of Montenegro.
Once ashore Leon finds he is in the midst of the civil war in the country formally known as Yugoslavia. He encounters murder, rape, pillage and ethnic cleansing, all of which change him as a person. He also collects a small band of displaced children, from whom he learns so much.
The female member of the trio, remains with Leon and helps to bring the collection of orphaned waifs to safety. Under the constant hardships that existence in a war zone brings, a love match develops between the woman and Leon.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Terry Murphy
• Release date: Aug 27, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311302540

Terry Murphy

Terry Murphy is a septuagenarian whose basic formal education has been enhanced over his ensuing years, including creative writing courses and the study of such works as Aspects of the Novel by E.M. Forster, Bird by Bird by Anne Lamott and other such advisory books for aspiring writers. Short stories published in an anthology being his only print success; with this current offering being his first novel. His many years at the "school of life" have enabled him to build realistic characters based on the melding of many people who have crossed his path. A number of years in amateur and semi professional theatre have given him an insight to many types of characterizations. Likewise isolated situations that have occurred over many years have been woven into one adventure. Terry is currently working on his second novel; a twist on an historical situation where mystery surrounds what may or may not have happened. (Think 'The Da Vinci Code'). Based on the premise that Adolf Hitler did not die in his bunker. Terry has been a lifelong native of Sydney Australia and has been married for 46 years. As a retiree he now devotes himself to his children, grandchildren & writing.

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Carters Odyssey

Terry Murphy

Copyright 2014 Terry Murphy

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Chapter 1

A happiness of anticipation prevailed, yet it was tempered with a sadness of loss. Sydney Airport International terminal was a bustling dynamic focus of humanity. Leon stared pensively at the constant flow of people. You don't have to go Dad, said Kerry, his daughter, if you don't want to that is.

I know Sweetheart, but I want to; really. He knew both his children worried about him. For two years they had planned this holiday, he and his wife. His beloved Karen. For two years they had scrimped and saved to have this, their first trip outside Australia. Then four months ago, with their tickets and accommodation paid for, Karen died. A cancerous brain tumour robbed him of his lifelong companion, best friend, and lover.

For four months he had grieved, cursed God, questioned life, and even thought about joining Karen in Eternity. Got all your traveller's cheques and papers Dad? queried Barry, his son, dissolving his pensiveness.

Yes thanks. They looked so miserable, the both of them. For twenty-five years he’d worked for the one company, first as a forklift driver, then he worked his way up to supervisor in that warehousing and logistics company. Now he had twenty-five years of long service pay to have his and Karen’s dream holiday. ‘I wonder if they’ll miss me at work’; he thought, ‘probably not’.

With the impetus of the proverbial runaway train, forty Japanese tourists and their guide, stampeded through the thoroughfare, toward gate nine and the Tokyo express. The jostling and bumping of bodies, baggage, and souvenirs, galvanized the Carter trio into an activity they seemed to be avoiding. With the mood of negativity broken, and some motivation forced upon them, Leon considered it a good move to keep the flow going. He picked up his hand luggage and patted his breast pocket to assure himself that his ticket, boarding pass, passport and wallet were in place.

Look kids, I have a fair idea what you are both thinking. I assure you I'm in control of my emotions regarding your mother. I know she would want me to finish all the plans we started. Barry looked at his shoes, a law student, whose stock-in-trade was staring opponents down, could not look his own father in the eyes. Karen looked all around her father's face as though she was looking for some kind of sub-text, but she would not look directly at his face. Barry was twenty-three and lived with his fiancée, some four or five suburbs away from their childhood home. Kerry was twenty-one, and sharing a flat near her university on the other side of Sydney. Neither of them was good with emotions, of any kind. Perhaps he hadn't been a good example, in these matters, thought Leon. Your mother will be with me all the way on this trip, but she'll still be here with you too.

Oh Dad, don't get all mushy. Chastised Kerry.

Mushy, my foot, girl. This trip will be a part of my grieving process, and when I come home I reckon I’ll be able to let go, and let your mother rest in peace. How about you?

Steady on Dad. Interrupted Barry.

Maybe a lot of it is my fault, but you two have so many hang-ups, and you both hide your emotions. It's not good for you. I believe neither of you have even grieved completely yourselves.

