Beside a Burning Sea (34 page)

Since he’d become a man, Jake had loved no one beyond his family. While he’d delighted in the land beneath his feet, and once touched a woman’s face and felt drawn to her, he’d never met a stranger and had that stranger run into his heart. He hadn’t sought such an experience and hadn’t expected to celebrate its passage. But now, as he threw Ratu high into the air, Jake realized that he loved this boy. He wanted to protect him, to hear his laugh, to feel his touch. He wanted to watch him grow, and to take pride in his journey.

This was Jake’s secret—that he’d discovered a boy who made him feel like a father, made him realize that the greater good didn’t solely apply to a nation at war. Perhaps the greater good was also making a boy smile. Perhaps it was ensuring that this wonderful boy returned to his family.

Jake had left his farm to join the fight against fascism. He’d left expecting to see death and pain and misery, and though he’d seen such sights, he hadn’t expected his most profound experience to be a simple and unexpected discovery—the realization that his greatest hope was that a boy would survive the war and be reunited with his family.

I’ll bring him home, Jake promised himself. Whatever happens on this darn island, ain’t nothing gonna stop me from bringing Ratu home.

ROGER KNELT NAKED atop the hill, a cigarette between his lips, his fingers fine-tuning the radio’s dial. “Ronin to Edo,” he said. “Repeat. Ronin to Edo. Over.”

The static that assaulted Roger’s ears disappeared. “Edo here. How are the cherry blossoms?”

“Always best under a full moon.”

“Agree. How was the storm?”

“Fine. Nothing’s changed here.”

“Mother coming to roost in two days. Understood?”

“Yes.”

“Rendezvous at north side of landing area. At highest ground. Stay hidden. I will find you.”

“Understood. What should I expect after rendezvous?”

For a few heartbeats, the static returned. Then Edo said, “You will lead me to the eight chicks. They will be terminated.”

“Good.”

“I will wear a sword and a pistol. Look for me.”

“Understood. Over.” Roger waited for a reply, and when one didn’t come, he removed his headset. “Two days,” he said happily, filling his lungs with the rich, glorious smoke.

Roger closed his eyes, thrilled by the prospect of leading Edo and his men to the survivors, relishing the thought of the resulting confrontation. Such conflicts had been the best part of his life for nearly two decades. He’d gone to great lengths to manufacture them and was rarely disappointed with how they unfolded. In this case, he’d get to witness the deaths of those who so incessantly tormented him—the skirts who scorned him, the Nip who wasn’t afraid, the runt who never shut his mouth. He’d even kill one or two such oppressors—surely the Nip and perhaps the maggot captain. And everyone would know, just before they died, that he’d betrayed them, that he was stronger and smarter and more cunning than they’d ever imagined.

Roger sucked hard on his cigarette and started to stow his radio. As he did, he noticed a distant flash of light. The flash came from atop a faraway hill. Recognizing the location as being close to the cave, his heart plummeted as he squinted toward the glare. Almost immediately, he realized that someone, most likely Scarlet, was watching him through the binoculars.

Cursing himself for his appalling carelessness, Roger leapt upward—his cigarette dropping to the ground, his muscles and instincts sprung from the cage that had confined them for so long. His shoes and shorts he swiftly put on; his shirt he left where it lay. He began to hurry down the hill, running in great bounds, moving more like a mountain lion than a man. The land blurred beneath him. The wind tugged at his hair. Jumping over boulders rather than circumventing them, he kept his arms outstretched for balance. Though reeling with misgivings about his recklessness, overconfidence, and stupidity, as the chase unfolded, he became increasingly calm and even happy. It felt good to be running again, exhilarating to be approaching someone who’d soon die at his hands.

Roger entered the jungle as swiftly and precisely as a needle piercing cloth, aware that she’d be running by now, but that she wouldn’t be fast enough.

FOR SEVERAL DAYS, Scarlet had enjoyed watching the large bird that nested near the top of the distant hill. Though she hadn’t recognized the species, she’d grown to understand the gray-and-white-feathered creature, which liked to dive into the sea, to clasp a fish within its talons, and return to its nest to devour its prey. Scarlet had decided to keep a mental diary of all such birds she’d seen, and upon returning to America, research which species she’d been fortunate enough to study. If she was going to remain stranded in such an awful place, she was determined to leave with at least one positive experience. And that experience would be birds.

