Beside a Burning Sea

by John Shors

  Akira set the guns down. He placed his palms gently against her damp cheeks. “I do not want to die,” he replied, trying to keep his eyes from tearing, to hide the despair that threatened to engulf him. “More than anything, I want to live.”

  “So why? Why go?”

  “I go . . . so that we will all live. So that . . . my days with you will have just begun.”

  She leaned into him, resting her forehead on his shoulder. “Please come back to me,” she whispered.

  He inhaled deeply, once again bringing the scent of her into him. Closing his eyes, he tried to lock this part of her within him, so that he could carry her wherever he traveled. “May I ask you a favor?” he asked softly.

  “What?”

  “Write one poem each day.”

  “What do you mean?” she asked, her face awash with tears.

  “Write about something that touches you. A flower. A child, perhaps. A climb in the trees.”

  “Why are you telling me this?”

  His eyes glistened. “If I . . . should fall, know that . . . that I will still be beside you. I will—”

  “You won’t fall. You can’t fall, Akira. Please, please don’t fall.”

  “So sorry,” he whispered, stroking the back of her head. “I love you,” he said, holding her tight. “You have been the greatest gift of my life.”

  She looked up, pressing her lips against his. “You run,” she said, her voice cracking, but resolute. “You run like you’ve never run before. And then you swim like you’ve never swum before. And then we won’t ever have to say good-bye again.”

  He kissed her forehead, her closed eyes, her tears. “I first . . . found you in the sea,” he said quietly. “And I will return to you in the sea.” He kissed her lips, savoring their fullness and warmth. “I must go,” he said, reluctantly pulling away from her.

  “This isn’t . . . a good-bye,” she replied, weeping.

  “How can you say good-bye to someone . . . who . . . who is a part of you?” he asked, turning as his voice broke, as his world collapsed. Snatching the two guns, he took one last look at her and stumbled toward Jake.

  SLIGHTLY DEEPER IN THE JUNGLE, Ratu held his necklace in his right hand. Scanning the dense foliage, he awaited Jake’s arrival. He’d wanted to hug Jake on the beach, to tell him that he loved him, but Joshua had been instructing his friend, and, frustrated, Ratu had decided to delay his good-bye until a time when Jake could freely speak to him.

  Ratu planned on giving his shark’s tooth necklace to Jake. The necklace, Ratu believed, brought good luck to whoever carried it. And he desperately wanted to pass such luck to Jake, for he worried greatly about what would happen to his friend once the Japanese saw him.

  “You’re too bloody big,” Ratu whispered to himself, nervously fingering the shark’s tooth. “And they’ll see you. I tell you, they’ll see you.” Ratu groaned, his stomach aching, his mind spinning in a hundred different directions. “Where are you? Please, Big Jake, tell me where you are.”

  Unseen birds screeched in the distance. Ants carried chunks of bright leaves. The day was hotter than most, and sweat rolled down Ratu’s face and back. Turning about in a circle, he looked for his friend. “Did you already get lost? Oh, Big Jake, you shouldn’t be doing this. You’re only a farmer.”

  Ratu’s heart began to quicken its beat. The jungle abruptly seemed too thick, too quiet. Suddenly frantic with worry over Jake, he ran back toward the beach. As he broke into the open, he saw Joshua and Nathan removing foliage from the hidden lifeboat. “Where’s Jake?” he asked, hurrying forward.

  Joshua turned to him. “Jake? Jake’s gone.”

  “What do you mean? I didn’t see him go!”

  “He and Akira left five minutes ago. They ran down the beach.”

  “The beach?” Ratu replied, panicking. “Not the jungle?”

  “No.”

  “But I didn’t get to say good-bye!” Ratu said, crying. “I didn’t give him my necklace!”

  Isabelle, who’d been trying to help with the lifeboat as much as her fatigued body permitted, stepped toward Ratu and dropped to her knees before him. “He called for you. He was looking for you, Ratu.”

  “But I didn’t bloody hear him! Why . . . why didn’t someone get me?”

  “We tried to—”

  “Why didn’t someone call?”

  “We did.”

  “But I didn’t give him my lucky necklace!”