But, we worry about you, Dad. Explained Kerry.

Yes, well I'm a big boy now, and I can look after myself. I'm very grateful; but I'm going, and you won't have to worry about me. You can start thinking about your own emotions, and get yourselves sorted out. Silence, except for the vague distant hum of life in an airport terminal. Quickly the sounds, smells and sights became into sharp focus and the little world of the Carters was absorbed once again, into the sponge of humanity that is Sydney International Airport. Suddenly they had to shout to be heard, force their minds to concentrate on what each other was saying, and try to ignore the aroma of coffee, fast food, and body odour of people who have been travelling without a shower for days.

I'll have to go through the Immigration gate now. Leon was aware that he had to raise his volume. We'll walk with you.

No Son. I'd rather you took Kerry home now. I'm not good with good-byes, and neither are you. So do us all a favour and let me get on with this now. He extended his hand. Barry hesitated and Kerry threw her arms around her father's neck, crying into his lapel. Now don't start Sweetheart. He broke her grip knowing full well if he didn't, he would become emotional as well and embarrass himself. Barry moved in between his sister and Leon and wrapped his long arms around his father's shoulders, pinning his arms by his side. Leon thought how it had been a long time since Barry had shown such a display of emotions.

Love you Dad. Barry whispered. Leon gently pushed him away, but neither could look the other in the eye. Thank you, son.

Take care Daddy. Added Kerry.

You too Darling. How long had it been since she had called him 'Daddy'? He quickly picked up his bag. Bye. He turned quickly and walked into the human wall of tourists all making for the boarding approach.

As Leon was about to move through the door that separates the passenger's waiting lounge, from the general foyer of the terminal, he quickly glanced over his shoulder? Anxious for one more look at his babies. The sheer number of people that was in his view made it impossible, but he thought he saw the back of Barry's head moving toward the exit. It was what he had asked them for.

Leon surveyed the boarding lounges laid out before him. The row of passport booths that reminded him of super-market checkouts where Karen used to work to save for this trip. He showed his passport and departure form without even looking at the customs officer who did the checking. He was so filled with awe at the complexity of the whole scene. The public address system announced in a metallic female voice, as he moved through the metal detector tunnel, that flight 506 to London, was loading on time and would be ready to board in forty-five minutes. Good, he didn't want to hang around here for hours; three quarters of an hour wasn't too bad. He moved to a seat close to the boarding gate, and made himself comfortable, surprisingly so, despite the look of the chairs.

In order to suppress his nerves, at this first-time-in-his-life venture, Leon queued up at a money exchange booth. At his turn he exchanged five hundred Australian dollars for English currency of various denominations. Being naturally paranoid, he then went into the men’s room to secrete his money from pick pockets. He took several one and five pound notes and pocketed them, then divided the balance into two. Placing one bundle into his wallet and the other into the plastic folder that held his passport and returned them to his jacket and carry on bag respectively. As a last minute thought, with no one around, he moved the small notes from his pocket to his sock. He wrapped the notes around his ankle and pulled his sock up over them. He was aware how paranoid this was, but to Leon this was not a silly thing to do, just a precaution. Venturing back into the concourse, he studied the array of people who were all travelling to some part of the world on the same day that he too, was taking this momentous step. Many would be travelling with him to the same part of the world, some in family units, some as singles, and then there are the couples. Several couples were obviously newly weds, but several were middle-aged couples, rewarding themselves, after years of working in industry and at raising their family, with an overseas trip. He felt himself becoming morbid at the similarity of his original plans with Karen. Although not quite ready to retire; at 57 years of age he certainly did not fall into the other groups.

A fellow traveller caught Leon's attention. He was about forty, long hair, in a ponytail, wearing jeans, a black tee shirt, and a suede jacket. An ex-hippie caught in a seventies time trap, thought Leon. A little envious perhaps, as Leon's hair is what is charitably called 'thinning', but he would never consider a pony tail; short back and sides for him. His mid-rift bulge suddenly became prominent in his own mind, as he noticed the 'hippie' was in very good condition. But I can give him about fifteen years; he consoled himself, and then smiled as he realized what he was doing. Still, it helped him to control his nervousness. He overheard the 'hippie' asking information from a porter. American accent, also going to London.

