Beside a Burning Sea

DAY FIFTEEN
A ballet of wood.
The scent of her within me.
Has spring felt so fresh?
The First to Fall


A talkative gull awoke Joshua and Isabelle just before dawn. They always slept closest to the cave’s entrance, for he liked to have a feel for the outside world, and she believed that the fresh air was healthier for their child. And so the gull only spurred the two of them to leave their sandy beds, and they started walking down the beach as the eastern side of the island was painted with a sapphire light.
Isabelle told him about her fight with Annie and their reconciliation at dinner. Joshua had siblings and understood that such confrontations were inevitable. Still, he was pleased to hear that they’d made amends, for while he realized that Isabelle had been trying to do what was right, she’d probably gone too far. He couldn’t recall seeing Annie so happy, and as much as he also wondered about her future, he hoped that her relationship with Akira would somehow endure.
The sky continued to lighten as they walked along the rocky shore. All his years on the sea had linked Joshua to the world above, and he often glanced upward to see how the young day was evolving. He realized that it would be a good day for war. Clouds were unseen. Wind was nonexistent. And visibility was limitless. If he were commanding planes or ships, he’d send forth as many as possible to seek and destroy.
Not wanting to think about war, he took Isabelle’s hand. She had always walked faster than he, as if she were forever late to her destination. And so he now slowed her down, forcing her to relax as he tried to do the same. She resisted for a moment, pulling him forward. But then she seemed to realize that no reason existed to hurry.
“You’re not on Benevolence,” he said, remembering how she’d constantly rushed about the decks.
She gently squeezed his bandaged hand at the mention of his ship. “Strange how that seems so long ago.”
“Maybe because so much has changed.”
“Like what?”
“Like you being pregnant. Like Annie falling in love with a Japanese soldier. At this point, I don’t think I’d be surprised if I woke up tomorrow and the ocean was purple.”
“Well, for the moment it’s still blue.”
He smiled. “I’d forgotten how nice these walks can be.”
She sought his eyes. “On Benevolence, did you . . . did you try to forget such things?”
“What do you mean?”
Isabelle suppressed a grimace at a sudden cramp in her belly. “I didn’t let myself think about those things at sea,” she said. “Things like nice walks. There was just too much else to think about. I mean . . . how could I attend to my patients if I were daydreaming about home?”
“What about at night? Or when you were . . . washing your hair, or something like that?”
She shook her head. “I always thought about my patients. I asked myself who was going to die and who was going to live. And I tried to think of how I could help each person.” When he didn’t respond, she looked up at his face. “I’m sorry I didn’t think about you, Josh. I wanted to. But . . . but I just couldn’t. And maybe that’s one of the reasons why we drifted apart.”
“Don’t be sorry. You saved so many of them. And there’s still plenty of time to save me.”
“I don’t think I need to save you anymore. You’ve saved yourself.”
“That’s not true. If you weren’t here I wouldn’t have . . . climbed out of the hole I was in.” He inhaled the sea’s scent through his nose and deeply into his lungs, enjoying the sensation. “A few days ago you mentioned a little house by the ocean. Can you tell me about it? I’d like to hear more.”
She stepped over a bloated jellyfish. “It needs to be old,” she replied, speaking slowly, which was unusual for her. “Old so that we can fix it. A once-proud house that’s been forgotten.”
“And what about the nursery?”
“Oh, I suppose there will have to be ships in it.”
“Even if it’s a girl?”
“Especially if it’s a girl.”
Joshua smiled at her response, understanding all that it meant. “And you really want me to teach you how to sail?”
“Why should you get to have all the fun? I can be a captain too.”
“You’d run a tight ship. So tight that you’d probably get a few extra knots out of her.”
“More than a few, I’d say.”
He grinned, glancing from the sea to the sky to her face. “I’m so lucky to have you,” he said, his voice growing slightly more serious. “I just don’t know how I’d manage without you. I don’t even like to think about it.”
“You’d manage.”
He stopped and turned to her. “That isn’t true, Izzy. In fact, nothing could be farther from the truth. And I thought about you a lot,” he said, touching the tip of her nose with his forefinger. “All those long hours on the bridge. You were with me more than you knew.”
“I was?”
“I wanted us to be like we once were. When we were young.”
“Remind me what that was like.”
“Like this,” he replied, scratching absently at a bug bite. “We took walks. We talked. We laughed a lot.”
“I remember laughing.”
“So do I.”
“Do you think the war changed us,” she asked, “or did we change on our own?”
“What do you think?”
Isabelle took his hand and started walking again. “I think . . . I think we let the war change us.”
“I—”
“And I don’t want anything to change us again. No matter where life takes us. We could have a sick child, or you could be out of work. But even those things shouldn’t change us, Josh. Not like the war did. I don’t want to keep trying to go back to who we once were. I don’t want to feel myself slipping away from you.”
Joshua considered her words. “The last thing I took for granted is gone,” he said. “And I miss that ship. I really do. And I’m not comparing you to a ship, but for a long time I’ve taken you for granted, and I’m not going to make that mistake anymore.”
“But the war. Even once our child’s born you’ll still have a war to win.”
