Fatal 5

by Karin Kaufman

  Crystal lunged and jabbed a stick at something near Betty’s legs.

  Snake!

  Adrenaline landed a grenade in every muscle and nerve. A coconut lay a step away. He snatched it up and hurled it at the snake. The reptile turned on him, its slender body puffing to twice its size along its vertebrae, revealing blue spots between olive-green scales. Jake grabbed another coconut and stepped closer, aiming for the head. His nerves prickled dagger points from his spine to his fingertips. He hated snakes. Hated them!

  He slammed the coconut down. The blow struck its mark, but the snake bounced under the impact, and apparently none the worse, darted into the underbrush. Jake bashed the vegetation with two more coconuts, until Crystal’s wail penetrated the red haze in his mind.

  “It bit her, the snake bit her!”

  Jake dropped a fourth coconut and took a deep breath to clear his head. “Where?” He stooped at Betty’s side.

  “Right there.” Crystal pointed at her aunt’s right thigh.

  Jake pushed up the cuff of Betty’s shorts, exposing pale skin above sunburned knees. Two tiny, red dots identified where the snakebite had punctured her skin.

  Crystal resumed her ear-shattering wails.

  “Here now, be brave,” he growled.

  “My aunty’s going to die!” The corners of Crystal’s mouth plunged downward until her bottom lip protruded in a lump of rosebud flesh. She snuffed hiccupping sobs through her nose.

  Jake mentally smacked himself. She’s just a kid, Marine. “It’s only a tree snake.” He gave her shoulder a squeeze. “It’s not poisonous.” In Nam, they were all over the place.

  Or did she mean Betty was dying before the snakebite? He checked the older woman’s pulse. It was racing. “She didn’t open her eyes when you screamed. Did she seem all right before she got bit?”

  “I don’t think so.” Crystal sucked in the rosebud. “She kept falling when we walked up here.”

  That explained the pockmarks in the sand. “How long has she been asleep?”

  “Since we got here. It’s been a long time, and she won’t wake up.” Crystal’s chin quivered, but she didn’t cry.

  Dehydration? Jake pinched the skin on the back of Betty’s hand. The wrinkles didn’t smooth out. He took Crystal’s hand and did the same thing with the same results. No tear tracks on her face, either, for all the bawling she’d done.

  “I’m going to get you something to drink. Keep an eye on your aunt, okay?” He looked around for coconuts and gathered several. Under Crystal’s close observation, he beat one against an outcrop of rock until the husk broke away.

  “I tried, but I couldn’t open any.”

  “Good for you for trying.” The corners of Crystal’s mouth tweaked up, and a spasm of warmth touched the ache in Jake’s chest. He pierced the inner shell of the coconut and handed it to her. “Drink this while I open one for your aunt, then you can help me with mine.”

  This time Crystal’s smile stretched across her sunburned face. Hairline cracks split her lips. They had to be painful, but her blue eyes shone at him like he was Santa Claus.

  He opened a second nut and inspected Betty’s wound before he tried to rouse her. Crystal stopped drinking. Her face scrunched into the precursor of another wail.

  “Wound looks good, doesn’t it?” Jake spread his cracked lips into a stinging twitch of a smile. “No swelling and no change of color. Probably no worse than that puppy-dog bite you told us about on the ship.”

  Crystal pressed her lips together and narrowed her eyes. “It didn’t break my skin, and dog bites aren’t poisonous.” She hoisted the coconut back to her mouth.

  So much for sharing the pedestal with Santa.

  He turned his attention to Betty, patting her hand, calling her name. Her eyelids fluttered but didn’t open. He lifted her head and put a splash of coconut milk on her tongue and closed her mouth.

  “Betty, I’ve got a drink for you. Do you taste it? Sweet, isn’t it?” He massaged her throat and was rewarded with a convulsive gulp. Her eyelids fluttered each time he fed her, but her eyes stayed closed.

  “That’s enough for now.” Jake took off his life vest and slipped it under Betty’s head. Crystal’s gaze reminded him of his promise. “You ready to open my coconut?”

