The soldier fired again, only now I was his target. I ducked when he seemed ready to pull the trigger, crouching against the floorboards. The bullet whistled by, ripping through the canvas above my head.
Sweat dripped down my forehead. My skin was cold and clammy. I took a deep breath, ready to fight back.
“George, can I help?” Lady Jane asked. Her voice was trembling.
I saw a small crate at the front of the truck tucked under a bench. “See what’s in the tool box. But stay down, and be careful.”
I peeked past the canvas. The soldier again took aim and fired. The bullet shattered a tail light.
My heart pounded against my chest. Escape seemed unlikely, London and the hope of ever seeing it again, impossible. I had to be smarter than the enemy.
Lady Jane found more bullets and then crawled to the toolbox and opened the lid. “There are some tools and a jack,” she said. “At least we can throw them.”
As she slid the box forward, I took aim and fired again. I was way off. The bullet hit the edge of the windshield on the driver’s side. The glass punctured, forming a small hole. Then a crack walked across the front of the windshield and the glass shattered, spraying fragments on the road.
“Stay down,” I reminded her.
She lay on the floor, covering her head with her hands. “Do something, George! I don’t want to die.”
I started throwing tools out the back of the truck: a wrench, a tire iron, the jack, the base for the jack, and a can of oil. The can bounced off the hood of the truck and bounced into the cab, striking the driver.
As the truck swerved, I changed tactics and fired the remaining three bullets directly into the truck’s radiator. I don’t know if they all hit, but at least one did. Water began to belch from the front of the vehicle.
“You got them!” Lady Jane shrieked. “You did it, George.”
I smiled, peering cautiously at the enemy, feeling proud and strong and awash with accomplishment. I reloaded the pistol, eager to renew the attack.
The leak worsened and steam billowed from the front of the truck, blocking the driver’s vision. The vehicle slowed, and the distance between us grew. Eventually they faded from sight. We continued for a few miles more and then the truck screeched to a halt.
A moment later, Thomas and Sir Gregory opened the canvas and peered into the back.
“How’s Van der Meer?” Thomas asked anxiously.
He was frantic and fraught, his eyes wide and his face pale. I had never seen him so worried, so afraid, and so utterly overwhelmed. The panicked, helpless look that consumed his face was so vivid I could almost feel his pain.
“Not good,” I said, trying to be compassionate. “The bullet is still inside his chest. He’s weak and gasping, but I think we stopped the bleeding. He needs a doctor.”
“I’ll find one,” Thomas said. “We have to save him. Make him as comfortable as you can. I’ll do whatever it takes to get him help.”
“Jane, are you all right?” Sir Gregory asked.
“Yes, I’m fine.” Then she looked at me and smiled. “George protected me.”
Her statement surprised me. But I liked it.
We were quickly underway, the truck again bouncing over the crude roads. I checked Van der Meer. He was resting peacefully. I didn’t know what damage the bullet had done; his bandage was stained with blood, the wound still seeping. I assumed his heart and major arteries had been spared, since the blood flow had diminished. But maybe a lung was damaged. I didn’t know.
“George, thanks for saving us,” Lady Jane said.
My eyes moved from Van der Meer, a friend who lay on his deathbed, to Lady Jane. I looked at her eyes, blue like a tropical sea, and her upturned nose. “I’m falling in love with you,” I said softly.
As soon as I’d said it I felt guilty. I should be focused on saving Van der Meer’s life, not on my new obsession for Lady Jane.
She smiled and brushed the hair from my forehead. “Do you think they’ll find a doctor?”
I sighed, regretting what I had said. “I don’t see how. We’re not near any large cities.”
The full realization of what had happened overwhelmed me. A dozen Japanese had been in pursuit, intent on killing us and wounding Van der Meer. I had fought them off with a tiny pistol. And I had done it, not through the brute strength that I would never possess, but with craft and cunning. I had disabled the vehicle, not the enemy, but the result was the same. I had saved us. Not Thomas, not Sir Gregory, but me.
