Beside a Burning Sea

DAY SIXTEEN
There is no finding
Like the first feeling of love.
Crickets feast on song.
Paths Diverge


After finishing a breakfast of mango, when he knew that Roger’s eyes were surreptitiously upon him, Akira asked Joshua if he could borrow the machete. Joshua, realizing that Akira’s plan was unfolding, pretended to weigh his decision. Several awkward heartbeats passed before he reluctantly nodded. Akira bowed and then strode to where the weapon rose from the sand. Pulling it free, he walked from the cave and into the jungle.
Believing that his actions would prompt Roger’s interest, Akira forced Annie out of his thoughts. He couldn’t be distracted by her, even as pleasant as that distraction was. And so he focused on the task at hand. His field of vision sweeping the jungle, he headed toward a bamboo grove that he’d earlier discovered. In a few minutes, he found the spot and studied the uniform stalks of bamboo that rose like oversized green pipes from the moist soil. The stalks rubbed against each other, creating a discordant and somewhat eerie series of low groans.
Finally settling on a stalk that was about as thick as a woman’s wrist, Akira chopped hard with the machete, quickly creating a three-foot pole. Sweat gathering on his brow, he walked back to the cave, depositing the machete in the same spot as he’d found it. Glancing about, he saw that Annie and Isabelle had disappeared. Roger was pretending to fill a canteen, but his stare darted to Akira the way a snake’s tongue inspects the air.
Reminding himself of the American’s quickness, Akira carried his crude sword outside. Though he hadn’t held such a weapon since Nanking, memories of a real sword’s weight and feel flooded into him. Before he could push the thought aside, an image of practicing swordplay with his father flashed before him. His father’s face was unlined and untroubled and slightly bemused by the growing strength of his son’s thrusts.
Akira moved north along the beach, the sand leaving a temporary vestige of his passing. After a hundred or so paces, he turned toward the sea. Closing his eyes for a moment, he tried to bring the world into him, opening his mind to a kind of meditation—a process of purging and purifying thoughts, something that his father had taught him over many months. Akira heard, but didn’t see, a group of gulls far above. He smelled the salt, the decay, the scents that the wind bore to him from distant places. He felt the sun on his face and then on his back as he slowly turned from the sea to the island.
Though Akira would have liked to set the makeshift sword down and to properly meditate, he felt that a violent man would be drawn to violent acts. His experience had certainly taught him as much. During his years of war, he’d watched men seek out carnage almost as if it were an element, like air or water, that had to be brought into them so that they could live. And so he viciously swung his sword in a series of classic and complex attacks, the bamboo pole humming in his hands as it parted the space before it.
Though Akira hadn’t much liked to train with a katana, he’d known that doing so pleased his father, and he’d done it. And as the years had passed, he’d gotten quite good at it. He’d never been a brilliant pupil, for brilliance stems from joy, but he’d been fast and sure, and his father had often smiled at his feats.
As soon as Akira noticed Roger walking in his direction, he pretended to be slightly less skilled than was true. He brought his feet too close together. His cuts and blocks were a quarter heartbeat too slow. He even dropped the pole once, quickly picking it up and continuing with his thrusts.
Roger followed Akira’s footsteps. When the American was ten feet away, Akira lowered his weapon. “Fancy yourself a samurai?” Roger asked, smirking. Suddenly longing to throw Akira from a cliff in the same way that he’d killed Scarlet, Roger stepped closer. “The samurai are a lie,” he said. “Monkeys aren’t brave. They aren’t honorable.”
“But samurai were both,” Akira replied, his stance seemingly relaxed.
“You swing that stick like a girl trying to hit a bug.”
“Why are you here?”
“To learn how girls fight.”
“I wish you would leave.”
“Know what I wish, you goddamn Nip?” Roger asked, stepping closer, the need to bloody his adversary’s face suddenly dominating him. “I wish I could taste what you’re tasting.”
“I am tasting nothing.”
“How does the little bitch taste anyway? She looks so sweet. I’ll have to try her myself.”
Hating Roger’s words and wanting to be free of them, Akira started to respond, and then pretended to abruptly stop himself. “Do you . . . do you hear that?” he asked, furrowing his brow, feigning bewilderment.
“Hear what?”
“Can you hear them?”
“What? What are you talking about?”
“So many!”
“What the hell are you—”
“Planes,” Akira answered quickly in Japanese.
