by Andrew Watts
Down the gravel path, beyond the buffeting palm trees, he saw Natesh walk into view, standing alone in the open area between the Classroom building and the Communications building. What was he doing there? Why had he come from the Classroom? Then Lena walked up and stood beside him, unrestrained. She held Natesh’s shoulder and spoke into his ear. Lena looked toward the Communications building and made a large waving motion.
They came in droves. Dozens of armed men in black tactical gear ran past Lena and Natesh, towards the Classroom. These men weren’t coming from the helicopters. They were coming from the Communications building. David saw Natesh walk, unescorted, back toward the Communications building. Lena followed the soldiers into the Classroom.
David’s head was spinning. Natesh. He must have helped her. That was the only way to explain the way they were just talking with Chinese troops running beside them. David felt so stupid for trusting him. He had access to the computer room. Of course he was in on it. He just hadn’t seemed the type. David wanted to scream, but he didn’t have time for regrets.
Much farther down, toward the runway, David saw several dozen more troops running out of the helicopters. Two of the men were hunched over, vomiting near the runway. It must have been a bumpy ride. The rest ran full speed up the path and towards the buildings.
Henry hopped down the stairs, dragging the clunky plastic roll of shower curtains, duct tape, and metal rods.
“How bad is it?” Henry asked. He joined David, looking out the window.
David said, “Bad. We need to hurry. Henry, how good of a swimmer are you?”
Henry said, “I can do doggy paddle. Well…okay, not very well.”
David said, “Okay, here’s what I need you to do. Take no more than two minutes to try and gather any food or water that you can stuff into a pillowcase. Bring as much as you can. And any razors or something we might be able to fish with. Shit, I don’t know…think of something. We’re going to get out of here. I’m going to get us a boat. I don’t know how far we’ve got to go, but plan for the worst. I count at least forty armed men down there, and I’m not sure how long we’ve got until they come up this way. Don’t waste time. I’m going to the other side of the island. There were boats there. We’ve got a few more hours of daylight. I think we might be able to make a run for it with one of their motorboats at night. If we can get far enough away from this island, we can try to make a sail out of this tarp once we run out of gas.”
Henry laughed nervously. “MacGyver.” Then he looked back out at the buildings. He said, “What about the others?”
David said, “The best thing we can do for them now is make it out of here and get word out.”
Henry nodded and started running up the stairs, then looked back and said, “Hey—where should I meet you?”
“Follow the barbed wire fence east away from the buildings until it reaches the runway. Hide in the trees there until you see me come back. Just keep an eye out for me. I’m going to make one run up to land with the motorboat. When you see me, you need to run to the boat and get in. I’ll be vulnerable then, so I’ll only come to the beach once. If I don’t see you, I’m leaving.”
“How are you going to get the boat?”
David said, “I don’t know.”
“Oh. Good plan.”
“To be honest, with the waves from the storm, even if I can get us a boat there’s a good chance we’ll drown.”
Henry nodded, eyes wide, and said, “Oh. I see. Good, then. See you in a few.” He dashed away up the stairs.
David looked out the window and saw the Chinese troops with submachine guns pointed forward, getting ready to enter the Classroom over a hundred yards away. Lena and Natesh were both out of sight. No one was looking in David’s direction. He took a deep breath, opened the door, and bolted past the barracks toward the fence. He turned right and sprinted uphill on the long, narrow path in between the fence and the jungle.
He could feel his adrenaline pumping as his feet strode over the uneven terrain. A canopy of wet leaves reached out from above. He looked up as he ran, drops of water landing on his face. They felt cool in the warm air. There was less wind here. He was protected by tall rainforest on either side. The vegetation grew more dense the farther up the fence he got. Fine with him. Better for staying hidden. He ran as fast as he could, fighting the urge to stop and look back. It was only this morning that he’d swum halfway around the island. His muscles reminded him. His quads and hamstrings already ached and he hadn’t even gotten to the beach. David forced the pain out of his mind. He eventually made his way to the apex. It was the far corner of the barbed wire fence, where it turned a sharp right and went downhill towards the sea.
David cycled through the recent events in his mind as he ran, trying to focus on something other than the growing pain in his legs. The apprehension of Lena and the Major. The helicopters diving down over the mountain. Natesh, standing in the middle of a herd of Chinese soldiers. Was Natesh really one of them? A part of him couldn’t believe that Natesh had betrayed them. But the exchange between him and Lena? The troops running right by? He had to assume that Natesh had betrayed them all.
It was no longer safe to stay on this island. There was no guarantee of survival. At least not without being taken captive. There were boats on the dock on the other side of the island. He hoped that they were still there. David didn’t know how far Henry and he could get on one of those small rigid-hull inflatable boats, but it was likely their only shot. How far from land were they? The prospect of dying of dehydration while at sea didn’t appeal to him. If they reached mainland, where would it be? Was it China? What would happen if they rolled up on a boat in Hong Kong?
Each stride down the hilly path took David closer to the beach. With the winds pounding the seas, the waves were pretty big now. Much bigger than just a few hours ago. He could hear the surf from hundreds of yards away. The rain had stopped for the moment, and hints of blue afternoon sky peeked through the low black clouds. The sea, however, remained angry.