With more curiosity than surprise, Scarlet had turned her binoculars from the nesting bird to Roger. Like her, he often seemed to want to escape the confines of the cave and the conversations inside it. So when she had first seen him climbing, she’d thought that he was merely seeking quieter ground. However, she’d been immensely perplexed when he’d taken off his clothes and started to dig; further so when he removed what looked to be a case of some sort. Focusing the binoculars, she’d risen from beneath the shade of a stunted tree and watched as he opened the case. To her surprise, he’d started smoking a cigarette.

It had taken Scarlet some time to comprehend that he was talking on a radio. When she’d finally realized what was happening, she became quite confused. Who was he talking to? And why did he have a secret radio? She had finally come to the awful conclusion that Roger wasn’t who he appeared to be, and with trembling hands, she’d watched him remove his headset. She’d then lowered the binoculars to wipe the sweat from her eyes, and when she’d placed them back against her face, she saw that he was looking directly at her. And then he was running, moving like a madman down the hill, his arms and legs swinging to and fro.

Her heart leaping, Scarlet hurried toward the jungle below. The way was littered with loose gravel and large boulders. Grunting, she climbed over the boulders as quickly as she could. The gravel proved treacherous, and several times she slipped and fell. Though the hill wasn’t as tall as many on the island, it was steep, and she was forced to occasionally slow lest she tumble to her death.

Even though the cave was fairly distant, Scarlet screamed for help. She knew that Roger was coming to kill her, and she continued to shout in hopes that someone might be nearby. Thinking of her brothers and how they’d always looked after her, she began to cry. She frantically called their names, as if they might somehow protect her again. Her thoughts and movements growing clumsy, she stumbled down the hill. Unable to stop, she ran directly at a boulder, spinning away from it at the last second and twisting her knee in the process. Though her terror was overwhelming, an immense pain suddenly consumed her.

Limping, Scarlet struggled downward. “Joshua!” she screamed, her crushing fear causing her voice to tremble. “Jake! Nathan! Akira! Help me! Please help me!”

Her foot struck an exposed root and she fell. Moaning, she willed herself to get up. Having seen a great deal of death but having never given much thought to her own, she started to sob. She called repeatedly for her brothers, her vision obscured by tears and grit. She tripped again and this time was slower to rise.

“Help!” she shrieked, finally reaching the bottom of the hill. She’d left a spear against a tree and grabbed it as she hurried past. The cave wasn’t far now. In a few more minutes she’d be there.

ROGER SWEPT THROUGH the jungle as if it were on fire behind him. He did not waste a single step or second. His path was straight, his legs and arms in constant motion. He leapt over fallen trees, rocks, and even a fairly wide stream. He heard Scarlet screaming not far ahead and her cries served to guide him. He cursed her for the screams, rage boiling within him. The thought of her ruining his carefully laid plans made him long to break her neck. She wouldn’t scream then, though she’d be able to watch him kill her. And kill her he would.

A branch grazed his arm hard enough that he winced. Still following her voice, he hurried past trees of all shapes and sizes, briefly reminded of the time that he’d chased a boy through Tokyo’s cluttered confines. The terrified boy had finally dashed across a street and directly into the path of a train. Its wheels had cut him in two, as if he’d been no more than a piece of meat beneath a butcher’s knife. Mesmerized by the enormous quantity of blood that had pooled from beneath the train, Roger had leaned against a lamppost and waited until the boy’s severed body was revealed.

The thrill of the chase propelling him forward as it had so long ago, Roger jumped over a log and suddenly saw his prey. Without hesitating, he launched himself in her direction.

SCARLET STUMBLED FORWARD. She heard a crack, turned around, and suddenly he was there. She screamed, thrusting her spear at him, her tremendous fear giving her a sudden surge of strength. Roger saw her thrust, instinctively spinning his body away from the threat. As the spear rushed past him, he brought his left hand down hard, breaking the weapon in two.

