To Parts Unknown

by John Anthony Miller

  “Shanghai,” I said.

  Thomas tensed noticeably, and his face was consumed with a look of absolute anguish. “I don’t want to talk about it,” he said.

  Lady Jane moved beside him, her blond hair blowing in the breeze. “Maybe it would help if you did.”

  Sir Gregory studied him curiously, stroking his goatee as he often did when deep in thought. “Yes, it might. Any psychiatrist would tell you that. And you can trust us.”

  “It’s very personal,” he said softly. “And very painful. I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

  I looked at the horizon; water stretched in all directions. The sun streamed from the sky, burning our skin and parching our lips. There was no land in sight. We were unable to catch any fish, and we had a limited amount of food and water.

  “It’s not like any of us will live to tell anyone,” I said quietly.

  There was silence for a moment, and I think we all confronted our own demons. They suddenly seemed dwarfed when compared to what we now faced.

  “It might lessen the pain,” Lady Jane said. “Or at least mute the voices that won’t let you forget.”

  Her statement seemed to move him and he closed his eyes tightly for a moment, willing away the unwanted images. He took a deep breath, searched our faces for signs of sincerity, his blue eyes dim and lacking the love of life they normally displayed, and finally wavered.

  “I worked for a French bank,” he said softly. “I was involved in international investments. The bank sent me to Shanghai. Van der Meer was there too.”

  He paused. It was difficult for him to maintain his composure; his voice cracked, his face was gray, his lips quivered. But he continued. “I had a family. A wonderful wife named Jeanette. We were childhood sweethearts.”

  He smiled for a moment, forgetting the pain. “On the first day of school, when we were five or six years old, she gave me half of her raspberry pastry at lunch. And from that day forward, I had no interest in anyone else.”

  The smile faded and the pain returned. “She was so fascinating: intelligent, loving, kind, and compassionate. And she was funny. Everyone liked her because she made them laugh. She was such a beautiful woman with long flowing blond hair and blue eyes that seemed to hold the secrets of the universe.”

  I looked at Lady Jane. She hadn’t noticed the physical similarity, but I did. Her image mirrored Jeannette’s. Maybe the Japanese thought Lady Jane was Jeannette and she and Thomas had killed Hakkan together. It was an interesting theory.

  “She sounds like a remarkable woman,” Sir Gregory said softly.

  “She was,” he said, pain distorting his face, his heart twisted and torn and tattered, teaching us all what it meant to truly love someone.

  Lady Jane touched his arm, her fingers lightly caressing him, urging him to continue.

  “We had two enchanting little daughters, Emilie and Chantel. They were four and six years old. Emilie looked like her mother, blond hair and blue eyes. She was a little comedienne who loved to play practical jokes.” He paused, finding it difficult to speak. “Chantel was like me, a mop of brown hair, blue eyes as deep as a tropical sea, and the curiosity of a cat. We had a fabulous life together.”

  He stopped talking, his lips taut. I envisioned the images of the two children, etched forever in his mind, frozen in time.

  “What happened?” I asked quietly.

  “The Japanese invaded. They were ruthless barbarians, capable of unimaginable acts of brutality. Hakkan led the attack.” He took a deep breath and raised his head. His eyes, misty and dull, met each of ours in turn. “He killed my wife and daughters.”

  My heart was in my throat, tears clouding my eyes. I remembered the attack. It was in 1938. I had written several articles about it. By all accounts, the Japanese had been brutal, but I never understood how deeply that knife had sliced until now.

  I could feel his pain like a hand grasping my heart and ripping it from my body. He had lost Jeannette. His anguish only highlighted mine, bringing it back to life. I wasn’t the only one to grieve and suffer. Thomas did too. And much worse than I. My hurt was magnified in him many times over.

  I was also overcome by how quickly life can change. It had taken only a few minutes, one bad decision, to take Maggie away. Thomas had lost his family just as quickly. Minutes come and go as life goes on, so trivial and routine, but during the course of a lifetime, there are a handful that make and shape you, determine your future and define your past. Sometimes we don’t even notice them.

