"Untie my hands."
But the boat began to rock so violently, the man grabbed for the center support.
As he reached up, the boat bounced the wrong way and the man's hand went right through the gash in the fiberglass.
Before he could get his hand out, the boat bounced again and his lower arm was a mass of cuts and blood.
The williwaw found the hole in the fiberglass and ripped a whole section off and sent it flying.
Gilmore imagined what it would do to someone in its path.
The boat seesawed back and forth.
The man with the injured arm cried in pain.
Gilmore tried to hook his feet onto the support, but the williwaw pulled the boat away, turned it on its side, and blew it across the beach into a pile of rocks.
Grass and small stones, thorny little shrubs, and pieces of dirt flew through the air.
The black plastic bag was ripped off his upper body and in a millisecond he was soaking wet.
He crawled to the shelter of a rock, near another rock where the Duke hid.
Gilmore heard a terrifying scream and looked up.
On the cliff near him he saw Pavel, the watchman, falling off the cliff.
Above him a fierce American eagle spread its wings in anger.
Pavel must have accidentally invaded its nest.
Pavel bounced against the cliff as he fell and loosened some stones which fell around a man at the base of the cliff.
Gilmore had heard the others refer to this man as 'The Dummy.'
The williwaw drove the stones into the man.
Apparently he thought he was being shot at, because Gilmore heard him click the safety off his machine gun.
Gilmore fell to the earth.
'The Dummy' began firing, rotating in a semi-circle.
And then, as suddenly as it had started, the williwaw disappeared and a normal storm wind returned.
Dead bodies littered the beach, most of them mowed down by 'The Dummy.'
Of the Duke's three dozen men, half were dead.
A few paces away from him the Duke lay on the ground clutching his eye and howling in pain.
One of the Duke's men, his forehead bloodied by a large gash, stood with his boot on Villa's neck.
There was no hope now that Villa could rescue him.
Gilmore began to shiver.
He looked up the valley from where the williwaw had come and shook his head in a gesture of admiration and respect.
Frank knew that if Doc did what he said he was going to do, he, himself, would die within the hour. They had agreed on a plan, whether he came back from the Sea Otter or not.
"I'm gonna make our stand at the fuckin' airport," Doc said, "and I'm gonna shoot the first motherfucker I see."
He, Frank, was the first one Doc would see and Gilmore was the second.
All the way up from Shagak Bay they had led the way, their ropes tighter and their clothes wetter than before. Gilmore was shivering again.
About noon they neared the airport. Only three feet of rope separated him from Gilmore, yet sometimes even Gilmore disappeared in the fog.
Behind them Frank heard the curses of the Duke's weary, wet, cold band.
Doc's plan was simple.
Frank had heard it many times, maybe the only military plan Doc knew.
It started as a movie Doc told him about in the prison yard.
"See, the Indians retreat in front of the white guys, the white guys chase them, then the Indians move in from the side and the rear."
That's what Doc was going to do - suck the Duke and his men down the middle of the runway, then move in from the sides and the rear.
Doc bragged about his own role.
"I shoot the first motherfucker, then I run like hell down the runway.
I'm right in the middle."
In this fog no one could distinguish anyone.
Doc would be the one to shoot him.
Frank stumbled on something and looked down.
He was on the runway.
Not long now.
A snatch of a poem from high school started reciting itself in his brain:
Into the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred…
Into the jaws of Death
Into the mouth of Hell…
It wasn't a valley and he wasn't riding, but the slaughter ahead seemed the same.
So much undone.
This prison, this dream of his, was only three months old. It could be wiped away the minute Alexander Duban found someone who would assemble products cheaper.
And if there were any negative press, Senator Murphy would move faster than a williwaw.
Frank Jr..
His son.
Someday, somehow he wanted to spend time with him, talk to him, tell him how sorry he was he wasn't there for him.
Maybe it wasn't too late to be a father.
And Latisha.
Was there a future there? How exciting she was, how independent, how much a person in her own right.
How sad that he might die before he got to know her.
He heard someone running off to the side and ahead of him.
That would be Doc's early warning announcing that the enemy was coming.
Larson jabbed a rifle into his back.
"Faster, Villa."
He tried to make his hobbled legs go faster.
What is death like, Rudy?
A bullet zipped by from the front.
Then another.
Then two shots from the Duke's forces.
He and Gilmore were in the middle of a crossfire.
Gilmore ducked and fell to the concrete, but Larson kicked him up.
"Forward," he ordered.
He would miss teaching.
Taking men through the door of knowledge.
What a wonderful way to spend the rest of his life.
Get this island established, then get a branch of the University of Alaska restarted.
More shots from the front.
The Duke yelled, "Charge."
Doc's plan was working.
The white guys were getting sucked down the middle.
Any second now the Indians would close in from the sides and the back.
The fog thickened.
He turned his head. The rope behind him extended into fog.
"Gilmore?"
"Yeah?"
"Nothing."
More bullets.
Doc had to be shooting blind.
Larson and the Duke pushed them on.
Then three quick shots from the front and some fire from the sides and the back.
It did not sound, however, like a whole band of Indians, but like one gun on the right, one on the left and one behind.
Doc's army, his army, was pitifully small.
From behind him and to the left he heard the Duke.
"You lost them, Larson."
"Keep your shirt on."
Suddenly, in front of them,
he heard Hanna's voice.
