Beside a Burning Sea

DAY SEVENTEEN
I will give my life
So my second heart endures.
Spring survives winter.
For Love and Honor


In the utter blackness of night, dawn came slowly, rising like a tide of distant and muted color. Lying within clusters of ferns, Akira watched the edge of his world gradually lighten. He knew that it would possibly be the last sunrise he saw, and its simple and timeless beauty caused his eyes to dampen. He’d been thinking for the past several hours of Annie, and for the first time in days, musings of her hadn’t been dominated by joyous emotions. On the contrary, a profound sadness consumed him. This sadness was different than the despair that had haunted him after Nanking, but was an equally powerful emotion also centered on loss.
Akira knew that disarming Roger would be an exceedingly difficult task. The man was capable, cunning, and carried a gun. All Akira possessed was the element of surprise. And even with this advantage, sneaking up on Roger would be fraught with danger. If Roger saw him coming, Akira would throw the dagger and hope for the best. He could do little else.
Though the unseen sun dimly illuminated the western sky, the night was still dark. Knowing that he had only a few more minutes until he must completely focus on Roger, Akira allowed himself to ponder Annie. Thinking of her, after all, was one of the greatest pleasures he’d ever known. She made him want to write poems, to reflect upon wondrous sights, to run like the boy he once was. She emanated joy and grace and beauty, and he loved more things about her than he did about himself.
Akira longed to lie beside her and listen to nothing more than the sound of her lungs filling with air, to see her face change with time, to help deepen the laugh lines about her mouth, to explore and learn and grow with her. And yet he might have already looked upon her for the last time. If Roger killed him, he’d only be able to try to pull a sliver of her along with him as he began the journey toward rebirth. And the thought of perhaps not even being able to hold on to that sliver produced a nearly unbearable sadness within him. With his death she would be stolen from him. Moreover, her sadness at his passing would be acute. And he did not want to think of her as broken. For to him, she was like a white-winged crane, and she would not soar with shattered wings.
The sunrise strengthened, and Akira cautiously wiped his eyes of tears. Annie lingered in his mind, and, knowing that he had to force her from him, he bit a knuckle on his thumb until it bled. The resulting pain helped to direct his thoughts, and he studied the jungle, which was still remarkably quiet. Though Jake was just seven or eight feet away, Akira was almost completely unaware of him.
Akira felt the dagger’s hilt in his hand. He inhaled deeply through his nose, thinking that perhaps he could smell the campfire smoke that so often dominated Roger’s clothing. However, he could only detect the scent of the moist soil—the acute combination of decay and new life. Knowing that he’d have to be patient, Akira listened for any sound out of the ordinary.
When the earth twisted enough so that the sea was faintly illuminated, Akira saw the silhouettes of the four warships. They were anchored a mile offshore. Surprised that he’d heard or seen nothing from them during the night, he scrutinized the vast swaths of gray, discerning movement on the long decks. The ships’ guns were pointed defensively toward deeper waters, and he suddenly wished that they’d be attacked.
A whistle carried over the water to where Akira hid. Not long afterward, he realized that a flotilla of landing craft was headed directly toward the beach. These vessels were about fifty feet long—highlighted by a double bow that bordered a raised ramp. To Akira, they looked and sounded like approaching dragons. Certain that the familiar boats carried everything from light tanks to artillery pieces to men, he tried to keep his heart from speeding forward. He breathed deeply, searching through the jungle for Roger. Once the Japanese landed, there would be little he could do. His entire plan, after all, depended on catching Roger as he waited for the approaching force.
Cursing silently, he continued to scan the jungle. Where could Roger be? Why wouldn’t he show himself? Akira resisted the powerful urge to rise and look for his adversary. He reminded himself that in war, plans were most often useless, and the people who didn’t panic when plans failed were the people who tended to survive. “Patience,” he whispered to Jake in a voice so low that he barely heard himself.
The landing craft, of which there were four, didn’t slow until they struck the island. Immediately, the raised ramps dropped and scores of soldiers jumped into the shallow water. Hearing the familiar and terse shouts of his countrymen, Akira watched as formations of soldiers secured the beach. The soldiers fanned out, spreading across the beach, settling into the sand. A few heartbeats later, an undersized tank rolled forth from one of the boats. Belching black smoke, the tank climbed the beach as if some sort of monstrous crab. The tank’s turret swayed to and fro as its crew searched for possible threats.
The landing crafts’ drivers put the powerful engines into reverse, and the boats yanked themselves from the shallows. Understanding that the vessels would make many trips to and from the transport ship, Akira briefly closed his eyes in frustration. Already, more than a hundred soldiers occupied the beach. While most of the men remained in a defensive perimeter about the landing site, others began to dig trenches. Akira watched one soldier plant a pole that bore the Japanese flag. The image of the rising sun on a white background caused memories to leap to the forefront of Akira’s mind. Forcing them aside, he continued to scan the area, hoping that Roger would reveal himself.
Several sets of binoculars studied the jungle. Akira steadied himself, for a moment not even breathing. Discovery now would mean death. The binoculars continued sweeping. As he lay motionless, he listened to familiar orders being issued in his native tongue. Having spoken little Japanese in several weeks, he felt disconcerted listening to it once again, as the sounds seemed slightly foreign to him.
The binoculars finally dropped, and Akira was again able to breathe and blink. In the distance, a second wave of landing craft was headed toward the beach. Suspecting that his countrymen would likely cut down a section of the jungle near the beach, Akira tried to slow his heart. He and Jake wouldn’t have much more time here. If they lingered too long, they’d be discovered.
As much as Akira’s instincts screamed at him to leave, he resisted the urge. If he left now, he left with nothing but the knowledge that he’d soon die. Roger would lead a strong force into the jungle, and protecting Annie and the others from such a force would be impossible. Realizing that he had no choice but to steal some weapons, Akira studied the scene as it unfolded. The landing craft were again throwing themselves onto the beach. More men and arms and supplies were offloaded. The Japanese appeared unduly nervous, for they acted with immense haste, dragging artillery pieces from landing craft and setting them up around the beach. Do they expect to be attacked? Akira wondered, thinking such an occurrence would be too good to be true.
A giant centipede, longer than Akira’s hand, crawled across his arm. The creature stopped on his elbow, its head swaying back and forth like a cobra’s. To take his mind off the hideous-looking thing, he watched his countrymen perform their tasks with discipline and efficiency. As he watched, he thought of Annie. He asked himself if he’d willingly die for her, and knew that the answer was yes.
Two weeks earlier, Akira would not have minded dying. In fact, he’d have found immense peace in the process, for it would have rescued him from his demons. But since then, Annie had rescued him. And even though he’d give his life for her if necessary, he’d never wanted to live as much as he did at that moment.

ON A HILL overlooking the beach, Roger shielded his eyes from the sun and awaited Edo. Sitting atop a boulder with his pistol on his lap, he studied the metamorphosis of the beach. In a matter of minutes it transformed from an idyllic, unspoiled stretch of sand into a mass of men and machines. As a young boy, Roger had stuck sticks into the openings of anthills, removing the twigs after a few minutes. Hundreds of ants had often then poured forth, and the Japanese below reminded him of those ants. The soldiers swarmed over the beach and started moving into the jungle. Roger heard the dull thud of axes striking wood. Several large palm trees swayed and fell.
Despite the awful pain in his side, Roger was pleased with himself, for late yesterday afternoon he’d traveled back to the cave and watched his enemies pack up the lifeboat and head to sea. Though he’d been tempted to shoot Joshua and Nathan, Edo’s instructions had been specific on that matter. And so Roger had stayed still, watching the lifeboat as it struggled into the waves and then headed north. Akira and Jake, oddly enough, had been nowhere to be seen. Believing that they’d come for him, Roger studied the jungle near the beach. Were the maggots there? Did they know that they’d soon scream for an end?
Glancing at his side, Roger was surprised to see significant redness and swelling around his wound. Perhaps all his running about the island had further damaged his rib. In any case, shutting out the pain was becoming increasingly difficult. Each breath sent a jolt of agony through his system, starting at his side and traveling up his spine. Cursing, he wondered if movement was causing the broken rib to tear at his flesh from within.
Having decided that he’d tie Akira down, break each of his ribs, and leave him alone to die, Roger tried to escape his pain by imagining his foe’s cries. Maybe I’ll let the little bitch save her monkey by sacrificing herself, he thought. Maybe she’ll see his agony and do anything to make his suffering stop.
Yes, Roger decided, I’ll test their love. I’ll see how far down it reaches. Her actions will let me know.