The forty five-minute wait turned to fifty-five minutes, but that wasn't too bad. The time passed pleasantly enough. Leon found himself studying the passing parade of fellow humans with an interest he would never thought possible. Perhaps, he thought, Karen had always filled his thoughts with what she said or did; but now, he has to find other things himself, to think about. What deep and meaningful reasons were there for his new found interest, or was he just being a 'sticky beak'. He even concluded that the whole scene before him, including his own situation, was obscene. This thought provoking idea occurred to him while reading the headlines of a newspaper that a nearby fellow passenger was holding. Reports that told of the latest developments in the Bosnian-Serbian war in the old Yugoslavia. The waste of human life, the misery, the ethnic cleansing that appears to be the aim of both sides. All this while he and his fellow travellers around him were starting or finishing a holiday, with no fears for the security of their home or loved ones. As has always been Leon's way, the deep and meaningful were soon superseded by thoughts of the joys of England in the spring.

At this point Leon reflected on the fact that he had at last felt an air of superiority within his contemporaries. Many of his fellow school students of an age well past, had become, not professionals, as it wasn’t that level of school, but highly regarded tradesmen. Among them were electricians, plumbers and one was even a diamond cutter. This, Leon had learnt, via the reunion grapevine. He was not one to attend class reunions, but one Ian Drake, who was a highly qualified fitter and turner, did attend and would occasionally run into Leon at the Sports Club, where they were both members. A large number of these ex-classmates had failed marriages and some had failed at more than one. Many, including the aforementioned mister Drake, have ventured into investment properties with their excess liquidity. Leon didn’t even know what excess liquidity was, but was pleased to hear that many had filed for bankruptcy in the recession of the late seventies. He had momentarily felt bad about being pleased at the misfortunes of these men with whom he had grown up, but dismissed these feeling when Ian told him that none of his class mates had ever travelled overseas. So, he had a successful marriage, a home and an overseas holiday, before retirement age; not so bad for a humble forklift driver, eh?

All passengers intending to board flight 506 to London via Hong Kong please move to gate eight, and have your ticket and boarding pass ready for the attendant. Thank you. The barking of the public address system snapped Leon out of his trance of reminiscence. He picked up his bag and moved to the line of people waiting to enter the tunnel, leading to the aircraft. He noticed the last, of whom he assumed to be the business class, boarding as he approached, and guessed that the first class were already seated and being served their scotch or brandy. The green eyed monster nips again. Why am I envious of these people? He thought, shrugged his shoulders, and shuffled into line. To jar him out of being absorbed in his own thoughts, he felt a blow to the small of his back. Not severe, but enough to knock him one pace forward. He turned quickly as he regained his balance, to see the back of the American 'hippie', who had just pivoted a hundred and eighty degrees, sending his cabin luggage into the small of Leon's back. Careful. Leon blurted. The American turned back. Oh Jesus, I'm sorry pal. Leon nodded acceptance of the apology and turned to the queue. As they shuffled up a place or two, the American continued. Are you alright buddy, I didn't mean to hit you.

I'm sure you didn't. And yes, I'm okay.

You off to London; or further afield?

No, just as far as London.

The Aussie’s pilgrimage to the Old Dart eh? Even in the nineties it’s a path well travelled.

'Oh, good, God.' Leon thought ‘he might continue to the point of trying to have a real conversation', and he didn't want that. He knew in his heart that his beloved Karen was with him at this time and he didn’t want any outsiders to interfere with his connection to her. Fortunately the queue moved at that moment to bring Leon to the head of it, and a flight attendant requested his boarding pass.

Having passed the ticket inspection, he walked along the tunnel quicker than was necessary. At the door of the aircraft he was greeted by another attendant who checked his boarding pass again, read this seat number out aloud, and pointed him in the direction of his allocated seat. He moved up the aisle mentally noting the little I.D. plates screwed to each seat. Found his row and moved into the window seat he had booked. Actually it was Karen who had wanted the window seat, and insisted on booking it, so when he cancelled one ticket, he thought he might as well keep the one Karen wanted. He put his bag in the hutch above his head, as displayed in the pamphlet he had been issued, and settled into his seat. It was more comfortable than he had anticipated. Maybe this trip wouldn't be like the horror stories he heard after all.

