Beside a Burning Sea (28 page)

“I bloody well should include everyone, because everyone helped. Big Jake held the torch, and Akira . . . Akira held your hand, and you smell nice, and I like the way you say my name.”

SITTING ON A BOULDER that had fallen inside the cave’s entrance, Joshua and Isabelle watched the storm. Though it had lessened in ferocity since the previous day, the storm still acted as if it wanted to drown the island. Rain continued to cascade from the sky, and water running down the hill behind them created a waterfall that obscured much of the cave’s entrance. The roar of the waterfall partially masked the uninhibited wind and the pounding of the surf.

“I wonder if we lost any ships in this,” Joshua said quietly, thinking that
Benevolence
would have handled the elements.

Isabelle paused from organizing their medical supplies. “I certainly hope not,” she replied. After carefully setting aside the quinine, she located the medicinal cream she wanted and found some clean and dry bandages. “Now let me see those hands.”

“They’re fine.”

“Joshua, you’re going to let me see them this instant.”

“I think we should save those supplies for something more important. We might—”

“I’ll be the judge of how we’re doing on medical supplies, thank you very much. Now put out your hands.”

Reluctantly, Joshua held out his hands, unfurling his palms. Isabelle dropped to her knees and slowly began to remove the cloth that they’d wrapped around his fingers and palms. She was surprised at the size and severity of his blisters. Red and open, the flesh of his palms looked as if he’d grabbed a rope and slid a hundred feet down. She knew that he must be in significant pain, and yet he’d mentioned nothing of his discomfort all morning. “You’re a mess,” she said.

He tried to smile. “I thought nurses were supposed to paint a rosy picture.”

“Well, your hands aren’t going to fall off. That’s about as rosy as I can get for now.” She used a damp cloth to gently clean his wounds. He winced, several times pulling his hands away from her. “I have to get these clean, Joshua,” she said, trying to hold him still.

“Sweet Mother Mary,” he replied, exhaling deeply.

“Try to think of something else.”

“Easy for you to say. You’re not the one being tortured.”

“Do you want infected hands? Here on this island?”

“No, but you shouldn’t be on your knees, attending me.” He glanced about to ensure that no one else was near. “I mean, with the baby? It doesn’t seem right. I don’t want—”

“That’s it. Think of our baby. What should we name him?”

“Ouch!”

“What names, Joshua?”

He moved his gaze from his hands to her face. “Do you think it’s a boy?” he asked, attempting to stay still.

“Does it matter to you? What the sex is?”

“Well, I always thought that . . . ouch . . . that I’d want a boy. But now it doesn’t matter. Either would be wonderful.”

“What about names?” she asked, beginning to spread the medicinal cream on his hands.

“If it’s a girl, we could name her after your grandmother.”

She paused. “Gertrude?”

He winked when she looked up from his injuries. “It has . . . a certain charm. And your grandmother certainly does.”

“Don’t be an ass,” she replied, trying not to laugh. “It’s not her fault that she’s so . . . interesting.”

“That’s an interesting way to put it.”

“You mustn’t feel that bad. If you’re going to sit there and poke fun at my family, maybe I should leave your hands alone. And for the record, your family is definitely odder than mine. At least my parents don’t live in a tent.”

“Now, that’s just a few months out of the year. And it’s not really a tent. More of a home on wheels.”

“It’s a tent, Joshua.”

He smiled, thinking of his parents and how they liked to spend summers high in the Rockies. “What about Claire? Or Alice? Or maybe Catherine?”

“What about boys?”

“Well, I’ve always liked the name Owen.”

“Owen?”

“That’s right. A name you don’t hear on every corner.”

She started to apply fresh bandages to his blisters, covering the wounds with care and precision. “I’m surprised you wouldn’t want to name him after some ship you saw in port.”

“Now, there’s a thought,” he said, feigning excitement. “He could be . . . Barnes or Lexington or Casablanca or Hancock. Oh, and Saratoga would make a fine name. Saratoga Collins. Let’s do that.”

“Let’s pretend that I never mentioned the idea.” She finished wrapping his hands and started to tidy up the medical kit. Everything went into its proper place, and the kit was sealed shut. “You’re not an easy patient,” she said, moving closer to him.

“I’m a deviant, remember?” he replied, kissing her forehead.

