Fatal 5

by Karin Kaufman

  “Grab my belt! I can’t hang on.”

  Hang on? She blinked. Pain under her arms. She gasped. Her shirt was cinched in a stranglehold around her chest. Jake was holding her by the back of her shirt.

  “Hurry! You’re slipping.”

  She groped behind her for his legs, used them to swivel around. Her nose banged into his knees.

  “Reach up for my belt. Hurry!”

  She felt a jerk as his hold slipped. She shot her hand up. Fumbled for his belt. Grabbed it with both hands. Jake let go of her shirt, grunting as her weight transfered to his torso.

  The two of them swayed like a pendulum. Craning her neck, she got a clear view of his left hand clutching a root embedded at both ends in the cliff. He grunted again and joined his freed hand to it.

  His belt and shorts inched down his hips. “Jake!” She glanced at the smashed log.

  “Walk your feet up the cliff. Climb up me like a ladder.”

  Her breath came in short, raspy puffs. Sweat on her hands made his belt slippery. She gripped it tighter, walked her feet up the cliffside on either side of him, grabbed his shoulders.

  “Now my neck. Clasp your hands behind my neck.”

  She slid a hand into place. His neck was slick with sweat. If she lost hold—

  “Quick!” His voice creaked with pain.

  Her heart beat wildly. He was going to lose his grip on the root. There were no others nearby for her to grab onto. A feral whine rose from her chest. She clutched his neck and slipped her other hand into position. Clasped her fingers so tight that crackling pain shot down her arms.

  Her feet slipped off the side of the cliff, and the weight of her body jarred against Jake’s neck. Her face skated down his chest to his belly.

  Air hissed through Jake’s teeth in a sharp inhale.

  She clung to his neck. Gasped in shuddering breaths. Released them in spastic bursts. They were going to fall.

  “Walk back up, put your feet on my belt.”

  Legs shaking, she shuffled one leg higher against the cliff, then the other leg. Bent her right knee. Snaked her foot onto his belt.

  “Good, now the other foot!”

  She slithered it over his torso and onto the belt.

  “Stand up, grab the root. Hurry.” His words came out pinched.

  She pushed her feet against his hips and straightened her legs. “My fingers. I can’t unlock them.”

  “Lean into me, they’ll loosen up.” His eyes were squeezed shut, his brow and cheeks crunched tight.

  She shoved her chin onto his shoulder. Loosened her hold on his neck. Released the dead bolt on her fingers.

  “Almost there.” She raised her hand and slid it up the side of the cliff until her fingers found the root. Clasped it. Slid her other hand up and grabbed a second hold. She tightened her grip, willed her toes to slide off the belt.

  Jake groaned as her weight shifted off his body. He opened his eyes and peered up. “Lemme get a better hold. Then climb onto my shoulders and onto the cliff.”

  The root jiggled as he repositioned his hands. Her heartbeat accelerated. What if one end pulled out? She peeked down at the log. It was old and weather-beaten, but still, it was solid, and it had cracked in two. If she fell, she would die a slow and painful death.

  “I’m ready.” Jake’s feet were braced in back of him against the cliff. “Go.”

  “The root—”

  “I know.” His voice was solemn. “Hurry.”

  Hurry. How many times had he said that? Hurry—so that only one of them fell? Tears rushed to her eyes.

  She locked her fingers onto the root and put her right knee on Jake’s chest.

  “Atta girl.”

  Then the other knee, farther up. “I can’t—” She strained to lift her first knee to his shoulder, but her arms were too spent to pull herself high enough.

  Jake’s left shoulder lowered, and a shove pushed her knee onto it.

  It took her a second to realize Jake had let go of the root with his left hand to help her. His teeth were clamped tight with the effort.

  “Jake, no!”

  “Hurry!”

  She lifted her other knee to Jake’s right shoulder and straightened. The cliff edge was within reach. She stretched up for it. She’d have to stand to pull herself over the edge.

  Hurry. She rose shakily, lopsided on his shoulders, and worked her hands, then her arms, over the edge onto the top of the cliff. When her head and chest crested the edge, she stepped off Jake and onto the root.