An uneventful departure followed by a scotch and soda, and a complete read of this morning's paper. No conversation from the seat next to him. Leon put away his reading glasses, wedged the folded up paper between the squab and the armrest of his seat, and stretched his neck muscles, trying, very casually to survey his neighbors. Two young men of middle-eastern appearance occupied the two seats next to his; the state of non-communicado was soon evident. Even when the flight attendant had been by to offer coffee or tea, one of the young men had raised his hand in a 'stop' signal, but neither had spoken a word.

The monitor displayed the information that the aircraft was at a height of ten thousand, two hundred metres, which, for non-metric people, also indicated that this was thirty three thousand feet. The information, that the plane was four thousand four hundred kilometres out of Sydney; and three thousand two hundred kilometres east of Singapore, was completely lost on Leon. He had put off for quite some time, visiting the toilet, because of the inconvenience of getting out into the aisle from the window seat. Just as he had decided that he must impose on the two young men beside him, they arose. Both of them moved toward the front of the aircraft, while the most convenient toilet was amidships, just behind their row. Leon quickly slipped out of the seats, and turned rearward as the little sign overhead indicated that the head was un-occupied. Who could have anticipated that a simple call of nature could change his and so many other lives.

Chapter 2

Aiming into a small stainless steel bowl is a hard enough task, but when air pockets at ten thousand metres jostle you about, the results can be disastrous. Using several dampened paper towels to wipe down the edge of the bowl; in case the next visitor knows who was before them, Leon turned his attention to using dry towels to pat dry the tell tale drips on his trousers. Knowing in his paranoia that three or four drips, that can barely be seen, in the bright toilet light, will be immediately on display to the entire complement of passengers, the moment he exits the toilet.

Leon came out of the lavatory with his eyes fixed on the carpet, in the firm belief that if he didn't make eye contact, and then no one would look at his pants. As he turned from the little alley between the two rows of toilets, into the main aisle, the craft hit another air pocket, and sent him lunging toward an exit door. In the process of uncontrollable motivation, Leon collided with someone, and both of them hit the bulkhead, spun, and together, they tumbled rearward down the aisle.

Recovering from the daze that followed the head long meeting with a seat frame, Leon's brain registered a severe pain in his rib cage, as he lay face down. Next came the comprehension that his fellow tumbler was laying on top of him. The other body groaned, and rolled side ways off his back. As he struggled to his knees, he sensed, rather than saw, that the pain in his chest was the result of his laying across a very hard object, and then the pressure of his erstwhile companion's weight pressing him into this object.

Getting to his feet, Leon scooped up the offending article. Intending to offer it to his collision fellow, he really saw, for the first time, that he was holding an automatic machine pistol. He then looked up to see a person, assumably a man, completely dressed in navy blue and wearing a balaclava. Blue Clad grunted something that was not English, and held his hand out for the weapon. Leon instinctively withheld the gun, pulling it closer to himself. Blue Clad shouted some more, and was getting very agitated, as he, still on his knees, backed away from Leon. All the proceeding events that had occurred, since Leon left the head, seemed to have happened in a split second; and now Leon was focusing his mind on the entire situation.

A hijacking! Now he could see five or six, maybe seven, dark blue covered figures, all with balaclavas. A quick glance either side showed fear in the faces of his fellow travellers. ‘I can understand that’, he thought, ‘fear is good’. Simultaneously, it occurred to Leon, a half a dozen agitated hijackers, and all of those passengers and crew within view, that these seven hooded, angry, and aggressive men held six very volatile and dangerous weapons. While Leon, who didn't share their mood, bravado, or politics, also held one of these aforementioned weapons of carnage.

The expected reaction broke out like a tornado. All of the hijackers seem to speak, or shout, as one. Many of the passengers were shouting advice to Leon. Through the turmoil he heard, at least one hijacker, shouting in English. Throw down the gun! Throw down the gun! Amidst the yelling and screaming of frightened people, Leon heard the distinctive voice of the American hippie calling, Throw the gun on the floor, you fucken idiot! As