Roger’s eyes unconsciously darted upward. He saw a slice of blue and almost immediately realized that he’d been tricked. “Clever little monkey,” he replied, lunging for his adversary.
Akira had been expecting such an attack and stepped backward, simultaneously swinging his pole with all his strength. Though Roger was quick, Akira was quicker. His weapon struck hard against Roger’s unprotected side, breaking a rib. Most men would have doubled over and fallen at such a blow, but Roger merely grunted and let his momentum carry him into Akira. His rage at being tricked and then struck overwhelmed him, and Roger smashed his open palms into the sides of Akira’s head. Having extended himself in his attack, Akira was temporarily defenseless. Both men toppled backward. Akira was beneath his assailant and gasped when the air was hammered from his lungs by the force of Roger’s knee.
Akira struggled to breathe and fight, disbelieving Roger’s strength. He saw his adversary raise an open hand as he prepared to strike, but then Roger turned and realized that Joshua and Jake were running toward him. Still enraged, but not blinded by that rage, Roger rolled off Akira and began to run. Akira leapt from the sand and started after him. Though Akira knew that Roger moved like a deer, he’d been wounded, and even a deer can’t run well with an injured rib. And so Akira hurried after him, paying little heed to his throbbing head. Understanding that Roger had somehow betrayed the Americans and that Annie’s life was at risk, Akira ran as he never had. The sand and sea swept past him as if cars on a busy street. Soon Roger entered the jungle, and Akira rushed into the foliage, leaping over rocks and logs. Behind, Joshua and Jake struggled to keep up.
Cursing, Roger held his side with his right arm and swept deeper into the jungle, following a trail he’d secretly marked two days before. Small piles of rocks led him forward and, rounding a corner and recognizing two dead trees that he’d leaned against each other, Roger reached a smooth boulder and leapt forward as far as possible, hitting the ground hard, rolling to minimize the impact.
Akira hurried ahead, catching only glimpses of Roger, but following the sound of his ragged breaths. Roger’s tracks curved to the right, and suddenly his damp footprints disappeared. Somehow, despite his pain and fear and exhaustion, Akira realized that he was in danger. He tried to stop, his right foot sliding on firm ground and then going through the branches and leaves that Roger had placed above his trap. Feeling himself tilting toward and falling into the hole, Akira leapt off his left foot, propelling himself sideways. He managed to grab the trunk of a slender tree as the trap’s roof collapsed. The sapling bent and slowly broke, providing Akira the time to carefully drop into the pit. A spike scraped his calf, but he wasn’t impaled.
Akira shouted at Joshua and Jake to stop. They appeared in a few seconds, both sweating profusely. When Joshua saw Akira at the bottom of the stake-lined pit, he fell to his knees, pounded the ground with his fist, and shouted Roger’s name. Knowing that Roger had escaped, and that he was surely the reason for Benevolence’s sinking, Joshua screamed again in rage. He cursed Roger so loudly that his words seemed to reverberate throughout the jungle.
After kicking over the stakes, Akira climbed from the pit, reaching upward to take Jake’s hands. “Damn that man to hell,” Joshua muttered, dismayed that he’d let Roger escape.
“He can speak Japanese,” Akira said, his head aching from Roger’s blows.
Jake’s brow furrowed at these words. “But . . . I reckon that means—”
“That he betrayed us,” Joshua said. “He told them about a secret cargo that Benevolence was carrying. And he sank our ship, God help him.”
“If my countrymen land here, he will lead them to the cave,” Akira added, wiping blood from his calf. “And they will want to eliminate the survivors.”
Joshua thought of Isabelle and their unborn child. A sudden fear of their getting hurt caused an intense sense of panic to surge within him. “We’ll have to move again,” he heard himself say. “But where to? He knows the island better than any of us.”
An unseen bird squawked in the distance. Jake shifted a spear from one hand to the other, musing over a plan that had occurred to him several days ago. “I expect this soil’s used up,” he said, his mind surprisingly clear. “As used up as an old mule.”
“The soil?” Joshua asked. “What do you mean?”
Jake dug the butt of his spear into the ground. “You see, Captain, on a farm it don’t pay to stay put. Instead, you move your crops around, so that you raise wheat, then corn, then barley on the same spot of ground. You plant a new crop each season. Every darn one. That way you ain’t letting crops make the same demands on soil year after year. That way you get a healthy crop.”