THE PREVIOUS EVENING, Joshua had rowed them north for almost an hour. In the dim light, they’d spotted some vegetation near the beach that would provide good cover for the lifeboat. After dragging the craft across the beach and hiding it beneath palm fronds, they’d erased the deep groove its keel had cut in the sand. Sleep had been fitful for some and nonexistent for others.
The following morning, they’d located various outposts from which they could watch anyone who might approach. Joshua and Isabelle had split up near the shore, their eyes scanning the sea and beach. Annie, Ratu, and Nathan were posted at the edge of the jungle so that they’d be aware of any approach from the rear.
Annie now sat atop a log and tried to be still, tried to study the land before her. But her mind was wholly fixated on Akira’s absence. She felt naked without him, as if unable to awake from a dream in which she saw herself run unclothed down a street thick with gawking bystanders. The thought of Akira facing death out in the jungle caused her to tremble, to beg God for his safe return.
Throughout the morning, Annie had dreaded hearing the sound of a gunshot, for she feared that if she did, Akira would be dead. If she heard such a sound, she knew that she’d run to him. He could be wounded or dying, and leaving him to suffer alone was something she couldn’t do—regardless of the price she might pay. Better to endure whatever Roger might do to her than to let Akira bleed to death in the jungle.
Suddenly, Annie heard Ratu sniff, despite the fact that he was posted more than twenty feet away. Though Joshua had told them not to make unnecessary movements, Annie immediately rose and hurried to where Ratu sat crying. He had his arms around a slender tree and his face was streaked with tears. Wordlessly, Annie hugged him, squeezing him tight, pressing her cheek against the top of his head. As she rubbed his arm, she noticed that he was trembling.
“He’ll come back,” she whispered, trying to be strong. “I promise he’ll come back.”
Ratu shuddered against her, his fingers wrapped about his necklace. “He can’t die. I tell you, Big Jake can’t die. He’s my mate. My very best mate in the whole world.”
“Let’s rest,” Annie said, lowering him to the ground, placing his head on her lap. She began to stroke his face, and he moved even closer against her. She used her thumb to gently close his eyes. “Tell me . . . tell me about your home,” she said. “What makes it special?”
“I’m so bloody worried about Big Jake, Miss Annie. I just don’t know what to do.”
“I know you’re worried. I am too. I feel sick about them being gone. But . . . but they’re going to be fine.” She squeezed him tighter, fighting her misery, willing herself to attend to Ratu. “Now let’s talk about . . . about something else for a moment. I’d love . . . I’d love to know what kind of home produces such a wonderful boy. What makes your home so special?”
Ratu continued to tremble, moaning quietly. “My family,” he finally replied, his words barely more than a whisper.
“What about them? Can you tell me one thing about each of them?”
Ratu thought about his loved ones, more tears seeping forth. “My mother . . . she likes to laugh.”
“Is that who taught you? To laugh?”
He nodded. “She’s always laughing. I tell you, she’s so much funnier than me.”
“And your father?”
“My father ... my father wants to be with me. Not with his friends. But with me.”
“He must love you very much.”
“He does.”
Annie continued to stroke his face. As much as she tried, she couldn’t help but think of Akira, and tears dropped to her cheeks. She wiped them away, not wanting Ratu to know that she was crying. Her despair was suddenly so overwhelming that it took all her might to keep from sobbing.
Ratu’s eyes opened. He studied her for a moment as she tried to collect herself. “You . . . you love him?” he asked.
She hesitated only a moment. “Very much.”
Ratu nodded. “Does it make you . . . feel warm?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t want them to die,” he said, starting to cry again. “I don’t want anyone to die.”
“We’re going to . . . to go home soon,” she replied. “We’re each going to go home. You to your laughing mother and to your . . . your loving father. And to your five sisters. And they’ll hold you and love you and all of this will just seem like a bad dream.”
He shuddered against her. “You promise?”
“You’ll be a boy again,” she said, her tears fresh and numerous. “And . . . as Akira might say, you’ll be reborn.”
“Reborn?”
“Because you’re going to be so very happy, Ratu. You’re going to laugh and fish, and you’re never going to feel like this again.”

UPWARDS OF FIVE HUNDRED soldiers occupied the beach when Akira noticed a group of eleven men head straight into the jungle. They walked with a sense of purpose and were heavily armed and supplied. Believing them to be the team that Roger would rendezvous with, Akira felt as if he were watching Annie’s death unfold. And this horrific sensation prompted him to immediate action.
Not far from Akira’s location, a group of soldiers busily chopped down trees. He hoped, somewhat desperately, that they’d set their weapons aside and he could steal some arms. With his belly and legs pressed against the soil, Akira started to crawl, using only his elbows to propel himself forward. Fortunately, the vegetation was thick, and now that the Japanese had secured the area, no one seemed to be paying attention to the jungle. During the night, Akira had woven reeds into his hair and clothes, and he wondered if he looked as much like a bush as he thought he did.
Despite his fear of the eleven soldiers and the death that might follow in their wake, Akira moved slowly, perhaps ten feet a minute. He felt rather than heard Jake behind him. Not far ahead, Akira listened to men talking and working. Axes rhythmically thumped into wood, and trees swayed and toppled. Someone was complaining of the heat and bugs. A terse voice reminded everyone of their duty to the emperor and demanded they double their efforts. More trees fell.
When Akira was perhaps two dozen paces from the work crew, he paused again. Though bushes obscured much of his view, he saw eight men. Seven were laboring with axes and saws while an officer, who had a sword at his side, gave endless instructions. To Akira’s delight, he noticed rifles leaning against several trees. A light machine gun was also present, but sat in the midst of the men. Deciding that he’d try to steal the two rifles that were set deepest in the jungle, Akira crept forward, glad for the swinging axes, the orders, and the conversation of the men. Even so, he moved with extraordinary care, eyeing the ground ahead before settling himself upon it.
As Akira neared the guns, his heart pounded with increasing vigor. Though sweat stung his eyes and dampened his clothes, his mouth felt dry and stale. Trying to slow his breathing, he edged closer. The guns were only five feet from him, and the nearest man thrice that distance. Akira inched ahead. The distant drone of aircraft then found his ears, and he stopped. Around him the soldiers chatted excitedly, talking about a squadron of Japanese bombers that was returning from what they assumed to be a successful mission. The approaching planes sounded unusually low, and the officer ordered his men to return to the beach and bow to honor their victorious comrades. At first, Akira was dismayed by this request, for he knew that the men would take their guns. And they did, each grabbing a weapon and then hurrying to the beach. However, extra guns must have been present, for a trio of rifles was forgotten next to a fallen tree. Not believing his luck, Akira waited for the men to vanish and then crawled to the guns. He grabbed the rifles and, crouched over, ran away from the beach.
Suddenly, Jake was beside him, and Akira handed his companion a rifle. They moved silently through the jungle, hurrying as fast as they dared. Finally, when they were far from the beach, Akira said in a low voice, “Did you see the eleven?”
“Sure did. And that pack of wolves ain’t nothing but trouble.”
“They will come for us.”
“I reckon so.”
“With Roger, they will have twelve. And these rifles each contain five rounds. That means fifteen bullets for twelve men. We will have to shoot very straight and very fast.” Akira launched himself over a fallen tree. Turning to Jake, he said, “Are you ready to run? Yes?”
“I ain’t never been so ready.”
“Good,” Akira said simply, his legs churning beneath him, his mind now focused solely on getting back to Annie as quickly as possible.

