The frogmen

by Robb White

The radio shack was at the top of a one-lane dirt road that branched off from the main coastal road below, and they walked along it, keeping to the side.

  "Start working out the message, Amos," John said. "It's going to take a while to encode it. And keep it short. Something I can send with no goofs and no garbles."

  "The main thing is to tell them to come on," Amos said. "Then how. If we can't get the rest of the message sent, at least they'll have that."

  Spacing the words, Max said, "Come through channel dead slow."

  Amos thought about that. "Or— Attack! Speed in channel dead slow."

  "I like that. Attack!" John said.

  "Then," Amos went on, "say Mines unsweepable, pressure fired. Keep hull pressure low, speed slow."

  "Have we got it?" Max said.

  "Attack" Amos said. "Channel speed dead slow. Mines unsweepable, pressure fired. Keep hull pressure low, speed slow."

  John said, "It's pretty long. How about just "Pressure mines unsweepahle? That leaves out a word."

  They had almost reached the main road when they saw the headlights splashing off the canopy of tree limbs above the road.

  "Sounds like a car, not a truck," Max said.

  "Just a car," John said.

  Amos watched the light grow stronger. "I'm going to stop it."

  Max reached out and grabbed him. "Hold on, man! They'll shoot you."

  "Who, me?" Amos asked in a girlish voice. "Shoot a little native girl looking for some fun? Listen, if there're a lot of people in it, I won't fool around. But if there're only one or two, you be ready."

  "Why fool around at all, Amos?"

  "We need them, and we need that car." He handed the .45 to Max and ran down to the intersection of the road.

  It was a small passenger car, bouncing along in the deep ruts of the main road.

  Amos, his copra-sack skirt swishing wildly, came out of the side road and turned toward the car, staggering along with his head down, his long hair falling forward.

  The car almost ran him down before stopping.

  Amos veered out of the way as though to go past it, but when he saw that there was only one man in it, he lurched against the door.

  The man was yelling at him and reached out to push him away, when Amos yanked the door open. The man almost fell into his arms.

  Max and John were there beside him. Max pulled the man clear and held him for a moment.

  The man didn't make a sound.

  Max took the gun out of the holster, handed it to John, then picked up the man and started away with him.

  "We need his clothes,'' Amos said. "John, g et tms car turned around."

  Max and Amos stripped the man to his underwear, and then Max picked up the body and threw it away.

  John came back with the car, and they piled in.

  "Take it down to the lava. We'll hide it in the bushes."

  "'38 Chevy," John said as he started down the road. "Good year for Chevies."

  At the lava, Max and Amos got out, and as John backed the car off the road, they concealed its passage through the underbrush as well as they could.

  They dropped down through the hole in the cave, John's and Amos' dresses floating up around their heads. As they swam awkwardly toward the beach, Amos said, "Plug up the hole with a wet suit so we can use the flashlight."

  In the darkness, Max slung his scuba on, and John found a wet suit and a coil of line. Amos felt along the pebbles until he found Tanaka's leg.

  "How are you, Commander?" he asked.

  There was no answer.

  "Commander?" Amos said, feeling around until he found Tanaka's hand lying limp on the beach.

  There was a slow pulse, and as Amos held it, the hand moved a little. "Amos?"

  "Yeah. You okay?"

  "What's happening?"

  He sounded so weak. "Do you think you could stand being lifted out of here?"

  "It doesn't matter."

  "It matters," Amos said. "We've got some clothes for you."

  "Okay, let there be light," John said, and splashed down off Max's shoulders.

  Amos found one of the flashlights and shone it first on Tanaka.

  It was shocking. He had been bleeding again from the mouth and somehow seemed to have shriveled up, his face just skin and bones.

  Amos moved the light off him. "You encode the message, John. Max, help me get the uniform on him."

  "What's happening?" Tanaka asked almost in a whisper.

  "We need you," Amos said quietly.

