Stranded (12 page)

Jake halted as his foot sank into the first flattened clump of grass.
Idiot!
He gazed at the increased space his foot took up. Why hadn’t he thought about the danger of wearing his moccasins? Here he’d bawled out Crystal for risking her life with the tiniest of missteps, and now he was doing the same thing. One extra inch, and a detonator he’d missed before could be set off.

Should he go back, take off the moccasins, and start over? Trouble was, the soles of his feet were bruised. Stepping on the broken grass on his first trip in had left his feet tender. A sudden stab of pain, a bit of a stumble, and he could be thrown off the safe path he and Betty had forged.

No, his feet needed the protection. He splayed the grass around the next footprint and studied the ground for the telltale spike of metal that would end his life. Once his weight depressed the detonator, stepping off it would explode the mine.

A breeze blew off the ocean. The sunbaked stalks of grass rasped against each other like the tail end of a rattler. The noise was relentless. It crept up his spine, jangled his nerve endings. Each step forward, each lift of his foot, stopped a heartbeat. The gulls, as if holding their breaths, coasted silently overhead. At the edge of the field, Eve and Crystal said nothing.

Sand stuck to the sweat on his hands and fingers. Twice he got granules in his eyes from swatting insects that landed on his nose and cheeks and eyebrows. His back ached from stooping to minutely examine the area of his next footstep.

Then he was there. He stood at the fence, heart thundering, skin and clothes soaked in the sour odor of his sweat. “I’m here!” he yelled, for the sake of Eve and Crystal, for the jubilation of success, for gratitude to a God who was looking out for him.

The breeze rattling the grass parted the stalks into bowing waves that revealed the length and breadth of the fence. It was exactly what he expected: a giant
X
that stretched some thirty yards across the open area of the field. The waist-high grass was slightly taller than the fence and thick enough to conceal it. Each leg of the
X
consisted of barbed wire stretched in three tiers of parallel lines—a single wire at the top, more strands in the middle, and several more at the bottom. Together the three tiers formed an upside-down
V
over the ground.

“Eve.” He twisted to face her over his right shoulder. “Can you get to that spot?” He pointed to a location that lined up with the northeastern leg of the fence. “And, Crystal, can you go over there?” He pointed to a northwestern site.

Staying on rocky ground outside the minefield, they each walked to the place he’d designated. Crystal stopped when he signaled her, but Eve ran forward and bent over the ground. She bobbed back up with widened eyes. “There’s a skeleton here. Human! Next to something rusty.”

He blew out a breath in relief and inhaled the next one with glee. So, he hadn’t taken the risk for nothing. “Perfect! Just what I’d hoped for.” Better, even. “How about you, Crystal?”

Crystal turned her gaze away from Eve and took two stiff steps. Mouth dragged down and eyes wide open, she looked as if she expected a boogeyman to jump out at her. She turned in a half circle and halted. “There’s a rusty thing here too.”

“Excellent! Stay right where you are and wait for me.”

She plastered her arms to her side, fingers worrying the hem of her shorts. He’d better hurry before she bolted. Cautiously, but with more confidence than when he’d entered, he retraced his footsteps through the grass to the beach and on up to join Crystal.

“Let’s check out the terrain before you show me what you found.” They climbed the embankment separating the minefield from the stream and looked over the grassy field to Eve. “See that?” He pointed to a depression running the width of the field between Eve and Crystal. “That’s a trench where the soldiers hid.”

“Are they skeletons?” she whimpered.

“I’m pretty sure there aren’t any more skeletons down there. Can you see the rusty thing you found?”

She pointed to a red lump below them. “Can I go back to Aunty now?”

He waited while she ran to Betty. The kid had done well. No crying, no fleeing. She had stood her ground in the face of a boogeyman attack.

He climbed down to the trench and found a rusted chunk of metal at the tip of the fence. Clearly a machine gun. An escape route had to be somewhere nearby. He pushed aside the heavy grass at the back of the trench until he found a small hole just large enough for a man to crawl through. A tunnel? If so, no doubt it would have one—maybe several—exits.

He’d save it for another day. At least in the minefield he’d been able to see what he was facing. No telling what had made its home in the tunnel.

He tromped through the grass to the other side of the trench. “Eve?”