  “Almost there.” She looked down at him. He was still dangling by one arm. Had she hurt his shoulder?

  Hurry. She bent her knees and pushed off the root with both feet to boost her waist onto the edge.

  Her foot slipped as the root gave way.

  * * *

  Jake smacked into the side of the cliff as one end of the root broke loose and sent his backside scraping down volcanic rock. He shot his left arm up to hold on with both hands. They slid down the root, shredding skin. His mind numbed at the horror of smashing to his death in one final splat.

  His clasp found traction on the dirt that had buried the dislodged end. His fall stopped. A bare yard of root hung between him and a long plunge to the rocks.

  A thread of blood snaked from under his left palm and slithered down his arm. He twisted around to face the cliff and brace his feet against it. Pinching the root between thumb and fingers to prevent further sliding, he climbed higher on the root until he was holding it where it disappeared into the rock. His body ached like he’d been stretched on a medieval torture rack.

  “Jake!”

  He glanced up. Eve’s head poked from the cliff’s edge.

  “What should I do?” Her voice quivered, and she choked on the last word.

  A boulder-sized lump formed in his throat. He hadn’t expected to survive. He took a big breath and swallowed. Still no guarantee he’d make it. “Wait till I get closer to you, then pull me up.”

  The rubber of his moccasins worked well on the cliffside’s rough surface. He walked his feet up it until his elbows were bent root-high. Keeping a tight hold with his right hand on the root, he bent his knees, then straightened enough to grab the edge of the cliff with his left hand.

  “Gotcha.” Eve seized his wrist.

  “Don’t—” Her tug loosened his fingers, and he dropped like an elevator with a snapped cable. Face and chest scratched rock as he descended to a shoulder-jarring stop. Once again he dangled from the root by one arm.

  Stupid woman! He clenched his teeth to keep from yelling it at her. Clutching the root with both hands, he started over again.

  “Don’t touch me!” He glared up at her, and her abashed face withdrew from the edge of the cliff. Exhaustion slowed his second climb. He needed badly to rest, but to relax his grip for even a second was to invite a dive into the sharp teeth of the rocks below.

  When he had a good grasp with both hands on the cliff’s edge, he called to her, forcing what kindness he could into his voice. “Eve, three things I want you to do. First, grab my hair and pull me up while I get my arms aboard. Second, when my head is close enough, hold me by my chin and the back of my head and keep pulling. And third, when my chest is aboard, slide your arms under my armpits and pull me the rest of the way. Got it?”

  “Got it.”

  She hauled him onto the cliff top exactly as he’d specified, not missing a step. His body shook uncontrollably from the effects of being a human bungee cord. Chest heaving, he rolled onto his back and pillowed his head on his hands. An army of gnats attacked the scrapes on his cheeks and forehead. Groaning, he rolled onto his stomach and hid his face in a stockade of arms. The bugs now landed on the scrapes on his back. Let them feast. At least they weren’t mosquitoes.

  “You saved my life. Thank you.” Eve’s voice was teary.

  He turned his head to peer at her. She hadn’t been this emotional when he’d saved her from the ocean. Maybe because this time she’d seen the optio
ns—die or be saved. “The log got both of us.”

  “Only because you held onto my shirt.”

  He raised his head and grinned at her. “I couldn’t reach your hair.”

  She laughed, but only for a second. “Twice now, you haven’t let death snatch me away. You held on at your own risk.” Her voice caught as a sob jerked out of her lungs. “Betty’s right—you are a hero.”

  He blinked back a sudden rush of tears. “You risked your life too. Betty told me how you swam out to rescue her and Crystal.”

  She looked away from him. “Jake—” She pinched her lips together so tight the skin around her mouth turned white. “There’s more to that story—”

  “I know. Betty told me about that too. How you tried to save Ginny. Thank you.” His chest quaked. “It means a lot to me.”

  “Jake.” Her words came out hoarsely. “I’m trying to tell you it’s my fault she’s dead.”

  He frowned. How could she blame herself? “You can’t hold yourself responsible. She chose not to get into the boat with you. And even if she had—”

  “No, I’m talking about Captain Emilio.”