TRYING TO HIDE his pain, Roger made his way down the hill toward the eleven approaching soldiers. Though not surprised, he was pleased to see that they were heavily armed and appeared well trained. The soldiers moved not as individuals but as a single unit. A small man led the group, his movements much less fluid than those of his comrades. He seemed more concerned with making his way up the steep slope than with his surroundings. Were he in battle, Roger knew, he’d die quickly.
Believing that the small man was Edo, Roger called out a password and approached the group. Edo told his men to remain still, and he continued upward alone. Unlike many desk-bound soldiers who longed for the field, Edo possessed no such temperament—even if he yearned to kill at least once during the war. Though he pretended otherwise, Edo despised the island’s smells and flies, heat and sun. A part of him wished that he was back in his bunker in Tokyo, or at the very least in his room aboard the cruiser. The actual fighting in a war was best left to the young and stupid, he had long believed.
But having been ordered to terminate Roger, Edo felt compelled to be on the ground to ensure that the deed was done. Moreover, as much as he hated the field, he relished the prospect of using his gun. He knew that regardless of how important his work was, his duty would never be considered truly honorable until he had killed. That was a simple fact of the war.
And so complicated and somewhat contradictory feelings coursed through Edo as he approached the big American. Certainly Edo was pleased that he’d fire his pistol for the first time in the war. But he also wanted the bloodshed to happen sooner rather than later. He felt out of his element on the island, and was afraid that his men would detect his inexperience and discomfort with his surroundings. They’d never witness his desk-bound brilliance, he knew, but they might see his field-bound shortcomings.
Edo and Roger met on an outcropping that was mostly devoid of trees and foliage. Neither man spoke, as the two had worked together for some time but never met in person, and now they quickly assessed each other. Edo broke the stillness, pointing at Roger’s side. “What happened?” he asked roughly in Japanese.
Roger noted the harsh undercurrent in the other’s words. “There was a complication,” he replied, the effort to talk worsening the pain in his side.
“A complication? Describe this unfortunate complication.”
“After sixteen days on this rock, they discovered who I was. That was yesterday. We fought, and I retreated here.”
“How many did you kill?”
“One.”
“Just one? Why?”
“I was outnumbered.”
“You were a fool to get caught,” Edo said. “Unforgivable to get caught.”
If anyone else had so disdainfully called him a fool, Roger would have killed him immediately. But with ten of Edo’s men standing nearby, Roger stifled an urge to break the little man’s neck. “It changes nothing,” Roger finally replied. “I know where they’ve gone. And they don’t know this.”
“Then why are we talking?”
“Fine. Follow me.”
“No,” Edo said, shaking his head. “You will stay at the rear. You will tell my men where to go.”
Though surprised by the command, Roger merely shrugged. He then said, “There’s a Japanese officer with the Americans.”
“With them?”
“He’s betrayed the emperor.”
Edo’s eyes narrowed, as if he didn’t believe such a thing possible. “And?” he said, swatting futilely at a fly.
“And I’d like to kill him.”
“You are paid to kill Americans, not Japanese,” Edo said, glancing at Roger’s side. “Is he the one who gave you this complication?”
“With your permission, I’d like to interrogate him. Him and his American lover.”
Edo’s face tightened. He found this revelation to be almost as disgusting as the man’s betrayal of the emperor. “I will give you . . . some time with them,” Edo replied. “But I will finish what you begin.”
“And I will watch.”
Edo grunted, wondering how anyone could find an American woman attractive. He’d seen pictures of them and found their noses and shoulders and waists to be enormous. Why anyone would want to bed such a monster was beyond him. “Is she repulsive?” he asked, starting to descend the hill.
Though Roger was surprised by the question, his answer came quickly enough. “You’ll want to squash them both. Like a couple of fleas.”
“Fleas don’t break ribs.”
Roger bristled at this remark, suddenly hating Edo. But he suppressed an angry reply, for the little man had promised to give him Akira and Annie, and for such a gift, Roger could surely endure a few insults. After all, such a gift would keep him warm on cold nights, entertain him years from now, and set him free.