“Over here. There’s a cliff.” She trotted back to him and pointed out the skeleton. “Looks like we were right about the Japanese being here.”

Jake brushed aside the long grass covering most of the skeleton. The bones appeared intact, clothed in a tattered khaki uniform and faded leather boots. The figure was kneeling against the trench, arms, chest, and head atop the embankment. Nearby, a second rusty machine gun stood at the fence’s tip.

“The uniform definitely looks Japanese.” Jake examined the insignia on the collar. Red, faded to pink by the weather, with a yellow stripe and single star. “I’m not familiar with their ranking system.”

Eve hitched her hands on her hips and squinted at the figure. “One lone soldier, left behind, looking out to sea for a ship to rescue him. Abandoned and alone, he dies.”

Jake snickered at her drama. “Probably not the lone soldier, but the last. I suspect there are a dozen or two buried somewhere nearby. Being the last, there was no one left to bury him.” 

She shot him a look of irritation. “I think ‘Lone Soldier’ fits him just fine. What did Crystal find?”

He gestured at the lump of rust. “A machine gun like this one. Your Lone Soldier was manning a second machine gun position. Enemy soldiers who got through the land mines would run into the barbed-wire fence and be held up. The gunners’ job was to fire along the fence and cut them down.”

“Was that a trench you crossed to get here?”

“Yes. More soldiers would be positioned along it with rifles. I found what I think is an escape tunnel in case the enemy got through.”

He showed her the opening. “If they were here any amount of time, they probably carved out a place to live in. This volcanic rock begs for it.”

“At the other end of the trench maybe?” She jogged back to the skeleton and shoved aside grass on the back slope of the ditch.

The trench abutted a rocky bank that led to a drop-off of about forty-five feet straight down. Jake peered over the edge. The roots of a tree buried long ago in lava stuck out of the cliff’s side like whiskers. He stepped back. The higher slope of the bank between him and Eve didn’t look natural. The stone was not consistently lava. Some of it looked imported. “Let’s look over here,” he called.

Eve brushed past him and picked up a stick at the edge of the cliff. “Jake, I found something—a wire.”

“Wait, don’t touch it!” He rushed to stop her. “It could be rigged to a booby trap.”

He caught a blur of movement in his peripheral vision. He turned to see a huge log rolling directly toward Eve.

“Look out!” He lunged forward and grabbed the back of her shirt. Before he could yank her away, the log mowed her down and bounced off the cliff.

Screaming, Eve toppled after it.

He grasped at the bare rock for a hold, then tumbled after her.

The edge of the cliff scraped against Eve’s belly. Booted her off.

She scrabbled at empty air. Abruptly, the full weight of her body jarred to a stop. Her breath punched out of her lungs. Punched back in.

She dangled in midair. Gazed numbly at the log cracked in two on jagged rocks below her. Way below her.

“Eve!”

She startled and looked up. Jake was suspended by one arm from a root above them, his face contorted in pain.

“Grab my belt! I can’t hang on.”

Hang on? She blinked. Pain under her arms. She gasped. Her shirt was cinched in a stranglehold around her chest. Jake was holding her by the back of her shirt.

“Hurry! You’re slipping.”

She groped behind her for his legs, used them to swivel around. Her nose banged into his knees.

“Reach up for my belt. Hurry!”

She felt a jerk as his hold slipped. She shot her hand up. Fumbled for his belt. Grabbed it with both hands. Jake let go of her shirt, grunting as her weight transfered to his torso.

The two of them swayed like a pendulum. Craning her neck, she got a clear view of his left hand clutching a root embedded at both ends in the cliff. He grunted again and joined his freed hand to it.

His belt and shorts inched down his hips. “Jake!” She glanced at the smashed log.

“Walk your feet up the cliff. Climb up me like a ladder.”

Her breath came in short, raspy puffs. Sweat on her hands made his belt slippery. She gripped it tighter, walked her feet up the cliffside on either side of him, grabbed his shoulders.

“Now my neck. Clasp your hands behind my neck.”

She slid a hand into place. His neck was slick with sweat. If she lost hold—

“Quick!” His voice creaked with pain.

Her heart beat wildly. He was going to lose his grip on the root. There were no others nearby for her to grab onto. A feral whine rose from her chest. She clutched his neck and slipped her other hand into position. Clasped her fingers so tight that crackling pain shot down her arms.

