by John Shors
“I’m so bloody worried about Big Jake, Miss Annie. I just don’t know what to do.”
“I know you’re worried. I am too. I feel sick about them being gone. But . . . but they’re going to be fine.” She squeezed him tighter, fighting her misery, willing herself to attend to Ratu. “Now let’s talk about . . . about something else for a moment. I’d love . . . I’d love to know what kind of home produces such a wonderful boy. What makes your home so special?”
Ratu continued to tremble, moaning quietly. “My family,” he finally replied, his words barely more than a whisper.
“What about them? Can you tell me one thing about each of them?”
Ratu thought about his loved ones, more tears seeping forth. “My mother . . . she likes to laugh.”
“Is that who taught you? To laugh?”
He nodded. “She’s always laughing. I tell you, she’s so much funnier than me.”
“And your father?”
“My father ... my father wants to be with me. Not with his friends. But with me.”
“He must love you very much.”
“He does.”
Annie continued to stroke his face. As much as she tried, she couldn’t help but think of Akira, and tears dropped to her cheeks. She wiped them away, not wanting Ratu to know that she was crying. Her despair was suddenly so overwhelming that it took all her might to keep from sobbing.
Ratu’s eyes opened. He studied her for a moment as she tried to collect herself. “You . . . you love him?” he asked.
She hesitated only a moment. “Very much.”
Ratu nodded. “Does it make you . . . feel warm?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t want them to die,” he said, starting to cry again. “I don’t want anyone to die.”
“We’re going to . . . to go home soon,” she replied. “We’re each going to go home. You to your laughing mother and to your . . . your loving father. And to your five sisters. And they’ll hold you and love you and all of this will just seem like a bad dream.”
He shuddered against her. “You promise?”
“You’ll be a boy again,” she said, her tears fresh and numerous. “And . . . as Akira might say, you’ll be reborn.”
“Reborn?”
“Because you’re going to be so very happy, Ratu. You’re going to laugh and fish, and you’re never going to feel like this again.”
UPWARDS OF FIVE HUNDRED soldiers occupied the beach when Akira noticed a group of eleven men head straight into the jungle. They walked with a sense of purpose and were heavily armed and supplied. Believing them to be the team that Roger would rendezvous with, Akira felt as if he were watching Annie’s death unfold. And this horrific sensation prompted him to immediate action.
Not far from Akira’s location, a group of soldiers busily chopped down trees. He hoped, somewhat desperately, that they’d set their weapons aside and he could steal some arms. With his belly and legs pressed against the soil, Akira started to crawl, using only his elbows to propel himself forward. Fortunately, the vegetation was thick, and now that the Japanese had secured the area, no one seemed to be paying attention to the jungle. During the night, Akira had woven reeds into his hair and clothes, and he wondered if he looked as much like a bush as he thought he did.
Despite his fear of the eleven soldiers and the death that might follow in their wake, Akira moved slowly, perhaps ten feet a minute. He felt rather than heard Jake behind him. Not far ahead, Akira listened to men talking and working. Axes rhythmically thumped into wood, and trees swayed and toppled. Someone was complaining of the heat and bugs. A terse voice reminded everyone of their duty to the emperor and demanded they double their efforts. More trees fell.
When Akira was perhaps two dozen paces from the work crew, he paused again. Though bushes obscured much of his view, he saw eight men. Seven were laboring with axes and saws while an officer, who had a sword at his side, gave endless instructions. To Akira’s delight, he noticed rifles leaning against several trees. A light machine gun was also present, but sat in the midst of the men. Deciding that he’d try to steal the two rifles that were set deepest in the jungle, Akira crept forward, glad for the swinging axes, the orders, and the conversation of the men. Even so, he moved with extraordinary care, eyeing the ground ahead before settling himself upon it.
