by G. S. Fields
“But father,” Yoshirou said, “You know that I can fight better than him,” he said, pointing at me. “He should take the surf boards around the—”
“Enough, Yoshirou!” Michio said. “We have had this discussion and I will not have it again. You will do as you are told.”
Yoshirou looked like he was about to say something, but looked away.
The kid was probably right, but if anyone was going to risk his life to get Shannon back, it was going to be me. After the fight we had on Lohifushi, I didn’t know how she felt about me anymore. But I knew how I felt about her. The feeling had been there ever since I saw her on the day of Rick’s funeral. And the feeling had grown. At some point, it broke through the wall I had built around my heart, the wall I had built to protect me from the pain I felt after my family died. She rescued me from that prison and now it was my turn to rescue her.
Yoshirou stormed out of the bridge.
“I apologize for my son,” Michio said. “He is young and rash, but he is a good boy.”
We all nodded.
“Please excuse me,” he said and went after Yoshirou.
I was about to go out on the deck for some air, but Kamish came over to me and pulled out an eight-inch curved blade from his belt. It was still in its sheath.
“Here,” he said.
“I’ve never been very good with knifes,” I said.
“Take it.” He held it out in front of me. “It belonged to Senil.” His eyes gleamed with fresh tears as he said the name of his brother.
I took it and felt the weight of it in my hands. I didn’t know what to say. So all I said was, “Thanks.”
***
I laid on the long board, paddling toward the island. I had to admit that Michio’s plan to hear our way to the island was actually working. In fact, it had worked so well that after a half an hour I closed my eyes. With no moon, I couldn’t see anything anyway. Even with the ghostly glow of the floating bioluminescence, there wasn’t enough light for me to see more than five or six feet in front of me.
My other senses quickly kicked in. I could gauge the distance between the outcroppings from the sound of the waves that crashed into them. I felt the chill of the water that engulfed my arms with each stroke. I tasted the salt from the water that dripped down my face and onto my lips. Even my sense of time was keener. Somehow, I was able to anticipate the swells that passed underneath me. Like I said, the plan worked pretty well. Right up until it didn’t.
My first inkling that something was wrong was when the sound of the waves went from either side of me to all around me. I opened my eyes to get my bearings, but all I could make out was the ghostly white surface of my surfboard. The bioluminescence was gone. There was no way to tell how close I was to the island, but I sensed that it was close. The plan called for strict silence, so I didn’t call out to anyone.
My heart began to pound against the board. I stopped paddling, hoping to hear the sound of the others. They should be near me.
Nothing.
The sound of waves seemed louder to my right, but it extended out in front of me now. I swung up to a sitting position, desperate to see anything. My left foot scraped against something. Pain shot up my leg. It felt like I’d been stung or bitten by something. I pulled it back, but then my other foot smashed into something. It had to be a rock or coral. I could tell that the toenail on my big toe was gone. Water this shallow meant that I was either over a reef or close to shore. I silently prayed for the latter. Either way, I was about to find out.
I grabbed the board with both hands and lifted myself into a kneeling position. The sound of the waves was deafening now and I still couldn’t tell which direction to go. I had to decide or else those bitches, the Fates, would decide for me. If I was going to die, I preferred that it was on my terms.
Leaning forward, I paddled to the left. When the sound of the waves seemed to be in front of me, I paddled as hard and fast as I could. My board scraped against the bottom and I struggled to stay upright. In the back of my mind, I knew what would happen if I fell. A wave would drag me across the bottom. I wasn’t about to let that happen.
It was time to find out where I was.
I grabbed my board once again and set my feet down in the water on either side.
Sand! I felt sand.
A wave hit me from behind, knocking me forward. But my feet remained anchored to the bottom. Water rushed around me. Moving as quickly as I could, I pulled the board through my legs and hoisted it above my head. Another wave hit me. I managed to keep my balance. I still couldn’t see anything except for the surfboard hanging over my head. Another wave crashed against me, this one stronger. I kept moving forward. Finally, I found beach. I set the surfboard down, took a few more steps, and crouched down beside it. I heard leaves rustling in the wind and could just make out the silhouette of the tree line.