  Crystal selected one and pounded it against the rock. She stopped twice and swept mournful eyes at Jake, but he simply nodded at her. “You’re getting there.” When her shoulders sagged, he stooped and put his hands over hers. “Good job. Just a few more jabs and you’ve got it.”

  She stuck with him. Her body jerked with each brutal stab at the rock, but when the husk fell away, she beamed in triumph. Yes, sir, he was back up there with Santa.

  He fed Betty a second round of sips, and her eyes fluttered open. By the third round, she sat up and held the coconut.

  “Jake Chalmers,” she murmured. At his nod, she asked, “Are there others?”

  “No.” He swallowed back a tsunami of pain.

  Betty blinked. “Your wife?”

  He looked down, shook his head.

  “I’m sorry. So sorry.”

  The tsunami filled his eyes. He wiped the moisture onto his cheeks. “How did you survive the blast?”

  Betty took in a shuddering breath and clutched the coconut to her chest. “Crystal and I fell off the lighter, and Eve swam over to help us. We were far enough away, we escaped the explosion.” Betty took a sip from the coconut before continuing. “Eve helped us back to the lighter and we set sail. Landed here this morning.” She looked at Jake. “Eve was with us until last night. She must have fallen off.”

  Eve. Ginny had pointed her out to him, and he had recognized her as the last-minute arrival on the cruise ship. He glanced at the two life vests lying under the palm tree. “Was she wearing a life vest like you and Crystal?”

  Betty nodded, and Jake scrambled to his feet. “If she’s close enough to the island, we might be able to save her.”

  If the current hadn’t already swept her past.

  He grabbed all three life jackets and strode toward the lighter, but stopped part way. How was he going to wield the boat? Manning the oars required two people, and neither Betty nor Crystal was in shape. Certainly not to row against the current. And what if the boat split? He swallowed at the thought of the ocean current bearing away another victim.

  To the south, a rock the size of a house jutted onto the beach. Several young palms topped it. Their fronds waved in the wind as if beckoning him. Perfect. He changed course.

  Nervous energy prickled up and down his spine like a spastic neon sign. Cuffing his hand over his eyes, he peered at the sun’s position overhead. How many hours—two?—since he’d swum to the island? Could she be that far behind him?

  He ran along the jungle’s edge where towering palm trees shielded the sand from the sun’s rays. The tingling in his feet was as good as gone. When he got to the rock, he slowed to climb it, wary of cutting the bottoms of his feet.

  At the top, the ocean greeted him with a panorama that was more than he could hope to scan. His heart sank. Eve would be a dot as tiny as the puncture wound on Betty’s leg. But he needed to save the only other survivor. He needed it—please, God—because . . . he sucked in the tsunami of his pain . . .

  Because he had failed to save Ginny.

  He slumped against a palm tree and focused on the water to the north. Gradually the ocean became a matrix of lolling waves and blues and indigoes that untangled what did and didn’t belong. Eve didn’t belong. Please, God, let me spot her.

  He studied the water, organizing it into a grid. His tongue became cottony. His muscles ached for another nap. He blinked to keep from getting hypnotized.

  A pinpoint of yellow twinkled on the waves. A reflection of the sun or Eve’s hair? A splotch of brighter yellow bobbed beneath the dot for a fraction of a second. He held his breath, his heart thudding. He didn’t dare look away until he was completely convinced.

  Yes! It was Eve!

>   He tore back to Betty and Crystal. “I found her. Out on the ocean.”

  Their mouths rounded into perfect O’s, but before they could say anything, he swooped Betty to her feet. “Help me,” he commanded Crystal. “We need to run.”

  He put Betty between them, her arms clasping their shoulders, and lifted her off her feet. “Keep in step with me,” he directed Crystal. “Right, left, right, left. Faster.” He matched his stride to hers. “Faster. Atta girl.” In a rush of adrenaline, he bore the brunt of Betty’s weight and pushed Crystal to run as fast as she could.

  When they arrived at the foot of the rock, Betty’s sunburned face was pasty. She sank next to her wheezing niece.

  “I’m sorry, but to save Eve, you need to climb the rock.” Jake lifted Betty to her feet and Crystal stumbled to hers. “I’ll go first and hold your hand. Crystal, you reach up and steady her.”