  “Thomas, that is so tragic,” Lady Jane whispered. She took him in her arms, cradling him in a protective canopy.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. I regretted having asked him. It was a reporter’s instinct, I suppose, but I had to know the truth. It was a personal characteristic that was both a blessing and a curse.

  “My condolences also,” Sir Gregory added. “You said Hakkan personally?”

  “Yes, my home was commandeered by the occupation forces. Hakkan tied me to a chair, murdered Jeannette in front of me, then went after my daughters.”

  Tears started to drip down his face. He made no effort to wipe them away. “Jeanette was left lying on the floor in front of me, her eyes locked with mine, the life draining from her body. She told me over and over and over again how much she loved me. Then she died. In reality, I died too. Emilie and Chantel were murdered, each holding their favorite dolls, like two little angels. Their screams will haunt me for all of eternity.”

  He finally broke down, crying uncontrollably, his body heaving, tears flowing down his face and dripping onto his shirt. He looked at us, pain and sorrow chiseled in every wrinkle of his face, trying to understand why something so horrible had ever happened.

  “Why didn’t they kill me?” he sobbed. “Why didn’t they just kill me?”

  We cried with him.

  By early evening our lips were parched and dry, and both thirst and fatigue had started to overwhelm us. When twilight shadowed the waves, we ate the remainder of the cheese and a quarter of our melons, the latter serving to quench our thirst.

  Darkness arrived, but there were fewer clouds, and the hint of a moon and a sky sprinkled with stars made the evening less eerie. There was still no land visible in any direction. We were all quiet; an aura of despair had shrouded the boat. I think we were all reflecting on our lives, and, unavoidably, our deaths. I wasn’t afraid to die, but I wasn’t yet ready either.

  “I had hoped to see Paris again,” Thomas said softly. “It’s such a charming city, alive and vibrant with the greatest culture and architecture in the world. Even the bridges that cross the River Seine are beautiful. I was born there. Not in the best neighborhood, but one that offered a happy childhood. To this day I can still smell the pastries at the corner bakery even though the store closed many years ago.”

  Lady Jane smiled. “I have limited memories of Ulster where I was born at our country estate southwest of Belfast. I remember the moss that covered the ground near a swift country stream. I would lie there and imagine shapes in the clouds drifting by.”

  “When did you go to India?” I asked.

  “When I was very young,” she said. “Five years old, I think. After my father was accused of helping the Kaiser during the Great War. We rarely returned to Ulster after that, maybe two or three times, but we did holiday in London. I liked living in India. It was different, mystical but mundane.”

  “I miss London,” I said softly. “My family, my favorite pub, the excitement of living in the most important city in the world.” I was quiet for a moment. “But I treasure the memories.”

  “Memories are nice,” Lady Jane said. “But dreams are better.”

  We again took turns standing watch, still maintaining hope that we would soon be washed upon some distant shore. The boat, though now familiar, had become cramped and crowded. Our plight, tentative and anxious, had become frustrating and desperate and intolerable. Its outcome was beyond our control.

  Not having slept well t
he last two evenings, we were weary enough to sleep soundly. We even ignored the gnawing hunger pangs, and the rhythmic breathing of slumber was soon upon us.

  When Thomas awakened me to stand my watch, I found my mouth drier than I had ever thought possible. I sat upright, sensing the fatigue, and struggled to survey the horizon. I took a swig of gathered water, and it alleviated my obsessive desire for moisture.

  I slumped in my seat and scanned the sea, my view encompassing all directions. Since it was our first evening truly free of clouds, I was soon preoccupied by the stars that lit the southern skies.

  "The stars are quite beautiful tonight, aren't they?"

  It was Thomas. His voice startled me. I was surprised he was still awake.

  "Yes," I said. "They're very bright."

  "I was always interested in the stars," he continued. "Did you know that navigators since the beginning of time have determined their location by using the stars?"

  "That's right," I said. "They have. And maybe we can too."