“You’re saying . . . we should move? But where?”
“Move islands, Captain. Surprise that snake and put everyone on the lifeboat and move islands.”
“Roger could see us move. He’d just tell the Japanese.”
“Not if we left at night,” Akira interjected.
“But he’ll figure it out,” Joshua countered. “It just buys us time.”
“Better to buy time, yes, than nothing at all?” Akira asked.
Joshua tried to think, hating the feeling of helplessness that had suddenly swept into him. He worried about whether they could make a night passage of probably ten miles, knowing facts about boats and currents and patrols that neither Jake nor Akira understood. “Is there any chance of us catching up to him in the jungle?” he asked Akira.
Though a part of him wanted to continue along Roger’s trail, Akira couldn’t fathom leaving Annie so unprotected. “If we do, we leave the cave, yes?”
“Yes,” Joshua answered.
“And we might . . . we might regret that until our very last breath.”
Joshua found Akira’s eyes and nodded. “Then we’ll go back. And maybe we’ll find some new soil. And maybe this godforsaken war will at some point leave us alone.”
The three men hurried back toward the cave, their speed increasing as they neared the ones they loved.

AS IT ALWAYS HAD, pain propelled Roger forward. The ache in his side, though it raged as if a row of nails had been hammered into his rib, only served to further motivate him. Since he was eleven years old, Roger had used pain as a tool. During his childhood days in Tokyo and years later in Philadelphia, his enemies had often feared hurting him, for they knew that if he were bloodied his vengeance would be even more resolute.
As a boy, Roger had also feared pain. And the memory of this fear was one of his worst, as it reminded him of his tears, his misery, and, above all else, of the laughter that so belittled him. Hiding in pachinko parlors, under bridges, on trains, he’d been able to shut the laughter from his ears, but not from his mind.
And so Roger now exploited the pain in his side to remind him of the beatings and humiliations he’d once commonly endured, and this reminder served to drive him forward, to push him beyond the limits of what other people could do. He hadn’t been wounded in such a manner for many years, and his hatred toward Akira seemed to double with the passage of each aching step. As he climbed, he envisioned what torments he’d cast upon his foe the next DAY. Though the Japanese would certainly want to interrogate the traitor, Roger would ask Edo for that privilege.
In Tokyo, Roger’s cinder block home hadn’t been far from a polluted and concrete-bound creek. He had often sought refuge beneath nearby underpasses, and once his pursuers had vanished, he’d expend his anger on the creatures that dwelled there. Frogs were blinded. Turtles hurled into rocks. Snakes tied in tight knots.
Thinking of his afternoons alongside the creek, Roger wondered how the monkey would fare without his eyes or feet or tongue. Or with each of his ribs broken. Such thoughts warmed Roger like wine. They allowed him to repress the demons of his past, for each horror that he inflicted upon Akira would be a new memory to carry forward, a memory that would further obscure his recollections of misery.
Finally reaching the summit, Roger quickly uncovered his box. Immediately, he lit and sucked on two cigarettes, drawing the dense smoke deeply into his lungs. His broken rib protested this sudden movement and he grunted in pain. Cursing vehemently, he inhaled again, but more carefully.
With the cigarettes held between his lips, Roger focused on his supplies. He didn’t touch the radio. Instead he grabbed the pistol. The cool steel felt natural within his grasp, like a mere extension of his arm. He gripped the weapon tightly. He then pointed it at his throbbing side and pretended to shoot the rib that was so bent on torturing him.
Knowing that the ships must be close, Roger looked out at the sea. Nothing broke the flat horizon save a splattering of distant islands. Suddenly wanting the others to fear him, and hoping to trick them into believing that he’d remain far away, he held his weapon skyward and fired a single bullet. The crack of the gun seemed unusually loud, and in the jungle below birds took flight, seeking refuge from the foreign noise.
Wishing that he could see their anxious, pathetic faces, Roger rested the warm barrel of the gun against his aching side. He then set the pistol down and buried the box. Suspecting that his enemies would assume that he’d stay far removed from them, and realizing that they’d certainly change positions, Roger began the long walk back to the cave. His plan was to watch the others move and to follow them to whatever new hiding place they discovered. Tomorrow he’d bring Edo and his men directly to them.
