by Lisa Bingham
“Esteban sent a runner to say that the guerillas are ready to escort the soldiers east. We’ll be leaving in a few minutes. I don’t know how long I’ll be gone. It may only be to Esteban’s camp, it may be as far as the coast.”
Glory Bee swallowed beneath a sudden irrational fear. Even though she trusted John to come back to her, she couldn’t shake the terror of being alone, in the jungle, wondering when he’d return.
“Take me with you,” she said suddenly, grasping his arms. “Please.” She remembered the fear she’d felt when she’d been confronted by a lizard. How much greater would her terror be if something else approached her in the darkness?
When John meant to refuse, she added quickly. “Please. Only as far as Esteban’s camp. I could stay there with Maria and the children until you come back. Please.” She admitted in barely a whisper, “I’m afraid to stay here on my own.”
“Take a light pack—only a few changes of clothes, your pistol, and some water. Better hurry. We’re leaving as soon as the soldiers have gathered their gear.”
The moment he’d left, Glory Bee upended her rucksack and filled it again with a nightgown, brush, extra shirt, and a loose cotton dress. Near the top, she put the pistol that John had given her when they’d still been at the Wilmot’s lodge. She had only one pair of trousers, which she quickly donned, along with her only long-sleeved button-down shirt. Then, after braiding her hair into two plaits, she wound them over her head and secured them with pins.
When she emerged, ready to go, she noted that the soldiers were still double-checking the radio equipment and she felt a surge of self-satisfaction that she hadn’t kept the men waiting.
“Ready?” John asked, his dark gaze gleaming in approval.
“Yes.”
“Do you think you could help carry a rifle?”
She nodded and he handed her the weapon.
“It’s loaded, so be careful. Leave it slung over your shoulder, pointing up.”
“I can do that.”
For a moment, his hand lingered in the hollow of her back, and that simple, unconscious caress was as precious to her as a full-blown embrace.
“Let’s go,” he called out.
Immediately, the soldiers filed into position, Gilhouley and Baptiste up front with John, the other three hanging back with Glory Bee. It was Petey who kept within arm’s length of Glory Bee, his attitude curiously protective.
She couldn’t help saying, “Thanks again for the chocolate bar you gave me, Petey.”
Petey grinned. “You liked it, huh?”
“I don’t think there’s a woman alive who doesn’t like chocolate.”
His brows rose, and she was reminded again that he was probably only nineteen.
“Really?”
“Uh-huh.”
“That’s good to know.”
“We also love flowers—simple bouquets, not those horrible, tacky ones that arrive in big containers like funeral baskets—and men who listen, really listen, when we talk to them.”
Petey’s eyes widened. “How about movies?”
“I love the movies.”
Then, because the way through the forest was becoming thick with trees and vines, Glory Bee returned her attention to the path ahead.
Petey, on the other hand, hung back a little until his fellow soldiers caught up to him. “Did you hear what she said, Berman? Women like chocolate and movies and flowers. And, oh, yeah, they like it when we shut up and listen and don’t interrupt.”
Glory Bee had forgotten how difficult it was to make a path through the dense bamboo forest. Even though John and the other soldiers had made several trips to the clearing beyond, the vines and foliage were still so thick that their progress was slow.
Although her sunburn had subsided to a dull ache, the slap of leaves and the tug of vines soon brought a new collection of scrapes and cuts despite her long sleeves. And the insects were determined to eat her for lunch, then carry her off.
But Glory Bee didn’t complain. She didn’t think she could have spent a night alone in the camp. And if John had been gone for longer than that, she would have been a stark, raving loony by the time he returned.
So she slogged along with the men, the rifle bumping against her thigh, until, without warning, they stepped into a clearing beyond.
The unexpected sensation of the hot sun beating down on her face was so startling, that she stopped dead in her tracks and Petey nearly ran into her. Taking a few steps, she felt a breeze brushing over her cheeks that was hot and dry, not muggy and smelling of rotting vegetation.