  Max brought the bundle of wet clothes over, and they sorted them out. "Pants first," Amos said.

  They got the pants and shoes on, and then Amos unfolded the uniform jacket and held it up.

  In the glow from the flashlight it looked as though Tanaka were trying to smile. His voice was so low and hoarse that Amos had to put his head down close.

  "You demoted me," Tanaka whispered. "That's only a lieutenant."

  Down the beach, John suddenly shone his flashlight on them. "How'd you say it? Mines are fired by pressure and unsweepable?"

  "Mines unsweepable, pressure fired," Amos said.

  The uniform was big enough so that they could button it over the bandages, but by the time they finished, beads of sweat were pouring down Tanaka's face.

  "How about it, John?"

  "All set."

  As Max waded out into the water, Amos said to Tanaka, "We're going to lift you out now, Commander. Stay with us."

  Tanaka said nothing as Amos moved him gently down into the water and then swam him over to where John was on Max's shoulders, taking the wet suit down.

  They hurt Tanaka getting him through the hole. At times, as they worked him upward, his breath sounded almost like a file on metal.

  When Max came up, they carried Tanaka to the car and put him in the back seat, Amos and Max on each side of him, holding him upright.

  John started the car and, with headlights off, crashed out of the jungle and bounced viciously until he got it settled in the ruts. Then he turned the headlights on and started down the road.

  "Take it easy on the bumps," Max said.

  It began to rain again, the big drops rattling on the car, as John steered carefully through the muddy ruts.

  "We're going to take you up to the radio station, Commander," Amos told him, "so you can talk to them in Japanese and get them to open the door. Do you think you can do that, sir?"

  It took so long for him to answer that Amos thought he'd passed out—or was dead—but suddenly he said, "Can do."

  "You'll be by yourself at the door," Amos told him. "But once it's open, we'll be there."

  "The message?" Tanaka whispered.

  "It's going to Pearl if we can get in there."

  Tanaka's voice was so faint that Amos suddenly wondered how, in all this rain, anyone inside that little fort could hear it, and it worried him.

  "Go?" was all Tanaka said.

  "You better believe it."

  When the building came in sight, gray and wet in the headlights, John slowed and stopped. "How close do you want to get, Amos?"

  "Let's make it look official. Right up to the door."

  John eased the car ahead, but the rear wheels began to spin in the mud. John let it roll back a

  little and tried again but made no progress. "Goofed again," he said, getting out.

  "We're in deep," he reported.

  "Okay, we'll carry him from here."

  Max lifted Tanaka and held him like a baby. Amos walked along with them toward the building. "Just say something to them to get the door open," Amos told him. "That's all you have to do."

  "How many?" Tanaka said.

  "People? We saw five," Amos said.

  "Armed?"

  "I guess so. They looked like soldiers." Amos reached over and unsnapped the flap of Tanaka's holster. "Your gun's loaded and ready."

  "Very well," Tanaka said.

  "Try to get them all in front of you. We'll come in beside you."

  Ta
naka raised his head a little and looked at the fort. "Yes," he said, "that is the radio station."

  "Yeah, so all you have to do is get the door open."

  Tanaka seemed to stiffen, and his voice sounded annoyed. "I am in charge here, Mr. Wainwright."

  It surprised and scared Amos. This wasn't the time for Tanaka to drift off into some other world, the Naval Academy, or some command situation. "Aye, aye, sir," he said.

  At the concrete stoop Max set him down on his feet, steadying him with his hands. "Don't worry about a thing, Commander. Just get the door open."

  "Go away," Tanaka said.

  Amos and Max glanced at each other, both afraid

  now, but Tanaka was standing up fairly well as he faced the metal door.

  John came running up the muddy road. "Here," he whispered, handing Max a lug wrench. In his other hand he had a tire iron.

  "You and Max on one side, I'll go in first with the gun," Amos said, moving to the side of the door.