  Isabelle put her arms around him, drawing him close. He was shaking, and she tried to soothe him. “He’s going to be fine, Ratu. You’ll see him in a few hours.”

  “But he doesn’t have my necklace!”

  Nathan knelt beside them, hating to see Ratu so distraught. “You’ll give it to him soon,” he said, putting his hand on Ratu’s back. “And that smile of his—”

  “No, you don’t understand. Not a bloody bit. He’s not going to be fine without my necklace! He’s too big! They’ll—”

  Suddenly, distant gunfire and explosions interrupted Ratu’s words. A few seconds later, a large number of fighter planes flew almost directly over them, then circled back toward the other side of the island. The planes bore a single propeller and a bright white star.

  “They’re Hellcats!” Joshua shouted.

  Isabelle’s brow furrowed. “Hellcats?”

  “American!”

  The planes disappeared behind the trees. Again the repeating crack of machine-gun fire filled the air. Louder thumps responded as Japanese antiaircraft guns opened up. Several large explosions seemed to shake the island.

  “We’ve got to go!” Joshua shouted. “Now, while they’re distracted!” He hurried to the rear of the lifeboat and pushed with all his might. Nathan moved beside him and the two men thrust the heavy boat forward. Fortunately, the beach tilted toward the sea and the craft slid ahead. The air crackled with small-arms and machine-gun fire. Planes circled above and headed back toward the fray. One smoking Hellcat suddenly lost a wing and cartwheeled into the sea.

  “Hurry!” Joshua yelled, aware that the Japanese were being hit very hard. He helped Isabelle into the boat. He saw Annie emerge from the jungle. Once Isabelle was settled, Annie, Nathan, and Ratu prepared to climb in. Then a massive explosion erupted on the far side of the island, the blast so large that a fireball reached above the treetops.

  Leaping into the boat, Joshua glanced once more at the planes and began to row. His knuckles whitened on the oars, and he propelled the lifeboat into the waves, which smashed against the bow and inundated everyone with spray. The chaos became even more intense as the sky thickened with smoke. Hellcats continued to strafe the faraway beach, and antiaircraft guns boomed.

  Realizing that the attack was a miracle that could save them, Joshua rowed with all his might. His injured hands once again split open. His will forced the lifeboat beyond the surf and into the sea. And his mind was so bent on saving everyone that he wasn’t aware that Ratu hadn’t gotten on the boat after all, but was running down the beach, chasing Jake’s deep footsteps.

  THE NOISE OF THE DISTANT explosions and gunfire seemed louder, as if a typhoon of burning steel was churning forward to consume them. Though pleased by the presence of the American planes, Akira almost immediately forced the battle from his mind. He needed to focus like never before on the task at hand, and neither Annie nor the nearby conflict was going to interfere with his thinking.

  Akira didn’t believe it would be hard to locate the approaching group of his countrymen. A large ravine tended to funnel everything from one side of the island to the other, and all he and Jake had to do was locate some suitable high ground and wait. Holding a rifle in each arm, Akira ran steadily. “Fire when I fire,” he told Jake. “Roger will be leading them. We shoot for him. We shoot and we run.”

  Jake winced as a branch cut into his arm. Though he sought to remain as focused as Akira, he couldn’t help but think about his mother and father, as well as Ratu. Faces flashed before him, faces he wanted
to see again but didn’t know if he would. “I wish you . . . weren’t so fast,” he said, trying to smile.

  “After Roger is down, follow me. We will lead them away from the beach, and then we will circle back and swim.”

  “You sure . . . you didn’t see Ratu wave good-bye?”

  “Do not think about him, Jake! Not now!”

  Jake had never heard Akira raise his voice and was surprised by his tone. Though Jake tried to follow Akira’s advice, Ratu kept returning to his mind, like a dream that one cannot fully awaken from. Was he escaping? Jake wondered. Does he know how darn much I love him? Why didn’t we say good-bye?

  No answers presented themselves, and all Jake could do was run. The heavy gun pulled him toward the ground, and the thought of Ratu pulled his mind in directions that it should not go.