As the men fanned out around her, John managed to step into place beside her and she began moving again, following the trampled grass to a rocky slope that led down and east.
“It’s like stepping into a different world, isn’t it?” he said.
She nodded.
“You doing okay?”
Glory Bee reached out to briefly touch his arm. “I’m fine.”
“We don’t have much farther to go. Only about a mile up—”
John suddenly held up a hand and the soldiers immediately came to a stop, bringing their weapons up.
In the same instant, Glory Bee caught a whiff of smoke. Then, from far off, came the firecracker pops of gunfire and what sounded like the screech of birds…or screams.
John turned to her, his features grim, his eyes dark and filled with that same determined anger she’d seen in them when he’d spoken of wanting to stay in Nanking to help his students.
“Get back into the forest. Not too far. Just enough so you can’t be seen in the open. You stay there, understand? You stay there until I come for you.”
She nodded, handing him the extra rifle.
“Do you have the pistol I gave you?”
“Y-yes. It’s in my pack.”
“Make sure it’s loaded. But don’t shoot unless someone gets close. Otherwise, you stay hidden as much as you can.”
“Yes.”
The soldiers were already creeping forward, their rifles held high. After one last glance in their direction and a squeeze of John’s hand, she turned and ran back into the gloom of the forest, crouching low behind the bamboo and vines. But she didn’t go in so far that she couldn’t peer out of the foliage at the men making their way down the hill.
All too soon, they disappeared from view, and as they did so, her heart thumped so loudly in her ears that she couldn’t hear. She strained to catch the slightest noise that might reassure her that it had really been birds making the cries.
Not Maria.
Or the children.
Perhaps Esteban and the others had been shooting game for food.
But as the smell of smoke became more pungent, she knew that such foolishness would only get her killed. She needed to be alert. Ready.
Slowly taking the rucksack from her shoulders, she laid it on the ground, trying to avoid even a hint of noise. Then, with the soughing of her breath overly loud, she reached inside for the pistol.
Her fingers trembled violently as she lifted it free—and now that she might need to use it, the weapon seemed suddenly small and ineffective.
Slipping the chamber open, she double-checked to make sure that it was loaded, then snapped it shut again and waited.
Even though she’d been expecting something to warn her that John and the soldiers had reached the camp, she wasn’t completely prepared for the sudden sound of gunfire—much closer now. John and the other men must have intercepted the Japanese coming toward them. She heard shouts—in English and Japanese, then another burst of gunfire.
Then, without warning, a figure burst through the trees. Glory Bee had only a few seconds to grasp the fact that it wasn’t John or one of the Americans. She saw only a flash of dark hair, an unfamiliar uniform, before he crashed into the thicket, heading straight toward her.
Too late, she realized that she should have stayed utterly still. If so, he might not have seen her at all. But when he was nearly upon her, she stood up,
her pistol whipping into position as he lifted his toward her. Explosions filled the jungle. Then, horrified, she watched as a blossom of red appeared on his chest and he whirled and fell into the underbrush.
The whole encounter could not have lasted more than a few seconds, but to Glory Bee, each tick of the clock had been an eternity. She was shaking so badly that the pistol wobbled in front of her, but she carefully pulled back the hammer again, just in case.
She stumbled toward the Japanese soldier, her limbs so unsteady she feared that she might fall. But she finally managed to reach him and nudge him with her foot.
He didn’t move. He didn’t breathe.
She’d killed him.
Again, tremors wracked through her body, but she still kept the pistol leveled at him, wondering what she was supposed to do. John had said to wait here until…wait here…until…
Glory Bee frowned as her eyes suddenly crossed and the forest tipped crazily. She stumbled toward a stand of bamboo, hoping to find something to brace herself against. Dragging air into her lungs, she fought the dark spots that gathered at the fringe of her vision. But it hurt to draw breath and she had a stitch in her side as if she’d been running…or...
