After the Fall

by Lisa Bingham

  Gilhouley opened his mouth to argue, then realized that Petey was right. If he was going to lead his men, he needed his wits about them. They would be moving through unfamiliar territory in the dark, evading Japanese patrols. Even Filipino guerrillas in the area would shoot first and ask questions later. And somehow, through all that, he and his men would have to find water and a clear path south.

  Grabbing his pack, Gilhouley shoved his things back inside, then lay down on his back, propping his head on the lumpy canvas. Now that he was still and the adrenalin seeped from his body, he was tired. So tired.

  Nevertheless, before sinking into sleep, he reached into his pocket and fingered the fuzzy violet.

  Somehow, someway, he and his men would find their way back behind American lines.

  • • •

  There was still no sign of John by the time Glory Bee had finished setting up their camp—not that she had expected him to return so quickly. Without a watch or a clear view of the sun, she had no way to estimate the passing time. So, she began searching out nooks and crannies between the boulders that would serve as natural hiding places for the tinned foods they’d brought with them. It wasn’t until everything had been carefully put away that she realized their supply would be limited at best. Barely a couple of weeks, if they kept their meals to a minimum. If John was able to bring the rest of their things, they might have a month’s worth.

  A noise from the bushes alerted her and she quickly crouched behind one of the boulders until John’s familiar shoulders appeared through the vines.

  Rushing toward him, she helped take the packs while he set the suitcase on the ground.

  “You made good time,” she said as she handed him a fresh canteen.

  John nodded, trying to catch his breath. His skin, already tanned from his work outdoors, was growing even ruddier from the sun. Sweat ran from his hairline down the sharp angles of his features. Throwing off the rest of his gear, he tipped his face back and poured the canteen over his head. Then handing the empty container to Glory Bee, he braced his hands on his knees and bent low gasping for air.

  “Sit down,” she urged. “I’ll get you something to eat and—”

  “I can’t,” he gasped. “I’ve got to get back as soon as possible.”

  Glory Bee grew still. “Why the rush?”

  He inhaled deeply and looked up, his eyes dark and turbulent. “I hiked up the hillside just to see how far the Japanese are from the village. If they don’t stop on the way, they’ll reach it by dark.”

  Despite the thick tropical heat, Glory Bee shivered. Somehow, she had convinced herself that now they had a spot to hide, the Japanese would go away, that they would find other terrain easier to traverse, that they would concentrate their energies on the American military bases rather than the indigenous people who were fleeing into the jungle. But the news that John brought shattered those pipe dreams.

  “I’ve got to get the rest of our food and supplies. It might be the only chance we have.”

  Glory Bee picked up one of the empty rucksacks. “I’ll go with you. I’m more rested now. I won’t hold you back.”

  John shook his head. “No.”

  “Dammit, John! I can’t leave you to take all the risks!”

  He stood, towering over her. “And I’m not letting you take any risks at all!”

  His pronouncement shuddered into the trees around them.

  Glory Bee stood absolutely still, stunned by the depth of feeling in John’s words, and more. He was looking at her, not as a friend, but as a man. A man who wanted her. Cared for her.

  “You…stay…here,” he said, spitting out each of the words as if they were nails.

  Then, denying what thrummed between them, he scooped up the packs and the suitcase and disappeared into the jungle again.

  Leaving Glory Bee rooted to the spot in stunned disbelief. A disbelief that soon shivered away beneath a mountain of regret.

  Rumors were rampant after that first sighting of an American plane.

  The Japanese were being routed by American soldiers.

  The Americans had been rebuffed, no help was coming.

  Days bled one into another. Weeks became months. As he staggered back from garden detail, he knew that if help didn’t come soon, there wouldn’t be anyone left to rescue. They’d begun their life in camp with thousands of men and slowly, disease, starvation, labor details, and Tanaka’s punishments had thinned the herd. They were down to fewer than five hundred men.