  He climbed part way and was pleased to see Betty watching where he placed his feet. When he reached down for her hand, she clasped his without hesitation. Plucky old dame. They just might pull this off.

  Blood seeped from several scrapes on Betty’s legs by the time they reached the top. He plunked her under a palm tree and searched for Eve. His breath left him when he saw how much closer she was. Any minute the current would catch her and drag her past the island.

  “She’s not moving.” Betty’s hand jerked to her mouth. “What if—”

  —she was dead? Jake grimaced. “I’m going after her.” He lowered himself over the edge of the rock. “I won’t be able to see her when I start out, so you need to keep adjusting my direction with hand signals until we intersect.”

  While making his way back down the rock, he slipped in his haste and crashed to the base. He shook out his arms and legs. No bones broken. He got to his feet and put on his life vest. Plucking up the other two, he limped across the beach and splashed into the ocean.

  Chapter 10

  Jake staggered against the crashing waves as if he were a drunk flailing a bouncer. The breakers shoved him backwards, slugged his face, and snatched at the two life vests tied to his own. He fought past the fracas to the swells of deeper water and swam on his back, his gaze nailed to Betty. Her arms remained at her side. His gut churned. What was she waiting for? Had she lost sight of Eve?

  Finally she waved her right arm over her head and pointed south. His stomach looped into knots. Surely Eve hadn’t slipped past him? Three times, Betty signaled him with a big circle followed by churning arms to flip onto his stomach and swim hard. He chopped the water, heart hammering, until his lungs clamored for oxygen. Each time he raised his head, Betty gestured him with another big circle to flip onto his back again.

  At last she stood and pointed. Next to her, Crystal jumped up and down. Eve—she must be nearby.

  He treaded water until he spotted her several arms’ lengths away. Nothing moved but her long, ropy hair swirling around her head. Please God, not again. He swam to her and grabbed her arm. It was cold. Icy cold.

  He slipped his other hand to her neck. Above his fingers, her face was red and swollen with tiny, cellophane blisters. Her lips and eyelids and ears bulged like crimson party balloons about to burst. The pain had to be severe, but beneath his fingertips her pulse beat.

  Jake shot a clenched fist high over his head. On shore, Betty raised hers, and Crystal clapped. He smiled, knowing they were cheering with him. Him and the heavenly host.

  “Eve.” He shook her shoulders. Her head lolled without her eyelids giving a twitch. He didn’t dare slap her face or pull her hair to wake her up. Not with that angry red skin already torturing her. He pinched her arm, hard. She didn’t respond.

  All those hours chilling in the ocean—she might never regain consciousness. His stomach clenched. What she needed was warmth. Get her to the beach, and they could take care of that.

  The knots securing the two extra life vests resisted his efforts to release them. He huffed, frustration sawing at his nerves. If Eve’s face slid under water, her lungs would not survive. She needed the aid of the extra vests to keep her head up while he pulled her to shore. He worked the knots with both hands, herding Eve with his shoulder so she didn’t drift away.

  When the knots finally loosened, he tied a vest around each of Eve’s thighs. Her torso rose in the water, giving her buoyancy that made her easier to tow. Floating on her back, she was now, in effect, a human lighter.

  The last thing her injured face needed was his hand clutching her chin. Instead, he gripped the shoulder of her life vest and swam toward the beach. A glance back showed her head slipping lower in the vest. Another stroke forward and her chin sank into the ocean. Jake jerked her up. Reluctantly, he shifted to hold her head to keep it from going under.

  In spite of Eve’s buoyancy, his feet kept kicking her butt, and if not that, her dangling legs. Towing her was like lugging a tanker. His arm tired of plowing a path for them, and his legs seemed to kick against liquid lead. With each ocean swell that lifted him, the rock on which Betty and Crystal sat slipped farther behind him. He adjusted his angle to the beach, but the ocean persisted in mastering his direction.

  When the end of the beach came into view, a glimpse north showed Betty and Crystal inching their way down the face of the rock. Would they wait for him in its shadow or follow him to see if the count of survivors became two instead of four?

