“Better try and get your head down for a couple of hours and then take over from me.”
Tammy nodded.
“You don’t want to climb in for a bit?”
“I couldn’t think of anything I’d rather do but it might be a bit risky with our friend around.” Tammy looked around and then wrapped herself in the sleeping bag while Curtis stared out of the thicket at the creeping darkness of the jungle.
*
The boar had been eaten and only the remnants remained. Nubia now wore the gun belt and hefted the .357 in her hand as she walked along the wall, throwing looks at the dark as though she could keep it away by sheer defiance alone. The rest of the group were asleep. Nubia stopped her patrol and thought about home back in Long Island. Since she had got into the modelling it had been a while since she had seen her mother, more than a while, but there under the south Pacific moon she wished she was home, in Yonkers – away from the champagne and cocaine and islands where someone was trying to kill her.
Carmine walked the opposite wall with a club in his hand. Marshall still had his pistol on him even though he was asleep, chin down on his chest. Carmine watched him for a moment and thought about how easy it would be to stroll over and take the gun from Marshall’s pocket. He shook the thought from his mind and continued to walk the length of the wall. Heidi was curled up near the fire murmuring as she dreamed.
The nocturnal jungle was alive with sound and Carmine took a second glance at a small tree a little away from the ruins that was shaking.
“What the hell…”
After retrieving a lit branch from the fire Carmine climbed atop the wall and peered out, trying to use the flame to give him more illumination - it marked his position well and as he watched the tree stopped shaking and something long and pale arced through the night. He looked up and watched it descend.
“Oh, fuck!”
The bamboo javelin, its front end weighted by stones bound to it, dropped from the sky and skewered Carmine through his left shoulder. The stones stopped it penetrating more than four or five inches but the blow knocked Carmine off balance and he fell from the wall into the bushes on the other side. The pain from the wound that had been stabbed into his shoulder was intense but Carmine had the strength of mind to hurl the blazing brand away from him. He ducked low and pressed a palm, hard, against the source of the pain. The blood was warm in his hand. There were shouts from inside the camp and Nubia appeared at the wall.
“Watch out,” shouted Carmine and another javelin dropped towards the wall.
The javelin shattered on the stone of the wall and Nubia pulled the trigger again and again blasting three bullets out into the night.
“Where is he?” called Marshall.
“Carmine, where are you?” whispered Nubia.
“Not him, the guy throwing the fucking spears.”
Carmine grabbed onto the wall and hauled himself up onto it. He stood for a moment and made to jump down into the camp. A flurry of pistol shots erupted in the night kicking shards of stone off of the wall.
“Shit!”
Carmine jumped and landed heavily, falling onto his wounded shoulder with a scream. Marshall fired back, shot after shot, until his clip ran dry. Nubia followed suit and let loose the last three rounds in the .357. Scrambling for the box of shells in his bag Marshall looked over at Carmine who rolled in the dirt. Heidi knelt by the injured man for a moment but when she saw Nubia fumbling with the revolver she took it from her and emptied the spent shells into the dirt. Another pistol shot from out in the dark made them duck down.
“Only eight bullets left, Will.”
Heidi held up the gun belt.
“Shit. I’ve got the better part of the box for this,” he held up his own pistol, into which he had just reloaded a freshly charged clip “you think you can keep him pinned down while I work around his flank?”
Heidi nodded.
“Yes.”
She leaned against the wall, keeping low so that just her eyes and the top of her head peeked over. She watched the jungle for a few moments and was rewarded with the flash of a muzzle in the dark. The bullet flew high and blew a chunk from a tree on the far side of the ruin.
“I see him.”
Marshall nodded and then looked at his hands. He realised he was shaking but wiped the sweat from his palms off on his shorts and picked up his pistol. Nubia looked up from where she was kneeling down with Carmine.
“Be careful, Will.”
He nodded once and then slipped through a gap in the wall and out into the night. Heidi rested the barrel of the .357 on the wall and took careful aim at the spot where she had seen the muzzle flash and then she fired.
*
The ripple of shots echoed down the mountain to where Curtis and Tammy were bivouacked. Curtis grabbed the M1 and climbed out of the thicket. He pushed through the trees and looked up to where the sounds had come from. Even from so far back down he could see the glow of the fire amongst, and above, the trees.
“Shit,”
“What?”
“They’re in trouble.”
“You think we should go up there?”
Curtis shook his head.
“It’d be suicide in the dark. Might not spot any traps and might run in to him on the way.”
But still Curtis stood staring.
“You want to go?”
He nodded.
“I can’t leave them. Too many dead already.”
Tammy retrieved the back pack and pulled it on.
“I’ll carry this, let’s go.”
Curtis looked up from checking the M1.
“You’re a good woman, Tammy Rodriguez.”
She smiled back.
“When we get out of here I might make you do something about that.”
They headed off towards the fire and the place from where the shots still sounded.
17.
After her fourth shot Heidi paused and waited. There had been no shots fired back in response. She stared out into the dark and tried to see where Marshall was. Carmine’s shoulder was bound up with torn strips of his shirt, the medical kit still with Tammy.
“Anything?”
Heidi reloaded the pistol with the last of the bullets.