  Worse yet, Tanaka was growing nervous. His daily diatribes had become screaming matches so filled with hate and vitriol against his captives that if the Americans were to miraculously make their way onto the island, he feared that the he and his fellow prisoners would be killed by Tanaka out of retribution.

  As he saw Petey shuffling up beside him, he noted the telltale bulge of his shirt.

  “Whatcha got?”

  “A couple of bananas, is all.”

  He looked at their guards. It had been especially hot today and the men looked tired and angry. Spoiling for a fight.

  “Leave ‘em here.”

  “Come on, lieutenant. I’m so hungry, I could gnaw on a piece of bamboo—and our shitty rations aren’t even worth shitting out anymore.”

  “Leave ‘em here.”

  Petey wanted to disobey, but the kid stepped behind him, surreptitiously dropping the fruit into the dust. Then he sidled up beside him again, casting one last longing glance at the bananas which would soon wither and brown in the hot tropical sun.

  They had almost made their way to the front gate when a disturbance from the front of the line alerted them. One of the guards began shouting. He pushed a prisoner out of line, leveling his rifle. Shaking, the man reached into his shirt, taking out a fistful of green beans. He held them out in surrender, clearly trying to placate the guard. The Jap screamed at him and the prisoner sank to his knees whispering, “Please, please.”

  But the guard was beyond being soothed. Ratcheting a shell into position, he fired.

  The prisoner dropped to the ground, what was left of his head digging into the sand while blood poured out onto the greedy earth.

  Beside him, Petey let out his breath in a shuddering half-sob. Then the kid looked at him, his eyes filled with terrified tears, before they all ambled forward, trying hard not to stare at the figure that had been left in the dust.

  Chapter Twelve

  December 26, 1941

  It was already growing unbearably hot as the Rosemary and her nurses climbed into the transport trucks. Rather than carrying the cargo from the ferry that had been so carefully packed in Manila, the trucks were now filled with the wounded.

  Since they had only a few basic supplies, Rosemary and her nurses had done the best they could to patch up the men who’d been injured. Thankfully, except for three serious cases, most of their new charges sported minor burns and scrapes. A half-dozen had gunshot wounds, but they were all grazes or through and through shots. Using pressure bandages that the soldiers had stowed with their gear, the nurses had been able to ready everyone for travel.

  Rosemary was the last to climb into the truck. After picking her way to the spot that had been left for her, she slapped the side of the bed in a signal that everyone was ready to go.

  The truck lurched, searching for purchase in the soft sand, then finally shuddered forward, building speed as they headed into the surrounding trees. After a few hundred yards, the transport turned south on a dusty road that followed the line of the bay.

  Around them flowed the current of a defeated army searching for purchase on the peninsula. Weary columns of soldiers carrying outdated weapons trudged alongside refugees with carts heaped with bedding and suitcases and crates of chickens and ducks. Cavalry horses plodded next to oxen and goats. And the children…barefoot, wide-eyed children who looked as if they carried the weight of the world on their shoulders, moved listlessly forward. The sight was heart-rending and discouraging.

  “Th
ey’re calling it a ‘fighting retreat’,” Alice murmured next to her. “Since the main Japanese forces landed days ago, the entire Army is falling back into Bataan.”

  “MacArthur’s men will be able to hold them off once they dig into the jungle.”

  “I hope so. Right now, it doesn’t look like they can hold off much of anything.”

  The truck veered off the road, leaving most of the foot traffic behind. Rosemary had been told that they were being taken to the hospital complex at Limay, and she took heart from that brief piece of information. Once they reached proper medical facilities, she would be back on familiar ground. True, they may have lost a good portion of their supplies from Manila. But more than two weeks had passed since the war had begun, which meant that help was on its way.

  Not for the first time, she tried to do the calculations in her head. If reinforcements came from Pearl, it would be at least two more weeks before any aid could arrive. If they came from ‘Frisco or San Diego, it could be upwards to a month. Maybe six weeks.