We drove until dusk, with periodic stops to check on Van der Meer. He did not regain consciousness, but his condition didn’t seem worse. When we reached a village, a hamlet with many streets that stretched haphazardly in all directions, Thomas drove through the town slowly.
Although the population would probably support a physician based on the number of dwellings and myriad people who seemed to wander the streets, we couldn’t find one. When we reached the village’s outskirts, Thomas guided the truck into a wooded area that hugged the road before climbing to a higher elevation. A mountain in the distance spewed steam from its peak, a white trail that marred the approaching darkness.
Thomas’s face appeared in the back of the truck. “You two stay here,” he said. “Sir Gregory and I will find a doctor.”
“We didn’t see any when we drove through the town,” I said. “Maybe we should keep going.”
“I have to try,” he said. “I would never forgive myself if I didn’t.”
We were quiet after they had left, the two of us minding Van der Meer. When I turned to look at Lady Jane, I saw that she was staring at me. When I met her gaze, she smiled.
“He seems to be resting comfortably,” she said. “I hope he’s all right. I would miss him terribly.”
He was a remarkable man. And a true friend. There was no doubt he would do whatever was needed to help me, or Lady Jane, or Sir Gregory, even though we had only known him a few weeks. I never regretted risking my life to rescue him, although I have to admit I didn’t support the effort initially, but I’d do it a thousand times again, if it meant he would live.
We were quiet for a moment, reflecting on a man who had made such an impact on our lives.
“What about you, George?” Lady Jane asked. “What are you going to do if we ever get out of here?”
“I’m not sure,” I said.
I had promised my London editor six weeks in Singapore. That seemed like a lifetime ago, and I had only been there a few days. Then on to Batavia, Sumatra, back to Batavia. Now we traveled through Java, the enemy around every bend.
I really didn’t know what I wanted. I was confused, conflicted by mixed emotions, both personal and professional. I wanted to be part of the war effort; I wanted to prove I could do what other men could, even without their physical stamina.
Then there was my obsession with Maggie. It was fading, replaced by Lady Jane. The hurt was still there, but it was softer. And sometimes it was traded for a memory that made me smile. Sometimes it wasn’t, but one thing was certain: the distance to London could no longer be measured in miles.
“Do you want to go back to London?”
“I never wanted to leave,” I said softly. “But I had to.”
“It wasn’t your career, was it?”
I was overwhelmed with sadness; my thoughts were flooded with memories of Maggie. I loved Maggie, and so did everyone who knew her.
“It was Maggie,” she said, reading my thoughts. “Wasn’t it? You had to escape. It was the only way you could try to forget.”
“I saw her everywhere,” I whispered.
She leaned forward and kissed me, tentatively at first, our lips barely touching, and then more forcefully. I wrapped my arms around her, pulling her close, drinking her scent, feeling her hair against my cheek, her arms wrapped around me, her heart beating against my chest.
She pulled away, flustered, and cleared her throat.
Her cheeks were flushed; her eyes avoided mine.
“I don’t know what I’m going to do,” she said, acting as if nothing had happened, as if the intimate moment were only a dream.
“Will you go back to India with Sir Gregory?” I asked.
I probably shouldn’t have said it, but I had to know.
I was confused. I was angry. I felt as if I was being toyed with. First there was Balraj who came and went like a streaking meteor. Then Sir Gregory arrived from nowhere to merge the past with the present. Thomas was a friend and a flirt, a man who might be the future. I didn’t understand what was happening.
“He’s a good man,” she said. “And what better way to prove your love than travel halfway around the world to find someone? Even after I’d hurt him terribly. Look at what he’s been through. He was captured by the enemy, tortured, worked to death, and almost killed. He did all that for me.”
I was quiet for a moment. “That wasn’t what I asked you.”