THE BEACH FELT MARVELOUS against Akira’s feet. Though his lungs and legs ached, he ran without slowing his pace. The sand meant that he was drawing closer to Annie, that he’d see her once again. “You can continue, yes?” he asked Jake.
Jake struggled to keep pace, but nodded. “I . . . I wasn’t . . . born to run,” he said between intense gasps of air, sweat dropping like rain from his cheeks and nose. “But neither . . . was the turtle . . . who won that race.”
Akira didn’t understand Jake’s response but asked for no clarification. His mind was set only on rejoining the group. He wanted to get to them as quickly as possible, for he believed that Roger’s force wasn’t far behind. And though Akira feared that he’d still die soon, the thought of once again holding Annie in his eyes and arms gave him immense strength. He ran as if he’d just escaped from prison and was returning to her after many years of separation.
A part of him hadn’t expected to survive the morning, and despite the fact that his plan had failed, Akira felt almost as much hope as he did dread. If he and Jake could lead the approaching force in the wrong direction, Annie and the others might be able to escape in the lifeboat. And perhaps fate would be so kind as to let Jake and him swim after the boat. Stranger things happened in war. The will of the few could overcome the strength of the many. Akira had seen it happen before. How else had Japan dominated China?
Running at the edge of the sea, so that the water covered their tracks, Akira led Jake to the north. They passed the cave and only slightly slowed to glance inside. Hurrying around rocks and tide pools, they left little trace of their passage. Akira was careful to keep the rifles free of sand and sea. The guns, after all, were as important to him as the beat of his own heart. Without them, everyone would die.
“You . . . run . . . like you’re on . . . fire or something,” Jake said haltingly, trying to keep up. “You ain’t gonna . . . explode . . . are you?”
Akira leapt over a mound of kelp. “I have never . . . run like this.”
“She must . . . be awfully . . . special.”
“Like the sun.”
Jake smiled at Akira’s response. Though Jake was still scared, he also ran with hope. He’d watched Akira in the jungle and had been in awe of the man’s cunning and courage. With Akira leading them, maybe they stood a chance. Maybe Jake would return Ratu to his village and then journey home to Missouri. Maybe no one else would get hurt. Might they be so darn lucky?
They had traveled another half mile or so up the shoreline when a sudden shout caused them to stop. Joshua and Isabelle emerged from the edge of the jungle, followed not far behind by Annie, Ratu, and Nathan. Annie stumbled as she hit the beach, regained her balance, and pressed forward. Akira moved toward her, laughing as she leapt into his arms, holding her and the rifles above the sand.
She started to speak but kissed him instead. They’d never so openly touched, but for the moment nothing but the joy of their reunion mattered. She squeezed him tight, her arms and legs wrapped about him.
“I am going to fall,” he finally said, smiling.
“Oh, of course!” she replied, dropping from him.
A few feet away, Ratu slapped Jake on the back. “You did it, Big Jake! I tell you, you bloody did it!”
Jake tussled the boy’s hair. “Remind me . . . never . . . to run with him again.”
Joshua smiled and, glancing skyward, said a quick prayer of gratitude. He then took the heavy guns from Akira and Jake. “What happened?” he asked eagerly, leading them back toward the jungle.
Akira explained what had occurred during the night and early morning. Only when he mentioned the eleven soldiers did people worriedly look into the jungle. “They will find us,” Akira said. “They are professionals, and they will find us.”
“How soon?” Joshua asked, his euphoria abruptly gone, his eyes glancing at Isabelle. She hadn’t been looking well for the past several days, and earlier that morning, several drops of blood had spotted her underwear.
“A few hours,” Akira replied.
Joshua groaned. “We’ve no choice. We’ll get in the lifeboat and take our chances at sea.”
“Yes,” Akira said. “That is what you will do. But Jake and I will not.”
“Why not?”
“We will take the three guns and lead the soldiers in the wrong direction. And when we have confused them enough, we will swim to you.”
“Swim?” Nathan asked incredulously, shaking his head, worried for them. “How would you ever find us?”
“We once swam from your ship, yes? We can do it a second time.”
Isabelle saw the sudden fear and hurt in her sister’s eyes, and stepped closer to Akira. “You’ve already risked everything. It isn’t right to do that again.”
“But the plan did not work,” Akira replied, not wanting to return to the jungle but knowing that he had no choice. “Roger is still alive. And he will bring them to us.” Akira nodded toward the rifles. “I am an expert shot. I will shoot Roger first. Then Jake and I will run to the sea. Without Roger, they will never find us.”
“He’s as right as rain,” Jake said, his arm around Ratu. “They ain’t gonna get us. Not with that devil dead.”
“And you want to go with him?” Joshua asked. “Again?”
“Better two of us than one, I reckon.”
Joshua bit his bottom lip. His prayers for Akira and Jake’s safe return had been answered, and now that the group was reunited, he loathed the thought of breaking it up again. But what Akira had said made sense, even if his plan wasn’t perfect. “Don’t fully engage them,” he said, trying to sound confident. “Fire a few shots from a far distance. Hit Roger, then lead them deep into the island, lose them there, and head for the eastern beach. Grab a branch and start swimming. We’ll be a mile offshore, waiting for you. Once we’re a mile offshore, the naked eye shouldn’t be able to see us.”
Annie started to protest, but Akira looked at her and shook his head. She paused for a moment and said, “Two against twelve doesn’t seem right. I don’t care what any of you say; it’s not right.”
Aware of the pain on her sister’s face, and finally understanding the depth of her love for Akira, Isabelle added, “I agree completely. For goodness’ sake, there just has to be a better way.”
Akira glanced at Isabelle and then at Annie. “Your mother must be strong and wise,” he replied, “to create such daughters.” Before either sister could answer, he added, “This way will set us free.”
Knowing that time was precious, Joshua nodded, handing a rifle to Akira and another to Jake. “I’ll go with you,” he said. “Three of us will fare better.”
“So sorry, but you must lead the lifeboat, Captain,” Akira said, reaching forward to take the other gun. He smiled and added, “When we catch up to you, you can row the boat, yes?”
Joshua reluctantly released the gun. He reached out to shake Akira’s and Jake’s hands. “You’re good men,” he said. “Damn fine men.”
Emotional farewells were exchanged, and the group scattered. Holding the two guns, Akira followed Annie a few paces deeper into the jungle. She leaned against a tree and slowly shook her head, tears descending her face. “You don’t . . . you don’t have to do this.”
Akira set the guns down. He placed his palms gently against her damp cheeks. “I do not want to die,” he replied, trying to keep his eyes from tearing, to hide the despair that threatened to engulf him. “More than anything, I want to live.”
“So why? Why go?”
“I go . . . so that we will all live. So that . . . my days with you will have just begun.”
She leaned into him, resting her forehead on his shoulder. “Please come back to me,” she whispered.
He inhaled deeply, once again bringing the scent of her into him. Closing his eyes, he tried to lock this part of her within him, so that he could carry her wherever he traveled. “May I ask you a favor?” he asked softly.
“What?”
“Write one poem each day.”
“What do you mean?” she asked, her face awash with tears.
“Write about something that touches you. A flower. A child, perhaps. A climb in the trees.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
His eyes glistened. “If I . . . should fall, know that . . . that I will still be beside you. I will—”
“You won’t fall. You can’t fall, Akira. Please, please don’t fall.”
“So sorry,” he whispered, stroking the back of her head. “I love you,” he said, holding her tight. “You have been the greatest gift of my life.”
She looked up, pressing her lips against his. “You run,” she said, her voice cracking, but resolute. “You run like you’ve never run before. And then you swim like you’ve never swum before. And then we won’t ever have to say good-bye again.”
He kissed her forehead, her closed eyes, her tears. “I first . . . found you in the sea,” he said quietly. “And I will return to you in the sea.” He kissed her lips, savoring their fullness and warmth. “I must go,” he said, reluctantly pulling away from her.
“This isn’t . . . a good-bye,” she replied, weeping.
“How can you say good-bye to someone . . . who . . . who is a part of you?” he asked, turning as his voice broke, as his world collapsed. Snatching the two guns, he took one last look at her and stumbled toward Jake.

SLIGHTLY DEEPER IN THE JUNGLE, Ratu held his necklace in his right hand. Scanning the dense foliage, he awaited Jake’s arrival. He’d wanted to hug Jake on the beach, to tell him that he loved him, but Joshua had been instructing his friend, and, frustrated, Ratu had decided to delay his good-bye until a time when Jake could freely speak to him.
Ratu planned on giving his shark’s tooth necklace to Jake. The necklace, Ratu believed, brought good luck to whoever carried it. And he desperately wanted to pass such luck to Jake, for he worried greatly about what would happen to his friend once the Japanese saw him.
“You’re too bloody big,” Ratu whispered to himself, nervously fingering the shark’s tooth. “And they’ll see you. I tell you, they’ll see you.” Ratu groaned, his stomach aching, his mind spinning in a hundred different directions. “Where are you? Please, Big Jake, tell me where you are.”
Unseen birds screeched in the distance. Ants carried chunks of bright leaves. The day was hotter than most, and sweat rolled down Ratu’s face and back. Turning about in a circle, he looked for his friend. “Did you already get lost? Oh, Big Jake, you shouldn’t be doing this. You’re only a farmer.”
Ratu’s heart began to quicken its beat. The jungle abruptly seemed too thick, too quiet. Suddenly frantic with worry over Jake, he ran back toward the beach. As he broke into the open, he saw Joshua and Nathan removing foliage from the hidden lifeboat. “Where’s Jake?” he asked, hurrying forward.
Joshua turned to him. “Jake? Jake’s gone.”
“What do you mean? I didn’t see him go!”
“He and Akira left five minutes ago. They ran down the beach.”
“The beach?” Ratu replied, panicking. “Not the jungle?”
“No.”
“But I didn’t get to say good-bye!” Ratu said, crying. “I didn’t give him my necklace!”
Isabelle, who’d been trying to help with the lifeboat as much as her fatigued body permitted, stepped toward Ratu and dropped to her knees before him. “He called for you. He was looking for you, Ratu.”
“But I didn’t bloody hear him! Why . . . why didn’t someone get me?”
“We tried to—”
“Why didn’t someone call?”
“We did.”
“But I didn’t give him my lucky necklace!”
Isabelle put her arms around him, drawing him close. He was shaking, and she tried to soothe him. “He’s going to be fine, Ratu. You’ll see him in a few hours.”
“But he doesn’t have my necklace!”
Nathan knelt beside them, hating to see Ratu so distraught. “You’ll give it to him soon,” he said, putting his hand on Ratu’s back. “And that smile of his—”
“No, you don’t understand. Not a bloody bit. He’s not going to be fine without my necklace! He’s too big! They’ll—”
Suddenly, distant gunfire and explosions interrupted Ratu’s words. A few seconds later, a large number of fighter planes flew almost directly over them, then circled back toward the other side of the island. The planes bore a single propeller and a bright white star.
“They’re Hellcats!” Joshua shouted.
Isabelle’s brow furrowed. “Hellcats?”
“American!”
The planes disappeared behind the trees. Again the repeating crack of machine-gun fire filled the air. Louder thumps responded as Japanese antiaircraft guns opened up. Several large explosions seemed to shake the island.
“We’ve got to go!” Joshua shouted. “Now, while they’re distracted!” He hurried to the rear of the lifeboat and pushed with all his might. Nathan moved beside him and the two men thrust the heavy boat forward. Fortunately, the beach tilted toward the sea and the craft slid ahead. The air crackled with small-arms and machine-gun fire. Planes circled above and headed back toward the fray. One smoking Hellcat suddenly lost a wing and cartwheeled into the sea.
“Hurry!” Joshua yelled, aware that the Japanese were being hit very hard. He helped Isabelle into the boat. He saw Annie emerge from the jungle. Once Isabelle was settled, Annie, Nathan, and Ratu prepared to climb in. Then a massive explosion erupted on the far side of the island, the blast so large that a fireball reached above the treetops.
Leaping into the boat, Joshua glanced once more at the planes and began to row. His knuckles whitened on the oars, and he propelled the lifeboat into the waves, which smashed against the bow and inundated everyone with spray. The chaos became even more intense as the sky thickened with smoke. Hellcats continued to strafe the faraway beach, and antiaircraft guns boomed.
Realizing that the attack was a miracle that could save them, Joshua rowed with all his might. His injured hands once again split open. His will forced the lifeboat beyond the surf and into the sea. And his mind was so bent on saving everyone that he wasn’t aware that Ratu hadn’t gotten on the boat after all, but was running down the beach, chasing Jake’s deep footsteps.