  Or six months…

  Closing her eyes, she tried to still the panic that swelled in her chest. They could last that long. If worst came to worst, they could all be evacuated to Corregidor. The defenses there were impregnable, the hospital facilities deep underground in a series of tunnels. The Americans could hold off there for months and months.

  The truck drew to a squeaking halt. Rosemary stooped, slowly weaving through the tangle of bodies to the back of the transport. She grinned when a familiar face was there to unlatch the tailgate.

  “Dr. Grimm!”

  “Welcome, welcome,” he called out. “It’s so good to see you all. We’re in dire need of your assistance.”

  He helped Rosemary jump down, then reached for the next girl and the next.

  As the truck emptied, Rosemary quickly scanned her surroundings. Almost immediately, her heart sank. This was no modern hospital with a surgical wing and comfortable wards. Instead, it was a series of bamboo huts with thatched roofs.

  Dr. Grimm must have caught her dismay, because once the weary women had all gathered their things, he motioned to a pair of nurses scrubbing equipment next to one of the huts.

  “Major Dodd, this is Major Woolsey and Lieutenant Daan. They’ll help you get settled in.” He offered one last wave. “Good to see you all.”

  As he strode away, the two nurses hurried toward them, offering wide smiles.

  Maj. Woolsey took charge, calling out, “Grab your gear and we’ll show you to your quarters, ladies. Then, once you’ve stowed your things, we’ll take you to Colonel Nester for your work details. Right now, the whole hospital is in crates, so we’ve got to get everything unpacked.”

  As they fell into step behind the two women, a memory of a day not so long ago flashed into Rosemary’s head: Lt. Wakely leading the new nurses down the steps of the hospital at Stotsenberg. At the time, Rosemary had thought that the women in white had looked like baby geese trailing after their mother.

  And now, she was one of those baby geese. But rather than gleaming figures in white, she and her nurses were bedraggled, weary, and shell-shocked. And rather than being led around a modern medical facility, they were being led to an era of medicine which could only be described as primitive.

  • • •

  It didn’t take long for Glory Bee to find new hidey-holes for their supplies and pack them away. Then she was left to her own devices.

  It was at that moment that the unfamiliar sounds and the dancing shadows of the jungle began to settle around her so heavily that she felt as if she were being crushed by it. Finally, she had to move, or she knew she would go completely insane. Her imagination was going wild to the point where she vacillated between imagining the Japanese hiding in the bushes, to believing she’d been plunked down into some Vernian lost world and dinosaurs could crash through the foliage at any moment.

  Needing something to keep herself occupied, she decided that she would take the opportunity afforded by John’s absence to wash the grit and grime of her travels from her skin.

  Grabbing clean underwear and her robe, she removed her clothing and set it on one of the boulders near the cooking area she’d formed. As soon as she’d finished with her bath, she would come back and rinse them out, then hang them up to dry.

  Wading down the stream a few yards, she found a spot where the water came up to her knees. Slinging her clean clothes over a branch, she sat in the shallow pool and splashed water over her face and arms.

  The cool liquid was heavenly against her heated flesh, and she felt a measure of control return to her as she was able to scoop it over her head, rinsing her hair of the sweat and grime. And the chilly kiss against her sunburned skin provided an instant relief.

  Was this how Eve had felt after having been driven out of Paradise? Alone, afraid, inestimably weary, wondering how she would cope for a day, let alone a week, a month…a lifetime?

  A rustling in the undergrowth whispered into Glory Bee’s musings, scattering her thoughts and causing her eyes to open. In an instant, the menace of her surroundings came crashing back as she strained to hear what had alerted her. The crackling came again, this time, in a measured cadence.

  Quick, quiet footfalls.

  It was too soon for John to have returned. Even with her dawdling and daydreaming, he couldn’t be back. Not yet.

  Her limbs were suddenly frozen, her breath coming in shallow pants.

  Should she dodge for cover, or stay and pray that whoever was out there would move past without seeing her?