“And I’ll fight that war. For our child. For us. For Poles and Parisians and Jews and Chinese. For people we’ve never met.” He saw a flat rock and skipped it into the surf. “And then one day it will be over. And, God willing, I’ll come home that day.”
“You’d better come home, Joshua.”
He touched her belly. “I won’t leave you two alone.”
“Promise?”
“I do.”
She glanced at their surroundings. “We could wait the war out . . . on this island.”
“No,” he said, shaking his head. “Not us. That’s not who we are.”
Isabelle nodded, knowing he was right, surprised at herself for even mentioning it. “Then I want to ask you something,” she said.
“What?”
“After we’re rescued, give me a week. I want a week of just you. A week in a place like this. Then you can go and do what needs to be done. And I’ll have everything ready when you finally come home.”
Joshua tried to smile, but having grown so used to her presence, the thought of being separated was suddenly hard for him to ponder. “We’ll take two weeks,” he said, reaching over to draw her toward him. He held her tightly, kissing her brow, his hand on her belly.
“I think we deserve that.”
“I love you, Izzy. I love you, and I won’t be pulled away from you. I won’t let even this godforsaken war do that to us again.”

RATU SCRUTINIZED THE NEARBY beach with immense care. Bordered by tide pools, rocks, and the ocean, the section of sand was about forty feet long and twenty feet wide. Deciding on a course of action, Ratu took a spear, set its point into the sand, and began to walk. Dragging the weapon behind him, he created a rectangle that used most of the available sand. At each end of the rectangle he then placed a pair of coconuts set about five feet apart.
“These are the goals,” he said eagerly to Jake. “If you kick the ball through the coconuts, you score a goal.”
“And you ain’t gonna use your hands?”
“Only a goalie can use his hands.”
“So I can?”
“You’re not a bloody goalie, Big Jake. In this game, no hands.”
Jake looked at the round sponge Ratu had found. Nodding toward it, he said, “So I gotta kick that darn thing?”
“What have I been telling you? Of course you bloody well have to kick that darn thing. If you kick it through my two coconuts, you score a goal.”
Picking up the sponge, Jake tossed it up and caught it. He then dropped it and tried to kick it in midair. Missing badly, he lost his balance and had to step sideways to regain it. “How about a larger sponge?” he asked. “I’d rather peel potatoes with a spoon than kick that thing.”
“Just kick it, Big Jake. I tell you, it’s not hard,” Ratu said as he walked toward the middle of his field. Setting the sponge down, he turned toward Jake. “You can have the ball first.”
“I reckon we should call it a sponge.”
“Bugger off, Big Jake. It’s a ball. Now try to kick it by me and into my goal.”
Jake stepped toward the sponge. Seeing how Ratu had positioned himself between it and his goal, Jake attempted to kick the sponge around him. However, the kick mainly served to send sand flying into the air. The sponge went almost straight up, and before Jake knew what was happening, Ratu darted forward, kneed the sponge in midair, and sent it sailing over Jake’s head. Ratu raced around Jake, shouting triumphantly. He kicked the sponge several times before blasting it through Jake’s goal.
“The great Ratu scores first!” Ratu shouted, holding his arms up and spinning around in tight circles.
“That’s good,” Jake said, “get yourself real nice and dizzy. That ought to help me.”
“You need to learn how to kick, Big Jake!” Ratu exclaimed, laughing. “How can someone as big and strong as you not know how to kick?”
“How can someone so little be so darn ornery?”
“Oh, put a sock in it, mate. Do I need to explain the game to you again? I’m happy to do so. It’s not hard. I tell you, it’s not. Just use that giant foot of yours. If only I had a foot like that! I’d be playing for Fiji in the bloody World Cup!”
Ratu again placed the sponge in the middle of the field. Though Jake managed to kick it forward ten feet, Ratu quickly intercepted the sponge, kicked it around Jake, and scored. “Ha!”
“Ha yourself.”
“And another brilliant goal for the great Ratu!” he said, holding his fist before his face, pretending to be a radio announcer. “Fiji leads America two goals to nil! And the crowd is leaping with excitement at this historic match!”
Jake smiled, suddenly remembering what it was like to be a boy and play such games. “The Americans have put in their star player,” he added, trying without much success to impersonate another announcer.
“Yes, Jake the Giant has entered the game,” Ratu replied, laughing. “His left foot is legendary. He’s been known to kick cows from Missouri to the Big Apple Pie!”
“And the ball’s in play!” Jake said, trying to kick the sponge around Ratu. To Jake’s delight, the sponge rolled over Ratu’s outstretched leg. Jake leapt forward, surprising Ratu with his quickness. After catching up to the rolling sponge, Jake kicked it as hard as he could. The sponge sailed into the air, rising above one of the coconuts that marked the edge of the goal.
“A miss!” Ratu shouted, giggling deliriously. “A wide-open goal and a miss!”
“No, no, no,” Jake said, still pretending to be an announcer. “A goal. It hit the post and went in!”
“Is that the official ruling, Peter?”
“Yes . . . William . . . that’s what the umpire said.”
“The umpire?” Ratu repeated, laughing. “He’s a referee!”
“A goal! He said it went in.”