THE NOISE OF THE DISTANT explosions and gunfire seemed louder, as if a typhoon of burning steel was churning forward to consume them. Though pleased by the presence of the American planes, Akira almost immediately forced the battle from his mind. He needed to focus like never before on the task at hand, and neither Annie nor the nearby conflict was going to interfere with his thinking.
Akira didn’t believe it would be hard to locate the approaching group of his countrymen. A large ravine tended to funnel everything from one side of the island to the other, and all he and Jake had to do was locate some suitable high ground and wait. Holding a rifle in each arm, Akira ran steadily. “Fire when I fire,” he told Jake. “Roger will be leading them. We shoot for him. We shoot and we run.”
Jake winced as a branch cut into his arm. Though he sought to remain as focused as Akira, he couldn’t help but think about his mother and father, as well as Ratu. Faces flashed before him, faces he wanted to see again but didn’t know if he would. “I wish you . . . weren’t so fast,” he said, trying to smile.
“After Roger is down, follow me. We will lead them away from the beach, and then we will circle back and swim.”
“You sure . . . you didn’t see Ratu wave good-bye?”
“Do not think about him, Jake! Not now!”
Jake had never heard Akira raise his voice and was surprised by his tone. Though Jake tried to follow Akira’s advice, Ratu kept returning to his mind, like a dream that one cannot fully awaken from. Was he escaping? Jake wondered. Does he know how darn much I love him? Why didn’t we say good-bye?
No answers presented themselves, and all Jake could do was run. The heavy gun pulled him toward the ground, and the thought of Ratu pulled his mind in directions that it should not go.

TEN MINUTES BEHIND Jake and Akira, Ratu hurried forward. He followed their footprints from the sand into the jungle. Though tempted to call out their names, he ran quietly, gripping his necklace. “Where are you, Big Jake?” he whispered. “Don’t run so fast. Please don’t run so bloody fast.”
He stumbled ahead, his lungs heaving. Unseen planes roared overhead, the frightening screams of their propellers and guns forcing him to crouch as he ran. “Why didn’t you wait?” he muttered, weeping.
Ratu shuddered, feeling more alone than he ever had. “Oh, Big Jake, please wait for me!”
AT THE REAR OF THE COLUMN, trying to focus on anything but his tremendous pain, Roger watched the troops in front of him. They continued to move as one unit, slithering through the jungle like a serpent. They were hard men, Roger knew, for not a single figure had cowered when the explosions started. No questions had been asked, no wordless exchanges of expressions. The men had merely paused for a moment and then started forward again.
The pain in Roger’s side had become a living thing, expanding and contracting with each breath he took. The agony was like a monster within him, its claws and fangs biting deeply into his side. He tasted blood at the back of his throat. And the taste of his own mortality filled him with an anxiety he’d never known. Suddenly, all he wanted was to crush out the lives of Akira and Annie as if they were cigarettes to be extinguished. He wanted to obliterate these lives, and then find a medic who could save him from the taste of his own blood.
“Follow . . . follow that stream,” he whispered to Edo, his thoughts slow and muddled. “That stream,” he added, “will lead us to . . . to the white woman . . . and the yellow . . . the yellow traitor.” He tapped Edo on the shoulder, breaking customs and protocols that he’d understood for years. “I . . . I want to taste their blood,” he said, somewhat deliriously. “Let me taste their blood.”
Edo paused, noting the feverish glaze that consumed Roger’s face and eyes. “You want . . . to taste their blood?”
Roger nodded slowly, as if his head was of unbearable weight. “I want . . . to taste their deaths.” As Edo remained motionless, Roger raised his pistol, his finger on the trigger, the monster within him screaming for revenge.