  TEN MINUTES BEHIND Jake and Akira, Ratu hurried forward. He followed their footprints from the sand into the jungle. Though tempted to call out their names, he ran quietly, gripping his necklace. “Where are you, Big Jake?” he whispered. “Don’t run so fast. Please don’t run so bloody fast.”

  He stumbled ahead, his lungs heaving. Unseen planes roared overhead, the frightening screams of their propellers and guns forcing him to crouch as he ran. “Why didn’t you wait?” he muttered, weeping.

  Ratu shuddered, feeling more alone than he ever had. “Oh, Big Jake, please wait for me!”

  AT THE REAR OF THE COLUMN, trying to focus on anything but his tremendous pain, Roger watched the troops in front of him. They continued to move as one unit, slithering through the jungle like a serpent. They were hard men, Roger knew, for not a single figure had cowered when the explosions started. No questions had been asked, no wordless exchanges of expressions. The men had merely paused for a moment and then started forward again.

  The pain in Roger’s side had become a living thing, expanding and contracting with each breath he took. The agony was like a monster within him, its claws and fangs biting deeply into his side. He tasted blood at the back of his throat. And the taste of his own mortality filled him with an anxiety he’d never known. Suddenly, all he wanted was to crush out the lives of Akira and Annie as if they were cigarettes to be extinguished. He wanted to obliterate these lives, and then find a medic who could save him from the taste of his own blood.

  “Follow . . . follow that stream,” he whispered to Edo, his thoughts slow and muddled. “That stream,” he added, “will lead us to . . . to the white woman . . . and the yellow . . . the yellow traitor.” He tapped Edo on the shoulder, breaking customs and protocols that he’d understood for years. “I . . . I want to taste their blood,” he said, somewhat deliriously. “Let me taste their blood.”

  Edo paused, noting the feverish glaze that consumed Roger’s face and eyes. “You want . . . to taste their blood?”

  Roger nodded slowly, as if his head was of unbearable weight. “I want . . . to taste their deaths.” As Edo remained motionless, Roger raised his pistol, his finger on the trigger, the monster within him screaming for revenge.

  AKIRA AND JAKE LAY STILL, covered in leaves and branches. The two were about fifteen feet apart, close enough that they could communicate, but not in such proximity that a grenade blast could easily kill them both. Akira had selected the ambush site with immense care. Perched atop a gentle, thirty-foot rise, they overlooked the ravine that ran from one side of the island to the other. Akira was fairly certain that Roger would select this route, as it was the fastest way to reach the eastern shore.

  The foliage surrounding Akira and Jake was thick. Lying in it, they were almost invisible from below. Only their faces and the black barrels of their rifles were unobscured by ferns, giant leaves, and branches. “Strike Roger,” Akira whispered, his finger tight against the rifle’s trigger. “Strike him and then follow me.”

  Jake, who had only shot birds before, nervously licked his lips. His heartbeat seemed to travel and shudder from his chest to his eardrums. Sweat rolled down his nose. Ants crawled about him. “What if they see us?” he whispered.

  To the west, a parrot flew above the trail, screeching loudly. Akira closed his fist, signaling silence. Except for the sounds of distant gunfire and explosions, suddenly the jungle seemed eerily still. Hooting insects and frogs had gone quiet. Animals of any sort were nowhere to be seen. Akira slowed his breathing as much as possible, not wanting the branches atop him to move with his lungs. About a hundred paces before him, the trail rounded a bend and followed the ravine in his direction. Akira kept his gaze fastened on the bend, unaware of a mosquito drawing blood from his neck.

  The trail was still for perhaps another minute. Then Akira saw a soldier step cautiously into view. The man, who wore a khaki-colored uniform, carried a light machine gun. Akira had assumed that Roger would lead the assault, and closed his eyes briefly in frustration. The soldier moved like a shadow passing through the jungle. He was extremely cautious, his movements so refined that Akira’s chest tightened in fear.

  Ten feet behind the man on point, another soldier appeared. He carried a rifle and also moved like a seasoned veteran. More men materialized around the bend. The leader was slowly but surely approaching the spot directly beneath Akira and Jake. Where is Roger? Akira frantically asked himself, trying to somehow see beyond the distant bend. Abruptly, the point man paused, as if sensing that he was being watched. He dropped to one knee, his gun held in a firing position, his head twisting left, then right. He looked up, eyeing the ridge above him.