"You dumb little prick, I tell you that's Frank."
A hand from out of the fog grabbed him and pulled him to the side.
But whoever grabbed him, didn't realize he was tied to Gilmore.
"What the fuck?"
It was Doc.
"Doc!
Thank God.
Cut us loose."
"Him, too?
Gilmore?"
"He's sort of on our side."
"And the devil is polishing wings," Doc muttered as he cut their ropes.
"What kind of force do we have?" Frank asked.
"Me and Hanna, Nelson, Sam Wong and Joe.
Every other ass-hole on this island cried about all the damage the williwaw did and how they had to fix it."
"Latisha, Maggie and Jeannie?"
"I sent them to Finger Bay.
Maggie wouldn't go.
She's with Joe."
Frank looked at Hanna.
She pointed to herself.
"Me?
Why am I here?
Doc tried to send me off, but I'm staying close to him with the mouth tape."
"Where can I get a rifle?" Frank asked.
"The Air Terminal," Doc answered.
"Take Gilmore with you.
He's shivering.
I think he's in trouble."
Before Frank could move, five men came out of the dense fog.
It was the Duke, Larson and three others.
"Well, look what we got here," the Duke said.
"The fuckin' doctor has freed our two prisoners, Larson.
What do think about that?
Drop your weapons.
You too, bitch."
Larson raised his rifle.
"Kneel down, all of you."
They all knelt, the Duke's men circled around them.
Here it comes, the end, Frank thought.
Was he right to have broken his pledge of non-violence?
He had set up a gang war and now he had lost.
The williwaw medallion on the Duke's neck caught Frank's eye.
The thing had come to mean something special to him.
It didn't belong where it was.
Larson motioned to the Duke, "Let me finish 'em."
Doc stood up right in the Duke's face.
"Yeah, sure, Duke, tell him to go ahead.
You know how to take out a ruptured appendix, don't you?
You don't?
Then what are you going to do without a doctor and a nurse?
And when your little pricks start to rot off with venereal diseases, what then?"
Suddenly Gilmore shivered his way back onto his feet.
"A…A..And if the Feds don't hear Villa's voice every night, you better be ready for an invasion of the United States Army."
Frank listened to this in amazement.
It wasn't true, he didn't even have a phone, but maybe Gilmore was paying him back for saving his life.
What could he ever say to protect Gilmore?
One of the Duke's men brought Sam Wong into the circle.
His leg was bleeding.
As soon as he saw Larson he broke away from the man holding him and lunged at the big man.
Larson had his rifle in his hand, waiting for the Duke to give the order to execute the others.
When Sam leapt, Larson fired.
Sam was hit in the chest and fell immediately to the ground.
He jerked for a second and then lay quite.
"Good work, Larson," Doc said, "you just made an orphan out of Jeannie Dickinson.
You have so much to be proud of."
Larson raised his gun toward Doc.
"No, wait," Duke said, "in case one of us gets sick.
If you want to kill someone, kill Gilmore."
Gilmore stopped shivering and smiled.
"Sure, I understand that, Duke, but I got to tell you something one of the girls at the club said about you."
"What?"
"The thing is, this girl could get the cream out of a frozen zombie.
She was telling me that you looked like one hell of a guy and she'd like to fuck you."
The Duke laughed like a teenager.
"Who?
Who is she?"
"One of the girls at my club."
The Duke was getting upset.
"Who, Gilmore?
"She's a little on the shy side so she wants me to introduce her to you."
Two more of the Duke's men interrupted Gilmore by pushing Nelson into the circle.
Frank stood up, helping Hanna up as he did.
He faced the Duke.
"You can't kill Nelson if you want indoor crappers."
"Leave me the fuck alone," Duke shouted.
"I'll decide who lives and who dies."
Suddenly Joe Britt stepped out of the fog.
Frank saw that he had no weapon, but he kept walking toward the circle like he was going to right the wrongs of the world.
Maggie came puffing up behind him.
"Big deal," the Duke said,
"Here's Villa's bare-handed killer.
Take him, men - bare-handed."
One-by-one the Duke's men moved in to confront Joe, and one-by-one Joe sent them sailing. One fell over Sam Wong's dead body.
Frank waited for Joe to show the signs of blind rage, being made to be a gladiator like this.
But so far, so good.
The Duke looked like he was enjoying the contests, but his men were getting pasted.
He motioned for Larson and two of the others to get in there and take Joe down.
Frank watched Joe pick one of them up with his huge left hand and cock his right hand back behind his head.
One blow would snap the man's neck. Joe hesitated, then dropped his arm.
Instead of hitting the man, he shoved him to the ground.
But the Duke's men took advantage of Joe's hesitation and overpowered him.
When Joe lay on the ground, the Duke turned to Larson.
"Take all these motherfuckers," he said, gesturing toward Frank, Gilmore, Doc and Nelson, "and lock them in Britt's jail.
And this big shit, too," he said, kicking Joe.
"I gotta get some dry clothes and some sleep."
Larson nudged Gilmore with his rifle.
"Soon as I get them locked up, I'm gonna find your wife, Gilmore, sweet Latisha."
"She's gone," Gilmore said.
Larson jammed his rifle into Gilmore's stomach.
"Don't lie to me, boy.
The Duke saw her get out of line at the airport and talk to the army guy. She's here - and I'm
gonna
find her."