  “Captain Emilio?” Anger boiled up from his gut at the name. He sat up. “You weren’t his girlfriend, were you?”

  She jerked back, her eyes wide. “No!”

  He took a deep breath to calm down, but his words still came through gritted teeth. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have yelled at you.” He swatted at the gnats. “As far as I’m concerned, anyone connected to Captain Emilio should be strung up with him.”

  She said nothing. Just stared at him.

  “I’m sorry, Eve. What did you want to say?”

  She hesitated, as if she’d lost her thought at his outburst. “Captain Emilio—why did he want to kill everyone?”

  “So his boss could collect insurance money is my guess. The explosions made it look like a shipwreck.”

  “How would the authorities know where to look for the wreck?”

  He had to think about that. “When I went to the bridge, a crewman was on the radio. He hung up when I entered. He may have been sending a Mayday. He may have told them the coordinates.”

  “And a rescue ship would have come?”

  “Ships and planes.” He closed his eyes. “I should have thought of that. I should have stuck around.”

  She was silent until he opened his eyes. “The bugs are eating you up, Jake. You should go bathe, wash off those cuts and scrapes.”

  “You too.” Her knees and hands were also scraped, although she had a lot more skin left than he did. They rose, and he led the way to the cove.

  Was she done talking? Something didn’t seem right. Eve had been a pain every one of their four days on the island. Her sudden appreciation was a welcome change, but right now he felt somehow manipulated. Why would she say Ginny’s death was her fault and then bring up Captain Emilio? Her connecting the two baffled him. It wasn’t like her not to make sense.

  He glanced at her over his shoulder. Her chin was trembling. Had the fall shaken her up and confused her? Or was the confusion in his mind?

  He huffed at the prospect of her tears. He had always given in to Ginny’s.

  Eve was no wuss. After they washed off, he’d push her for an explanation.

  Chapter 24

  Eve wanted to slap herself. What had she been thinking? Just because Jake had saved her life didn’t mean she had to bare her soul to him. She owed him no allegiance. No duty to confess the truth and nothing but the truth. She shuddered at how close she’d come to disclosing her guilt for Ginny’s death. Fool! What if Jake had caught on to the fact that there was some kind of connection between her and Captain Emilio?

  At the cove, Jake waded out to the deeper water, leaving her to sit in the shallows and splash water over her wounds. She hated salt water. Hated the crust it left on her skin, the sting on her sunburn and now on her abrasions from the cliff. Hated it most of all because it, too, had almost snatched away her life. How was it she hadn’t drowned? Hadn’t been eaten by sharks?

  Sobs crowded her chest. She couldn’t stop them. So what if Jake saw her cry. She’d nearly lost her life, nearly cost Jake his. She bawled, let it all out, until the fear and guilt and unanswered questions shriveled to a size she could once again ignore.

  She’d tell Jake nothing. Tell him the fall shook her up and she’d jabbered nonsense.

  Jake waded ashore, and she tensed, but he didn’t ask any questions. Because he’d been put off by her crying? Or because he had no issues with what she’d said? Maybe she’d lucked out and she was off the hook.

  At the campsite, Betty and Crystal gaped at them. “What happened?” Crystal exclaimed.

  “I set off a booby trap.” Eve sat and told them about the log pushing her and Jake over the cliff and their struggle to climb back up. She was surprised at how calmly she related the incident. No more riding the emotional roller coaster. The cry had been just what she needed to get back on top of things.

  Betty frowned when Eve was done. “Mines and booby traps . . . so we were right about the Japanese being here. Crystal says you found a skeleton.”

  “Yes, a Lone Soldier.” Eve described him. The uniform, the trench, the two rusty machine guns at the northern tips of the fence.

  Betty turned to Jake. “What happened that he got left behind?”

  “I suspect we’ll find a dozen more soldiers somewhere. Japan must have lost the records detailing they had personnel here. For years after the war, Japanese soldiers were found alive on Pacific islands, unaware the war had ended.”