  Akira, who had kept the man within his gun sight, held his breath. The soldier’s gaze appeared to sweep past him. However, the point man then frowned, his eyes narrowing as he noticed the rifle’s barrel. The soldier was remarkably fast, swinging his machine gun upward, sending a burst of bullets in Akira’s direction. Despite the stream of bullets rising toward him, Akira didn’t move, his finger pulling on the trigger, his eye re-aiming the gun even as the point man fell. Jake fired a heartbeat later, and the second soldier in the column spun to his left as the bullet struck his shoulder.

  Akira fired another shot, hitting a third man, and then rolled to his left, away from the soldiers below. Jake did the same, closing his eyes as bullets thudded into the soil around him. He twisted over the top of the hill and was momentarily safe.

  “Run!” Akira shouted, heading down the other side.

  Jake stumbled after Akira, the explosion of a hand grenade almost knocking him off his feet but miraculously not wounding him. Hearing the Japanese shout below, and knowing that they were clambering up the hill, Jake moved in vast strides, running through bushes rather than going around them.

  Understanding all too well that Jake would provide a target almost impossible to miss, Akira urged him forward. Suddenly desperate, trying to give their pursuers a moment’s pause, Akira screamed, “Banzai!” The Japanese war cry reverberated eerily in the jungle.

  After a few seconds passed, angry replies reached Akira’s ears. His countrymen called him a traitor, and without question their hearts were filled with rage and hate. And Akira knew that were he and Jake to fall, their deaths would not come nearly fast enough.

  WHEN THOSE ABOARD THE LIFEBOAT had been at sea for no more than a minute, two extraordinary discoveries were made almost simultaneously. First, with the binoculars pressed tight against his forehead, Nathan spied a strike force of American warships. The vessels were several miles due east and were headed full speed toward the other side of the island. Then, equally stunning, while Nathan spoke about the looming naval battle, Annie realized to her horror that Ratu wasn’t on board.

  “Where’s Ratu?” she shouted, frantically looking about, standing so quickly that she rocked the lifeboat.

  Isabelle left her seat as well, scanning the water. “He was with us! I saw him get in!”

  “He’s not with us!” Annie shrieked, putting her hands to her head. “He must not have—”

  Not very far from where they’d left the beach, the unmistakable sound of machine-gun fire suddenly sp
lit the silence. A heartbeat later, explosions belched mushroom clouds up through the jungle’s canopy. Small-arms fire filled the gaps between the explosions, scores of streaking bullets announced with brief outbursts of sound.

  “Akira,” Annie muttered. “They’re . . . they’re chasing him!” More explosions and gunfire dominated this side of the island. Suddenly, Annie found it hard to breathe. The world seemed to tip and sway about her. “I . . . I have to go,” she said haltingly, the fear of her own death suddenly inconsequential when compared with thoughts of what might happen to Akira or Ratu.

  Isabelle reached for her sister. “Annie, you don’t—”

  “I love you,” Annie said, then jumped off the lifeboat.

  “Annie!” Isabelle screamed, dropping to her knees, trying to grab her sibling’s arm.

  Annie kicked away from the boat as if she’d been born to do nothing but swim. Her hands and feet tore through the water, propelling her forward. Her terror over Akira’s possible death gave her a strength she’d never known. She didn’t care about what pain she might endure or what limbs she might lose, or dying alone in the jungle. All that mattered was that she find Akira. That she’d be there for him as he’d been for her.

  So intent was Annie on reaching the shore that she didn’t hear Isabelle and Joshua screaming for her to come back. She didn’t see the life jacket that Nathan had thrown near her. And so Isabelle grabbed Joshua’s arm. “We have to turn around!”

  Joshua placed his free hand over hers. “Are you willing to risk everything?”

  She bit her lip at the thought of losing their child. Her vision blurred. Her stomach threatened to heave. Still, she nodded. “We can’t . . . we just can’t leave her alone out there.”

  Nathan picked up the machete, silently telling his wife that he was sorry for whatever might happen, that he would always love her and be with her. “Let’s go get Annie,” he said, his limbs weak with fear.