I’d made it, but I was alone.
Chapter 17
I looked at my watch. It was too dark to read it. I pressed the button on the side. The watch face lit up and cast a ghostly teal glow. I quickly let go. It was almost two thirty in the morning.
On Lohifushi, very few people would be awake at this hour. There wasn’t much to do at night ever since they stopped playing karaoke at the bar. They didn’t stop because people didn’t come, they stopped because there wasn’t a bar anymore. It had been converted to a school room for the kids. I hoped that it would be quiet here as well. Somehow, I doubted it.
Someone grabbed my arm. I turned and took a swing. Kamish caught my fist in his hand. Then in a hushed voice, he said, “Aron, it is me.”
Relief swept over me and I got to my feet. “Thank God. I thought—”
“Shh. There are guards patrolling nearby.”
Whispering, I said, “Where is everyone?”
“Down at the beach, at the rally point.” Kamish whispered. “Grab your board. We must go.”
I knew it. I had gotten lost, not them.
I picked up my surfboard and followed him about a hundred yards down the beach. Kamish's arm shot out in front of me like a crossing road guards. I stopped. Then he whistled. It sounded like the call of the Koel, a migratory bird from India. They had been all over Lohifushi when I had first arrived. I hated them. Their mating calls woke me up every morning. Thankfully, there weren’t many around anymore.
His call was answered by another bird call. Kamish motioned for me to follow. We moved cautiously another twenty feet. Michio and his son crouched behind a large boulder.
Yoshirou came over and took my surfboard. Even in the dark, I could tell that he was scowling. I watched him carry it back to the water’s edge, where I could just make out the silhouette of him tying it to another board. It looked like he had daisy-chained all the boards together.
“Aron, are you alright?” Michio whispered.
“Yeah. Sorry.”
“We were worried.”
“I’m fine. I thought you guys were still out there. I can’t believe we made it.”
“That was the easy part. There is no room for mistakes going forward.”
I nodded.
Michio ran over to Yoshirou and whispered something to him. Yoshirou nodded and waded out into the surf, pulling the first board with him. I watched the rest of the boards follow behind him like a train. Once he was out of sight, Michio ran back to us and said, “Let’s go.”
We entered the jungle following a narrow path that seemed to lead towards the interior. Unlike Lohifushi, branches and palm fronds covered the ground. It was hard to move without stepping on something. Luckily, the wind was pretty strong. The noise from the canopy masked our movement.
Michio led the way, I was in the middle, and Kamish stayed in the rear. We moved fast. Within a few minutes, we came upon a clearing. There were six huts set next to each other in a semi-circle. They looked deserted, except for the one on the far end. The light from its window was enough to illuminate the area.
Michio turned and motioned for Kamish and me to wai
t. Then he ran, hunched over, to the closest hut. He opened the door and went inside. My heart beat so fast that I was afraid that somebody might hear it.
I looked back at Kamish. He scanned the area around us. I wondered how long we should wait. I didn’t have to wonder for very long. He came out of the hut and closed the door. Then he repeated the process four more times, moving from one hut to the next. Kamish and I moved along the tree line, staying out of sight.
When he had cleared the fifth hut, I readied myself. I pulled out the blade that Kamish had given me on the boat.
Come on, Senil…bring me luck.
I watched Michio, bent low at the waist, move to the last hut. He maneuvered himself below the window. He looked out towards us. I wondered if he could see us from there, but there was no way…not in this light. He nodded in our direction, turned, and then peeked into the window. He looked in for a few seconds and then crouched down again. He sprinted back to the bushes. I called out in a whisper, “Michio, over here.”
He found us easily.
“What did you see?” I asked.
“There were six of them. Definitely pirates. Four were playing a game at the table and two looked like they were passed out on the beds. There were a lot of empty bottles on the floor.”
“So what do we do? Go in and take them out?”