Whether it was drowning or dehydration, David didn’t want to die at sea. But if he didn’t leave this island, he could die a prisoner. He thought of his family, his friends, and his country. As he approached the end of the jungle where the path gave way to gravel, sand, and runway, David kept thinking about his family. He teared up thinking about Lindsay and his two girls. He had to force those thoughts away for now. He had to focus on the problem at hand.
If David didn’t get word out, America would never know what was being planned. There would be no warning. This thought drove him on. He had to warn people. David believed that a Chinese attack on America was truly coming. And the Red Cell had helped the Chinese gather important information that would make this attack more potent.
His heart pounded. He came to a stop at the part of the path where the jungle ended. He would have to sprint across an open area. He prayed that no one would see him. If he could get to the water, he thought he could make it to the docks on the other side of the island without being seen. The only problem there was surviving the waves. One thing at a time.
He sprinted, stretching out his legs into long strides on the dark ground. As he ran, he looked to his right, down the long, wet runway. The three helicopters sat motionless on the ground. There was no sign of the Chinese soldiers.
He closed in on the shore and tore off his sneakers, placing them near the corner of the runway. They would only slow him down in the water, and he needed all the speed he could get. His eyes widened as he saw the colossal surf close up. Yesterday there had been a picturesque line of turquoise breakers. This morning the waves had been bigger, but nothing like this. Ahead of him now lay a whitewash of violence. A reminder of nature’s strength. It was loud and intimidating. There didn’t seem to be any pattern or lull in the waves, just one spew of forceful white saltwater after another.
The barbed wire fence that just this morning had sloped into the water was now a disjointed mess of metal, bent and broke
n. The raging surf hid the points where the barbed wire remained. This frightened David. He needed to get out past any remnants of that fence, but the force of the waves made that almost impossible.
He was like a fireman walking into a fiery building. Every instinct told him to stop, that the danger was too great. He thought once more of his family, and of the dozens of members of the Red Cell that had probably been taken prisoner by now. He thought of what would happen if China used the plans they had developed to launch a surprise attack on the United States.
He took a few fast breaths, gritted his teeth, and marched into the surf.
When he was in deep enough that the waves began pounding his chest, he dove and swam freestyle as hard as he could, directly out and away from the beach. He tried to time it with the waves, going under as the big ones broke overhead. It wasn’t perfect, and a wall of saltwater clobbered him more than once. But eventually he made it far enough out that he felt he could turn left, toward the other side of the island.
He turned, angling his aim to swim around the area where the metal fence was. That’s when a big wave hit him. A fast-moving wall of water. It enveloped him and sent him tumbling over. He was disoriented, blind, and swallowing a lot of saltwater. He fought to get upright. Just as he broke the surface, another wave hit him and pulled him under, back toward the beach. It had taken him five minutes of excruciating physical output to get that far into the water, and two waves were sending him rapidly back toward the shoreline…and toward the razor wire.
His head broke the surface for the second time. He was sucking in oxygen, kicking his legs and pumping his arms, doing everything he could to breathe and stay above water. He coughed up seawater from his lungs, and his eyes shot wide open as he saw sharp glistening metal circles protruding from the sea. The undertow was pulling him towards the broken array of barbed wire much faster than he could swim. He tried to swim parallel to the shore. If the waves were pushing him back to land, he could—
It felt like a combination of fire and ice was streaking down the length of his left arm. It was like someone had dumped ice cubes in a straight line from his shoulder to his elbow, and then lit a match that caught on fire in the exact same location. The sharp spikes of metal had just torn a gash in his arm as the waves twisted and pushed his body further toward shore. He was helpless. He started to panic. He was afraid he would get caught like a fish on a hook.
Then another wave tore him loose and carried him the rest of the way to the shore. The wave dumped him onto the black, sandy beach on the other side of the fence. The side that he was trying to reach.
The beach itself was almost nonexistent. The waves were coming right up over the sand and past the palm trees, temporarily covering the jungle floor in a few inches of surf. He got up and looked at the gash in his arm. It was bleeding badly, and he had nothing but his tee shirt to cover the wound with. He trudged along the edge of the jungle, stopping every few seconds as another large wave came ashore and covered his feet. He tore his tee shirt at his stomach and ripped a rag with which he used to tap his bloody arm. He put pressure on it and kept walking, toward the buildings and docks, where he hoped to find a boat to steal.
He wondered what was happening to other consultants of the Red Cell. David hadn’t even tried to save them. He pushed away the guilt. There was no other way. He hoped that Henry would be at the rendezvous if David could get a boat. If. It was a big if. What would he find near the docks? The seas had been much calmer when those boats had been tied up there before. David had been a sailor in college. Anyone who had ever taken care of a boat knew that you couldn’t leave it tied up in the water during a storm. So where would they take them? Would they drag the boats up to higher ground? Would they be guarded? No. There was no need for security. They were on a remote island. No one would be outside in this storm, would they?
Ten minutes of painful walking later, David got his answer.