  "We'd better be around the corner, in case they come out," Max said.

  "Okay, Commander, it's all yours," Amos said as he moved out of sight around the corner.

  Tanaka looked small and withered and pitiful standing there in the rain, the weak headlights glowing on him. He said something, but his voice was so weak that all Amos heard was a low croaking.

  When nothing happened, Tanaka took out his gun and began to beat on the door with the butt, the sound loud and sharp.

  Amos saw Max and John fade out of sight as the door began to open, light streaming in a widening band.

  Tanaka went in, marched in, erect and military.

  Amos motioned to Max and John, and the three of them moved along the wall, Amos holding the gun ready, Max and John with the tools.

  The door slammed shut.

  Amos stood in the pouring rain feeling the way he had when, as a little boy, great disappointments in matters over which he had no control left him with nothing to do but cry.

  John's long dress was plastered to his bony frame. The tire iron in his hands looked like some sort of toy. "Well," he said quietly, "I guess Reeder was right all along."

  Max sounded stunned. "I sure didn't think he'd do that to us."

  "Something mustVe gone wrong," Amos said. "They didn't recognize him or something."

  "Tanaka shut the door," John said. "I saw him do it"

  "Well, we've got to get in," Amos said. "I guess the only thing to do is try it your way, Max. You and John stay here, and I'll shoot through the slit."

  "Get Tanaka first," John said. "He knows too much."

  "Wouldn't it be better to do it with the car?" Max said. "Get it out of the mud and ram the door open."

  "That's good!" Amos said and started running back down the road, John and Max following.

  At the car, Max said, "You and I'll push, Amos. John, you drive. Once we get it moving, don't let her stop. Get her going as fast as you can and then pile out."

  Amos and Max were down in position behind the car when John suddenly whispered, "Hold it! Hold it!"

  The metal door was opening slowly, the light from the fort blending with the car's lights.

  Four men in yellow raincoats emerged and stood looking around, as though not wanting to come out into the rain.

  Tanaka was standing behind them. Amos heard him say something, and the men moved, huddling over against the rain.

  As they came down the road toward the car, Max whispered, "Move to the side. Over there, John. Amos, you get the driver, but wait until I get a crack at the others. Then you come in with the tire iron, John."

  John eased along beside the car and crossed the road behind it. Amos and Max disappeared into the jungle on the other side. Crouched there watching the men, Max said, "Don't shoot him. Hit him with the butt of the gun. Just take your time and get him right behind the ear."

  Amos checked the safety and then got the Colt by the barrel, weighing it in his hand.

  The men were hurrying now, the light making their raincoats look oily. Amos looked past them at Tanaka, who was still standing in the doorway. His hand was on the door as though he were holding himself up.

  Then, slowly, Tanaka moving with it, the door began to close. Tanaka's hand fell away, and the door swung the last few inches. Amos heard the metallic thunk of the lock over the sound of the rain.

  The four men moved out of the beam of the headlights and stood beside the car. After what sounded like an argument, one of them got into the driver's seat. The others waited in the rain as he started the engine, raced it in neutral, and then slammed it into gear.

  The car lurched forward, almost coming free, but then the rear wheels began to spin, throwing back streams of mud and water.

  The driver tried going back, then forward again, and then leaned out and yelled furiously at the men in the rain.

  They moved around to the rear and got down into position, their feet well behind the car, their bodies

  leaning forward into it, their hands on the fenders and trunk lid.

  As the driver shifted into low, Max touched Amos lightly and moved toward the road in a crouch.

  The car inched forward, the men straining as they pushed it.

  Max came out of the jungle low and fast. At the edge of the road he took off.

  His body flew straight out, low to the ground, his arms folded loosely below him.

  The men went down hard.

  There was hardly any sound, just the wet swish of the raincoats, the thud of Max's shoulders, the soft sighing of breath.

  Then Amos heard the crunch of the tire iron. He reached the side of the car just as the driver leaned out into the rain to look back.

