After the Fall

by Lisa Bingham

  She quickly gathered the supplies that Napoli had requested and scooped them into a canvas bag along with a precious tin of pudding and the sandwiches that Alice had brought her for lunch.

  She handed the items to Napoli, asking, “When will you go get him?”

  Napoli slung the strap of the bag crossways over his body. “Some of the flyboys are going to try to make a bombing run tonight with what few planes they have. They’ve got this plan to attack some of the Japanese ships. I’ll volunteer my services for reconnaissance late this afternoon. As soon as I’ve got permission, I’ll be on my way. It won’t be a complete lie. I’ll just bring them reconnaissance from a little farther afield than they’re bargaining on.”

  Rosemary leaned forward, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Godspeed, Napoli. Bring them all safely home.”

  • • •

  Gilhouley ordered his men to fashion a stretcher from an old ladder that they found near one of the huts. After covering it with blankets, they began their trek through the dense underbrush. While Gilhouley and his men had been securing the radio again, John had carried the bodies into one of the huts and covered them with the only blankets that were left. When Gilhouley had come to get him, John was praying. He stood with his head bowed, his shoulders rigid. As soon as Gilhouley had cleared his throat to get the other man’s attention, he’d genuflected, then turned, jamming his hat on his head.

  “As soon as we fail to arrive at the rendezvous point, Pascal will send men to investigate,” Gilhouley had said softly. “They’ll take care of the bodies.”

  “I know,” John rasped.

  But Gilhouley knew the words were little comfort. If not for Glory Bee, John would have stayed behind, regardless of the danger to himself.

  Now, however, it was a race against time. Not only was Glory Bee injured, but the window for opportunity with Napoli was very slim. They had miles to go to reach the inlet that John remembered on the map. And with little more than a compass and the information in John’s head, they were still running virtually blind.

  But all of them were willing to do whatever necessary to get Glory Bee safely to one of the hospitals on Bataan.

  Now that they were out of the forest, the sun beat down on them relentlessly, but at least they were headed downhill. The men took turns with the stretcher, joining together to help negotiate the rocky patches. Although it was more dangerous to be out in the open, especially since they knew more Japanese patrols could be in the area, they kept to the edge of the tree line in order to move as quickly as possible.

  Without familiar landmarks, it was difficult to gauge the distance they’d covered. They plugged on until Petey, who’d taken the lead, suddenly drew up short, lifting his face to the breeze.

  “You smell that?”

  Gilhouley thought that Petey was alerting them to smoke, but when he took a deep breath, he couldn’t smell anything but dust and his own sweat.

  When the other men were similarly mystified, Petey grinned. “That there is the smell of the sea. I’m a Louisiana boy, and I know when we’re close to the ocean. Shouldn’t be far now. Maybe a mile or two.”

  As the sound of the surf began to reach them, they moved more cautiously, afraid to burst out on the beach in case Japanese boats might be patrolling the area. But when the foliage opened up to reveal the sparkling blue of the ocean and a stretch of glittering sand, Gilhouley held up his hand.

  “Berman, Petey, go scout out the area. We’ll hang back here with the stretcher.”

  The men nodded, stepping cautiously onto the beach, one going north, the other south. They were gone for about fifteen minutes before returning.

  “Anything?”

  Berman shook his head. “Seems clear.”

  “Any sign of a keyhole rock formation? That’s where Napoli said he’d meet us.”

  Petey grinned. “It’s about two hundred yards up the beach.” He slapped John on the back. “That’s some damned fine navigating.”

  John glanced at his watch. “How much longer?”

  Gilhouley checked his own timepiece. “It’s still early yet. I doubt we can expect to see Napoli for at least another thirty minutes to an hour.”

  A muscle worked in John’s jaw.

  “We’ll move up the beach into position, get as close as we can to the rocks. Napoli said the drop off in the water is pretty steep there, so he’ll use the formation for cover and bring the seaplane in as close as he can.” Gilhouley knelt to check the bandage at Glory Bee’s side. She was still losing blood, but as least the flow had eased. “I doubt we’ll be able to use the stretcher to load her. Someone will have to carry her. We might even have to swim out to him, I don’t know.”