He arrived at the beach adjacent to the base on this side of the island. It was there, two hundred yards from where the buildings and docks were, that he saw the boats. Someone had pulled them up away from the beach, out of reach of the waves, just like David had suspected. There were two boats, each with a single outboard engine. He was wrong about there not being anyone outside, though. He saw one person.
Tom Connolly. Unbelievable. What was he doing out here?
Tom sat in the sand no more than twenty yards from the boats, staring out at the waves. His knees were up near his chest, and he was taking occasional sips from a steel flask. David stayed twenty feet inside of the tree line. That way he was pretty well concealed from view, but still able to keep his eye on Tom as he walked toward his position. David wanted to approach from behind if he was going to have any chance of pulling this off. Pull what off, exactly? What was his plan, now that there was someone he would have to deal with? David had no weapons. Could he take someone’s life with his bare hands? Hell, could he even take someone’s life? He pushed the thought away. Now was not the time for pondering. Now was the time for execution.
The closer David got, the more nervous he was that Tom would see him.
David stepped through the wet jungle. He was now 180 degrees from where Tom was looking. Directly behind his line of sight. As David approached, another band of rain began pouring from the sky. David worried that Tom would get up, wanting to get out of the downpour. But he just tilted his head back, letting the rain fall against his closed eyes. What the hell was he doing?
The bleeding on David’s arm had slowed, although the wound still hurt badly. He looked on the ground for a weapon. A stick, a coconut—anything would do. He was desperate. And a desperate man needed very little in a fight. And a desperate man could kill, if he had to, right? Finally, he came upon a large rock, about the size of an orange.
David crept out of the jungle and toward where Tom sat. He looked to the left, toward the concrete structures. They were about fifty yards away, and slightly obscured by the heavy rainfall. He looked over toward the buildings to make sure no one was watching. The structures looked very similar to the Communications building. They had small slits in the top of their tall concrete walls. A dim blue light illuminated them from inside. But there was no sign of anyone outside. Was it possible that all of those people he had seen on the other side of the island had somehow come from here? Were there people still remaining in these buildings that would be able to see what was happening? David didn’t see any windows that looked like they had a view of the beach. It didn’t matter. This was his only chance.
David took another step towards Tom. He gripped the rock in his sweaty palm. He decided the best way to do it would be to deliver a deathblow with the first strike. No talking. No second-guessing of Tom’s level of guilt. Just one decisive blow to the head. Any doubt over this intended course of action was silenced by David’s anger. Anger that Tom had taken him from his home and from his wife and family. Anger that Tom had betrayed his country. He thought about asking him why he did it. But even that seemed pointless. No—not pointless—wasteful. David had a mission to complete. Any deviation from the most efficient path of getting himself and Henry safely off the island was a possible detriment to the mission.
David stepped closer. He was about twenty paces away from Tom now. Tom was still facing the sea. Loud waves masked David’s footsteps. Tom took another swig from his flask. David got a whiff of something. Rum. He was probably drunk, David realized.
He needed to strike Tom’s skull with this large, hard rock. He needed to swing his good right arm as hard as he could, in one violent motion. That rock needed to crush through Tom’s bone and into his brain and kill or incapacitate him. Only then could he begin to move the heavy motorboat through the sand, hoping that no Chinese military men came out from the buildings with machine guns.
David had to force all of the excess noise out of his head. His sister, the Navy pilot, called it compartmentalizing. Could he really kill this man? Would he be able to pull this heavy boat?
Would he ever see his wife again? Was Henry even going to be there if he could get the boat to him, or would the Chinese be waiting? All of the questions. All of the emotion. David pushed it into a box and locked the thoughts away.
Ten paces away.
Each step was painfully slow. David’s heart pounded as he lifted the rock up above his head. He could feel the shells and sand crunching beneath his feet. Tom faced forward now. David came from directly behind where Tom was looking. What was he doing just sitting here drinking in the midst of all of this?
Five paces away.
Tom sat there, hugging his knees, looking straight ahead. Every few seconds, he took another quick swig from his flask.
Two more steps.
Tom shook the flask like he was trying to see how much was left.
In one quick, sloppy motion, Tom let his head fall backwards, into the sand. His eyes were open this time, and he stared upward.
Their eyes met.
David was frozen six feet away, holding the rock above his head. Tom stumbled up and twisted around to face him. The rain was falling hard enough that they both were squinting. They stared at each other, both in a defensive posture, the magnificent white surf pounding the dark sand behind them.
Tom looked at the rock and then up at David. He slurred his words as he spoke. “You gonna hit me with that?” He laughed. His eyes were red and unfocused. Tom swayed slightly as he stood. He let the flask drop to the ground and held up his fists like he was ready to box.
David didn’t let go of the rock, but he stood in a similar fighter’s stance. He said, “Why’d you do it?”
Tom scoffed. “Goddammit, I’m getting tired of that question. What’s it matter?”
David’s eyes darted over to the buildings and then back to Tom.
David said, “How could you betray your country?”
Tom snorted and said, “Don’t get all high and mighty on me. You haven’t walked in my shoes. If you had, you’d have done the same.” He looked around, toward the jungle. “How the hell did you get over here, on this side?”