Continuing to giggle, Ratu retrieved the sponge. “Jake the Giant has put the Yanks on the board,” he said, throwing the sponge to Jake.
Jake placed the sponge in the middle of the field and had hardly removed his hands when Ratu kicked it forward. “I ain’t ready to—”
“The Fijians have a breakaway!” Ratu shouted, his laughter making it hard for him to run quickly.
Jake hurried to catch Ratu, who was having a tough time kicking the sponge in the furrowed sand. Ratu’s giggles were infectious, and suddenly Jake was chuckling as his opponent tried to keep him at bay. “Hey, now!” Jake said, trying to get around Ratu. “No pushing with them hands!”
“Get away from me, Jake the Giant! Get those monster feet away from me!”
“Stop pushing me!”
“Get stuffed!” Ratu said, his hands pressing against Jake’s belly. “You’re too bloody big!”
Jake made a halfhearted attempt to kick the sponge, and then could only laugh as Ratu sent it sailing between the coconuts. Falling to the sand, Jake watched Ratu collect the sponge. Ratu then threw it against Jake’s stomach. Sand went flying in all directions, spraying Jake’s face. Ratu laughed while Jake tried to spit out the sand, and Jake reached out and tripped him, sending him sprawling. Jake took the sponge and rubbed it on Ratu’s head.
“Stop it!” Ratu shrieked.
“And a fight’s started between the Fijians and the Americans!” Jake shouted in his fake accent, pretending to punch Ratu.
“Get off of me, you big, bumbling Yank!”
“Jake the Giant is hammering away at the great Ratu!”
Ratu rose to his knees and dove into Jake’s stomach. Jake acted as if the blow stunned him. Grunting loudly, he dropped to the beach and appeared to fall unconscious. Ratu shouted jubilantly, and once more kicked the sponge through Jake’s goal. “A four-to-one victory for the Fijians!” he said, his laughter causing his voice to rise in pitch. “It’s over. The game is over, and Jake the Giant is done for the day!”
Jake continued to chuckle as Ratu pranced and shouted around him, then leapt upon his back, pretending to hit him repeatedly in the upper body. Throwing his arms behind him, so that they encircled Ratu, Jake stood up and began to run toward the sea.
“No!” Ratu yelled, still laughing. “I don’t fancy getting wet!”
“I reckon you don’t!”
“No, I tell you! No, Big Jake! Please don’t—”
Jake plunged into the sea. When it was up to his waist, he turned around and fell backward so that Ratu was thrust underwater. Ratu immediately surfaced and dove at Jake. Ratu was laughing and shrieking, and Jake caught a glimpse of what it must be like to be a father. He reveled in that glimpse, rejoicing in the simple but perfect pleasure of playing with Ratu. For the first time since he’d been a child, Jake felt like a child. And that feeling of youth, of forgotten memories being reborn, bound him to Ratu with a strength that he hadn’t known.
Since he’d become a man, Jake had loved no one beyond his family. While he’d delighted in the land beneath his feet, and once touched a woman’s face and felt drawn to her, he’d never met a stranger and had that stranger run into his heart. He hadn’t sought such an experience and hadn’t expected to celebrate its passage. But now, as he threw Ratu high into the air, Jake realized that he loved this boy. He wanted to protect him, to hear his laugh, to feel his touch. He wanted to watch him grow, and to take pride in his journey.
This was Jake’s secret—that he’d discovered a boy who made him feel like a father, made him realize that the greater good didn’t solely apply to a nation at war. Perhaps the greater good was also making a boy smile. Perhaps it was ensuring that this wonderful boy returned to his family.
Jake had left his farm to join the fight against fascism. He’d left expecting to see death and pain and misery, and though he’d seen such sights, he hadn’t expected his most profound experience to be a simple and unexpected discovery—the realization that his greatest hope was that a boy would survive the war and be reunited with his family.
I’ll bring him home, Jake promised himself. Whatever happens on this darn island, ain’t nothing gonna stop me from bringing Ratu home.

ROGER KNELT NAKED atop the hill, a cigarette between his lips, his fingers fine-tuning the radio’s dial. “Ronin to Edo,” he said. “Repeat. Ronin to Edo. Over.”
The static that assaulted Roger’s ears disappeared. “Edo here. How are the cherry blossoms?”
“Always best under a full moon.”
“Agree. How was the storm?”
“Fine. Nothing’s changed here.”
“Mother coming to roost in two days. Understood?”
“Yes.”
“Rendezvous at north side of landing area. At highest ground. Stay hidden. I will find you.”
“Understood. What should I expect after rendezvous?”
For a few heartbeats, the static returned. Then Edo said, “You will lead me to the eight chicks. They will be terminated.”
“Good.”
“I will wear a sword and a pistol. Look for me.”
“Understood. Over.” Roger waited for a reply, and when one didn’t come, he removed his headset. “Two days,” he said happily, filling his lungs with the rich, glorious smoke.
Roger closed his eyes, thrilled by the prospect of leading Edo and his men to the survivors, relishing the thought of the resulting confrontation. Such conflicts had been the best part of his life for nearly two decades. He’d gone to great lengths to manufacture them and was rarely disappointed with how they unfolded. In this case, he’d get to witness the deaths of those who so incessantly tormented him—the skirts who scorned him, the Nip who wasn’t afraid, the runt who never shut his mouth. He’d even kill one or two such oppressors—surely the Nip and perhaps the maggot captain. And everyone would know, just before they died, that he’d betrayed them, that he was stronger and smarter and more cunning than they’d ever imagined.