  “I’ll take her,” John said firmly.

  “We can all—”

  “I’ll take her,” he insisted again, his eyes flashing with a dark fire that Gilhouley recognized: a primitive, possessive need to protect what was his.

  “Fine. But don’t be afraid to ask for help if you need it.” Shifting, he grasped the rear rungs of their makeshift stretcher and motioned for Baptiste to take the front. “Let’s go.”

  Compared to the jungle, the walk down the beach took very little time, despite the loose sand. Motioning for Baptiste to head toward the shade beneath some coconut trees, Gilhouley cocked his head. From somewhere in the distance, he heard the sound of a rumbling engine.

  “That could be him. Stay alert. The racket caused by an engine could bring every Jap for mil—Get down!”

  Too late, Gilhouley realized that it wasn’t a plane, but a boat that had made the rumbling noises. A small patrol vessel was coming into view at the mouth of the cove, moving north. It travelled slowly, its guns gleaming dully in the sunshine as it cut through the waves.

  “Shit, shit, shit!” Kilgore said beside him and Gilhouley turned his head ever so slightly to see that Petey and Berman were yards away from them, spread-eagle in the sand, trying to make themselves as inconspicuous as possible.

  “No one moves a muscle,” Gilhouley said slowly. But, as he’d feared, something in their alarm must have alerted Glory Bee because she whimpered and twitched.

  “Not now, not now,” Gilhouley muttered under his breath.

  John moved infinitesimally, laying his fingers against her cheek and she stilled.

  Gilhouley’s mouth grew drier than the sand beneath him and his ears roared with the sound of his own pulse. The boat crept along at an impossibly slow speed. He could only pray that the men aboard were looking out to sea, because if they had a pair of binoculars…

  Beneath him, Gilhouley reached to touch his pocket and the spot where the violet lay.

  If there was ever a time when they needed a little luck, it was now.

  The boat continued to inch along.

  Gilhouley inwardly swore as the craft paused, wavered in their direction. But then, it began to move forward again, out of the cove.

  His heart slammed against his chest in relief, his breath escaping in a whoosh.

  The Japanese were moving on.

  The boat was about to make its way around the rocky shoreline to the north, when, from far away, Gilhouley heard the familiar growl of a seaplane—the tone higher than the boat’s had been.

  “Shit, not now!”

  But Napoli had definitely arrived. Just as the boat disappeared around the point, the plane came roaring over the beach, waggling his wings when Napoli apparently saw them. He pointed the aircraft out to sea again, turned, and was beginning his descent, when the Japanese patrol boat shot from behind the rocky outcropping.

  “Move, move, move!” Gilhouley shouted.

  He and his men threw themselves to their feet as John quickly scooped Glory Bee from the stretcher. As the soldiers formed a protective circle around him, the plane came in steep and fast, slamming into the surf, then turning so abruptly that it threatened to tip over as it came as close as it could to stopping in the bobbing waves.

  Gilhouley and his men charged into the wa
ter. But the plane was still yards away and the boat was speeding toward them.

  Fighting against the breakers and the current, they held their rifles over their heads, grabbing hold of John’s shirt, turning him, towing him, so that he could support Glory Bee as the water grew deeper and it became necessary to swim. Kicking furiously, Gilhouley tried to calculate the distance before the boat would be in firing range. They had to hurry. They had to hurry!

  Finally, Kilgore managed to hook an arm around one of the pontoons. Seconds later, Berman reached the plane, then hoisted the man up so that he could open the rear door, Gilhouley and Baptiste kicked frantically in order to reach the pontoon as well.

  As soon as Berman was inside, he lay on his stomach, reaching down.

  “Give her to me!”

  The men hauled Glory Bee’s limp body into the plane.