  He went on to name many of the stars that sparkled in the pre-dawn skies. I was impressed with his knowledge, and I was certain he could steer us to safety, just as mariners had done for centuries.

  "So where are we now?" I asked.

  He gazed at the sky for several seconds and rubbed his chin. He looked at me gravely and replied with the utmost seriousness. "I have absolutely no idea." He broke into a fit of laughter.

  I laughed too.

  “You’ve been a good friend,” I said after some reflection. “Probably the best I’ve ever had.”

  “The same to you,” he replied. “I’ve always been close to Van der Meer; our lives have been intertwined for many years. But I also count you as a dear friend.”

  “If we ever get out of this, I would like to preserve that.”

  “No question,” he said, as if the mere thought of anything else was unthinkable. “Our lives will be shared, just like mine and Van der Meer’s.”

  “Will you go back for him?”

  “Absolutely,” he replied. “No other thought ever crossed my mind.”

  It was silent for a moment, as we each studied the stars.

  “I suppose Lady Jane will go with you,” I said.

  He sat up, studying me in the moonlight. “Why do you say that?”

  “Because you’re in love with her. And she’s in love with you.”

  He sighed, and settled back down in the boat.

  “George, how can you be so perceptive and so blind at the same time?”

  Thomas drifted off to sleep, and I returned to scanning the skyline.

  Dawn arrived and sunlight filtered across the waves, revealing a distinct shadow in the distance. I studied the shape closely. After fifteen minutes had passed, it grew clearer and larger. I sat upright, peering intently into the distance.

  "Thomas!"

  He stirred but did not waken. I shook him, pointing to the north. He yawned, sat up, and rubbed his eyes.

  "Look!” I yelled. “Land!"

  "Row!" Thomas shouted. "Hurry! Before the tides take us past it."

  I grabbed one pair of oars while he got the other. The mass appeared to be an island. As we came closer, trees that sprang from its hilly terrain waved to greet us.

  "What's going on?" Sir Gregory asked sleepily.

  I pointed at the atoll, my face flush with excitement. He peered intently at the image, his eyes growing wide. "Jane!" he cried. “Land!”

  She bolted upright. “Gregory, help them!”

  He scrambled to my side. “Let me have the oars,George. I’ll get us there.”

  He quickly proved his capabilities and steered us towards the atoll.

  "We're saved!" I screamed.

  “George,” Thomas said sternly. “Look.”

  The sun had continued its climb, bathing the island in golden light. It was a small atoll, steep in elevation and dominated by a single hill that occupied most of the terrain. It rose steadily upward in all directions from the shore, reaching a height of several hundred feet at its center.

  Perched on top of the hill was a Japanese flag.

  CHAPTER 45

  We stared at the flag, our elation rapidly replaced with despair. We had escaped death on the water only to meet the enemy on land. The southwest Pacific had become a giant chessboard, and the enemy had countered our every move.

  “What should we do?” Lady Jane asked quietly.

  Thomas studied the island and then shook his head. “We don’t have any choice. We have to get to land.”

  “It seems fairly remote,” I said. “It might just be a lookout post. Maybe there are only a few soldiers.”

  “Then let’s hope they’re still asleep,” Thomas said. “If not, they’ll be waiting for us when we get to shore.”

  We reached shallow water, and Thomas leaped from the boat and dragged it to shore. We climbed out and helped him, hiding the boat in the vegetation that met the water’s edge and then covering it with branches from trees and shrubs.

  Judging by the sun’s position, we had arrived on the southern coast of the island, in a small cove shaped like a tear drop. We stood on an outcrop of land at the edge of the lagoon but couldn’t determine if it was bridged to the island proper or a tiny islet separated from its larger sister. The vegetation was thick, with sporadic stretches of white sand and pools of turquoise water. Black rocks, probably born by volcanic activity, were scattered about the area ranging in size from pebble to boulder. We saw no sign of the enemy.

  “We seem to be safe here,” Thomas said as he peered through the shrubbery. “At least for now. We’ll stay near the boat until we’re ready to explore.”