Roger sucked hard on his cigarette and started to stow his radio. As he did, he noticed a distant flash of light. The flash came from atop a faraway hill. Recognizing the location as being close to the cave, his heart plummeted as he squinted toward the glare. Almost immediately, he realized that someone, most likely Scarlet, was watching him through the binoculars.
Cursing himself for his appalling carelessness, Roger leapt upward—his cigarette dropping to the ground, his muscles and instincts sprung from the cage that had confined them for so long. His shoes and shorts he swiftly put on; his shirt he left where it lay. He began to hurry down the hill, running in great bounds, moving more like a mountain lion than a man. The land blurred beneath him. The wind tugged at his hair. Jumping over boulders rather than circumventing them, he kept his arms outstretched for balance. Though reeling with misgivings about his recklessness, overconfidence, and stupidity, as the chase unfolded, he became increasingly calm and even happy. It felt good to be running again, exhilarating to be approaching someone who’d soon die at his hands.
Roger entered the jungle as swiftly and precisely as a needle piercing cloth, aware that she’d be running by now, but that she wouldn’t be fast enough.

FOR SEVERAL DAYS, Scarlet had enjoyed watching the large bird that nested near the top of the distant hill. Though she hadn’t recognized the species, she’d grown to understand the gray-and-white-feathered creature, which liked to dive into the sea, to clasp a fish within its talons, and return to its nest to devour its prey. Scarlet had decided to keep a mental diary of all such birds she’d seen, and upon returning to America, research which species she’d been fortunate enough to study. If she was going to remain stranded in such an awful place, she was determined to leave with at least one positive experience. And that experience would be birds.
With more curiosity than surprise, Scarlet had turned her binoculars from the nesting bird to Roger. Like her, he often seemed to want to escape the confines of the cave and the conversations inside it. So when she had first seen him climbing, she’d thought that he was merely seeking quieter ground. However, she’d been immensely perplexed when he’d taken off his clothes and started to dig; further so when he removed what looked to be a case of some sort. Focusing the binoculars, she’d risen from beneath the shade of a stunted tree and watched as he opened the case. To her surprise, he’d started smoking a cigarette.
It had taken Scarlet some time to comprehend that he was talking on a radio. When she’d finally realized what was happening, she became quite confused. Who was he talking to? And why did he have a secret radio? She had finally come to the awful conclusion that Roger wasn’t who he appeared to be, and with trembling hands, she’d watched him remove his headset. She’d then lowered the binoculars to wipe the sweat from her eyes, and when she’d placed them back against her face, she saw that he was looking directly at her. And then he was running, moving like a madman down the hill, his arms and legs swinging to and fro.
Her heart leaping, Scarlet hurried toward the jungle below. The way was littered with loose gravel and large boulders. Grunting, she climbed over the boulders as quickly as she could. The gravel proved treacherous, and several times she slipped and fell. Though the hill wasn’t as tall as many on the island, it was steep, and she was forced to occasionally slow lest she tumble to her death.
Even though the cave was fairly distant, Scarlet screamed for help. She knew that Roger was coming to kill her, and she continued to shout in hopes that someone might be nearby. Thinking of her brothers and how they’d always looked after her, she began to cry. She frantically called their names, as if they might somehow protect her again. Her thoughts and movements growing clumsy, she stumbled down the hill. Unable to stop, she ran directly at a boulder, spinning away from it at the last second and twisting her knee in the process. Though her terror was overwhelming, an immense pain suddenly consumed her.
Limping, Scarlet struggled downward. “Joshua!” she screamed, her crushing fear causing her voice to tremble. “Jake! Nathan! Akira! Help me! Please help me!”
Her foot struck an exposed root and she fell. Moaning, she willed herself to get up. Having seen a great deal of death but having never given much thought to her own, she started to sob. She called repeatedly for her brothers, her vision obscured by tears and grit. She tripped again and this time was slower to rise.
“Help!” she shrieked, finally reaching the bottom of the hill. She’d left a spear against a tree and grabbed it as she hurried past. The cave wasn’t far now. In a few more minutes she’d be there.

ROGER SWEPT THROUGH the jungle as if it were on fire behind him. He did not waste a single step or second. His path was straight, his legs and arms in constant motion. He leapt over fallen trees, rocks, and even a fairly wide stream. He heard Scarlet screaming not far ahead and her cries served to guide him. He cursed her for the screams, rage boiling within him. The thought of her ruining his carefully laid plans made him long to break her neck. She wouldn’t scream then, though she’d be able to watch him kill her. And kill her he would.
A branch grazed his arm hard enough that he winced. Still following her voice, he hurried past trees of all shapes and sizes, briefly reminded of the time that he’d chased a boy through Tokyo’s cluttered confines. The terrified boy had finally dashed across a street and directly into the path of a train. Its wheels had cut him in two, as if he’d been no more than a piece of meat beneath a butcher’s knife. Mesmerized by the enormous quantity of blood that had pooled from beneath the train, Roger had leaned against a lamppost and waited until the boy’s severed body was revealed.
