“Yes, sir.”
“Good,” the colonel said with a grunt. He sounded slightly less angry. “Go on.”
Mori explained how he’d found his brother and seized the American field hospital, clearly intended to establish and service partisan activities in the mountains. Several enemies had escaped, and Mori had tracked them deeper into the mountains. Always, the trail was deeper and higher, but he was close now. Close to burning out the entire enemy operation before it could take root.
“And this was your plan all along? You pretended to lose contact in Sanduga so you could go rescue your brother?”
Mori was tempted to spin a tale, how he’d happened into this situation. But he decided to drop all pretense of gekokujō. The time for obfuscation was past.
“Yes, sir. Do you know what happened in Nanking, sir?”
“Of course. It was a glorious victory.”
“The foreign press reported certain irregularities,” Mori said. “Certain behaviors from our own men that might have been a little too . . . exuberant. Some of their information came from a Japanese source.”
“Ah yes. That,” Umeko growled. “Men were arrested and tortured for it. They invariably confessed. Are you saying—?”
“It was my brother, sir. He sent me a letter admitting his guilt.”
“I see. I always doubted we’d find the culprits. Your brother lived with you in America? That would make sense. An English speaker, corrupted by foreign influence.”
“You see why I was anxious to retrieve him. He couldn’t be allowed to stay with the Americans. He knows too much about our invasion plans, and he’s already proven that he can’t be trusted to serve the emperor.”
“It also makes you look rather bad, doesn’t it?” Umeko said.
Of course that was a worry. If one brother was disloyal, why not the other? But at the moment, Mori imagined Sammy falling into the colonel’s hands and suffered pangs of guilt. Perhaps Sammy would not be tortured, only imprisoned for a time, then given a gun and thrown into battle on the front line.
You’ll have done your duty. That is all that matters.
“Is he with you now?” Colonel Umeko asked.
“I left him with the American prisoners. He has a broken leg and can’t march.”
“You’d better hope he doesn’t try to escape.”
“He’ll face his punishment. He was disloyal, but he’s no coward. Otherwise he wouldn’t have written me the letter.”
“I suppose.”
The line was quiet for a moment, and Mori worried he’d lost the signal. But then Umeko came back on, his voice filled with static. Mori didn’t understand and asked him to repeat himself.
“I said you’re done. Get your men, and come down from there. Bring the American prisoners, bring your brother. Shoot any locals you’ve taken prisoner.”
“There are a dozen armed men still on the loose, sir. Americans and Pinoys. We have them nearly trapped. If you’ll give me a few days—”
“No. You’ll come down now. A dozen holdouts and partisans are no threat. The mountain people will turn on them soon enough.”
“Why do you say that, sir?”
“The Americans are finished. They can’t resupply Bataan and Corregidor, can’t evacuate, either. Their strongholds will soon fall. The locals respect the strong and despise the weak. They’ll be on our side soon enough, and any last resistance will dissolve like sugar in hot tea. Meanwhile, I need you down here in the city to keep order.”
Mori thought the colonel was wrong. The locals might respect strength, but these mountain regions were practically lawless as it was. The last thing they needed were Americans and former Filipino soldiers stirring people up unopposed. Why not crush them now while they were still weak?
But Colonel Umeko was decided. Mori knew better than to defy him again.
“Very well, sir. I’ll leave first thing in the morning.”
“The morning? Why not now? How far are you from the captured hospital?”
“Only a few hours.”
“Close enough. Leave now. Get to the hospital, put your prisoners on the road. Burn the village on your way out to serve as an example.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And move quickly. I’ll give you one day to straighten things out in the village, but I’ll have you back in Santa Maria in three days. I’ll send trucks to bring you to Manila from there.”
“That’s . . . fast, sir. It’s a long march down from the mountain. The prisoners are sick and injured.”
“That is no concern of ours. Those who make it, make it. Those who don’t were weak and didn’t deserve to live. Am I understood?”