  “What if some are still here?” Crystal’s chin quivered. “They might come after us.”

  “No.” Jake shook his head. “They would’ve buried the soldier we saw. I can assure you he was the last one.”

  “Why did they set a booby trap up there?” Betty asked.

  “Because we were too close to something they didn’t want found.” Jake broke a small branch off the tree and routed the gnats harassing his face. “That last soldier was manning the most important position in their defensive scheme. His hair was gray, which probably means he’d been living on this island for years. He had to have shelter somewhere. My guess is that his unit had a cave nearby for living quarters. It was probably also where they planned to hide if their defensive position got overrun. The booby trap was set up to divert attention from their hiding place.”

  He downed a coconut shell of water and reached for another. “I’ll check it out tomorrow. The three of you have given me enough excitement for today.”

  Eve blurted out a laugh. “It’s true. All three of us have taken a turn.”

  Crystal giggled, then Betty joined in. Jake managed a weary grin.

  He plopped down next to Betty. “How’s your foot?” It was swollen, with more colors to it than the fruit piled near her.

  “Not good, but at least it’s still there. In fact, I’m grateful all of me is here! Thank you for that, Jake.”

  Eve smiled. Jake—all-around savior and good guy. Was it just two days ago she’d told Betty there was no such thing as a good man? Savior—okay, she’d grant Jake that. How could she not? But good? No. She still needed more evidence before she could agree to that.

  “It’s been over thirty-six years since the war ended,” Betty murmured. “And nobody ever found that Lone Soldier.”

  Eve caught the implication. That lonely old man had died waiting for his country to come save him. How many days? Months? Years? Poor guy, he’d spent his last breath, still hopeful, still patient, still looking out to sea.

  She jumped to her feet. “Wait, I just thought of something!”

  * * *

  Looking out to sea …

  Eve sped back to the minefield. Why was the Lone Soldier hunched halfway out of the trench? She clambered up the rocky slope on the east side of the field. Why else, but to face the sea? To look one last time for his country’s return—a ship, at first only a dot on the horizon, then growing larger and
larger as it hastened toward the men it had left behind.

  She stopped at the skeleton, her heart saddened for a moment by the Lone Soldier’s unrequited hope. His bones had been cleaned of every bit of flesh. A few tufts of gray hair adhered ghoulishly to the top of his head. Had he worn a cap? If so, it was gone, blown away long ago. His uniform, though tattered and bleached by the sun, was still intact. It held his bones in position from his neck down to his feet, which were encased in ragged leather boots. Too bad they were too small for any of them.

  She brushed aside the long reeds of grass concealing most of the skeleton. The skull lay face down, partially buried in a layer of soil. His arms were spread wide, holding him on top of the embankment. It was as if, in death, the Lone Soldier had accepted his fate and embraced the island on which he had been abandoned.

  Careful not to touch the soldier, she searched first near his right hand. Then, inches from his left, she found what she was looking for. Triumphantly, she lifted up the prize.

  Looking out to sea. As she’d suspected, the Lone Soldier had used binoculars.

  * * *

  Crystal dumped her shirt-load of dried grass into a pile near Aunt Betty. “Don’t let it blow away. There’s not much since Jake won’t let me get some from the minefield.” She wanted to kick the pile. When would everyone stop treating her like a little kid?

  “Mercy, child, why would you even think of going there?”

  “Because the grass is tall and thick. Two trips, just to the edge, and I’d be done.”

  “That wouldn’t be smart-brave. One little tug on a clump near a detonator, and you’d be done, all right.”

  Crystal turned on her heel and stomped to a spot far away that she’d been too lazy to go to earlier. “Smart-brave belongs to Jake and me,” she muttered. “Anyways, you’re not supposed to hit me with it like a stick.” Jake should have let her go into the jungle with him instead of Eve. When had Eve last stood guard, huh?

  Grumping loud enough not to be heard, she ripped the parched grass out of the ground and stacked it until she had enough for another load. Eve hadn’t even wanted to go with Jake, so why had he insisted? Because Crystal was just a little kid who couldn’t carry anything bigger than a stinking wad of grass, that’s why.