The thrill of the chase propelling him forward as it had so long ago, Roger jumped over a log and suddenly saw his prey. Without hesitating, he launched himself in her direction.

SCARLET STUMBLED FORWARD. She heard a crack, turned around, and suddenly he was there. She screamed, thrusting her spear at him, her tremendous fear giving her a sudden surge of strength. Roger saw her thrust, instinctively spinning his body away from the threat. As the spear rushed past him, he brought his left hand down hard, breaking the weapon in two.
Scarlet shrieked and tried to run. His right hand open, Roger viciously chopped her on the side of the neck, and she crumpled. He then stepped beside her and stood motionless. After waiting for his throbbing lungs to quiet, he listened. He could hear only the distant pounding of the surf and the wind as it wrestled with the trees. Finally convinced that no one had heard her cries, he hid her broken spear under some nearby ferns. He lifted her up and put her over his shoulder. She moaned softly, and angered by the sound, he hit her on the side of the head. “Where the hell were you hiding?” he asked, pulling a fistful of her hair. “How did you pop up like that?”
Scarlet didn’t answer, whimpering.
Turning around, Roger walked toward the hill that she’d descended. He hardly felt burdened by her, and his progress was good. Soon he reached the hill. Soon he was climbing.
“Please . . . no,” she whispered, her vision and thoughts cloudy.
“Stupid of you to yell,” he responded, increasing his speed, attacking the hill as if it were another of his enemies. “You dumb old hag. Your pathetic cries brought me right to you.”
“My . . . my family. My little brothers. Please.”
“Your family thinks you’re dead. Your ship sank, remember?”
“I—”
“Do you know who sank it? Me. I sank it.”
“You?”
“I put that bitch on the bottom.”
“Please . . . for . . . for the love of God—”
“God has no love,” Roger said angrily, reaching the vantage point upon which Scarlet had looked for ships and birds. As she moaned and twisted atop him, he turned about, looking for the steepest section below. After locating what was more than a forty-foot drop, Roger lifted her from his shoulder. He then held her upright, so that her shoes struck the dirt near the precipice. “Are you scared?” he asked, enjoying the feel of her pounding heart.
“Please, don’t,” she muttered, her face lined with tears.
He lowered her enough so that her feet rested on the ground and he was able to give her belly a firm pinch. “You’ve been eating too much. Seen any other fat birds out there?”
“Why . . . why are you hurting me? Oh, please stop. Please.”
“Think you can fly like them?”
“I won’t . . . I won’t tell anyone. I . . . I swear it.”
“You’re right about that, you useless, used-up old hag.”
“But why are you . . . doing this?” she asked, shuddering as she wept.
“Because I want to see you pop,” he replied, pushing her forward into the abyss below. As she shrieked, he watched her plummet, watched her strike the distant rocks. Blood spread beneath her, and again he was reminded of Tokyo, the memory warming him.
Roger spent the next hour carefully removing all traces of her true fate from the hill. He used a leafy branch to brush away his footprints. He sought out Scarlet’s body—wiping the tears from her face and the grime from her hands. He then followed their paths into the jungle, again eliminating all signs of their struggle.
Only when he was certain that the others would deduce that she accidentally fell to her death did he finally return to his radio. Buoyed by the thrill of the chase and kill, he calmly lit a cigarette and then reached into the case, removing his pistol. He caressed the weapon, longing to smell the sweet stench of gunpowder, to feel the heat of the red-hot barrel. The weapon aroused him more than cigarettes or booze or women ever had, for it gave him an ultimate, godlike authority—the ability to destroy anyone who sought to torment him. He also knew that the gun would never betray him and that he could trust it to give him exactly what he wanted. It was his friend.
The gun was a part of his salvation. And he was about to use it.

MUCH LATER, AFTER THE AFTERNOON had arrived and departed, Joshua waded out into the water and looked up at the hill that served as Scarlet’s observation post. Squinting, he tried to catch a glimpse of her, but couldn’t see quite clearly enough to discern anything so small. “I don’t understand it,” he said worriedly to Isabelle. “She’s so good at giving her signals. She’s as reliable as any sailor I’ve met.”
Isabelle stepped closer to him. “When did she last contact you?”
“As soon as she got up there. Must have been seven or eight hours ago.”
“Well, then, we should check on her.”
“We?”
“I could use a walk.”
Joshua nodded, wading back to the beach. He entered the cave to find and fill a canteen. After doing so, he and Isabelle left the cave and walked along the beach. They hadn’t gone far when they saw Annie and Akira, who were talking near a tide pool as they gathered mollusks for dinner.
“Where are you off to?” Annie asked, rising.
“To see Scarlet,” Isabelle replied. “She hasn’t signaled for hours. And we’re worried.”
Annie glanced at Akira. “How about joining them for a walk?”
“Of course.”
Annie carefully put their findings in a corner of the tide pool. She then stepped toward her sister, immediately noting the concern on Isabelle’s face. “Maybe she’s following a bird,” Annie offered.
Isabelle looked at the hill. “I hope so.”