“Four bullets left.”
“The box Will left?” asked Nubia.
Heidi shrugged.
“When these are gone we can see if they fit.”
*
Marshall kept low and crept forward. He stopped and listened for a moment but heard nothing except the usual sounds of the jungle before the night was split by Heidi firing off another round.
“Good girl,” he whispered to himself “keep the bastard’s head down.”
He brought up the Walther and pushed on. Leaves and branches grabbed at him as Marshall stepped through the foliage. He strained his eyes watching for movement. Heidi’s pistol was silent and Marshall worried that his adversary could have got around him and into the camp. He was trying to decide whether to carry on or head back when he sensed something to his rear. He froze and then turned his head. The man stood about ten yards away, shadowed by the trees but Marshall could clearly see the pistol pointed at his back. The short man smiled and pulled the trigger. The click made Marshall flinch and the man stare at his weapon. The man looked back up and hurled the pistol at Marshall’s back but the photographer was already moving.
Once behind a tree Marshall turned and fired. His wild shot went high but the other man ducked into the bushes, out of sight. Marshall stepped out and fired off another two rounds into the bushes. He waited for a moment with his gun sighted on the spot where the man had been. Seconds ticked away. Marshall took a step back towards camp and then another. A blood-curdling scream away to his right made Marshall turn and he saw the man rushing from the trees with his sword held high.
“Baaaaaaaaaaanzai!”
“Oh, shit!”
Marshall snapped off a shot and then ran. His knees pumped high and he duck
ed beneath branches and hurdled logs. The man pursuing him continued to scream but Marshall dared not risk a look back. When he reached the break in the wall he turned and fired again but the man was not behind him. Marshall scanned the jungle and felt the shakes come back into his hands. He stepped back through the break in the wall and kept his pistol trained on the gap.
Nubia rushed over, Carmine leaned up against the wall and Heidi simply threw a look over before going back to watching the dark.
*
Progress was slow through the night as Curtis moved with extra care and paused regularly to check for booby traps. His persistence paid off when he found two pits filled with sharpened stakes covered with rugs of woven grass. Curtis nodded once to Tammy and then moved back to point.
They found the hollow in the early hours of pale light. It was just off the trail.
“Looks like it was dug out.”
“By him?”
Curtis nodded and pushed away the branches and leaves carefully. The bones and skulls were just beneath the surface.
“Oh, my God. Are those other people that he has killed?”
Curtis picked up a long bone from a leg and looked it over; smooth with tiny tool marks on it. He threw the bone back into the hollow. In with the bones he could see pieces of rotted uniform and a white and red flag.
“Shit.”
“What?” asked Tammy.
“He ate them.”
“Who?”
“The other soldiers that were with him; the bones are smooth where he boiled them and the tool marks are from where he picked the meat off with a knife or something.”
“Jesus! So we’re dealing with a cannibal?”
Curtis shook his head.
“These aren’t recent. I think he ate them early on before he knew how to get food from the island. Maybe he ate them as they died. My uncle told me stories about what he saw out on the Kokoda trail.”
“Where was that?”
Curtis laughed.
“Where us Aussies finally held the Japs. Well before Iwo Jima or Guadalcanal. He told us they’d find little pockets of cut-off Japanese troops who had taken to eating the dead. Said they shot them where they found them.”
They walked away from the hollow and its ghosts, back to the trail, and Tammy reached for Curtis’ hand.
*
By the time they got close to the ruin dawn was beginning to colour the sky and a mist hung close to the floor of the jungle. Curtis stared at the crude statue that seemed to watch him from the gloom of the trees.
“Stay close,” Curtis whispered and moved towards the walls.
They had only gone a few paces when gunfire punched out at them - three shots in quick succession. Curtis pushed Tammy down and ducked low with the M1 aimed at the wall.
“It’s Curtis. I’ve got Tammy with me,” he shouted.
He waited and could hear low voices behind the wall.
“If that’s you Marshall let me know or I’m going to start shooting at the next thing I see moving.”
“It’s us,” shouted Carmine in response.
“Okay. We’re coming in. Hold your fire – okay?”
“Okay!” came the response.
Curtis stood up and helped Tammy to her feet.
“Like I said before – you stay close.”
Tammy nodded and they moved together towards the ruin.
18.
Curtis stood with the butt of the carbine resting on his hip, Tammy hung back behind him. He looked over what was left of the group; Heidi by the wall with the .357, Carmine bandaged up, Nubia looking drawn and scared and Marshall standing with the small automatic in his hand watching Curtis.
“Did you find the others?”
Curtis nodded.
“Dead. I hear you found Francesca?”
“Yes, booby trapped and died with your man.”
“See Joelle didn’t make it either.”
Marshall stared straight at Curtis.
“No, she succumbed to her wounds on the way up the mountain.”
Carmine and Nubia looked at the photographer. He continued to watch Curtis.
“Not quite the way I heard it.”
Marshall looked past Curtis at Tammy.
“Bitch, what the hell have you said?”
The barrel of the carbine swung to point at Marshall’s chest and Curtis brought up his left hand to steady the weapon.
“Best we keep it civil don’t you think?”