  “Then we have to find the Japanese,” Sir Gregory added.

  The enemy was everywhere. We should have been rejoicing, celebrating our survival. Instead, we were again planning to combat or elude them. Maybe it would have been easier to die at sea, drifting into a deep sleep, too weak to move as life slowly slipped away. But now we had to fight again, and somehow, we had to find the strength to do that.

  Thomas had wandered inland a few feet, studying the terrain. “Look,” he said. He pointed at trees sprouting large melons. “Let’s eat.”

  We kept a wary eye on the approach to our hideaway. Thomas and Sir Gregory grabbed armfuls of melons, and we sat on the moss carpet and devoured them, overwhelmed with the succulent juice that spewed from the soft core. The sweet liquid bathed our parched lips and mouths and throats, sating our thirst and swelling our bellies.

  “That was absolutely delightful,” Lady Jane said, licking her lips.

  “It was quite nice,” Sir Gregory agreed.

  “I suppose we need to find the lookouts,” Thomas said. “We’ve lingered long enough.”

  “Should we all go?” Sir Gregory asked.

  “I think it would be safer if you and Lady Jane stayed here,” Thomas replied. “George and I will go and explore.”

  I was surprised he chose me to go with him. He knew I didn’t have the strength or stamina that either he or Sir Gregory had. There must be some other quality I had that he sought; I just didn’t know what it was.

  “Agreed,” Sir Gregory said. “While you’re gone, I’ll find a supply of food and water.”

  “Come on, George, let’s get started,” Thomas said.

  We ventured from our landing spot and found that we were on a tiny sliver of land at the edge of the lagoon. A twenty foot wide span of water separated where we were from the main atoll. A few rocks and a palm tree lying on its side made it possible to cross the water without swimming through it.

  Once we were on the main island, we walked around its circumference, hiding in the vegetation and carefully moving forward. The atoll was small, perhaps a mile around at most. We determined that we were on the southwestern tip, and we saw no sign of enemy activity until we reached the northern edge where we found a small harbor outfitted with a dock. Adjacent to the wooden wharf was an outbuilding, probably housing supplies. Ther
e were no Japanese.

  “Maybe the island is deserted,” I said.

  “I don’t think so,” Thomas replied. “They wouldn’t have built this wharf if they weren’t going to use it. There has to be something here of value to them. It’s either the geographical location, or what you can see from it. Or maybe its position lends well to radio transmittals. I suspect we’ll find a Japanese contingent at the peak. Then our questions will be answered.”

  I pointed to the edge of the outbuilding. “There’s a trail from the dock to a higher elevation. If we risk taking it, I’ll bet we find the enemy where it ends.”

  I wasn’t eager to face the potential dangers at the end of the trail, but it was the only way to locate the Japanese. If we didn’t find them and avoid them, they would surely find us.

  “All right,” he said. “But let’s be cautious.”

  We proceeded. The path had been hewn through thick vegetation, and steps had been placed where the elevation was steeper. Considerable effort had been expended to construct it. We cautiously moved forward, climbing the mountain’s face that formed the core of the island.

  We were almost halfway up when we heard someone coming. They descended from the top, walking quickly, making no effort to conceal themselves. They brushed against tree limbs; their boots banged loudly on the wooden steps.

  Thomas put a finger to his lips to signal silence, and then motioned to the shrubs adjacent to the path. We moved through them, carefully parting the branches and hiding ourselves a few feet away, ensuring we couldn’t be seen from the path.

  A few minutes later a Japanese soldier came bounding down the steps, walking quickly. He was shirtless, wore round black spectacles, and had a white scarf tied around his head. He didn’t suspect our presence; the soldiers must not know we were on the island.

  My breathing was rapid and shallow; my heart thumped against my chest. I could reach out and touch him, he passed so closely. I fingered the Derringer in my pocket and briefly considered killing him. But then I thought how senseless that would be. I didn’t know how many more there were, and there seemed to be an unlimited supply anyway.