AKIRA AND JAKE LAY STILL, covered in leaves and branches. The two were about fifteen feet apart, close enough that they could communicate, but not in such proximity that a grenade blast could easily kill them both. Akira had selected the ambush site with immense care. Perched atop a gentle, thirty-foot rise, they overlooked the ravine that ran from one side of the island to the other. Akira was fairly certain that Roger would select this route, as it was the fastest way to reach the eastern shore.
The foliage surrounding Akira and Jake was thick. Lying in it, they were almost invisible from below. Only their faces and the black barrels of their rifles were unobscured by ferns, giant leaves, and branches. “Strike Roger,” Akira whispered, his finger tight against the rifle’s trigger. “Strike him and then follow me.”
Jake, who had only shot birds before, nervously licked his lips. His heartbeat seemed to travel and shudder from his chest to his eardrums. Sweat rolled down his nose. Ants crawled about him. “What if they see us?” he whispered.
To the west, a parrot flew above the trail, screeching loudly. Akira closed his fist, signaling silence. Except for the sounds of distant gunfire and explosions, suddenly the jungle seemed eerily still. Hooting insects and frogs had gone quiet. Animals of any sort were nowhere to be seen. Akira slowed his breathing as much as possible, not wanting the branches atop him to move with his lungs. About a hundred paces before him, the trail rounded a bend and followed the ravine in his direction. Akira kept his gaze fastened on the bend, unaware of a mosquito drawing blood from his neck.
The trail was still for perhaps another minute. Then Akira saw a soldier step cautiously into view. The man, who wore a khaki-colored uniform, carried a light machine gun. Akira had assumed that Roger would lead the assault, and closed his eyes briefly in frustration. The soldier moved like a shadow passing through the jungle. He was extremely cautious, his movements so refined that Akira’s chest tightened in fear.
Ten feet behind the man on point, another soldier appeared. He carried a rifle and also moved like a seasoned veteran. More men materialized around the bend. The leader was slowly but surely approaching the spot directly beneath Akira and Jake. Where is Roger? Akira frantically asked himself, trying to somehow see beyond the distant bend. Abruptly, the point man paused, as if sensing that he was being watched. He dropped to one knee, his gun held in a firing position, his head twisting left, then right. He looked up, eyeing the ridge above him.
Akira, who had kept the man within his gun sight, held his breath. The soldier’s gaze appeared to sweep past him. However, the point man then frowned, his eyes narrowing as he noticed the rifle’s barrel. The soldier was remarkably fast, swinging his machine gun upward, sending a burst of bullets in Akira’s direction. Despite the stream of bullets rising toward him, Akira didn’t move, his finger pulling on the trigger, his eye re-aiming the gun even as the point man fell. Jake fired a heartbeat later, and the second soldier in the column spun to his left as the bullet struck his shoulder.
Akira fired another shot, hitting a third man, and then rolled to his left, away from the soldiers below. Jake did the same, closing his eyes as bullets thudded into the soil around him. He twisted over the top of the hill and was momentarily safe.
“Run!” Akira shouted, heading down the other side.
Jake stumbled after Akira, the explosion of a hand grenade almost knocking him off his feet but miraculously not wounding him. Hearing the Japanese shout below, and knowing that they were clambering up the hill, Jake moved in vast strides, running through bushes rather than going around them.
Understanding all too well that Jake would provide a target almost impossible to miss, Akira urged him forward. Suddenly desperate, trying to give their pursuers a moment’s pause, Akira screamed, “Banzai!” The Japanese war cry reverberated eerily in the jungle.
After a few seconds passed, angry replies reached Akira’s ears. His countrymen called him a traitor, and without question their hearts were filled with rage and hate. And Akira knew that were he and Jake to fall, their deaths would not come nearly fast enough.
WHEN THOSE ABOARD THE LIFEBOAT had been at sea for no more than a minute, two extraordinary discoveries were made almost simultaneously. First, with the binoculars pressed tight against his forehead, Nathan spied a strike force of American warships. The vessels were several miles due east and were headed full speed toward the other side of the island. Then, equally stunning, while Nathan spoke about the looming naval battle, Annie realized to her horror that Ratu wasn’t on board.
“Where’s Ratu?” she shouted, frantically looking about, standing so quickly that she rocked the lifeboat.
Isabelle left her seat as well, scanning the water. “He was with us! I saw him get in!”
“He’s not with us!” Annie shrieked, putting her hands to her head. “He must not have—”
Not very far from where they’d left the beach, the unmistakable sound of machine-gun fire suddenly split the silence. A heartbeat later, explosions belched mushroom clouds up through the jungle’s canopy. Small-arms fire filled the gaps between the explosions, scores of streaking bullets announced with brief outbursts of sound.
“Akira,” Annie muttered. “They’re . . . they’re chasing him!” More explosions and gunfire dominated this side of the island. Suddenly, Annie found it hard to breathe. The world seemed to tip and sway about her. “I . . . I have to go,” she said haltingly, the fear of her own death suddenly inconsequential when compared with thoughts of what might happen to Akira or Ratu.
Isabelle reached for her sister. “Annie, you don’t—”
“I love you,” Annie said, then jumped off the lifeboat.
“Annie!” Isabelle screamed, dropping to her knees, trying to grab her sibling’s arm.
Annie kicked away from the boat as if she’d been born to do nothing but swim. Her hands and feet tore through the water, propelling her forward. Her terror over Akira’s possible death gave her a strength she’d never known. She didn’t care about what pain she might endure or what limbs she might lose, or dying alone in the jungle. All that mattered was that she find Akira. That she’d be there for him as he’d been for her.
So intent was Annie on reaching the shore that she didn’t hear Isabelle and Joshua screaming for her to come back. She didn’t see the life jacket that Nathan had thrown near her. And so Isabelle grabbed Joshua’s arm. “We have to turn around!”
Joshua placed his free hand over hers. “Are you willing to risk everything?”
She bit her lip at the thought of losing their child. Her vision blurred. Her stomach threatened to heave. Still, she nodded. “We can’t . . . we just can’t leave her alone out there.”
Nathan picked up the machete, silently telling his wife that he was sorry for whatever might happen, that he would always love her and be with her. “Let’s go get Annie,” he said, his limbs weak with fear.
Joshua started to fiercely row his left and right oars in opposite directions. The lifeboat began to turn. A smoking plane roared overhead and crashed into the sea. Watching Isabelle weep and hold her belly, Joshua was filled with a sudden and seemingly infinite sense of pride. “I love you,” he whispered, wondering if this would be their last day together, praying that it would not.
“Please hurry, Josh,” she said, her voice quivering, her face streaked with tears. She rocked back and forth on the bench, a profound feeling of helplessness overwhelming her. Though her time aboard Benevolence had been often defined by tragedy, at least she’d been able to subdue her patients’ suffering. At least she’d helped. But now, much to her horror, when Annie most needed her, Isabelle could feel the distance between them increasing. She could do nothing.
As Joshua’s hands bled upon the oars and he felt a muscle give way in his back, he tried to comfort her, for he could see that she was at the extreme limits of her endurance. “I bet it’s a girl,” he said, his eyes growing moist.
“A girl?” she replied, surprised by his words.
He nodded, grunting against the oars, biting his lower lip as he thought of their child. “With big . . . blue eyes and a heart . . . a heart like her mother’s.”
Isabelle watched Annie drag herself through the shallows and then start running down the beach. “Look at her go,” she whispered, shuddering as she wept.
As Joshua watched Annie, he prayed for her safe return, pleading with God to deliver everyone unharmed. “Where did the frightened little girl go?” he asked, awed by the change in Annie’s character. “When did she get so brave?”
“When she fell in love,” Isabelle replied, her trembling hands reaching for the medical kit. “I think Annie . . . she just needed to fall in love.”