Content with his plan and eager for the coming DAY, Roger hurried down the hill. With almost every painful stride, he violently cursed those on the other side of the island. He cursed them individually. He cursed them as one. And though his side throbbed, his mind remained clear enough to explore the intricate and delightful possibilities of what dawn would bring.

THE DISTANT GUNSHOT surprised everyone. On the beach outside the cave, they’d been talking about Roger’s betrayal, about what to do in the remaining hours of daylight. The gunshot had stopped such talk. People looked westward, simultaneously fearful that Roger wielded a gun and pleased that he was so far away.
“I can’t believe he has a gun,” Ratu said, shaking his head and stepping closer to Jake. “I tell you, I just bloody can’t believe it.”
“If he has a gun, he has a radio,” Joshua replied, trying to act calm. “We have to assume that. We have to assume he’s communicating with the Japanese. That they’re coming here. They torpedoed a hospital ship, and they won’t want survivors talking about it. Now, all of that might not be true, but we have to assume it is and prepare for the worst.”
“I think Jake’s idea is a good one,” Nathan said, the fear that he wouldn’t see his family again causing his side to ache, his face and neck to perspire. “We could leave tonight for another island.”
Joshua glanced to the east. “That’s riskier than it sounds. The new island might not have water. Also, the currents and winds here are strong, and rowing into them, we might not even reach landfall. Or we could be captured at sea. Or we could arrive at an island that’s already swarming with Japs. We could go from a bad position to an even worse one.”
As the others spoke, Akira worriedly watched Annie. He felt as if events were pulling him from her, conspiring to forever yank them apart. And though as a Buddhist he was supposed to accept suffering as a part of life, he couldn’t imagine his life without her. Better to strip me of my senses than of her, he thought. “We have no good choices,” he said quietly, “but another choice exists.”
“What?” Joshua asked, turning toward him.
Akira shielded his eyes from the sun as he looked up at Joshua. “If he is dead, he can tell no one where we are hiding.”
“That’s not true,” Joshua said. “He could have told them already over a radio.”
Akira shook his head. “So sorry, but I do not think he would do this. Then they would not need him. No, a man like Roger would rather show them himself.”
“That’s a big, risky assumption,” Isabelle interjected, feeling slightly nauseated, wishing they were anywhere but here.
“Again, so sorry, but not with men like Roger,” Akira replied. “He will want to lead them to us.”
“I agree,” Annie said.
“Oh, Annie,” Isabelle countered, and then stopped herself from immediately continuing. Taking a deep breath, she said, “He has a gun, Akira. How would we kill him anyway?”
“I’d like to know that too,” Joshua added.
“If my countrymen arrive, they will land in the harbor, yes?” When Joshua nodded, Akira continued. “Roger will wait for them there. If I arrive at the beach tonight, under the protection of darkness, I can hide. I can watch for him. At some point he will reveal himself. And then . . . then I will kill him.”
Joshua again looked at the distant islands, wishing that a strong wind was coming from the west instead of the northeast. Rowing into that wind would be hard. The lifeboat, overloaded with seven passengers and various supplies, would be extremely heavy. Lifeboats were designed to float rather than to travel great distances, and Joshua wondered if they could even reach land. He suspected that they could, but worried about encountering the Japanese at sea or on another island.
“We’re going to take the boat,” he said suddenly, feeling that the island was like a noose drawing about their necks. “God willing, we’ll leave tonight. We’ll pack only the most critical supplies. I can navigate by the stars, and with luck we’ll reach landfall a few hours before dawn. We can’t just sit here and hope that we’re not found. That’s just not good enough.”
“May I say one other thing?” Akira asked.
“Of course.”
“If I followed him and I found his radio, we could call for help. Yes?”
Nathan turned to Akira. “Now, that’s a thought.”
“But you can’t do all that, Akira,” Annie said worriedly, changing her earlier position now that she realized how dangerous it would be for Akira to go after Roger. “He’s got a gun. He knows the ground. You’ve got nothing.”
“So sorry, but he expects us to run.”
“Bloody hell. I think we should run,” Ratu said anxiously. Tugging on Jake’s arm, he added, “I tell you, Big Jake’s idea is the best. Let’s do what the captain says. Let’s get off this island. Let’s run.”
Joshua turned the pros and cons of each plan over in his mind. As Akira had said earlier, they didn’t have any good choices. Just choices. “He’s like a cat in that jungle,” Joshua finally replied. “I just don’t see how you’re going to sneak up on him. You’ll just end up getting shot. So we’re going to take the boat. We’ll take it tonight.”