Scarlet shrieked and tried to run. His right hand open, Roger viciously chopped her on the side of the neck, and she crumpled. He then stepped beside her and stood motionless. After waiting for his throbbing lungs to quiet, he listened. He could hear only the distant pounding of the surf and the wind as it wrestled with the trees. Finally convinced that no one had heard her cries, he hid her broken spear under some nearby ferns. He lifted her up and put her over his shoulder. She moaned softly, and angered by the sound, he hit her on the side of the head. “Where the hell were you hiding?” he asked, pulling a fistful of her hair. “How did you pop up like that?”

Scarlet didn’t answer, whimpering.

Turning around, Roger walked toward the hill that she’d descended. He hardly felt burdened by her, and his progress was good. Soon he reached the hill. Soon he was climbing.

“Please . . . no,” she whispered, her vision and thoughts cloudy.

“Stupid of you to yell,” he responded, increasing his speed, attacking the hill as if it were another of his enemies. “You dumb old hag. Your pathetic cries brought me right to you.”

“My . . . my family. My little brothers. Please.”

“Your family thinks you’re dead. Your ship sank, remember?”

“I—”

“Do you know who sank it? Me. I sank it.”

“You?”

“I put that bitch on the bottom.”

“Please . . . for . . . for the love of God—”

“God has no love,” Roger said angrily, reaching the vantage point upon which Scarlet had looked for ships and birds. As she moaned and twisted atop him, he turned about, looking for the steepest section below. After locating what was more than a forty-foot drop, Roger lifted her from his shoulder. He then held her upright, so that her shoes struck the dirt near the precipice. “Are you scared?” he asked, enjoying the feel of her pounding heart.

“Please, don’t,” she muttered, her face lined with tears.

He lowered her enough so that her feet rested on the ground and he was able to give her belly a firm pinch. “You’ve been eating too much. Seen any other fat birds out there?”

“Why . . . why are you hurting me? Oh, please stop. Please.”

“Think you can fly like them?”

“I won’t . . . I won’t tell anyone. I . . . I swear it.”

“You’re right about that, you useless, used-up old hag.”

“But why are you . . . doing this?” she asked, shuddering as she wept.

“Because I want to see you pop,” he replied, pushing her forward into the abyss below. As she shrieked, he watched her plummet, watched her strike the distant rocks. Blood spread beneath her, and again he was reminded of Tokyo, the memory warming him.

Roger spent the next hour carefully removing all traces of her true fate from the hill. He used a leafy branch to brush away his footprints. He sought out Scarlet’s body—wiping the tears from her face and the grime from her hands. He then followed their paths into the jungle, again eliminating all signs of their struggle.

Only when he was certain that the others would deduce that she accidentally fell to her death did he finally return to his radio. Buoyed by the thrill of the chase and kill, he calmly lit a cigarette and then reached into the case, removing his pistol. He caressed the weapon, longing to smell the sweet stench of gunpowder, to feel the heat of the red-hot barrel. The weapon aroused him more than cigarettes or booze or women ever had, for it gave him an ultimate, godlike authority—the ability to destroy anyone who sought to torment him. He also knew that the gun would never betray him and that he could trust it to give him exactly what he wanted. It was his friend.

The gun was a part of his salvation. And he was about to use it.

MUCH LATER, AFTER THE AFTERNOON had arrived and departed, Joshua waded out into the water and looked up at the hill that served as Scarlet’s observation post. Squinting, he tried to catch a glimpse of her, but couldn’t see quite clearly enough to discern anything so small. “I don’t understand it,” he said worriedly to Isabelle. “She’s so good at giving her signals. She’s as reliable as any sailor I’ve met.”

Isabelle stepped closer to him. “When did she last contact you?”

“As soon as she got up there. Must have been seven or eight hours ago.”

“Well, then, we should check on her.”

“We?”

“I could use a walk.”

Joshua nodded, wading back to the beach. He entered the cave to find and fill a canteen. After doing so, he and Isabelle left the cave and walked along the beach. They hadn’t gone far when they saw Annie and Akira, who were talking near a tide pool as they gathered mollusks for dinner.

“Where are you off to?” Annie asked, rising.

“To see Scarlet,” Isabelle replied. “She hasn’t signaled for hours. And we’re worried.”

Annie glanced at Akira. “How about joining them for a walk?”

“Of course.”

Annie carefully put their findings in a corner of the tide pool. She then stepped toward her sister, immediately noting the concern on Isabelle’s face. “Maybe she’s following a bird,” Annie offered.