  The sun crawled westward until it hung over the tip of the island. Jake’s heart spiraled downward. Nothing lay beyond the farthest point of land except water. He didn’t dare rest. Didn’t dare stop kicking.

  Eve’s hair floated into his face, and he pushed the strands away. His right arm tingled with exhaustion from pulling them forward, over and over, without the relief of switching arms. If he quit, even for a second, fatigue would drop his legs like bait to the current. This time it would swallow them. The lead in his legs wasn’t going to let him kick-start once he stopped moving.

  He shoved aside Eve’s hair as it swished again into his eyes. Was there a way he could tuck the dratted mass into her life vest? He released her chin and slid his left hand alongside her head to corral her hair. It was surprisingly long. Long enough to wind in a loop around his palm. Suddenly he had a cord handle he could grip. He didn’t need to haul Eve by her chin, he could pull her by her hair. Better yet, he could do it with either hand.

  The reprieve gave him an edge over the current. Switching back and forth between arms, he gained momentum. He was only, what, a football field away now from the island? He could make it. Locking his mind into the tick of a metronome, he chopped at the water. Left arm, ten strokes; right arm, ten strokes.

  His arms grew heavier. The number slipped to seven strokes, then five. He traversed the current, but the wind had dropped and the breakers were too mild to carry their bodies to shore.

  Three strokes each. He slugged mechanically toward shore. The white sand of another beach wavered before his eyes. Tiny beach. Better not miss it. He fixed his eyes on the white blur.

  His left arm—numb. Couldn’t risk switching arms, opening his hand, fumbling for the cord handle . . .

  Water gushed into his mouth and bit the inside of his nose. He jerked his face up, gagging at the brine. One foot struck bottom, then the other. He stumbled forward two steps before he could stand.

  The breakers slapped his back and swept around him as if congratulating a teammate for bringing home the victory. Jubilation erupted in his chest, warming his insides. He raised his arms over his head, fists clenched in triumph. Then horror pierced his gut.

  His hands were empty.

  Where was Eve?

  * * *

  Jojo swatted the partially open door so that it whacked against the wall, emitting a sharp crack like a pistol shot. Every face in the BahalaNa Bar jerked toward him. A hot lava of glee rose in his chest as the expressions changed from surprise to fear. Inhaling the pungent incense of beer and liquor sweetened by the sweat of sudden dread, he stepped into his kingdom.

&n
bsp; The bartender reached under the bar and produced a bottle of Jim Beam, pounding the bottle onto the counter along with a smile on his gaunt face. Above him, a small black and white television blared into the room’s abrupt silence. Jojo halted his steps to listen to the news bulletin. Was it about the sailor who had vanished at sea?

  No, the bulletin was about a cruise ship, the Gateway. Ship, crew, and passengers had disappeared over the Philippine Trench. All were presumed dead. The Filipino announcer’s face registered sadness, but after a few terse sentences, he recovered and moved on to the next item.

  Jojo grabbed the bottle and a stack of plastic glasses. So, rich turistas had died. The rich lived good lives, however long or short. The only real tragedy in life was to get in Jojo’s way—like the sailor who had accused Jojo of cheating at cards.

  He strode to the poker game in the far corner of the room. The players’ lips tightened and their Adam’s apples bobbed in choreographed swallows. They knew Jojo’s rules. Everybody played until Jojo was done with them. Until that exact moment, no one dared bow out.

  He scooted a chair to the table and dropped onto it. Even sitting, he towered over every man in the room. The light skin and round eyes passed on to him by his American father had been a magnet to back-alley bullies. Puberty toppled the tables, and by age sixteen, the six-foot-four giant with broken teeth and a maze of facial scars had avenged every evil word and deed ever directed at him.

  He slammed the Jim Beam and glasses onto the table, and five bottles of cheap beer rattled on the wood. “American whiskey for my friends.” Each man, eyes lowered, took a glass and filled it halfway with Jim Beam.

  Jojo selected his target. Hadn’t Paco made himself scarce the whole month before Jojo left on the transport ship? And yet, here sat the twerp now, sporting a new watch on his right wrist and a chain of shiny gold around his neck, obviously comfortable in thinking Jojo wouldn’t dock for another week.