The foursome proceeded down the beach, parts of which were inundated with dead fish. Earlier that morning, the fish had appeared. No one had understood how or why the fish had died until Nathan realized that they’d likely perished during the naval battle—perhaps poisoned by the oil of a sinking ship or killed by exploding shells. The fish, numbering in the hundreds, were now covered in crabs and flies. Joshua had thought about burying them so as to remove the stench, but needn’t have bothered—most of the fish were already half-eaten.
Arriving at the end of the cliffs, Joshua turned right and strode into the jungle. Isabelle, Annie, and Akira followed him. The jungle continued to seem quieter than before the typhoon. Only a few mosquitoes harassed them, and with the soil still somewhat damp, seldom did branches crack underfoot. The hill loomed above them and they soon started to climb. The way wasn’t easy, and as they struggled up the slippery rise, they called Scarlet’s name. No response came.
Reaching the top of the hill, they continued to shout her name and peer into the jungle. Joshua studied the distant surroundings and noted that no ships were present. The sea and sky were little more than two shades of blue that merged at the horizon. Annie and Isabelle were still calling out when Akira suddenly put his hands to his forehead.
“What?” Annie asked anxiously, reaching over to grab his arm. “Akira, what is it?”
He shook his head, biting his lower lip. “She is . . . gone.”
“Gone? What do you mean?”
“Below. Look below.”
For the first time since they’d been atop the hill, Joshua, Isabelle, and Annie looked nearly straight down. Far below, Scarlet lay motionless on her back. A large amount of blood made the rocks upon which she rested glisten. Her eyes appeared to be open and unmoving, and without question she was dead.
“Scarlet!” Annie screamed. “No, no, no!”
“Oh, Scarlet,” Isabelle muttered, stepping next to her sister, instinctively putting an arm around her.
“No!” Annie repeated, shaking her head. “It can’t be true! It can’t!”
“She must have—”
“But how?” Annie asked in disbelief, interrupting Isabelle. “How could she be gone? She told me that she was careful! She said . . . she said this place was safe!”
Joshua dropped his head in sorrow and frustration. He made a sign of the cross and briefly prayed for her. Only when his prayer was finished did he study the area before him, the spot from which Scarlet must have fallen. A flat, rectangular slab of rock perched atop the precipice. From the edge of the rock, the drop immediately commenced. Noting the loose sand atop the rock and how it tilted toward emptiness, Joshua realized how easily she might have slipped. “That rock’s not safe,” he said quietly. “She must have been looking through the binoculars, and slipped.”
“We should go to her, yes?” Akira asked, wanting to comfort Annie but feeling constrained by the presence of Joshua and Isabelle.
Sniffing, Annie led the way, retracing their steps, her misery causing her to stumble several times. “She was looking out for us,” Annie said. “We should have looked out for her. Oh, why didn’t we look out for her?”
No one responded, as each of their minds occupied a different realm. Isabelle wondered how they would bury her. Joshua asked himself if he’d made a mistake in granting her wish to search for ships. And Akira scanned the ground before him, believing that Scarlet was too careful and capable to fall from a cliff. However, as thoroughly as Akira looked, as near certain as he was that something was amiss, he saw nothing but their footprints.
After dropping to the approximate height of where Scarlet lay, the four survivors circumvented the hill. “Do you want to . . . see her?” Joshua asked, as Scarlet came into view.
“We’re nurses,” Isabelle replied. “And she was our friend. Of course we want to see her.”
Scarlet lay between two rocks. Her open eyes were bloodshot. Her face was red from being exposed all afternoon to the sun. The rocks below her were covered in blood. Just to be certain, Isabelle felt for a pulse. Finding none, she closed Scarlet’s eyes. “She’s been dead for hours,” Isabelle said softly.
Akira dropped to his knees. Though he felt bad for this woman—whom he hadn’t known well, but nonetheless liked—he forced himself not to mourn for her or to console Annie. Instead, his eyes examined Scarlet as quickly as possible, settling upon a bruise on her neck.
“Why are you looking at her like that?” Isabelle asked.
Though tempted to mention the oddity of the bruise, Akira decided that it wasn’t the time or the place to discuss such matters. “She was Christian, yes?” he asked, knowing that she was.
“Yes,” Isabelle answered. “And we should bury her now. Before Ratu sees her like this.”
No additional words were exchanged as Joshua lifted Scarlet. He followed Isabelle down the remainder of the hill and into the jungle. After carefully setting Scarlet upon the ground beneath an old tree, he used his hands to dig in the soft soil. Akira started working beside him.
Annie sniffed, absently wiping her nose. “We’ll . . . we’ll be back.”
“Where are we going?” Isabelle asked.
“Don’t bury her yet,” Annie said, taking her sister’s hand.
Joshua and Akira watched the two women disappear. Then they returned their attention to the hole, widening it between them. “Should I have let Scarlet go?” Joshua asked, pulling a root from the soil. “Maybe it should have been my job to watch the sea.”
Akira picked up a flat rock and used it to dig. “She wanted to go, yes?”
“She did.”
“Then your choice was correct.”
Joshua continued to dig. “Why did you kneel so close to her? I know that Buddhists kneel, but I don’t think you were praying.”