Her feet slipped off the side of the cliff, and the weight of her body jarred against Jake’s neck. Her face skated down his chest to his belly.

Air hissed through Jake’s teeth in a sharp
inhale.

She clung to his neck. Gasped in shuddering breaths. Released them in spastic bursts. They were going to fall.

“Walk back up, put your feet on my belt.”

Legs shaking, she shuffled one leg higher against the cliff, then the other leg. Bent her right knee. Snaked her foot onto his belt.

“Good, now the other foot!”

She slithered it over his torso and onto the belt.

“Stand up, grab the root. Hurry.” His words came out pinched.

She pushed her feet against his hips and straightened her legs. “My fingers. I can’t unlock them.”

“Lean into me, they’ll loosen up.” His eyes were squeezed shut, his brow and cheeks crunched tight.

She shoved her chin onto his shoulder. Loosened her hold on his neck. Released the dead bolt on her fingers.

“Almost there.” She raised her hand and slid it up the side of the cliff until her fingers found the root. Clasped it. Slid her other hand up and grabbed a second hold. She tightened her grip, willed her toes to slide off the belt.

Jake groaned as her weight shifted off his body. He opened his eyes and peered up. “Lemme get a better hold. Then climb onto my shoulders and onto the cliff.”

The root jiggled as he repositioned his hands. Her heartbeat accelerated.
What if one end pulled out? She peeked down at the log. It was old and weather-beaten, but still, it was solid, and it had cracked in two. If she fell, she would die a slow and painful death.

“I’m ready.” Jake’s feet were braced in back of him against the cliff. “Go.”

“The root—”

“I know.” His voice was solemn. “Hurry.”

Hurry. How many times had he said that? Hurry—so that only one of them fell? Tears rushed to her eyes.

She locked her fingers onto the root and put her right knee on Jake’s chest.

“Atta girl.”

Then the other knee, farther up. “I can’t—” She strained to lift her first knee to his shoulder, but her arms were too spent to pull herself high enough.

Jake’s left shoulder lowered, and a shove pushed her knee onto it.

It took her a second to realize Jake had let go of the root with his left hand to help her. His teeth were clamped tight with the effort.

“Jake, no!”

“Hurry!”

She lifted her other knee to Jake’s right shoulder and straightened. The cliff edge was within reach. She stretched up for it. She’d have to stand to pull herself over the edge.

Hurry.
She rose shakily, lopsided on his shoulders, and worked her hands, then her arms, over the edge onto the top of the cliff. When her head and chest crested the edge, she stepped off Jake and onto the root.

“Almost there.” She looked down at him. He was still dangling by one arm. Had she hurt his shoulder?

Hurry
. She bent her knees and pushed off the root with both feet to boost her waist onto the edge.

Her foot slipped as the root gave way.

Jake smacked into the side of the cliff as one end of the root broke loose and sent his backside scraping down volcanic rock. He shot his left arm up to hold on with both hands. They slid down the root, shredding skin. His mind numbed at the horror of smashing to his death in one final splat.

His clasp found traction on the dirt that had buried the dislodged end. His fall stopped. A bare yard of root hung between him and a long plunge to the rocks.

A thread of blood snaked from under his left palm and slithered down his arm. He twisted around to face the cliff and brace his feet against it. Pinching the root between thumb and fingers to prevent further sliding, he climbed higher on the root until he was holding it where it disappeared into the rock. His body ached like he’d been stretched on a medieval torture rack.

“Jake!”

He glanced up. Eve’s head poked from the cliff’s edge.

“What should I do?” Her voice quivered, and she choked on the last word.

A boulder-sized lump formed in his throat. He hadn’t expected to survive. He took a big breath and swallowed. Still no guarantee he’d make it. “Wait till I get closer to you, then pull me up.”

The rubber of his moccasins worked well on the cliffside’s rough surface. He walked his feet up it until his elbows were bent root-high. Keeping a tight hold with his right hand on the root, he bent his knees, then straightened enough to grab the edge of the cliff with his left hand.

“Gotcha.” Eve seized his wrist.