As Akira neared the guns, his heart pounded with increasing vigor. Though sweat stung his eyes and dampened his clothes, his mouth felt dry and stale. Trying to slow his breathing, he edged closer. The guns were only five feet from him, and the nearest man thrice that distance. Akira inched ahead. The distant drone of aircraft then found his ears, and he stopped. Around him the soldiers chatted excitedly, talking about a squadron of Japanese bombers that was returning from what they assumed to be a successful mission. The approaching planes sounded unusually low, and the officer ordered his men to return to the beach and bow to honor their victorious comrades. At first, Akira was dismayed by this request, for he knew that the men would take their guns. And they did, each grabbing a weapon and then hurrying to the beach. However, extra guns must have been present, for a trio of rifles was forgotten next to a fallen tree. Not believing his luck, Akira waited for the men to vanish and then crawled to the guns. He grabbed the rifles and, crouched over, ran away from the beach.
Suddenly, Jake was beside him, and Akira handed his companion a rifle. They moved silently through the jungle, hurrying as fast as they dared. Finally, when they were far from the beach, Akira said in a low voice, “Did you see the eleven?”
“Sure did. And that pack of wolves ain’t nothing but trouble.”
“They will come for us.”
“I reckon so.”
“With Roger, they will have twelve. And these rifles each contain five rounds. That means fifteen bullets for twelve men. We will have to shoot very straight and very fast.” Akira launched himself over a fallen tree. Turning to Jake, he said, “Are you ready to run? Yes?”
“I ain’t never been so ready.”
“Good,” Akira said simply, his legs churning beneath him, his mind now focused solely on getting back to Annie as quickly as possible.
TRYING TO HIDE his pain, Roger made his way down the hill toward the eleven approaching soldiers. Though not surprised, he was pleased to see that they were heavily armed and appeared well trained. The soldiers moved not as individuals but as a single unit. A small man led the group, his movements much less fluid than those of his comrades. He seemed more concerned with making his way up the steep slope than with his surroundings. Were he in battle, Roger knew, he’d die quickly.
Believing that the small man was Edo, Roger called out a password and approached the group. Edo told his men to remain still, and he continued upward alone. Unlike many desk-bound soldiers who longed for the field, Edo possessed no such temperament—even if he yearned to kill at least once during the war. Though he pretended otherwise, Edo despised the island’s smells and flies, heat and sun. A part of him wished that he was back in his bunker in Tokyo, or at the very least in his room aboard the cruiser. The actual fighting in a war was best left to the young and stupid, he had long believed.
But having been ordered to terminate Roger, Edo felt compelled to be on the ground to ensure that the deed was done. Moreover, as much as he hated the field, he relished the prospect of using his gun. He knew that regardless of how important his work was, his duty would never be considered truly honorable until he had killed. That was a simple fact of the war.
And so complicated and somewhat contradictory feelings coursed through Edo as he approached the big American. Certainly Edo was pleased that he’d fire his pistol for the first time in the war. But he also wanted the bloodshed to happen sooner rather than later. He felt out of his element on the island, and was afraid that his men would detect his inexperience and discomfort with his surroundings. They’d never witness his desk-bound brilliance, he knew, but they might see his field-bound shortcomings.
Edo and Roger m
et on an outcropping that was mostly devoid of trees and foliage. Neither man spoke, as the two had worked together for some time but never met in person, and now they quickly assessed each other. Edo broke the stillness, pointing at Roger’s side. “What happened?” he asked roughly in Japanese.
Roger noted the harsh undercurrent in the other’s words. “There was a complication,” he replied, the effort to talk worsening the pain in his side.
“A complication? Describe this unfortunate complication.”
“After sixteen days on this rock, they discovered who I was. That was yesterday. We fought, and I retreated here.”
“How many did you kill?”
“One.”
“Just one? Why?”
“I was outnumbered.”
“You were a fool to get caught,” Edo said. “Unforgivable to get caught.”
If anyone else had so disdainfully called him a fool, Roger would have killed him immediately. But with ten of Edo’s men standing nearby, Roger stifled an urge to break the little man’s neck. “It changes nothing,” Roger finally replied. “I know where they’ve gone. And they don’t know this.”
“Then why are we talking?”
“Fine. Follow me.”