  Amos aimed carefully, the ring set in the butt of the gun swinging a little as he brought it down.

  The man's head was like a ripe watermelon, resisting at first and then snapping open.

  Amos moved to the rear of the car and looked over toward Max and John, but he was not needed.

  Going back to the driver, he pulled him out, dragged him into the jungle, and left him. Then he went back to the car, cut the ignition, and turned off the lights.

  John and Max came around the car. "Okay?" Max asked.

  "Yes."

  Max said, "Amos, turn the gun around."

  "There's still one in there," Amos said.

  "Probably the radio operator," John decided.

  "I don't think Tanaka meant to close it. He was leaning on it, and it got away from him," Amos said.

  "The thing is, can he open it again?" Max said. "He hasn't got much left."

  "He'd better have that much," John said. "Because this car is in up to the axles. Even with Max, we're not moving it."

  "We'll have to give Tanaka a signal," Amos said.

  John looked toward the fort. "If the operator's doing what he's supposed to be doing, he'll have headphones on. We can just knock on the door and he won't hear it, but Tanaka will."

  They were about to move when the door opened again and they could see a man's head.

  "Tanaka?" John whispered.

  "I can't tell," Amos said.

  Then the man at the door called out something, and they knew it wasn't Tanaka.

  The man called again, louder, his voice now sounding angry.

  "Tanaka must have passed out," John whispered.

  "We've got to stop this," Amos said.

  The man called again, really yelling, his voice now sounding alarmed.

  "Shoot him," Max said.

  Amos raised the gun, but the man stepped out a little farther so that the dark door was behind him and Amos could barely see him in the rain.

  Amos had never been good with guns. He held the

  big Colt out to Max. "We've got to kill him. We can't miss."

  Max pushed it away. "I never shot a gun in my life."

  "Me neither," John said.

  Amos brought the pistol up and rested it across his arm. "I'll try," he said, "but if I miss he'll lock the door."

&nb
sp; The man yelled again, his voice high and hysterical. Before Amos could shoot, he slipped through the band of light and the door slammed shut.

  Amos heard Max snort as he started running toward the fort.

  John and Amos followed and waited at the door as Max tried it with his shoulder. He backed away from it, shaking his head.

  Amos ran around to the side of the building and raised his head to peer in through one of the gun slits.

  He could hear a voice. It still had that high, hysterical quality. And it kept on and on.

  Tanaka was lying on the floor.

  Someone had unbuttoned his uniform jacket, and Amos could see the wet, rough cloth of the copra sacks binding his chest. Blood was running out of his mouth.

  John moved beside Amos. He looked in, listened, and then stooped to whisper, "He's on the mike."

  Amos turned to Max. "He's yelling for help, but I can't see him. Go knock on the door. Maybe he'll move so I can hit him."

  Amos rested the gun barrel in the slit, aiming it chest high, right at the edge of the concrete partition.

  The sound of Max's knocking echoed in the room.

  No one appeared, but the man's voice rose a little higher.

  As Amos waited for Max to knock again, there was another sound. A sharp cracking noise, and Amos looked around in the bleak room trying to find the source of it.

  Tanaka's arm was sinking to the floor, the pistol falling out of his hand.

  There was absolute silence in the room.

  Tanaka was moving again, rolling slowly toward the door. When he reached it, he lay with his hands on it for a long time, and Amos could see no movement of breathing.

  Then he moved again, his hands flat against the door, pulling and sliding down, pulling and sliding.

  On his knees at last, he reached up to the knob and slowly turned it.

  John sat in front of the radio, his hand occasionally reaching out for a switch or a dial but never quite touching anything.

  Amos whispered, "Okay?"

  John put his hand over the microphone and looked back over his shoulder. "It's all marked in Japanese. I don't know what's what."

  Amos went over to Max who had put Tanaka in one of the bunks and was sitting in a chair beside him.