Suddenly, Van der Meer groaned. He raised his arm, clutching mine. “Take care of Thomas,” he said softly. “He’s not as strong as he seems.”
CHAPTER 38
Thomas and Sir Gregory returned with a Javanese woman, her hair long and untamed, her eyes as black as the volcanic soil. She carried a satchel woven from local fabrics in a pattern of decorative flowers. She nodded, smiled timidly, and climbed into the back of the truck with an agility that surprised me.
“All we could find was a midwife,” Sir Gregory said. “This is Mita.”
She bent over Van der Meer, laying her cloth bag beside him. She felt his forehead, touched his lips with a fingertip, placed her palm on his check, and then fingered his wrist to feel his pulse. She reached into her bag and withdrew several glass vials and small leather pouches. Then she took a bottle of water, wet her finger and rubbed the moisture on his lips. She followed the same process with an unidentified liquid.
“Is he going to be all right?” Lady Jane asked.
She mumbled and shrugged, not understanding the language but somehow knowing the question. As she delicately removed the bandage, blood oozed slowly from the wound. Then she took a vial and poured the liquid over both the bullet hole and her hands. A lavender powder followed, sprinkled on the wound and the surrounding area.
She said something to Thomas. I recognized a smattering of Dutch.
“She’s cleaning the wound and using local equivalents of anesthetics,” he told us.
I wondered if she knew what she was doing. Her techniques seemed so strange, especially when compared to the medical care provided in London. I hoped she wasn’t making matters worse. But there was no alternative. If we did nothing, he would die.
She delicately poked the wound. Her finger lightly to uched the circumference of the bullet hole, and then she inserted it to the first knuckle. She withdrew it, reached for another pouch and added a pinch of green powder.
“The vials and pouches remind me of some of the medicines in India,” Sir Gregory said. “Don’t they, Jane?”
“Yes,” she said, watching Mita closely. “At least for doctors not trained in England.”
“Is what she’s doing dangerous?” I asked. “You would never see a doctor in London with a bag of powder or a glass bottle filled with strange liquids.”
“As long as it works, I don’t care what she uses,” Thomas said.
“The medicines are from local plants and herbs,” Sir Gregory said.
“And the cures have been handed down through generations,” Lady Jane added.
I looked at the midwife with new eyes, watching her curiously, wanting to learn about tried treatments I might never see again. I would have asked her what they were, where the powders and liquids came from, and how she obtained them, but I didn’t want to distract her; she needed to focus on Van der Meer.
She continued the examination, tenderly touching the area around the wound. It seemed she hoped the bullet was near the surface, but it wasn’t. She removed a slender metal tool with a flat, curved edge, washed it off, and again started probing.
Then she deftly spun and twisted the metal tool, flipping it upward. Blood squirted from the wound and she stemmed the flow with gauze.
She spoke in a blend of Dutch and Javanese, stringing long sentences together. She then paused and eyed Thomas, ensuring he understood.
“She wants to take him to her home,” he said. “It’s the only way she can remove the bullet. He’ll die if she doesn’t. And she says he can’t be moved for at least a week.”
“Thomas, we can’t be delayed,” Sir Gregory said. “We have to keep moving. The Japanese will track us down if we don’t.”
“She claims she can hide him.”
“Yes, she can hide him,” Sir Gregory said, compassion framing every word. “But not all of us.”
“I won’t leave him,” Thomas declared.
We then heard a voice calling in Japanese.
“Quiet!” Thomas hissed, holding up his finger.
The voices continued. They were distant but coming closer.
“Can you understand them?” I asked.
Thomas shook his head.
I was sure we were surrounded. With posters of Lady Jane all over the country and the Japanese combing the area looking for her, capture seemed inevitable. Even though we continued to elude them, they somehow returned, creating a swirling circle framed by relentless pursuit through forest and field, river and ravine.