“No,” Edo said, shaking his head. “You will stay at the rear. You will tell my men where to go.”
Though surprised by the command, Roger merely shrugged. He then said, “There’s a Japanese officer with the Americans.”
“With them?”
“He’s betrayed the emperor.”
Edo’s eyes narrowed, as if he didn’t believe such a thing possible. “And?” he said, swatting futilely at a fly.
“And I’d like to kill him.”
“You are paid to kill Americans, not Japanese,” Edo said, glancing at Roger’s side. “Is he the one who gave you this complication?”
“With your permission, I’d like to interrogate him. Him and his American lover.”
Edo’s face tightened. He found this revelation to be almost as disgusting as the man’s betrayal of the emperor. “I will give you . . . some time with them,” Edo replied. “But I will finish what you begin.”
“And I will watch.”
Edo grunted, wondering how anyone could find an American woman attractive. He’d seen pictures of them and found their noses and shoulders and waists to be enormous. Why anyone would want to bed such a monster was beyond him. “Is she repulsive?” he asked, starting to descend the hill.
Though Roger was surprised by the question, his answer came quickly enough. “You’ll want to squash them both. Like a couple of fleas.”
“Fleas don’t break ribs.”
Roger bristled at this remark, suddenly hating Edo. But he suppressed an angry reply, for the little man had promised to give him Akira and Annie, and for such a gift, Roger could surely endure a few insults. After all, such a gift would keep him warm on cold nights, entertain him years from now, and set him free.
THE BEACH FELT MARVELOUS against Akira’s feet. Though his lungs and legs ached, he ran without slowing his pace. The sand meant that he was drawing closer to Annie, that he’d see her once again. “You can continue, yes?” he asked Jake.
Jake struggled to keep pace, but nodded. “I . . . I wasn’t . . . born to run,” he said between intense gasps of air, sweat dropping like rain from his cheeks and nose. “But neither . . . was the turtle . . . who won that race.”
Akira didn’t understand Jake’s response but asked for no clarification. His mind was set only on rejoining the group. He wanted to get to them as quickly as possible, for he believed that Roger’s force wasn’t far behind. And though Akira feared that he’d still die soon, the thought of once again holding Annie in his eyes and arms gave him immense strength. He ran as if he’d just escaped from prison and was returning to her after many years of separation.
A part of him hadn’t expected to survive the morning, and despite the fact that his plan had failed, Akira felt almost as much hope as he did dread. If he and Jake could lead the approaching force in the wrong direction, Annie and the others might be able to escape in the lifeboat. And perhaps fate would be so kind as to let Jake and him swim after the boat. Stranger things happened in war. The will of the few could overcome the strength of the many. Akira had seen it happen before. How else had Japan dominated China?
Running at the edge of the sea, so that the water covered their tracks, Akira led Jake to the north. They passed the cave and only slightly slowed to glance inside. Hurrying around rocks and tide pools, they left little trace of their passage. Akira was careful to keep the rifles free of sand and sea. The guns, after all, were as important to him as the beat of his own heart. Without them, everyone would die.
“You . . . run . . . like you’re on . . . fire or something,” Jake said haltingly, trying to keep up. “You ain’t gonna . . . explode . . . are you?”
Akira leapt over a mound of kelp. “I have never . . . run like this.”
“She must . . . be awfully . . . special.”
“Like the sun.”
Jake smiled at Akira’s response. Though Jake was still scared, he also ran with hope. He’d watched Akira in the jungle and had been in awe of the man’s cunning and courage. With Akira leading them, maybe they stood a chance. Maybe Jake would return Ratu to his village and then journey home to Missouri. Maybe no one else would get hurt. Might they be so darn lucky?
They had traveled another half mile or so up the shoreline when a sudden shout caused them to stop. Joshua and Isabelle emerged from the edge of the jungle, followed not far behind by Annie, Ratu, and Nathan. Annie stumbled as she hit the beach, regained her balance, and pressed forward. Akira moved toward her, laughing as she leapt into his arms, holding her and the rifles above the sand.