Akira nodded. “Then we will take the boat.”
“Good,” Joshua said. “I think it’s the least risky proposition. So now let’s plan our trip. Why don’t—”
Jake, who was on the westward side of their circle and was facing the sea, suddenly pointed over Joshua’s head. “Look, Captain.”
Joshua often carried the binoculars, and this moment was no exception. He found a distant smudge with his unaided eyes and then brought the field glasses to bear. “Mother Mary,” he whispered as a group of warships came into focus. Squinting, he looked for identifying marks, and felt his heart drop when he saw strange white characters slightly below the bows. A heavy cruiser led the convoy, followed by a transport ship and two destroyers. The ships were heading due west, directly toward the island.
“Are they ours?” Annie asked, biting a nail, afraid of the answer.
“Unfortunately, no. And they’re headed this way.” Joshua glanced at Isabelle and said a quick prayer, knowing that the transport ship could carry more than a thousand soldiers. He saw fear in the faces before him and tried to control his own dread. “They’re not going to find us,” he said, looking from person to person.
Ratu took Jake’s hand. “But we’re trapped. And they’re coming . . . coming for us. Oh, what are we going to bloody do?”
“If Roger fails to meet them,” Akira said, “they will waste time looking for him and us on the island. They most likely will not know of the lifeboat, yes? And so if we are on another island at that point, they will never know it. And if I can find the radio, we can take it with us.”
Annie shook her head. “But Joshua’s right. Roger is like a cat in the jungle. How would you sneak up on him? It’s impossible. It’s too much for you to do alone. You just can’t go and do that.”
Akira sighed, believing that his course of action was the best. “Then I will not go alone. If he would like, Jake can join me.”
“Jake’s not a soldier,” Joshua said.
Jake, who until this point in the war had only fixed engines, had never expected to actually fight. Though he’d felt no compulsion to do so, he did experience a sense of pride at being asked. Also, he was terribly worried about what might happen to Ratu if the Japanese discovered that his father was leading Americans against them. Because of this fear, several days earlier, Jake had decided that he’d do whatever possible to protect him. And now, as Jake looked into Ratu’s frightened eyes, he felt compelled to accompany Akira. If the two of them could keep the Japanese at bay, Ratu would never be alone in a room full of hostile men who didn’t care about the tears of a boy.
“I’ll go, Captain,” Jake finally said. “I reckon I can be of use.”
Joshua considered his options. Removing Roger would certainly improve their chances of staying unharmed. But was it fair to risk the lives of two good men? “I should go with Akira,” Joshua said.
“So sorry, Captain,” Akira replied. “But I do not agree. If something should happen to us, you will be needed for the lifeboat. None of us know the sea like you do.”
“We should stick together,” Annie said. “We need to—”
“Annie,” Akira said, interrupting her for the first time since they’d met, “please remember what you told me. What you asked of me. I am doing what needs to be done.”
She started to reply but forced herself to stop, turning away from him. Knowing that he was right but suddenly overwhelmed by the thought of him getting killed, she wasn’t certain what to do. How could she let him go when he might not return?
“What do you think, Captain?” Akira asked. “A good plan, yes?”
Joshua nodded. “Only if you two return alive.”
“We will return.”
“We’ll have to move a bit up the coast, just in case he comes back here,” Joshua said, hating to risk their lives but deciding that Akira’s plan was the best option. “We’ll take the boat. We’ll head straight north, along the beach. But we won’t go far. When you’re done, just walk up the beach and you’ll find us. And then we’ll get off this godforsaken island together.”
“Thank you,” Akira said, bowing slightly. “Jake and I will leave at dusk.”
Additional strategies were discussed. The group then disbanded, each member having been assigned an important task. In the distance, the four Japanese warships loomed larger. To the unaided eye, they looked like nothing much more than four gray ducks on a lake. To the aided eye, however, they bristled with guns and men, and were immense steel beasts that couldn’t have seemed more out of place on the warm waters.

SEVERAL HOURS LATER, after all preparations had been made and the crucial cloak of darkness had not yet fallen, Annie and Akira sat within the secondary cave. They waited miserably for the inevitable passage of time, though the sun seemed to have stuck in the unseen sky. The shaft of light angled downward, illuminating airborne dust. The ancient boats glowed and faded as a small fire flickered in the cave’s corner. Annie and Akira sat opposite the ships, watching them as they seemed to move upon invisible waves.