  Another step.

  Two.

  Glory Bee slowly reached up, trying to grasp the hem of her robe. But in order to grasp it, she would have to stand up, and that would cause a splash.

  Shivering, she crossed her hands over her breasts, waiting, waiting…

  Without warning, the furtive rustling became an all-out crash and Glory Bee jumped to her feet, grabbing at her clothes as a shape came barreling out of the foliage toward her. But it wasn’t a man who bounded toward her, but a horrible monster with scaly skin and dark slitted eyes.

  Before she could even think of the consequences, Glory Bee screamed, then screamed again. Rather than being startled, the huge lizard hissed, flaps of skin forming a halo around its face until it truly seemed a relic of some primordial time.

  Another scream tore from her throat and another and another, until she heard more crashing coming through the bushes. Fearing that the lizard was part of a herd that would attack, she turned to scramble toward the camp just as John burst through the trees, his rifle lifted and aimed in her direction. Seeing no other threat than the lizard, he lowered the weapon and ran toward her as Glory Bee rushed into his arms.

  Sobbing, she tried to explain what had happened, but John needed no explanation. Instead, he dropped his packs and rifle onto the ground, then held her tighter still, absorbing her terror, wrapping her in the strength of his arms. And then, somehow, his lips were pressed against her temple, her cheeks, her jaw, until she had only to shift her head ever so slightly.

  The kiss was an explosion of passion, a grinding of lips and of bodies, hands reaching, clasping, holding, as the world faded around them beneath a wave of white-hot need. The adrenaline rush caused by her fear heightened her senses. She was overcome with the desire to absorb each sensation, to draw him so close that they ceased to be two separate beings.

  She sobbed against him, as much from relief as from fear. When she’d needed him most, John had appeared, and it was at that moment that she was struck with the horrible realization that no man had ever really put her first. Until now.

  John scooped her into his arms, carrying her back to the boulders where she’d left her clothes. Then he sank down onto the ground, still cradling her in his arms, his hands framing her face as he searched her features.

  “Are you all right?”

  She nodded, managing to gasp, “L-liz…lizard!”

  He laughed. “I saw.”

  She
punched him in the shoulder. “It scared the bejeezus out of me!”

  “I’m sure it did.”

  Glory Bee opened her mouth to tell him to go to hell, but as she met the dark twinkle of his eyes and the rich amusement that lightened his features, she was struck suddenly dumb.

  When he looked like that, happy and…and carefree…

  He was beautiful.

  He was the most beautiful man she had ever seen.

  Her anger and fear rushed from her body, and flooding into its place was a warmth and certainty unlike any she had ever known before. This man cared for her. He would do anything to protect her. And that realization made her feel invincible.

  Bending toward him, she wrapped her arms around his neck. She’d only closed half the distance before he was rising up to meet her. This time, when their lips met, the caress was slow and sweet.

  Threading her fingers through his hair, Glory Bee melted against him, strained against him, hard to soft, male to female. And the heat that rose within her was unlike anything that she had ever experienced before…because she knew that it didn’t matter if she spoke her mind, asked personal questions, wore bright red lipstick, or cursed in public. The light of affection in John’s eyes wound not dim in disapproval. He cared for her, Glory Bee, with all her faults and foibles. He didn’t crave the stripper.

  He craved the woman.

  The thought alone was enough to fill her with a sense of power and femininity unlike any she had ever known. Without releasing him from her kiss, she shifted in his embrace, moving to sit with her legs straddling his waist so that she could press herself against him more tightly.

  He shuddered against her, his arms wrapping around her back to pull her tightly, tightly against the bulge of his want, and she smiled against his lips, reaching to unfasten the buttons of his shirt one by one by one.

  John released her only long enough to shrug free of his sleeves, then, he was bending toward her, his lips closing around one taut nipple. Drawing her deep into his mouth, he alternately suckled and nipped until she gasped against him, her hips unconsciously rocking against him.