She started to speak but kissed him instead. They’d never so openly touched, but for the moment nothing but the joy of their reunion mattered. She squeezed him tight, her arms and legs wrapped about him.
“I am going to fall,” he finally said, smiling.
“Oh, of course!” she replied, dropping from him.
A few feet away, Ratu slapped Jake on the back. “You did it, Big Jake! I tell you, you bloody did it!”
Jake tussled the boy’s hair. “Remind me . . . never . . . to run with him again.”
Joshua smiled and, glancing skyward, said a quick prayer of gratitude. He then took the heavy guns from Akira and Jake. “What happened?” he asked eagerly, leading them back toward the jungle.
Akira explained what had occurred during the night and early morning. Only when he mentioned the eleven soldiers did people worriedly look into the jungle. “They will find us,” Akira said. “They are professionals, and they will find us.”
“How soon?” Joshua asked, his euphoria abruptly gone, his eyes glancing at Isabelle. She hadn’t been looking well for the past several days, and earlier that morning, several drops of blood had spotted her underwear.
“A few hours,” Akira replied.
Joshua groaned. “We’ve no choice. We’ll get in the lifeboat and take our chances at sea.”
“Yes,” Akira said. “That is what you will do. But Jake and I will not.”
“Why not?”
“We will take the three guns and lead the soldiers in the wrong direction. And when we have confused them enough, we will swim to you.”
“Swim?” Nathan asked incredulously, shaking his head, worried for them. “How would you ever find us?”
“We once swam from your ship, yes? We can do it a second time.”
Isabelle saw the sudden fear and hurt in her sister’s eyes, and stepped closer to Akira. “You’ve already risked everything. It isn’t right to do that again.”
“But the plan did not work,” Akira replied, not wanting to return to the jungle but knowing that he had no choice. “Roger is still alive. And he will bring them to us.” Akira nodded toward the rifles. “I am an expert shot. I will shoot Roger first. Then Jake and I will run to the sea. Wi
thout Roger, they will never find us.”
“He’s as right as rain,” Jake said, his arm around Ratu. “They ain’t gonna get us. Not with that devil dead.”
“And you want to go with him?” Joshua asked. “Again?”
“Better two of us than one, I reckon.”
Joshua bit his bottom lip. His prayers for Akira and Jake’s safe return had been answered, and now that the group was reunited, he loathed the thought of breaking it up again. But what Akira had said made sense, even if his plan wasn’t perfect. “Don’t fully engage them,” he said, trying to sound confident. “Fire a few shots from a far distance. Hit Roger, then lead them deep into the island, lose them there, and head for the eastern beach. Grab a branch and start swimming. We’ll be a mile offshore, waiting for you. Once we’re a mile offshore, the naked eye shouldn’t be able to see us.”
Annie started to protest, but Akira looked at her and shook his head. She paused for a moment and said, “Two against twelve doesn’t seem right. I don’t care what any of you say; it’s not right.”
Aware of the pain on her sister’s face, and finally understanding the depth of her love for Akira, Isabelle added, “I agree completely. For goodness’ sake, there just has to be a better way.”
Akira glanced at Isabelle and then at Annie. “Your mother must be strong and wise,” he replied, “to create such daughters.” Before either sister could answer, he added, “This way will set us free.”
Knowing that time was precious, Joshua nodded, handing a rifle to Akira and another to Jake. “I’ll go with you,” he said. “Three of us will fare better.”
“So sorry, but you must lead the lifeboat, Captain,” Akira said, reaching forward to take the other gun. He smiled and added, “When we catch up to you, you can row the boat, yes?”
Joshua reluctantly released the gun. He reached out to shake Akira’s and Jake’s hands. “You’re good men,” he said. “Damn fine men.”
Emotional farewells were exchanged, and the group scattered. Holding the two guns, Akira followed Annie a few paces deeper into the jungle. She leaned against a tree and slowly shook her head, tears descending her face. “You don’t . . . you don’t have to do this.”