“Don’t—” Her tug loosened his fingers, and he dropped like an elevator with a snapped cable. Face and chest scratched rock as he descended to a shoulder-jarring stop. Once again he dangled from the root by one arm.

Stupid woman!
He clenched his teeth to keep from yelling it at her. Clutching the root with both hands, he started over again.

“Don’t touch me!” He glared up at her, and her abashed face withdrew from the edge of the cliff. Exhaustion slowed his second climb. He needed badly to rest, but to relax his grip for even a second was to invite a dive into the sharp teeth of the rocks below.

When he had a good grasp with both hands on the cliff’s edge, he called to her, forcing what kindness he could into his voice. “Eve, three things I want you to do. First, grab my hair and pull me up while I get my arms aboard. Second, when my head is close enough, hold me by my chin and the back of my head and keep pulling. And third, when my chest is aboard, slide your arms under my armpits and pull me the rest of the way. Got it?”

“Got it.”

She hauled him onto the cliff top exactly as he’d specified, not missing a step. His body shook uncontrollably from the effects of being a human bungee cord. Chest heaving, he rolled onto his back and pillowed his head on his hands. An army of gnats attacked the scrapes on his cheeks and forehead. Groaning, he rolled onto his stomach and hid his face in a stockade of arms. The bugs now landed on the scrapes on his back. Let them feast. At least they weren’t mosquitoes.

“You saved my life. Thank you.” Eve’s voice was teary.

He turned his head to peer at her. She hadn’t been this emotional when he’d saved her from the ocean. Maybe because this time she’d seen the options—die or be saved. “The log got both of us.”

“Only because you held onto my shirt.”

He raised his head and grinned at her. “I couldn’t reach your hair.”

She laughed, but only for a second. “Twice now, you haven’t let death snatch me away. You held on at your own risk.” Her voice caught as a sob jerked out of her lungs. “Betty’s right—you are a hero.”

He blinked back a sudden rush of tears. “You risked your life too. Betty told me how you swam out to rescue her and Crystal.”

She looked away from him. “Jake—” She pinched her lips together so tight the skin around her mouth turned white.
“There’s more to that story—”

“I know. Betty told me about that too. How you tried to save Ginny. Thank you.” His chest quaked. “It means a lot to me.”

“Jake.” Her words came out hoarsely. “I’m trying to tell you it’s my fault she’s dead.”

He frowned. How could she blame herself? “You can’t hold yourself responsible. She chose not to get into the boat with you. And even if she had—”

“No, I’m talking about Captain Emilio.”

“Captain Emilio?” Anger boiled up from his gut at the name. He sat up. “You weren’t his
girlfriend
, were you?”

She jerked back, her eyes wide. “No!”

He took a deep breath to calm down, but his words still came through gritted teeth. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have yelled at you.” He swatted at the gnats. “As far as I’m concerned, anyone connected to Captain Emilio should be strung up with him.”

She said nothing. Just stared at him.

“I’m sorry, Eve. What did you want to say?”

She hesitated, as if she’d lost her thought at his outburst. “Captain Emilio—why did he want to kill everyone?”

“So his boss could collect insurance money is my guess. The explosions made it look like a shipwreck.”

“How would the authorities know where to look for the wreck?”

He had to think about that. “When I went to the bridge, a crewman was on the radio. He hung up when I entered. He may have been sending a Mayday. He may have told them the coordinates.”

“And a rescue ship would have come?”

“Ships and planes.” He closed his eyes. “I should have thought of that. I should have stuck around.”

She was silent until he opened his eyes. “The bugs are eating you up, Jake. You should go bathe, wash off those cuts and scrapes.”

“You too.” Her knees and hands were also scraped, although she had a lot more skin left than he did. They rose, and he led the way to the cove.

Was she done talking? Something didn’t seem right. Eve had been a pain every one of their four days on the island. Her sudden appreciation was a welcome change, but right now he felt somehow manipulated. Why would she say Ginny’s death was her fault and then bring up Captain Emilio? Her connecting the two baffled him. It wasn’t like her not to make sense.

He glanced at her over his shoulder. Her chin was trembling. Had the fall shaken her up and confused her? Or was the confusion in his mind?

He huffed at the prospect of her tears. He had always given in to Ginny’s.

Eve was no wuss. After they washed off, he’d push her for an explanation.