“Yes, sir.”
Louise left the hospital with a small bag of supplies. It wasn’t as much as she’d planned to take, and there was no scalpel, needle, or sutures. The more things she carried, the harder the questions if she was stopped and searched. So she stuck to bandages, syringes, and morphine—all items she could claim were required to treat Oto.
She still had doubts but was relieved not to be facing a field surgery without training, proper equipment, or even another nurse to assist. If the slightest thing went wrong, if the job was anything other than a crude stitching, a splint, or bandages, Lieutenant Kozlowski would die. Stabilizing him long enough to get him to the doctor sounded much less daunting.
Sammy stayed behind talking to the two guards while she walked back toward the village. He was explaining to them that they’d receive their own bone-worm treatment as soon as possible. Louise wanted to linger and gauge their reaction, but that would look suspicious. Instead she kept walking into the village by herself.
It was dusk when she reached the house where she’d found Sammy. Oto stirred inside, apparently hearing her, and called out in Japanese as she approached. The only part she picked out was “Sachihiro Mori.”
“No, Sammy’s not here yet,” she said. She remained outside. “He’ll be here in a few minutes.”
And now Oto’s tone turned rude, belligerent. She had no idea what he was saying, if he were berating her or ordering her to come at once, or even telling her she was a charlatan, and he knew she’d been lying. But he was furious, whatever it was. No way was she entering alone, and if he came outside she’d run for her life.
Sammy approached a few minutes later. He carried the crutches and walked with only a slight limp. “All right, I think they bought it.”
Oto continued to yell from inside. Sammy stopped to listen.
“He’s really mad,” she said. “Maybe you should give him the pill. I’m worried if I go in he’ll attack me.”
“He’s not mad, he’s scared. He’s begging you to help him, says he doesn’t dare get up or the worms will move.”
She felt sorry for the gruff Japanese soldier, in spite of herself. All this time Oto had been inside lying on his stomach and worried about some nonexistent ailment. Maybe she could bring him to Dr. Claypool to see if anything could be done about his poorly treated wound. Would Oto allow it?
Louise and Sammy went inside. She spoke in soothing tones as she gave Oto the useless bicarbonate of soda, which he eagerly took, then had him roll onto his side. She reached into her bag and took out a syringe.
“Tell him that this will help him rest while the medicine kills the bone worms.”
Sammy translated her words for the soldier, then turned back to her. “Morphine?”
“That’s right. I’ll give him enough to knock him out. That way we don’t have to worry about running into him in town while we’re trying to get Kozlowski back to the hospital. I’ll try the same thing with the two guards.”
“No good,” Sammy said. “They’re skeptical. They’ll take the pills if I do, but there’s no way they’ll consent to an injection. Not while they’re on duty.”
“Will they agree to an examination, at least?”
“Probably. How will that help?”
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I’m still thinking. Do you kn
ow anything else about these men? How they work, I mean?”
“Counting Oto, there are three law police. They need to take shifts to keep two at the hospital at all times. The remaining man will either be sleeping or patrolling the village.”
This was the last piece in the puzzle, but she couldn’t quite make it fit yet. Anyway, she had time to work that part out. Too many other things to worry about first.
It was getting dark, and Sammy turned on a lamp. Oto glanced at the lamp, but his eyes were drooping shut. Soon he’d be out entirely. For his sake, this whole thing had better work. Captain Mori would be merciless if he learned that one of the three men left to guard the village had allowed himself to be injected with enough morphine to render him senseless.
Louise rose quietly. Sammy started to come with her, but she put a hand on his wrist.
“No, you stay here. Kozlowski is out in the bush somewhere.”
“I can help. I won’t run off or anything.”
“That’s not what I mean. I know you won’t. Anyway, I wouldn’t care if you escaped or not—who would blame you?” She shook her head. “I’m worried about your leg. You shouldn’t be walking on it any more than necessary.”
“Oto is going to wake up eventually. What should I do when he does?”