She pressed a hand to the ache, then drew back in horror when her fingers came away wet and slick with blood.
Her blood.
The thought brought an inexplicable urge to giggle, but at the same moment, the trees began to spin around her like a carousel.
Closing her eyes, she swallowed hard, praying that John had heard the shots, that he would come to find her. Now.
But she heard no sounds, no footsteps. Only the strident rasp of her own breathing.
Glancing down again, she tried to wad up her shirt and press it to the wound, but there was something wrong with her hands. She felt so weak.
Lurching forward, she fought to remain conscious as she stumbled her way out of the thick trees. Her progress was so slow that, at times, she feared that she wasn’t moving at all. But she kept her gaze trained on the path ahead. She couldn’t have said why it became so imperative that she leave her hiding place—even if she might be in danger of encountering more Japanese soldiers.
John. She had to find John.
Even if it meant breaking her promise.
• • •
John surveyed the remains of Esteban’s camp, his stomach lurching at what they’d found. A slow simmering anger filled his veins.
After surprising the Japanese patrol on the path and killing them, he and the American soldiers had carefully made their way to the small gathering of huts where Esteban and his wife had fed them less than a week ago.
But when they’d arrived, it had been to a scene of utter carnage. Esteban had been brutally murdered. The three guerillas who had arranged to meet with the soldiers had been beheaded, then set ablaze. The women and children…
Kilgore bent low over a patch of bushes, vomiting. But John stood rigidly, taking in the scene, images of Nanking popping like flashbulbs in his head. A chill settled deep into his bones and he tasted the coppery tinge of hate on his tongue.
How could anyone be so savage? What kind of person could murder innocent children? A pregnant woman? And for what?
But he already knew why they’d been murdered. Somehow, the Japanese had known that guerrilla forces were in the area. And they’d viciously decided to flush them out.
“A few of them have been dead for a while,” Gilhouley said after bending to check Esteban’s body for any sign of life.
John’s stomach churned. “They kept the women and girls alive the longest,” he said, his voice raspy. Rage spilled into his bloodstream, demanding retribution. If the Japanese soldiers hadn’t been killed on the path, John knew he would have hunted them down without mercy.
“Shit,” Gilhouley whispered under his breath. “They’re animals.”
John shook his head. “Even animals wouldn’t do this.”
“Hey, John!”
John turned, meeting Petey’s gaze. The soldier turned and pointed.
“Look.”
Glory Bee appeared at the top of the rise. She paused for a moment, breathing hard, then began to hurry toward them, nearly running down the path.
“Dammit all to hell! I told her to stay in the forest,” John rasped, rushing to intercept her. He couldn’t let her see Esteban and Maria. The children. Little Luis.
“Glory Bee, what in God’s name do you think you’re doing here!” he demanded. “I told you to hide until I came to get you!”
She suddenly stopped, looking at him with such a panicked expression that he damned himself for speaking too harshly. But without warning, she dropped to her knees.
It was then that John became aware of the patch of red at her side and the sheen of blood on her fingers.
In an instant, his world fell out from under him. He rushed toward her, catching her as she collapsed completely, her eyes closing.
“Lieutenant!” Petey shouted.
Gilhouley and his men quickly gathered, forming a protective circle around Glory Bee, their weapons pointed out.
John drew her tightly against him as Gilhouley pressed two fingers to her neck.
“Is she…?”
“She’s fainted, that’s all. Her heart’s beating fast.”
Gilhouley pushed her hand aside and pulled up her shirt. A bullet hole oozed above her hip.
John recoiled, not from the blood, but from the fact that she’d been injured while following his instructions. He’d been the one to tell her to stay behind. But he’d thought she would be safer there.
“There was one soldier who ran,” Petey said quietly.
Gilhouley grew grim. “She must have met him head on when he decided to hide in the forest.” He glanced up. “Berman, Kilgore! I want you to follow his trail and make sure he doesn’t have a chance to report our position to his buddies.”