“I will pray later,” Akira replied. “Please look at her neck.”
Leaning toward Scarlet, Joshua quickly spied the bruise. “What do you make of it?”
“Something soft hit her there. A rock would scratch, yes? But she has no scratches.”
Joshua touched the heavy binoculars that were still draped around her neck and amazingly were unbroken. “These could easily do it.”
“Easily? So sorry, but I think not. The bruise is too thin and long.”
“But it had to be the binoculars. Nothing else makes sense.”
Akira started to dig again, his pulse quickening with the scenes that formed in his mind. “The edge of a hand could leave such a mark.”
“A hand? You’re saying she was killed? But why? There’s no one else on this island. There’s—”
“There is Roger. And where was he today?”
“Roger’s a brute, and a dangerous one at that, but he wouldn’t kill Scarlet. There’s just no motive.”
Lifting a rock from the soil, Akira continued to dig. “May I tell you something?”
“Please don’t ask me that question again. Tell me whatever you’d like.”
“When I was interrogating the prisoner, we spoke in Japanese.”
“I remember.”
“He asked me to fight with him, to attack you while he attacked Roger. And when he asked me this I think . . . I think I saw Roger tense, as if preparing to defend himself.”
“You believe that he understood you?” Joshua asked incredulously. “That he speaks Japanese?”
“I am saying that he appeared to understand me. And perhaps he is not who you think he is. Perhaps Scarlet saw something that she was not supposed to.”
Joshua didn’t immediately respond, though he stopped digging, his face tightening in consternation. “Mother Mary, are you sure?” he asked, wondering if Roger had betrayed them. The mere thought of such treachery nauseated him.
“I am not sure. Perhaps.”
“But . . . but could you test him? Could you somehow test him?”
Voices emerged from the jungle, and Akira nodded. “I will test him in the morning. Be ready.”
Joshua stared at Scarlet’s bruise, reeling at the possibility of Roger being responsible for the sinking of Benevolence. Forcing himself to start digging once more, he glanced up at the approaching figures of Isabelle and Annie. “Where did you go?” he asked in an unsteady voice as Isabelle emerged from behind a bush.
She gave him an odd look and then pointed behind her to Annie, who carried several beautiful bird feathers. “She loved birds,” Annie said softly, her face wet with tears and sweat. “So it seemed . . . like they should travel with her.”
Akira nodded, proud of her for thinking such thoughts, and disappointed in himself for not properly honoring Scarlet. Pushing his conversation with Joshua from his mind, he bowed slightly to Annie. She sat beside him, and for the first time she openly held his hand in the presence of others. He looked into her bloodshot eyes and felt a sudden urge to pull her against him. Instead he squeezed her hand, which caused tears to tumble down her face.
Joshua carefully lifted Scarlet’s body into the hole. Annie leaned forward and placed two feathers in each of Scarlet’s hands. The feathers were green and red, likely from one of the many parrots that inhabited the island. “She just wanted to go home,” Annie said. “To go home to her family.”
“Let us hope that she still will,” Akira replied.
The four of them knelt on the damp earth and prayed. The Christians prayed that Scarlet was in heaven, and that her family would find the strength to handle her death. The Buddhist prayed that she was being reborn and that her path toward Nirvana was growing short.
After everyone had opened their eyes and it appeared as if each was no longer praying, Joshua said quietly, “I’ll bury her.” Looking from Isabelle to Annie, he added, “I know that you’re her friends, but friends don’t . . . they don’t need to see everything. So please go back to camp and wait for me.”
Akira bowed to Joshua and then rose. Wordlessly, Annie and Isabelle followed him as he stepped away from the old tree, from the spot that would cradle Scarlet forever. Joshua sadly watched his wife depart, wishing that tomorrow he could take her to the house she wanted by the sea. Scooping up handfuls of soil, he began to bury Scarlet. He buried her from the feet upward, because he knew that it would be most difficult to place the dirt on her face. And he was right. When the soil covered her mouth, he knew that at least upon Earth, she would never taste again. When it covered her nose, he knew that whatever scents she held dearest were forever gone to her. And when it covered her eyes, he shook his head in profound sadness, for she’d never again look upon her brothers or her birds, and from what little he knew of her, it seemed that she’d miss these sights the most.

THAT NIGHT THE FIRE burned lower than usual, as if flames were by nature jovial and they too were in mourning. No one bothered to add additional branches or to stir up hot coals. The remnants of dinner sat idle on a large leaf—unusual because such leftovers were always immediately tossed into the sea. Conversation, which had been rare, tended to focus on either Scarlet or a desire to go home. Ratu had taken her death hard and now sat almost motionless on a log, his fingers wrapped around the shark-tooth necklace.
Joshua, who wore the binoculars, occasionally left the cave and searched the moonlit seas for ships. A formation of Zeros had flown over the island not long after he’d buried Scarlet. They’d proceeded due east, several trailing smoke and one flying erratically.
A year earlier, Joshua would have felt guilty about having his duty supersede his desire to quietly reflect upon and pray for a fallen comrade. But he’d since learned that if he didn’t adhere to his duty, he’d end up watching others die. And so he alternated between talking quietly with Isabelle and inspecting the seas.