WHEN RATU HAD FIRST heard the gunfire, he stopped running. Leaning against a tree, he wept, clinging to his necklace as if only it could save him from drowning. When the sound of death had suddenly stopped, he started running again. Darting around trees, he quietly called out Jake’s name, repeating it over and over in the same determined manner that a baby wails for its mother from a crib.
The deeper Ratu moved into the jungle, the more anxious he became. “Where are you, Big Jake?” he half spoke, half cried into the endless trees. “Big Jake, please tell me where you are! Please!”
Several gunshots rang out not far away. An explosion and additional gunfire seemed to answer. Believing that Jake and Akira were still alive, Ratu hurried ahead. He cried as he ran, his small frame wracked by sobs. Ratu had never felt so alone. Not when he first stowed away on Benevolence. Not when his father left. The terrible noises, the jungle, and the absence of his friend overwhelmed him. Suddenly, nothing mattered but finding the man who he’d grown to love.
And so Ratu charged blindly through the jungle, calling for Jake. As he crossed a stream, he thought he heard shouts in the distance. “Big Jake!” he screamed. “Big Jake, I’m here!”
Twenty paces away, bushes suddenly parted and Akira and Jake burst forth. Jake grabbed Ratu with his left hand, sweeping him over his shoulder. Ratu looked up and saw a handful of soldiers running forward. Gun muzzles flashed and bullets thudded into nearby trees. Akira paused briefly to fire, and a soldier cried out and fell.
Beneath Ratu, Jake hurtled over logs and rocks and seemed as strong as ten men. Ratu tried to wrap his arms about Jake’s torso, but his friend’s giant leaps caused Ratu to bounce and groan. More gunfire rang forth, and suddenly Jake grunted and stumbled forward. Ratu almost immediately saw the wound in Jake’s leg. Blood spurted from an ugly hole, and Ratu tried to press his hands against the torn flesh. A crushing explosion then threw Jake from his feet, tossing him against a tree as if he were no more than a leaf in a gale.
Akira screamed when he saw the grenade detonate so close to Jake and Ratu. Jake crumpled against a tree, his rifle spinning end over end into the jungle. Ratu was thrown into nearby foliage. Knowing that his countrymen would bayonet Jake and Ratu if he left them alone, Akira dropped to one knee and fired his rifle. His bullet struck a soldier in the neck and he died instantly. Even before the soldier’s body hit the ground, Akira was running toward it. He dove for the man’s light machine gun and, grasping it, rolled and fired in practically one motion. Another two soldiers fell and then an explosion lifted Akira off his feet. The world spun around him. He twisted through the air like a tossed toy, landing hard on his back. He tried to stand but his legs betrayed him. His ears rang. His thoughts weren’t connected. Time expanded, wobbled, and burst. To his immense surprise, he noticed that two fingers from his left hand were missing. He then saw Annie smile, and he reached for her.
Roger knocked Akira’s outstretched arm aside. Still on his knees, Akira started to mumble something, and Roger slammed the butt of his gun into Akira’s ribs. Pinpricks of light dominating his vision, Akira toppled face forward onto the ground.
“Don’t kill him, you fool!” Edo snapped. “I need to—”
Roger thrust his pistol into Edo’s open mouth and pulled the trigger. The back of Edo’s head disintegrated, and he fell lifeless at Roger’s feet. “Goddamn . . . monkey,” Roger muttered, swaying unsteadily.
At the sound of Roger’s voice, Akira groaned and rolled to his back. Blinking, he tried to bring his enemy into focus. But Roger noticed Akira’s wound, stepped on his injured hand, and ground his heel upon the bloody stumps that had once been fingers. Akira screamed. He tried to beat Roger’s leg with his other hand, but the world still spun and his blows were almost powerless.
Roger laughed deliriously, gripping his side. “Where . . . where’s that little bitch?” he asked, finally removing his foot from the wound.
Akira sought to gather his thoughts, to properly wield his mind and strength. Blood poured from his wound, and he knew that his world would soon go black unless he bandaged his hand. “Free,” he finally replied.
“Free?”
“From the . . . the ugliness of you.”
Roger wiped his sweaty brow, tried to steady himself, and again smashed his heel upon Akira’s wound. Akira screamed as pain nearly overwhelmed him. “I’m going . . . to drink her blood,” Roger said, spitting out the taste of himself. “Yours too.”
Akira closed his eyes, aware that he was fading, desperate to see Annie again. “Are you . . . a coward . . . or a man?” he asked in Japanese. The pain on his hand came again, darkening the nearby jungle, threatening to send him into oblivion. “I—”
“Get up,” Roger suddenly yelled, kicking him in the ribs.
Akira clawed back from the blackness. He opened his eyes and saw a plane burst into flames through a gap in the canopy. An image of Annie atop a tree then flashed before him, and he made no effort to force her away, as he needed her now. How he loved her. How she brought a sense of wonder into him that he’d never known. Thinking of this wonder, and of how Roger wanted to steal it from the world, Akira stood unsteadily and faced his adversary.
Roger spat out more of his own blood. “You’ll never . . . touch that little whore again,” he said, raising his pistol in one motion, pressing its warm muzzle against Akira’s nose.
“But you see,” Akira said, closing his eyes, keeping the image of Annie locked within him, “I am . . . touching her now.”
“Now?” Roger laughed, putting slight pressure on the trigger. “Did you say now?”
“You would not . . . understand. So sorry.”
“She’ll be next. And she’s going to—”
Akira suddenly twisted to his left, knocking the gun aside with his uninjured hand. Roger reflexively yanked on the trigger, and Akira felt a searing pain in the side of his neck. But his world didn’t immediately darken, and so he slammed his knee into Roger’s broken rib. And as Roger shrieked in pain, Akira dropped to the ground, grabbed Edo’s fallen pistol, and sent a trio of bullets straight up and into Roger’s groin and chest.
And then Akira started to fade away. Thinking of Annie, and of how he wasn’t nearly ready to leave her, he forced his injured hand beneath Roger’s shuddering body so that the weight of his dying enemy would stop his own blood from departing.

FIFTY FEET AWAY, the gunshots reverberated within Jake’s mind. With immense effort, he opened his eyes. Ratu lay motionless nearby. His head was bleeding profusely, and the sight of such blood caused Jake to weep. “No,” he whispered, trying to move, besieged with grief. “Please . . . no.”
Ratu blinked, grimacing at the pain within him. “Big . . . Jake?”
Jake attempted to rise to his elbows, but his body barely responded. His tattered legs were immobile, as if he were a snail and they his lifeless shell. Still, he slowly dragged himself toward Ratu. Moaning at the agony his movements brought, Ratu clawed to his friend. Their hands met, and Jake rolled over and pulled Ratu closer. Ratu managed to put his head on Jake’s chest. Lying on his back, Jake pressed his hand against the wound on Ratu’s forehead.
“Thank you . . . for . . . for finding me,” Jake whispered, the edges of his vision darkening.
Ratu began to tremble. “Big . . . Big Jake?”
“Yes?”
“I’m . . . afraid . . . of dying,” Ratu whispered, the mere effort of speaking making him dizzy.
Jake felt himself fading, and with all of his will, pulled himself into the present. “You . . . you ain’t alone. I’m here . . . with you.”
“You are?”
“Can’t . . . you . . . feel me?”
“I’m . . . cold. So cold.”
“Think of . . . all them fish . . . we caught,” Jake whispered, his thumb moving slowly against Ratu’s wet eyelashes.
“I’m . . . tired.”
“Me too.”
“Will . . . we . . . travel to heaven . . . together?”
“We . . . surely will,” Jake replied quietly, fighting the darkness with all his remaining strength, wanting to be with Ratu for as long as possible. “Like . . . two salamanders.”
“Will you . . . hold my hand . . . on the way?” Ratu asked, shivering.
Jake could no longer move his head, but felt tears roll down his face. “Yes,” he whispered, unable to open his eyes. “And we’ll . . . we’ll fish. And . . . and laugh.”
“Please . . . please hold my . . . hand, Big Jake. Along . . . the way.”
In the blackness that nearly consumed him, Jake managed to lower his hand from Ratu’s face. He searched for Ratu’s fingers and, finding them, squeezed them with his own. “You . . . feel that?” Jake asked, unsure if he’d said the words aloud.
“Is that . . . your hand?”
“I reckon.” Jake wanted to say more, but an enormous weariness was overcoming him, as if he hadn’t slept for years. Finally, he whispered, “I . . . love you, Ratu. You’re . . . my son. My boy.”
“I . . . I am?”
“Sure as . . . rain’s wet. Good . . . sweet rain.”
Upon hearing these words, Ratu wanted to hug Jake but was powerless to do so. “Do you . . . still have my hand?”
Jake saw his farm. The day was hot and long. Ratu was beside him. “I’ll . . . always . . . always have . . . your hand.”
“I . . . love you too,” Ratu said softly, closing his eyes.
“A . . . fine . . . son,” Jake whispered. “Such a . . . fine son.” He tried to say more, but he could no longer speak. And so he squeezed Ratu’s hand once more. And then he felt himself moving, felt the days of his youth merging with the memories of middle age. He saw knee-high corn, his mother’s face, a dirty arrowhead held by his small fingers. And then he saw Ratu. And he held Ratu’s hand and didn’t let go, even as he felt himself being carried somewhere distant, even as the colors of new worlds washed over him like waves.