He shook his head. “No. We leave them. We must stay focused on our objective.”
I nodded and looked over at Kamish. Anger flashed in his eyes. It didn’t surprise me. I knew that he wanted to spill some pirate blood. But we moved on.
We stayed inside the tree line moving in short, rapid bursts. We stopped anytime we heard anything out of the ordinary. Just before we reached another clearing with another grouping of huts, I heard men talking. We all stopped and ducked down. A few seconds later, a two-man patrol walked up the path. I thought they would pass us by, but they stopped right in front of us. They were backlit by the light from one of the huts. I didn’t understand their language, but they seemed to be joking with one another. One of the guards, a tall skinny guy with a large assault rifle slung over his shoulder, lit a cigarette with a cigarette that the other guy had given him. When the cigarette was lit, he threw the other butt into the bushes. It landed a few feet from where I crouched.
The other guy, a medium built African who carried his rifle across his chest, started yelling at the skinny guy. He kept pointing into the bushes. The skinny guy laughed. That seemed to make the other guy angry. They began to argue. Finally, the skinny guy grudgingly walked into the bushes, pushing branches out of his way in search of the cigarette butt.
It wouldn’t be hard to find. It had landed in an open spot three feet from me. The red glow from the tip stood out like a beacon. He kept coming. I tried to press myself closer to the ground, but my body would only go so low. Maybe I should have stuck with those yoga classes.
The skinny guy stopped in front of the cigarette. I held my knife tight. He bent over, picked it up, and started walking back to the path mumbling to himself. I let out a breath that I’d been holding. Then he stopped and fell silent. A second later, he dropped to the ground. I saw Kamish’s head pop up for a second, but he disappeared back into the bushes.
The other guy called out to his friend. He mumbled something and then walked into the bushes. He only made it a few steps before he fell flat on his back. I stood up to see what had happened. Kamish was on top of him. He slit his throat from ear to ear, but not before the guard managed to squeeze off a single shot. The crack of the rifle echoed into the night.
I looked at Kamish, worried that he'd been shot. But he got up and dragged the guard into the bushes. Michio moved over by me and a few seconds later Kamish joined us. We waited for a rush of guards. After a few minutes, Michio said, “I think it is okay. But we should go.”
I nodded and got up to go. A shot rang out from nearby. We all ducked down. Then I heard a small child scream followed by men laughing. Michio and I looked at each other. I heard branches snap and looked over to where Kamish had been. He was sprinting toward the sound of the child.
We followed. A minute later, we reached the edge of a clearing. I looked out and what I saw made my stomach turn. A small child was climbing frantically over a huge pile of rubble, desperately trying to get away from three pirates who were laughing and pointing at him. The pirates stood on the deck of one of the huts. Torches affixed to railing of the deck illuminated them with a hellish glow. One of the pirates held a pistol. They exchanged something; it looked like cigarettes. It was hard to tell. The one who collected them pointed at the boy. The other one spun the guy with the pistol around in circles. It looked like they were playing some kind of children’s game. When he stopped spinning, the guy with the pistol staggered to the left, caught himself, staggered to the right, and caught himself again. Then he brought up the pistol, took aim, and fired. The screaming stopped. I turned and saw the child fall face first onto the pile.
There was more laughter followed by a payout to the guy with the pistol. I looked over in the direction where Kamish had run, but he wasn’t there. I pulled on Michio’s sleeve. He pointed to the three men. They were now passing around a bottle and taking turns drinking from it.
I wondered if Michio meant for me to charge the pirates. But then, out of nowhere, Kamish popped up behind the first guy and slit his throat. The guy collapsed on the deck. The second guy took too long to figure out what had happened. Kamish was on him. As Kamish buried his knife into the guy’s chest, Michio sprinted out of the bushes and sprang into the air, landing a flying kick into the face of the third pirate. They both fell. I heard the bottle smash. Then I watched as Michio bent over him and punched him twice in the throat.