  “In!” Gilhouley shouted to John.

  He could see that John meant to resist, so he grabbed him by the belt and yanked upwards. At the same time, Berman reappeared, reaching down to grasp John and pull him into the plane. Then, within seconds, the two men appeared yanking the rest of the men aboard as bullets hit the water a few feet beyond where they’d been.

  “Get out of here, now, now, now!” Gilhouley shouted.

  Before they could even latch the door completely shut, Napoli pulled back on the throttle. As the seaplane roared forward, then up, up, and out of range, the Japanese sent off one final volley of bullets, hitting the fuselage with a tinny thunk, thunk, thunk. Then they were climbing so steeply that Gilhouley had to grab onto one of the seats ahead of him to keep from sliding to the rear of the plane.

  Then, they were leveling out.

  “Anybody hurt?” Gilhouley called out.

  “Dammit all to hell, would you look at that?” Petey shouted, pointing to a bullet hole in the metal between his legs. “Those damned Japs nearly took out the Peterman family jewels!”

  And for some reason, after everything that had happened, that statement was enough to have all of the men laughing and slapping him on the back. Their relief was so palpable, that Gilhouley sagged beneath the sheer intoxication of it all.

  But his joy at their narrow escape was short-lived when he looked in John’s direction and saw him bending low over Glory Bee.

  A glance at her side told Gilhouley the wound had opened again. And this time, it was bleeding like a sonofabitch.

  He woke to the sun sliding across his cheekbones and frowned.

  There was something different.

  Something wrong.

  Blinking, he slowly pushed himself up enough to peer through the window. The sun was high in the sky and the camp was quiet. Too quiet.

  Leaning over, he nudged Kilgore in the ribs. “Wake up,” he whispered.

  Kilgore grunted, but his eyes eventually flickered open. Hissing, he moved slowly, his body feeling the aches and pains they all fought. Then he scrubbed his face with his hand.

  “What?” He realized how late it was even before the word was uttered. “What the hell? Did we sleep through tenko?

  “Doesn’t look like it. No one else is up either.” He peered over the edge of the window again. “I can’t see the guards.”

  “You’re shitting me.”

  “No. I really can’t see any guards—not in the tower, not at the gate.”

  The two men rolled to their feet as the rest of the hut began to rouse. The whispering began, the low curses.

  The other huts must have awakened at about the same time, because men began filing into the compound, confused.

  “They’re gone!” one of them finally shouted. “The Japs are gone!”

  Kilgore caught his gaze and the two of them hurried to the door.

  “Maybe it’s a trap,” Kilgore muttered as they stepped out into the sunshine. “You read the note from the Padre. They wait until we make a move and then—bam! They’ve got the perfect excuse to throw us in a hole and set us on fire.”

  “We don’t know if that really happened in the camp north of here or not. The information was gathered from gossip passed on by the villagers.”

  “Like hell, we don’t. Tanaka would do it in an instant.”

  More men were tumbling into the compound and the whispers were becoming murmurs, then shouts of joy. They were gone. Tanaka and his guards were gone.

  “Something’s wrong. It’s a trap,” Kilgore muttered.

  But he ignored him, already running toward the figure strung up between the posts.

  “Lieutenant, no! It’s a trap!”

  As if to give credence to his words, there was a low rumble. In the distance a convoy of troop transports appeared.

  But he didn’t care. He ran to Petey, fumbling with the knots in the rope.

  “Help me!” he shouted. “Help me get him down before they get here!” Then, he turned back to his task, swearing when his fingers couldn’t work the bindings free.

  Then suddenly, Kilgore was there, then another soldier and another. Feverishly, they fought to untie him while another prisoner supported his body. Then, at long last, as a pair of soldiers jumped from the lead truck to open the gates, Petey sagged, the ropes came free, and they dragged his battered body back to the hut.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Rosemary was about to leave her shift when she looked up to find a tall, grim-faced man striding toward her. He cradled a woman’s limp body in his arms, and behind him, trying to keep up, was Napoli.