DESPITE THE CLAMOR of the distant battle on the beach, the three gunshots reverberated in the jungle, causing Annie to stop and listen. Her heart thudding wildly, she hurried to her left, her wet clothes covered in mud and grime from the many falls she’d taken. Though Annie had been afraid for most of her life, she wasn’t afraid now. At least not of her own death.
And so she ran, trying not to panic at the thought of what the gunfire meant, wondering why the nearby jungle was once again silent. She prayed for Akira, Ratu, and Jake, hoping that a miracle would befall her, and that they’d all be fine. She promised God that such a miracle would prompt her to dedicate the rest of her life to a noble cause.
The first body she came across was a Japanese soldier who’d been shot in the chest. He hadn’t died instantly, and thinking of Akira, she started to weep when she saw the agonized look on the man’s face. Twenty more paces brought her to two more dead soldiers. She spun around, peering through the foliage. “Akira!” she yelled, no longer caring if anyone else heard her. “Akira! Where are you? Jake! Ratu!”
No answer emerged from the jungle. The silence terrified her, for it meant that they might all be dead. Running forward, she tripped over another body. “Akira!” she shouted. “Tell me where you are! Please!”
Annie came to the crest of a small hill and saw Ratu and Jake, saw how they were holding each other. “No!” she shrieked, running forward, sliding to her knees as she neared them. She frantically felt for Ratu’s pulse. Finding it, she searched for wounds. He had a nasty cut on his forehead, and, screaming with effort, she ripped part of his shirt off and wrapped it around his head, binding the wound as tightly as possible. Her hands then searched the rest of him. His left arm was broken, but she couldn’t locate any other significant wounds. Carefully, she laid him down and propped his head up.
To her dismay, Annie couldn’t find Jake’s pulse. His flesh was still, and his legs were bloody and ruined. Trying and failing to hold back her sobs, she leaned down, pressed her mouth against his, and desperately sought to bring him back to life. “Don’t go, Jake,” she whispered, pushing rhythmically on his chest. “Please . . . please don’t leave us.”
She tried to awaken his heart until her shoulders ached. She looked once more for a sign of life. Seeing none, she leaned down, kissed his brow, longingly touched his face, and said good-bye. Then she rose and stumbled through the nearby foliage, shouting Akira’s name.
She found him tangled with Roger and a small Japanese soldier. Weeping, she searched for his pulse and cried out when she felt its beat. Though a plane suddenly crashed into the jungle not far from her, and antiaircraft guns continued to boom, she barely heard the explosions. Her years of training and service took over, and she inspected Akira with trembling hands. She moaned at the sight of his two missing fingers. Ripping a strip from his shirt, she bandaged his wound as best as possible. She then focused on his neck, which bore the rut of a passing bullet. Her tears dropped like rain upon him as she worked.
Suddenly realizing that Ratu was unattended, Annie groaned in frustration. About to leave Akira in order to help Ratu, she heard her sister calling for her. “Izzy!” she screamed, disbelieving her ears. “Izzy, where are you?”
The bushes near her parted and Isabelle, Joshua, and Nathan rushed forth. The two men held rifles, and Isabelle carried the medical kit. Isabelle dropped to her knees beside Akira. Quickly Annie removed bandages and other supplies from the kit. “Ratu,” Annie said, pointing toward a tree. “Go to him, Izzy!”
Isabelle and Joshua ran into the bushes while Nathan remained. “What can I do?” he asked, setting his rifle aside.
Annie looked at Akira’s wounds, which she’d almost finished dressing. “Can you carry him?” she asked, her voice cracking.
Nathan nodded. “I’m sorry, Annie. I’m so sorry.”
Having finished with Akira’s wounds, Annie brought his uninjured hand to her lips, kissing it. Shuddering, she then hurried toward Ratu. “How’s he doing?” she asked Isabelle, pulling anxiously at her own hair with bloody fingers.
“He’ll be fine,” Isabelle answered, glancing sadly at Jake.
“It’s going to be hard . . . oh, Jake’s death is going to be so hard on him.”
“I know,” Isabelle replied as she fashioned a sling for Ratu’s broken arm.
Louder explosions suddenly thundered on the other side of the island. “It’s the ships,” Joshua said, helping Isabelle with the sling. “They’re engaging.”
“Should we stay or go?” Isabelle asked, trying to deny the weariness that threatened to overcome her.
Joshua put his arms beneath Ratu. “It’s time to go.”
“We can’t leave Jake,” Annie said. “I’ll carry Ratu. Josh, can you get Jake?”
“Let’s . . . let’s take him home.”
Annie picked up Ratu as carefully as she could, holding him like a baby in her arms. Stepping unsteadily, she headed back to Akira. Annie saw her lover’s bloodied hand and neck, and her tears began anew. But she also began to walk toward the shore, and she didn’t stop until her feet touched the sand.

SIX HOURS LATER, after the giant guns of the ships had gone silent, after dusk had swelled and then darkened the sky, Joshua finally stopped rowing. He carefully eased the oars into the boat with bleeding hands that were closed tight by the memory of the wood. Sitting on the bench before him, sheltered within Isabelle’s arms, was Ratu. He stared blankly into the distance—his mind dulled by morphine. Fresh stitches dominated his forehead, and his arm was in a sling. He’d said almost nothing since he awoke.
At the front of the lifeboat, Nathan peered into the binoculars, seeking to make sense of the darkness. On the bench nearest to Nathan’s perch, Akira and Annie also sat quietly. She’d stitched up the wounds on his hand and neck. The hole that had once held his two fingers had been extremely difficult to close in the rocking boat, but she’d finally finished. When Akira had opened his eyes, she gave him a dose of morphine and leaned his head against her shoulder.
At the bottom of the boat, Jake lay in a fetal position. He looked to be sleeping. Joshua had thought about burying him on the beach, but realizing that Ratu would want to say good-bye, Joshua had gently placed Jake in the boat and then collected a few fist-sized rocks, setting them next to him. Now, as Joshua sat beneath the shimmering sky, he thought about the heat of the coming day, and how Jake would have to be buried at sea. He also pondered how he should mention such a burial to Ratu.
Finally reaching a decision, Joshua carefully stepped over Jake and sat next to Ratu, patting his shoulder, noting how his eyes were fixed on the endless waves. “May I tell you a story?” Joshua asked quietly.
Ratu turned to him as if waking from a dream. “What?” he whispered.
“A story. I’d like to tell you one.”
“Tell . . . tell Big Jake too.”
Joshua sighed, cradling Ratu’s hand within his own, already missing the twang and joy of Jake’s voice. “Ever since people sailed the seas,” he said, “it’s been considered a great . . . the highest honor to . . . to be buried at sea.” Joshua spoke slowly, giving Ratu time to comprehend his words. “There’s . . . there’s a sense of peace found at sea. And unlike a grave on land, which can only be visited in one spot, a grave at sea . . . well, the entire ocean becomes the grave. So the deceased . . . so Jake could be visited from almost anywhere.”
A tear rolled down Ratu’s face and dropped to Isabelle’s wrist. He nodded but said nothing.
“Is this . . . what you want, Ratu?” Isabelle asked, stroking his cheek.
Ratu nodded again. Annie rose to kiss him on the top of the head. Nathan gently squeezed his shoulder. Akira bowed deeply to him, almost passing out in the process. Quietly and carefully, Joshua put the rocks he’d found into Jake’s pockets. “Would you like me to say a prayer?” he asked Ratu.
Instead of answering, Ratu awkwardly removed his necklace with his uninjured arm and, with Isabelle’s help, placed it around Jake’s head, and then leaned down and held Jake tight. While Ratu cried and shuddered, everyone else comforted him with their touch and words. Meanwhile, the sea rocked the lifeboat as if it were a cradle.
When Ratu clearly began to weaken, Annie and Isabelle helped him back to the bench. They tenderly held him as Joshua began to pray. “The Lord is my shepherd,” he said softly. “I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures. He leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul.”
Joshua continued the prayer until its conclusion. Silence descended swiftly, only the sounds of Ratu’s quiet moans and the restless waves reaching their ears. Joshua nodded to Nathan, and the two men lifted Jake. They then eased him into the water. As he started to sink, Ratu moved to the side of the boat, his fingers darting into the water to grasp Jake’s hand. “I love you . . . Big Jake,” he whispered, his tears dropping to the sea. “I love you so bloody much.”
Ratu held Jake’s hand for so long that it seemed he was unwilling or unable to let go. The lifeboat swayed. The stars slowly moved as the earth twisted. And only when Ratu slipped into unconsciousness did his grip finally loosen.