Isabelle leaned against his knees and stroked his forearm with her thumb. Lightning flashed above the sea, followed by the groan of thunder. “It’s good to hear . . . the old Josh make an appearance,” she said.

“I like the sound of him too.”

“Will I hear more of him in the days to come?”

“Undoubtedly. Probably more than you want.”

“Promise?”

He nodded, though his smile soon wavered. He opened and closed his bandaged hands, listening to the storm howl. Its fury was such that he wasn’t surprised that the ancient Greeks thought mighty gods lived atop a mountain in the sky. Turning his mind to the present, he said, “But we need to get off this island safely. And the war needs to end.”

“It will.”

“And we’d better win,” he replied, his face and voice suddenly solemn. “We have to win. If we don’t . . . everything will have been in vain. And a monster . . . a true monster . . . will rule the Earth.”

Isabelle looked toward the sea. “Do you think the rumors are true?”

“Of the camps?”

“Yes.”

“I pray that they aren’t. But . . . but I hear that terrible photos are being smuggled out of Poland—unspeakable things, really. Pictures of mass graves and gassings and mountains of naked bodies. Some say Hitler’s dream is to kill every Jew in Europe.”

“It can’t be. It just can’t. How many people is that?”

“Something like eleven million.”

Isabelle groaned, running her hands through her hair. “What can be done, Josh? What can we do to stop it?”

“Win the war. Win it as fast as possible. And hang Hitler and all of his kind.”

“We’re going to win, aren’t we? You’ve told me that a hundred times.”

“I ask the good Lord for victory every night,” he replied. “And I start every day with the same prayer. But, yes, I think we’ll win. Between us and the Russians, we’ll strangle Germany.”

“And Japan?”

“Japan is fighting a country twenty times its size. And Japan will fall, though it will be bloody.”

Isabelle mused over his words. As a nurse, as one who’d devoted her life to healing others, it was hard for her to wish ill upon anyone. But she knew that if Hitler stood before her, she’d find the strength to pull any trigger. “When do you think it will be over?” she asked, wanting to somehow count down the days.

“Two years. Maybe three. We’re just not ready to cross the Channel. And we can’t invade France until we can get there.”

Suddenly tired of her dark thoughts, she tried to bring herself back into a place of light. “So, in three years it will be done? All of it? The camps and the convoys and the buckets of amputated arms?”

“It ought to be.”

“And we’ll own a little house somewhere on the water, and you’ll be teaching me to sail? And we’ll have a baby who’s learning to talk?”

Joshua closed his eyes, imagining such a world. “That sounds wonderful. Just wonderful, Izzy.”

She kissed his hand, needing to believe in that future, needing for him to believe in it as well. “It will be wonderful,” she said softly. “It’s going to be our life.”

“CAN YOU FIND YOUR WAY?” Akira asked, wanting her to make the journey, but afraid for her all the same.

Annie held a torch in one hand and another branch in the other. Two weeks earlier, she’d never have dreamt of venturing alone to the back of an immense cave. But over the past few days, such fears had weighed less upon her. “I’ll be fine,” she said, pleased that he seemed concerned for her.

Akira lifted a coil of rope and draped it over his neck and shoulder. He glanced toward the campfire, around which everyone but Roger and Nathan was resting. Roger had left several hours earlier, disappearing into the rain. Nathan had recently departed. “Are you sure?” Akira asked, just to be certain.

“I’m sure.”

“Then I will next see you at Raja’s Ships, yes?”

“I’ll get a little fire going.”

“Please do not rush. It may be rather difficult for me to locate the opening.”

“Take your time. I won’t leave for a bit.”

Akira smiled and stepped into the waterfall that covered the cave’s entrance. A curtain of water cascaded upon him with considerable force, and even before he entered the storm, he was soaking wet. He was eager to explore the ground above their hideout, for the soldier in him knew that having an escape route at the cave’s rear was essential. Otherwise, they could be trapped far too easily.

The hill behind the cave was dominated by rocks and foliage. At some point, probably thousands of years before, this part of the cliff had fallen toward the sea. Moss-covered boulders lay atop an enormous pile of earth. A wide variety of shrubs and trees grew around the rocks. Knowing that the crack he sought was about three hundred paces to the northwest, Akira headed in that direction, counting off his steps.