“Tell him I’m treating the other two guards—with any luck, he won’t go looking. I’ll come back here and tell Oto I need you to translate. We’ll say whatever we need to in order to keep Oto from following us.”
“Sounds risky. A hundred things could go wrong.”
“Do you have a better plan?” she asked. When he didn’t answer, she took the book of poetry out of her pocket. “Something to do while you’re waiting.”
Sammy reached for the book. “You are very kind, Louise.”
His voice was earnest, the expression on his face solemn. She met his gaze but couldn’t hold it.
“Nothing but human decency,” she said, her voice pinched. “I’ll see you soon.”
Louise left him with the sleeping law officer. Night descended rapidly in the tropics, and in the few minutes she’d been inside, the sky had turned from pale gray to soot dark. Louise picked her way through the village largely by touch. She’d brought a flashlight in her bag but resisted turning it on for the attention it would attract. The village wasn’t that big, but it took her some time to find Fárez’s hiding place. Even when she found the house, she wasn’t entirely sure until she’d called out his name and he answered.
“Thank God!” he said in a low voice as he squirmed out. “I couldn’t take it anymore.”
His voice quavered, and Louise felt for him in the dark. When she found his shoulder, he grabbed her hands with his filthy ones and gripped them so tightly it almost hurt.
“You’re okay?” she whispered. “Corporal?”
“I was nodding. Guess you can’t see that in the dark, huh?”
Some of the spirit had reentered his voice, and Louise allowed herself a smile. “Lead the way.”
Neither spoke again until they were out of the village. Once they crossed the cascades, she told him that she wasn’t going to operate on Kozlowski, but bring him back to the hospital for Claypool to look at.
“Then the doc is all better?”
“Not even close,” she admitted. “But he thinks he can manage. Even on his deathbed, he’d be a better surgeon than me.”
“You took care of Stumpy when you had to cut off his . . . you know.”
“Removing a dog’s testicle is one thing. Checking to make sure a man’s liver isn’t bleeding is another entirely.”
“All I’m saying is that you’d be better than you think, I just know it.”
“I would have given it my best shot,” she said, “but I’m happy it won’t be necessary. Anyway, getting him into the hospital will allow us nurses to see him through to his recovery.”
“How we gonna get him in?” Fárez asked. “We can’t just walk Koz past the guards.”
Louise was about to answer when she heard someone on the trail behind them. She and Fárez froze. Whoever it was stopped as well.
“Sammy?” she whispered. No answer.
There was no mistake. She’d heard someone, and Fárez had stopped without prompting, too. He’d heard it, too. Louise turned on the flashlight and laughed when she saw who it was. Two eyes glowed back at her.
“Oh, I should have known,” she said.
“Come here, you,” Fárez said. Stumpy ran to him, tail wagging, and the corporal embraced the squirming dog. “Am I ever glad to see you, buddy. What a good dog.”
Louise briefly illuminated Fárez with the light. Now that she got a good look at him, she understood what she’d heard in his voice. He was filthy from top to bottom, with sticks and mud and cobwebs in his hair, and clothes so dirty she couldn’t even tell what he was wearing.
“You look like a corpse washed out of a flooded crypt,” she said. “And you smell worse than Stumpy. Next stream we cross, you’re washing up.”
“Can we bring him, miss?”
“Do we have a choice? Not like he’d obey us if we sent him off.” The dog nosed hopefully at her pocket. “No, there’s nothing there,” she told him. “I’m serious, there was only one bone, and you gulped it down, didn’t you?”
Stumpy whined.
“This is the army, soldier,” she said. “You need to learn how to ration.”
Now that the flashlight was on, there was no good reason to shut it off again. They were out of sight of the village, Mori’s men were unlikely to be traveling back to Cascadas in the dark, and speed was essential. She only turned it off when crossing wide, flat stretches where the light might be spotted from some distance away.