I ran to the pile of rubble to see if the child was still alive. As I began climbing, I was overcome by the putrid smell of death. I looked down and saw that I wasn’t climbing on a pile of rubble. It was bones and decaying flesh. I tried to reach the child, but I began to throw up and I couldn’t stop.
Michio reached me and helped me off the pile. He held my shoulders as I continued to puke. When I finally stopped, I looked up. Kamish threw the last of the pirates onto the pile.
“Is the child...?” I asked.
Michio looked down and shook his head.
Those bastards! Those goddammed fucking bastards! I reeled as something occurred to me.
“What if Shannon’s there?” I asked.
“She isn’t,” Kamish said.
“How do you know?”
He didn’t answer, but the look on his face told me what I knew in my gut. They wouldn’t have killed a woman like Shannon, not right away. They would get as much use out of her as possible first.
Kamish looked at me and then Michio. “I heard more laughter coming from there.” He pointed towards the center of the island.
Michio nodded. “Okay, but this time nobody takes off by themselves.” He looked at Kamish, who held his stare. “If we are to save my son and Shannon, we must work as a team.”
Kamish nodded, and we moved toward the center of the island.
We followed the sound of laughter and the occasional scream. It led us to what must have once been the main reception hut. A large bonfire on the brick patio beside the hut cast plenty of light for us to see what was happening. We hunkered down watched as about three dozen pirates, dressed in ragged T-shirts and long, colorful, wrap-around sarongs, sat around the bonfire. Most of them wore embroidered hats called Koofiyads, the metallic threads reflecting the firelight like a disco ball.
A few of them danced. Some sat in small groups. The rest were passed out on the ground.
I saw four young women mixed in with the pirates. My heart skipped a beat when I mistook one of them for Shannon. But it wasn’t her.
The women looked terrified. They screamed every time a pirate grabbed them. They fought to get away only to find themselves caught by another pirate. I watched a young woman, maybe sixteen or seventeen, slap an exceptionally ugly guy w
ho tried to kiss her. He rewarded her with a punch that sent her flying. She landed next to the bonfire. When she got up I saw blood streaming from her mouth.
I clenched my jaw as I watched another girl stand motionless while two pirates ripped off her clothes. One of them held her breasts like trophies. It seemed to amuse his friends.She just stared out into the darkness.
“What do we do?” I asked.
Michio said, “We look for my son and Shannon. They must be held somewhere nearby. Let’s go.”
I looked at Kamish and he followed Michio. I took up the rear.
We stopped and peeked into a few huts. Most were empty or filled with sleeping pirates.
I could tell we were getting closer to the ocean from the sound of the waves. A small shack stood next to the ruins of a dock. A single torch cast a wavering puddle of light on a pirate who sat watch in front of the door. His head hung down and I could hear his snores above the surf.
Michio locked eyes with Kamish and motioned for him to go ahead. Kamish took off. He worked his way around to the right and up along the water’s edge until I lost him behind the hut. The pirate snored one last time before Kamish cut his throat. Then Kamish waved us over.
By the time we got to the shack, Kamish had opened the door. Michio pushed him aside and went in. A few seconds later, Michio emerged with a skinny Japanese kid. From the way Michio wrapped his arms around him, I knew that it was his son. The boy looked confused. He stared at his father and then at me and then back at his father. He seemed to be afraid to say anything.
A minute later, three other boys emerged from the shack like zombies, wide eyed and moving slow. I tried not to think about the hell they must have gone through, but I couldn’t stop myself. I’d heard the stories of how Jamal tortured boys and brainwashed them to become soldiers in his holy crusade. The more I thought about it, the madder I got.
“You must all keep absolutely quiet,” Michio said to the boys. “We are here to take you home. So do as I say.”
The boys looked like they were in pretty bad shape. Michio’s kid had only been held captive for a couple weeks and even he looked bad. The other boys looked like they had been there a lot longer. What clothes they wore were ripped and full of holes. Two of them were shirtless. Their skin was pulled taut over their rib cages. I flinched when I saw the scars that covered their bodies like some kind of sick roadmap.