“I know that I told you to do whatever was necessary, but I still don’t want you to go,” Annie said quietly.
Akira didn’t respond, knowing that she’d have to hear the right words to grasp the wisdom of his plan. Finally he said, “Do you want to see me off this island?”
“Yes. You know I do.”
He stroked the back of her hand with his thumb, watching how her skin moved beneath his. “Please describe where you want to see me.”
Her face tightened in bewilderment. “But why?”
“Just tell me, please.”
She shrugged tiredly. “Well, I would . . . I’d want to show you California. A lot of Japanese are there, and I don’t think it would be a big problem.”
“What would we do in California?”
“We would . . . walk the streets.”
“Holding hands, as Americans do?”
“Yes,” she said, smiling fleetingly at the thought.
“Can you please tell me more? Much more?”
“We’d . . . we’d hold hands and we’d explore new places together. We’d visit parks and museums, and we could go to the sea.”
“And at night?”
“Nights would be the best,” she answered slowly, contemplating evenings spent with him. “We’d read so many books and poems. I could teach you to paint. And we’d talk, but not always. I don’t think we’d need to talk constantly, like so many couples do.” She paused, seeking his eyes. “And you? How do you see us?”
“How does one see a dream?” he asked. “For that is what it would be.”
“Try. Try to . . . see it.”
He kept his gaze on her face, loving her, hopeful that he’d have endless chances to talk with her again, but also dreadfully worried that these words would be the last between them. “Some say that love grows old,” he replied, his voice hardly more than a whisper. “Like a child’s once-treasured kite, it becomes less joyful. But I think our love would simply grow.”
“I think so too.”
“Perhaps, if many years passed, some things would slow. Would the thrill of our touch lessen? Perhaps yes. Perhaps no. Could we teach each other as much? I am not certain. But I do think that one day . . . if we grew old together . . . one day we would truly understand the treasure of our love. Because that child, once she grows old, will look upon that kite and be reminded of all that is good in the world, of all that was good in her life. And that kite will make her smile, will make her life seem complete. And that is how it would be for us. I would look at you, and I would know that I have been a lucky man.”
“Do you feel lucky now? Despite Nanking? The long years at war?”
“I feel that I have just been given that kite. That I am watching it fly for the first time.”
Annie squeezed his hand. “That’s why I don’t want you to go tonight. I can’t imagine . . . losing so much. Won’t you please stay?”
“That is why I have to go tonight. For such a future will never exist if we do not survive to leave this island.”
She brought his hand to her lips and kissed his fingers. “Could I go with you? I’m not afraid. As long as I’m with you, I’m not afraid.”
“I want that future, Annie,” he said, completely aware of the meeting of their flesh. “I have never wanted anything nearly so much. And so you will have to trust me. Do you trust me? Yes?”
“I do.”
“Then know that this is the best way, the best road for us to walk. I will do what must be done and then I will be yours until you tire of me.”
She kissed his forefinger again, trying to be strong, but terribly afraid for him all the same. “I won’t tire of you, Akira,” she said, wanting to tell him exactly how she felt, and unsure how to proceed. “And though I loved your words about the kite, you’re not a kite. And I won’t ever stick you in a closet and not look lovingly at you again until I’m an old woman.”
“You will never be old to me.”
Annie briefly closed her eyes, pleasantly surprised by his compliment. “I won’t ignore you,” she promised. “Instead I’ll . . . I’ll treasure you every day that I have you. For I’ve known what life was like before you and . . . and since you, and as far as I’m concerned, these are two different lives. And one makes me so very much happier than the other.”
He smiled at her, kissing her gently. He was always surprised at the softness of her lips, and this moment was no exception. She felt almost impossibly tender and warm. “Thank you,” he said quietly, “for telling me of those two lives.”
“You’re welcome.”
Akira kissed her again, savoring the feel of her. His whole life he had enjoyed opening his senses to the world. As a boy he had listened to cicadas, and savored the sweets his mother brought him. As a young man he had marveled at the sights of ancient temples and gardens. And as a man he had touched a great many things. But he’d never felt anything that gave him as much pleasure as Annie’s lips.