I looked at Lady Jane. She was listening intently, her face drawn and tired. I furtively reached for her hand and squeezed it tightly, ensuring Sir Gregory could not see. It had become a secret signal between us, clutching her hand. It showed I would protect her.
Thomas whispered to the midwife, explaining the situation. She nodded. A look of concern was replaced by one of understanding, and her attention returned to Van der Meer.
“They’re coming closer,” I warned.
“We have to get out of here,” Thomas said. “Sir Gregory, come in the cab with me.”
They eased themselves out of the truck, careful to make no noise, and made their way to the cab. The sound of the doors opening and slamming shut was sharp and distinct, echoing through the woods. The engine turned, grinding to life. Thomas slipped the transmission into gear, and the truck lurched forward.
The Japanese shouted; I could hear three distinct voices. I looked from the back of the truck but saw only darkness and the grisly shadows that the moon cast. From the sound of their voices I guessed that they were separated, maybe thirty feet apart. They were walking, but they must have a vehicle nearby.
“Are they coming after us?” Lady Jane asked.
“I don’t think so,” I said, still peering into the night. “They’re on foot. And they seem disorientated.”
“What are we going to do?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “I think we should leave Van der Meer with the midwife and then get out of here. At least there’s a chance she can save his life. That’s something we could never do.”
“Thomas won’t leave him.”
“He’ll have to. There’s no other choice.”
I grabbed a map that had been in the tool box. I scanned over it, roughly aware of our location, looking for the name of the midwife’s village. I eventually found it and then located the railroad. We were only a few miles from the tracks.
“Have you found anything?”
“We’re close to the railroad. That can be our means of escape.”
“I’m convinced,” she said.
“Now you have to persuade Thomas.”
CHAPTER 39
We left the woods, driving over shrubs and small trees, making our own path back to the road. I kept watch behind us. No one pursued. The Japanese who were searching for us, if they were searching at all, were on foot. They must have left their vehicle in a different location.
We traveled to another crude road, just prior to the village, and turned. We passed a small lake, glistening in the moonlight, and after a few hundred yards we turned agai
n, reaching a thatched cottage that sat by the distant edge of the water. It was typical Javanese architecture with a high rectangular shape in the center of the roof that allowed the heat to collect and a steep slope that diverted water away during the rainy season.
I lowered the tailgate and let Lady Jane and Mita out. Van der Meer still rested, but was groaning slightly. Thomas and Sir Gregory joined us, and the woman pointed to a small outbuilding that sat beside the lake.
We went to investigate. It was probably an animal hut originally, upgraded and modernized; it was clean and well maintained. A chair and cot were in the center of the room along with shelves of medical supplies that flanked the walls. Another chair, strangely shaped with an open seat was at one end of the room; I suspected it was used to birth babies. I had read that many cultures gave birth in a vertical position, letting gravity assist the delivery.
The woman gave several sentences of direction to Thomas. She took a blanket from the shelf, unfolded it, and laid it on the cot. Then she reached for some vials of medicine, laying them on a small table.
“Can you help me?” Thomas asked us. “We have to carry Van der Meer in here.”
Sir Gregory and I followed him. Together we lifted Van der Meer as gently as we could. Thomas, who favored his injured arm, and I were at his head; Sir Gregory was at his feet. We carried him inside and laid him on the table, propping his head up on more blankets. I went back to get his bag.
When I returned, Thomas and the midwife were in an animated discussion.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“She says it’s too risky for all of us to stay,” he said. “It is,” I said solemnly. “Van der Meer’s only hope lies with her. We decrease his chances if we stay. She can never hide all of us. Especially Lady Jane.”
“George is right,” Lady Jane said. “And it’s the best situation for Van der Meer.”
Mita again started talking, more sternly, and directing her comments to Thomas.
“We can always come back for him,” Sir Gregory said.
Thomas sighed, wavering. He knew we were right but he wasn’t thinking logically. He was thinking emotionally.
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