The two men quickly disappeared.
Ripping open his pack, Gilhouley brought out a wad of bandages and gauze.
“The bullet’s still in there. She needs medical attention, real medical attention. Not the first-aid shit I know.”
He pressed a thick handful of gauze to the wound, then began wrapping the bandages around her waist. “Hold her steady. I want this as tight as I can get it.”
John swallowed hard before saying, “She’s pregnant. Do you think that…is the baby…?”
Gilhouley met his gaze, then shook his head. “I don’t know. My medical skills could fit in a thimble. But I’d say that now, more than ever, we’ve got to get her to a doctor, pronto.”
Since Gilhouley had finished dressing the wound, John carefully lowered her shirt, then held her close.
“Esteban was my only contact to the guerrillas. I don’t have a way to get you a new set of guides.”
Gilhouley thought for a moment, a muscle working in his jaw.
“How far to the coast?”
“About another ten, fifteen miles.”
“Do you think you could find us a sheltered cove somewhere?”
John tried to picture the map he’d been carefully marking since they’d left Wilmot’s plantation. In his mind’s eye, he could remember something along those lines due east.
“I could try.”
Gilhouley looked up at Petey. “Break out the radio.”
Petey looked confused. “Colonel Ross already told us they can’t send anyone to get us.”
“We’re not calling the base. I’m going to see if I can pull in a favor.”
• • •
Rosemary was on duty when Alice sidled up next to her.
“There’s someone here to see you.”
For an instant, her heart quickened, and she looked up, searching for Gilhouley amid the personnel who wandered among the extra cots being set up outside the medical huts. But it wasn’t Gilhouley she found, it was Napoli. He stood a few yards away, crushing his hat in his hands and eyeing her apprehensively.
Rosemary gesture
d to the bandage she’d been winding around a soldier’s arm. “Finish up for me here.” She threw a quick smile at the gangly kid. “You’ll be good as new in a few days. Keep the area as dry and clean as you can. If possible, change the bandage once a day.” The instructions were issued automatically, even though she knew that as soon as he went back to his unit, he would be sent to the front. Once there, it would prove impossible to follow her orders.
“Yes, ma’am. Than you, ma’am.”
After washing her hands in a nearby basin, Rosemary hurried toward Napoli.
“Are you having chills again?”
Napoli glanced over each shoulder, then handed her a scrap of paper. “I need these things.”
Mystified, Rosemary opened the note. “Morphine, sulpha, bandages, gauze.” She shot Napoli a quick frown. “You know I can’t supply you with these things. If you’re not feeling well, I—”
Napoli regarded her with dismay and hurried to explain, “Oh, no, ma’am…I mean, Rosemary. No, no, no. I’m not asking for myself.” He bent close to whisper, “It’s Gilhouley that needs ‘em.”
As quickly as she’d felt a surge of disapproval at Napoli’s request, she now felt a burst of hope.
“What?”
“He’s…well, he’s pinned down on the coast. He’s got civilians with him. One of ‘em, a woman, has been shot.”
The hope within her died a little. “Napoli, I don’t know what you’re—”
“Honest, Major Dodd.” He grimaced. “Rosemary.” He touched her arm. “See, I still owe Gilhouley a favor and it appears he’s ready to cash in. He wants me to fly up there and pick ‘em up.”
“Can you do that?” she whispered. “I thought your plane needed repairs.”
Napoli flushed. “That part I’ve been needin’? It’s been hidden in my sea bag for some time—I didn’t want anyone stealing my bird while I was sick. Truth be told, I could have left a while ago. But I figured I’d stick around a little while and wait for the American reinforcements. There was no sense flying into uncharted waters when there might still be a chance you all would rout the little yellow bastards. But…” he slapped his hat against his thigh. “Dammit, Gilhouley is in bad straights and he says the woman needs help now. He’s already asked his superiors and they’ve refused. I’m his last chance.”