Marshall stepped back and raised his hands, gun still in his right.
“Carmine, you mind taking that off Mr Marshall before someone else succumbs?”
Carmine took the pistol in his good hand and stepped back. Curtis and Marshall eyed each other.
“Think you’d better hand that big pistol over too, Heidi.”
The blonde woman considered the gun in Curtis’ hands for a moment before she slid the .357 back into its holster and undid the gun belt. She stepped forward and held it out. Tammy took the pistol.
“Put it on,” said Curtis and Tammy complied “now does someone want to tell me what happened last night?”
Marshall had walked away to stare over the wall into the jungle lighting one of his few remaining cigarettes and Heidi went to stand with him. Carmine spoke first and then Nubia joined in. They ran down the events of the night before for the Captain up until Marshall’s escape from the sword-wielding assailant. After that they had stayed within the ruins, staying awake and keeping constant watch on all sides.
“So what now?” asked Nubia.
Curtis shrugged.
“Same plan as far as I see it – we take the high ground and get the beacon lit.”
Marshall laughed.
“Got something to add, Mister Marshall?”
“You think he’ll let us get up there? Shit, how many us of are already dead?”
Curtis looked away.
“You and your men were meant to look after us.”
Curtis looked up, anger in his eyes.
“My men have paid with their lives you prick!”
Marshall sucked on his cigarette and turned away.
“I’m going up that mountain and I’m lighting a beacon, after that we wait.”
“Food, water? It’s all down here in the jungle where he is. Did you file a route of where we were going?” Marshall had turned and walked back towards Curtis stabbing his cigarette in the air to emphasise his points.
Curtis thought for a moment about the permanently drunk harbour master back in the port and shook his head.
“No, I didn’t.”
Marshall was right and Curtis knew it, once they were on the peak they would be exposed to the sun and would need water and food if they were to wait for help. He thought for a few moments and then nodded to himself.
“You’re right, Marshall. We build the beacon and see if we can spot the village that used to be here. Get down there and see if we can salvage something to make a raft. Then, while the beacon burns, we head back towards the main islands and hope someone meets us on the way.”
Marshall stood and considered what Curtis had said before finally nodding.
“Now that sounds like a plan. Get off this godforsaken rock and away from that maniac with the sword,” he looked Curtis in the eye for a moment “Jap you think?”
Curtis nodded.
“Looks like it. He dropped his rifle and I know the type – an Arisaka rifle. My Uncle had one that he took off a Nip on the Kokoda Trail.”
“Think he’s been out here all that time, thirty five years?” asked Nubia.
“Starting to look that way, enough to drive anyone round the bend,” replied Curtis.
Carmine sat down on a log, pistol dangling in his fist. Curtis passed his canteen to the little man.
“Thanks,”
“No problem. You okay?”
Carmine nodded.
“Like I said I’m from Brooklyn – I’ve been stabbed before.”
Curtis couldn’t help but smi
le.
“Really?”
“Yeah, drag queen from over in Greenpoint took a dislike to me.”
“Shit,”
Curtis laughed and Carmine joined in.
“Hurts like a bitch but I know it’ll be okay. Has to be okay. I won’t slow you down.”
“Don’t worry about it, I’ll get Heidi to carry you if I have to. You check the tip of the spear or whatever it was he threw?”
Carmine shook his head.
“He threw another after - it’s over there somewhere. Why should I have checked…ah shit – the shit.”
Curtis patted him on his good shoulder and went to find the javelin. In the daylight that managed to penetrate the canopy it was easy enough to find. Curtis picked it up; the tip was fire hardened but there was no evidence of the faeces that had coated the stakes in the traps they had found. He walked back and showed it to Carmine.
“Looks clean enough. You ready to get to the top of this place?”
Carmine nodded, tucked Marshall’s pistol into the top of his shorts and let Curtis haul him up onto his feet.
“Yeah, I can make it. Show you what us Brooklyn boys can do.”
As he followed Curtis, Carmine looked back and saw Marshall watching him. He checked the gun was secure in his waist and stared back at Marshall, the flesh in his shoulder screaming as it tried to knit itself back together.
19.
It is so long since I have spoken to another soul, except for the ghosts which dwell in my own thoughts and the demons which haunt my dreams. The men I once served with surround me in my dreams – they are a part of me now. I think of the gaijins on my island and wish that one of them had a few words of my language; just a sentence or two – anything, a word even. Traitorous thoughts! Put them away and drag myself from the nest I had cocooned myself in for a few hours of sleep. I look at the sword of my ancestors. It and the weapons the island provides me with are the only ones that have not failed me. The grenades are gone now. Six of my enemies left. I pray that enough strength remains in this weak vessel to take them. Strap my sword on once more and promise it the heads of my enemies.
*
Soon the jungle gave way to bare, black rock and the sun beat down harder than before now that they were clear of the protective canopy of the jungle that lay below. They had hacked down branches and gathered as much loose timber as they could before bundling it with vines and dragging it towards the peak. Curtis stayed at the back watching the tree-line with his carbine at the ready. Nothing stirred within the trees but he continued to watch until the group were well clear.
Slaughter Beach Page 6