And so Akira used all of his senses to revel in her extraordinary company. He removed her clothes and found her to be a greater beauty than he had seen. He listened to her whisper his name and believed her voice to be the most intimate and alluring sound he’d heard. He felt her eyelashes against his neck and delighted in the unexpected discovery of this intimate sensation. He smelled and tasted the soft curves of her flesh.
And the combination of these wonderful sensations so overwhelmed him that he felt as if he’d left one world and entered another that was almost entirely unknown to him.
LATER, WHEN THE SUN WAS ONLY AN HOUR or so from setting, Akira and Jake left camp. They carried a canteen, the machete, the pilot’s dagger, and some dried fish. Knowing that they’d spend the night hiding in the jungle and that mosquitoes would assault them, they had stood near the campfire for some time, inundating themselves in smoke. Akira had used some old coals from the fire to darken his flesh and clothes. Jake had done the same to his shirt and pants.
After they passed deeper into the jungle, away from the tearful and reluctant good-byes of Annie and Ratu, they paused near a stream. Akira had suggested that they talk for a few minutes, because once they neared the harbor, any further conversation would likely result in their deaths.
“I will always lead,” Akira said softly. “Please watch what I do, and little else. If I stop, you stop. If I go, you go. Kindly stay ten steps behind me and imagine . . . imagine that you are a mouse and that a very hungry snake is nearby. You must be as quiet as a mouse if we are to live. You can do that, yes?”
Jake nodded. “What best we do if the snake sees us?”
“If he sees us, we run. At least, you run. I will try to surprise him as he chases you.”
“And when we get to that harbor?”
“We will arrive after the sun has set. In the darkness we will hide. And when the morning comes, we will wait for him to reveal himself. And when he is distracted, when he is defecating or drinking or talking on his radio, we will strike.”
“Why me and not Nathan?” Jake asked suddenly. “I ain’t a soldier. I spend my days killing weeds and grasshoppers and varmints. And though Roger is a varmint, he’s an awfully big one, I reckon.”
Glancing toward the shrouded sun, Akira said, “Annie told me once . . . of how you wished to fight for freedom. Of how that fight is important to you. I want such a man beside me. Such a man will do anything . . . to be free.”
Jake nodded slowly, wishing that his mother could see him. She would be proud. She wouldn’t say a thing to anyone, but her eyes would tell him everything. “You fight for the same?” he asked.
“Yes, I now fight for the same. For years, I have fought because I was told to. But no longer. Now I fight to be free.” Akira looked again at the sun, which clung stubbornly to the sky. “Do you have . . . freedom on your farm?”
“It’s my family’s land. And it’s fine land. And I reckon that’s got some freedom to it.” Jake watched a hermit crab shuffle toward a dead tree. “But my people to the south, they often live in shanties, places not fit to house my darn pigs. And to them, freedom ain’t but a word with no meaning. So I expect that I’m really fighting this war for them.”
“I am glad that you are with me, Jake,” Akira replied, bowing. “I am honored to have you with me.”
Jake shook his head. “That honor’s mine.” When Akira smiled and turned to leave, Jake reached out. “If something . . . something ill happens to me, will you see that Ratu gets home? He needs to get home in an awful bad way.”
Akira nodded. “But, Jake, do not think of Ratu now. Think only of being a mouse. We each . . . have people to think about. But not again until Roger is dead.”
Picking up a long blade of grass and placing it between his teeth, Jake tried to suppress thoughts of Ratu as well as his own nervousness. “Well, as they say, the early bird gets the worm. We’d best get going.”
And so they went, past logs and streams and millions of creatures that didn’t care whether they lived or died. For the first few minutes, Akira was painfully aware of Jake behind him. The big man stepped on twigs, slid down rocks, and even breathed too loudly. But as they continued, a remarkable metamorphosis happened, for more than anything in life, Jake understood the land. He’d never tried to be quiet on his farm, but he understood the farm’s silent ways. He’d glimpsed such workings, and he soon mimicked the silence that he had so often appreciated within his crops.
As much as Jake would have enjoyed thinking about his mother or Ratu or the search for freedom that might claim his life, he focused only on the jungle. He became a part of it, and he felt empowered and enlightened by the merging of himself and the land. And though his heart quickened when they finally neared the harbor, and though he didn’t want to die, he felt as if a thousand friends were beside him. In their company, his fear didn’t dominate him. And so he was able to crawl forward in the darkness, glance at the sparkling sky, and hope.