Though the storm had lessened considerably, rain still assaulted the jungle. Footing was treacherous, and Akira moved with great care. Instead of climbing over slippery boulders, he walked around them and adjusted his course. He hadn’t been alone in this jungle, and now that he was, he found himself instinctively scanning for ambush sites and walking in a low crouch. After all, he’d been shot at in such places. Shot at by Filipinos and Thais and Chinese and Americans and Australians. Fortunately, by trying to move through jungles as if he were a fox and not a man, he’d never fallen victim to the kinds of ambushes that killed so many of his comrades.

Akira wanted to think of Annie now that he was alone. He wanted to reflect upon the way she made him feel and how she was able to do so. But being alone in the jungle, and not knowing Roger’s whereabouts, he forced himself to be vigilant. He continued to scan the land before him, listening for unusual sounds in the rain. He paused suddenly at unlikely places and peered into the gloom, looking for any sort of movement.

Knowing that he must be close to the crack, Akira started to search for it in earnest. No significant amount of water had been dripping through the opening when they’d seen it earlier, and so he knew that it must be somehow protected. Most likely it lay under a shelf of rock. Looking for such sites, he moved through his environs with increasing care. As he navigated around a decrepit banyan tree, he recalled searching for tunnels in a bamboo forest in China. Sadly, the soldier beside him had set off a trap, and Akira had been able to do no more than pull the man from the sharp stakes that had plunged into various parts of his body.

Pushing the memory away, Akira continued to search. He eased through a gathering of head-high ferns and was surprised to find Nathan sitting atop a massive boulder. Nathan held the airman’s dagger and appeared to be etching an image into a wide piece of bamboo. “Hello,” Akira said, bowing slightly, as if fearful of interrupting Nathan’s work.

Nathan lowered the dagger, peered through the rain and jungle, and smiled when he recognized Akira. “Come on up,” he said, gesturing for Akira to climb the boulder.

Akira dropped to his hands and knees and ascended the slippery stone. Moss and small plants grew amid ancient cracks, while other parts of the boulder seemed to have been bleached by the sun. As he rose, Akira wondered why Nathan had climbed the truck-sized rock and why he was sitting alone in the rain. Wordlessly, Akira moved beside Nathan, eyeing the bamboo in his lap.

Nathan lifted the piece of green wood, upon which he’d etched a simple scene from the island—three palm trees standing straight beneath a mighty sun. “It’s for my little girl,” he said, wiping rain from his brow.

Akira smiled, thinking of Nathan’s stash of such treasures, items that he often worked on after finishing his daily duties. “I am sure that she will like it.”

“Oh, Peggy likes most everything.”

Recalling her face from Nathan’s water-stained photo, Akira nodded. “She is your youngest, yes?”

“She’s my baby.”

“A most beautiful child.”

“Thank you,” Nathan replied, staring into the jungle, thinking of the distance between himself and his family, as he had so many times before. “You know, it’s the simple things . . . I miss the most. If I were home, and it was a Saturday morning, Peggy would be packing a picnic lunch with her mother. And my boy and I would be loading the car.”

“And where would you drive?” Akira asked, recalling the Japanese families he’d seen on such picnics, gathered together beneath maple trees along the Kamo River.

“Usually to a pond, or maybe a stream. We like to fish a bit. And if there’s grass we’ll play some croquet. Then it’s time for a big lunch and a spot of shade.” Nathan sighed, folding his hands atop his lap, briefly biting his lower lip. “It . . . it seems like a long time ago.”

“I am sure that it must. But you will see them again.”

“You think so?”

“I think that . . . that you love them too much to not see them again.”

Nathan bit his lip once more. He then wiped his eye. “I have to. I just can’t imagine . . . not seeing them again.”

“You will be home soon. I am sure of this.”

Thunder rumbled in the distance. Ferns surrounding the boulder trembled as raindrops fell. “You were forced into the war, weren’t you?” Nathan asked.

“Yes. I was handed a rifle and told to fight. Told to fight . . . you. So sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“Still, please accept my apology.”

Nathan nodded, and then placed the piece of bamboo in Akira’s hand. “When you get back to Japan, please give this to a young girl. And please tell her that it came from an American soldier.”