It was a cloudless night, with a breeze to drive off the bugs and bring cooler air from the highlands. Louise counted herself fortunate. Add one of the country’s many delights—torrential rain, mosquitoes, heat, humidity, thick mud—and the journey would have been miserable.
Fárez had strengthened since she’d seen him off, and while he was still hobbling from the muscle wound on his buttocks, he didn’t seem to be in pain and didn’t slow her pace. She hadn’t been joking about cleaning up, and when they reached a stream, she turned off the light for privacy and ordered him to strip down and wash.
While the corporal splashed around, Louise slapped his shirt and pants against a tree to knock off dried mud, then did the same with his boots. This got Stumpy excited, but she silenced him after a single bark. Five minutes later they were on their way again.
“So here’s the plan,” she said. “I’ve got the Japanese guards worked up about some nonexistent illness. I’m going to examine the two of them to keep them out of the way while you and Sammy bring the lieutenant inside. Dr. Claypool will operate on him, and we’ll slip him in with the other patients to recuperate.”
“How will that work?” Fárez asked. “The Japs aren’t counting numbers and doing roll call?”
“They do both of those things, and enter the hospital to inspect it, too. Even if we could somehow hide an extra man, we have every reason to think Captain Mori will be forcing us all to march out of the highlands sooner or later. Kozlowski would be found then, if not before.
“But Sammy pointed out something,” Louise added. “You know how people are always saying the Japanese all look the same? That one guy is short or tall or with glasses or not, but they all have the same face?”
“Seems that way, yeah. But I heard the same thing about Mexicans when I was growing up. Just meant they hadn’t seen enough of us. Same with the Japs, I bet.”
“You’re right, Corporal. That’s a good observation on your part.”
“Is it?” Fárez sounded pleased at the compliment. “I figured that much was obvious.”
“Anyway, according to Sammy, the Japanese say Americans all look the same.”
He laughed. “Now that’s just nuts. Americans all look the same?” He chuckled again. “Not one of us looks anything like anyon
e else.”
“But Mexicans do? Japanese do?”
“Yeah, but that’s different. That’s . . . oh yeah. I see now. Right. You’re really smart, Miss Louise, you know that?”
“Do you see my point?”
“I get it,” he said. “We got to swap Koz out for someone else and hope they don’t see the difference.”
“Exactly right. The Japanese have only known us for a few days, and some of that time Mori and Fujiwara haven’t even been in Cascadas. And what have they got? Our names, ranks, the number of us, and that sort of thing. But even if all of you men didn’t look the same, could they really tell if one of them was suddenly exchanged with another man?”
“Huh. Yeah, could work.”
“It has to,” she said firmly.
“And who’s the lucky guy who you’re busting out of there?”
“Sergeant Fisk,” Louise said. “He’s got dengue, but it’s on the mend. I think he’s good to go.”
“Fisk doesn’t look anything like the lieutenant.”
“He doesn’t have to. Both men just have to look generic enough to the Japanese that they won’t miss Fisk or wonder why they hadn’t noticed Kozlowski before.”
“Kozlowski has that hard look about him, and he’s tall,” Fárez said. “You sure they won’t catch on?”
“Remember what the Japanese are watching for and why they’re guarding the hospital. They’re keeping men from running away, not trying to stop them from sneaking in. They’re more likely to miss Fisk than wonder about Kozlowski.”
They continued through the night, and eventually enough time had passed that Louise started to grow worried. Fárez kept telling her they were getting close, but they kept going and going. They entered a thickly forested area, where roots sprawled across the trail and branches had to be pushed out of the way.
“How long did you say?” she prodded.
“This is it. We’re here.”
It looked like any other place, and she didn’t know how he could tell the difference in the dark. A trickling stream ran down the rock face to their left, but they’d passed dozens of them. The trees on the right looked the same.
“You’re sure?”
“Pretty sure, yeah. Stumpy, you stay here. Be a good boy, now. Come on, Miss Louise.”
The Year of Counting Souls Page 25