Akira sat away from the fire, near the entrance of the cave. Annie was close by, and though they conversed, she was much less talkative than usual. Not surprised by her desire for silence, and not wanting to intrude upon it, Akira surreptitiously watched Roger and formulated a plan. Though uncertain whether Roger could speak Japanese, Akira’s instincts told him that Roger was hiding something.
Akira’s plan was almost complete when Annie found his eyes. “Can we go for a walk?” she asked quietly.
He nodded and rose to his feet. Outside, the thick air was warmer than it had been for several days. The night was clear, and the light from the moon and stars faintly illuminated the island and sea. Akira thought about how this part of the world now lay within an infinite shadow, and how in North Africa and in the Soviet Union and in the swells of the Atlantic, men were fighting beneath the bright sun.
“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to death,” Annie said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve seen hundreds die, but . . . but they all seem to hit me.”
He helped her circumvent a tide pool. “That is good.”
“Good?”
“That means you are still alive. I have seen men who are used to death, and they are as dead as the people who lay lifeless before them.”
She continued to hold his hand after they had rounded the pool. “Nanking, it didn’t . . . do that to you? It didn’t harden you?”
An image of the little girl flashed before him. “Nanking will always, always be a wound within me. But even though that wound almost killed me, I still live.”
She sighed, intertwining her fingers with his. “No one should have such wounds. It’s not right. To fight two world wars in twenty years isn’t right.”
“There cannot be a third.”
“With men ruling the world? That seems wishful thinking.”
They walked in silence, their feet moving from stone to sand to stone. Akira still wasn’t used to holding a woman’s hand in the open, as he had never done such a thing; it was frowned upon in his country. But the feel of her palm against his greatly warmed him. “May I tell you something?” he asked, wanting to share his feelings with her, hoping that they might give her solace in her time of need.
“If you want to.”
“I would like to tell you that you are . . . my greatest discovery.”
“What? What do you mean?”
He glanced at her eyes, which seemed almost too full for her somewhat girlish face. “As a boy, I discovered small worlds within mountains. As a young man, I discovered words. And now I have discovered you. And that discovery has . . . it has made me complete.”
Annie sighed, suddenly disbelieving that much good existed in the world. “But, Akira, you’ve never been around women. Maybe . . . it’s like you’re on a ship, looking for new land. Maybe I’m just the first land that you’ve encountered. But beyond me there’s probably a much greater place.”
He smiled. “I enjoy it when you speak like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like you are painting something.”
“But how do you know your feelings for me are real when you’ve never had such feelings before? Maybe you’re not experienced enough to know the difference between what’s fantasy and what’s real.”
He spied a sand dollar and handed it to her. “Perhaps I do not want to continue looking for other lands. Perhaps I have found a home that inspires me. Why would I look for something new when I have discovered something beautiful? Something magical?”
“I can be na?ve and shortsighted and foolish, and there’s really nothing magical about me.”
“But that is my choice, yes?”
“What do you mean?”
“To understand my own contentment, and to stay on that land rather than looking for something else.”
“Maybe,” she answered, stroking the sand dollar. “But my country fights yours, and we don’t know what the future will bring. And that frightens me. Scarlet just went to look for some birds, and now she’s dead. How do we know what’s going to happen tomorrow? I know that I love you. But is that enough? How can that be enough when it can be taken from us?”
Akira continued to walk, searching for the right words. “I am new to love, yes? So I know very little. But a coin, a house, an arm . . . these are things. And things can be taken. But love is a feeling, and how can someone take a feeling?”
“A bullet can take all sorts of things, Akira. I’ve seen it happen too many times.”
He sighed, unsure of how to respond, unsure of how he felt. “A bullet can take a life,” he finally said. “It can pull a daughter from a mother or a husband from a wife. And that . . . thievery can cause more pain than we were built to endure. But Buddhists believe . . . I believe that people who find each other in this life will find each other again in the next.”
“And love makes that possible?”
“Yes.”
“How can you have such faith in a time of such madness?”
“Because I saw her. The little girl. I was dying, and I saw her. And she was happy. She was at peace. And if I am to die, you must think of me as being in this same place.”
A tear tumbled down Annie’s face. “But I haven’t seen this place, Akira. It’s not fair for you to expect that of me. You can’t . . . leave me and expect that.”
He stopped, turning to her, watching a tear drop from her chin, gently tracing the tear’s trail with his forefinger. “You are right,” he said softly, understanding and sharing her fear. “And I am so sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. I know what you’re trying to do.” She put her arms around him and pulled him close, squeezing him even tighter when she heard him smell her skin. “I think a feeling can be taken,” she said, her voice growing more resolute. “And I don’t want . . . to experience that. I don’t want Isabelle to either. So whatever you have to do to keep that from happening, will you do it? Will you please do it?”
Akira closed his eyes, aware of her body against his and the comfort that this encounter generated. “You will see another side of me,” he said, worried that such a sight might drive her from him.
“I’m not afraid of that side. I know it’s not who you really are.”
He kissed her temple. “Thank you . . . for being you.”
She turned to him, pressing her lips against his. “And thank you for not sailing on.”
He smiled. “Only a fool would sail on, Annie. Who but a fool would find such land and sail on?”