  She rushed toward them, motioning for them to deposit the woman on one of the examining tables.

  “Gilhouley got caught by Colonel Ross as soon as we landed. He said to tell you he’ll be back when he can.”

  She nodded and quickly removed the bandages. The gunshot wound was angry and red, but it was the bleeding that concerned her most.

  “Alice!” she called to the woman across the tent. “Get Dr. Grimm. This woman is going to need surgery.”

  Alice sprinted from the tent and Rosemary turned to the man who’d carried the woman into the compound. “What’s her name?”

  He’d taken a place by the woman’s side and now held her hand.

  “Glory Bee. Glory Bee O’Halloran.”

  Rosemary looked up in surprise. “The stripper?”

  He nodded.

  She took a pail of water and a cloth and began cleaning the area.

  “She’s pregnant.” The man said baldly.

  “Do you know how far along she is Mr.…?”

  “John. John Macklin.” His eyes were dark, nearly black with his concern. “I-I don’t know how far along she is.”

  “Are you family?”

  He shook his head. “I…we’re…”

  “Listen, Mr. Macklin. We’re going to have to take the bullet out, then stop the bleeding and check for…any other injuries she might have sustained.”

  She saw Grimm rushing toward the hut, Alice in tow, so she turned her attention toward Napoli. “Get him out of here,” she said lowly.

  John’s expression grew so fierce she nearly took a step back.

  “No. I stay here. With her.”

  Rosemary knew when she had a fighter on her hands, and she could tell that his reasons for staying would seem to far outweigh hers for having him go. But the medical team would have enough to do in taking care of this woman’s wound.

  “No, Mr. Macklin. You can’t stay here. You’ll be in the way—and we have to work quickly. I promise you, I’ll stay with her; I’ll take care of her. And if she awakens before we give her anesthesia, I’ll tell her that you’re just outside the surgical compound. But you can’t stay here. Not if you want her to receive the best care possible.”

  She saw the moment her words sank in.

  “Napoli will take you outside and find you something to sit on. You can wait right outside the hut or get yourself something to eat. I’m sure Napoli could even scare up a drink for you, if you’d like. But you need to go. Now.”

  John nodded, bending to place a tender kiss on Glory Bee
’s forehead. For a moment, his hand lingered there, his thumb stroking her hair. Then he reluctantly backed away.

  • • •

  It was getting dark when Rosemary emerged from one of the surgical huts, but as she stretched the crick in her back, she wasn’t surprised to see John Macklin sitting on an upended crate just outside the door. As soon as she appeared, he jumped to his feet.

  Rosemary offered him a smile. “She’s doing well. The orderlies are moving her to one of the wards. She’ll be weak for a while from the surgery and the loss of blood, but as long as she doesn’t catch an infection, I think she’ll be fine.”

  He gripped his hat so tightly that the brim was crushed. “And the baby?”

  This time, she couldn’t help but laugh in relief. Here, in the midst of all the death and destruction of war, the medical staff had been privy to an innocent spark of life. “Last I checked, the heartbeat was fast and strong. I can’t tell you how delighted that made the medical staff. Is it yours?”

  “Yes,” he said without hesitation and a measure of pride.

  “Don’t worry. We’ll keep an eye on things.”

  John’s expression filled with such joy that Rosemary could scarcely believe the change it brought to his whole demeanor. When a pair of orderlies moved past with the stretcher bearing Glory Bee, his eyes followed them every step of the way to the nearby hut, which had been set up as a post-operative ward.

  “Can I see her?” he asked, gesturing toward the structure with his hat.

  “Sure. It’s pretty crowded in there—and Miss O’Halloran will be moved to a different bed in a little while—but Lieutenant Strickland is on duty. I’ve let Alice know that you’ll be staying with Miss O’Halloran.”

  “Thank you.”

  He quickly disappeared inside and Rosemary turned to search the camp. If Gilhouley were with Colonel Ross, it could be hours before…