Stranded (20 page)

Her chest heaved with snuffly sobs she couldn’t stop. She was tired of being brave. Tired of proving herself. She was a crybaby, and she didn’t care any more. From now on, she’d stay with Aunt Betty.

“I see you, Pumpkin. I’m right behind you.”

She broke into fresh sobs.

His hand grasped her bare foot. “I’m sticking the torch up here so I can see. Looks like a trap, all right, but we’re going to get you out just fine. Where’s your other sandal?”

“In my h-hand.”

“Good. I’m going to take off this one and push it up to your shoulder. See if you can reach it.”

Heat from the torch warmed the back of her leg as he removed her sandal and guided it up her backbone to her neck, then sideways to her shoulder. She reached back. “I got it.”

“Atta girl. Now put your hands into your sandals so you can push against the sticks and scoot ahead. Once you’re away from them, I suspect you’ll see the end of the tunnel and can get out.”

“Nooooooo. They’ll cut me. They cut my finger when I touched them.” More pinpricks galloped down her spine, just thinking about the razor slice on her fingertip.

“I looked at the sticks up close, Crystal. They’re bamboo, and they’re cut on the side away from your body. The soldiers imbedded them in the wall at a slant so that they bend away from you when you crawl out of the tunnel. You won’t get hurt, but anyone crawling into the tunnel from the outside will get stopped by the sharp points. It’s only a one-way trap. The way we’re going is an escape tunnel.”

“I ca-a-an’t.” Hopelessness tumbled out of her in a cascade of tired sobs.

“Sure you can. You’re already halfway through. You didn’t get hurt until you touched the ends, did you? Your sandals will protect your hands now.”

“No-o-o-o.”

“I’ll be right behind you.”

Her cut fingertip tingled against the hard leather of her sandal. “I ca-a-an’t, it hurts.”

“Pumpkin, you can trust me. You know I’d never let anything harm you. That’s why I’m here, to help you. When we get off the island, I want us to stay friends—to talk on the phone and go see each other. That’s how important you are to me.”

Warmth flowed into her. She could feel her heart beating, the air moving into her lungs and out again. Her bones felt strong, like maybe she could move after all. She took a big breath. “Okay, Jake.”

She wedged her hands farther into the sandals and scooted forward. The bamboo brushed against her but didn’t cut, just like Jake had said. The last sticks snapped the air as she left them behind. The cold floor pinched her arms and legs again, and dirt sifted into her eyes and nose—but that’s what you had to expect if you went crawling through tunnels.

Ahead of her, a bubble of light shimmered. “I see the end of the tunnel, Jake.”

The sticks rustled behind her as he pushed through them, grunting.

“You okay, Jake?” She giggled that now she got to ask the question that
he’d
kept asking
her
.

The exit dropped her onto a big fern. The gurgle of running water told her the stream was nearby. She sat up and shifted her sandals to her feet before standing. A moment later, Jake squirmed out of the tunnel, his shoulders squished by the narrowness of the hole. She giggled at how funny he looked, all black from head to toe.

Then she ran to his arms and cried and cried. Not because she was scared.

But because Jake had made her a promise, and she knew he’d keep it.

At last, four weeks on the island and they were ready to leave! Jake tugged the lighter out of the slapping waves and up toward the tree line. His heels sank deeper into the wet sand as he braced himself against the boat’s resistance. The bamboo outriggers on either side wobbled with each yank. They had worked better than he’d hoped. Once he added the sail, the boat would skim right through the choppy water. All that was left was a last trip to the volcano top, and then he and his fellow castaways would be on their way to the sea-lane.

Rain started up as he reached the tree line. With the outriggers attached, the boat was too wide to be pulled into the trees. It would fill with rainwater, and he’d have to bring a bucket to bail it out before they sailed. During the monsoon in Nam, the dampness of constant rain and mist day after day had made life miserable. Here, it was even worse, as if the island were the center of the heavens’ target practice range.

He set out at a dogtrot for the cave. If the sun came out, he’d grab the binoculars and see if he could beat the next downpour to the volcano’s cone. He hoped Eve wouldn’t insist on joining him, or even Crystal. When he traveled alone, he could be with Ginny.

A miasma of sadness enveloped him. It absorbed him until he no longer felt the rain pounding him but became part of it. Cold. Fragmented. Spilling aimlessly. A loneliness, vaster than the universe, gripped his insides. Soon they’d be headed home. But not him. He had no home. Only an empty house.

Brett and Dana rose to mind and shook him hard.
Dad!
He blinked. He loved them, too, didn’t he? Their lives were important to him. What were they doing now at the academy? How had Brett done with the rifle skills? And Dana—were the guys giving her a hard time or falling head over heels in love with her?

A sweet tenderness seeped into the hollow inside him. He’d go to the Point first thing when he got back. Maybe he’d relocate near them. They’d never get over Ginny’s death, but they could comfort each other, move on with God’s grace to find meaning in their lives.

The rain stopped as he approached the stream near the cave. The landscape was greening up except where the volcanic rock formed an impervious armor over the ground. In the Lone Soldier’s field, the grass all but sang in the breeze. The ghoulish sentry was totally hidden from sight. If they
hadn’t arrived in the burn of summer, they never would have discovered him.

He entered the cave long enough to grab the binoculars. Betty was alone inside. He paused. “Sun’s out. How about if I set a chair outside for you?”

She followed him, her cane tapping energetically across the floor and preceding her out the cave door like the antennae of a beetle. “Where are you off to? Eve and Crystal are making a day of gathering coconuts for the trip.”

“The volcano. I’m going to check out the sea-lane—get a better idea of how far away it is and how frequently it’s being used.”

She let him help her into the chair, then waved him off, turning her face to the sun and closing her eyes. He appreciated that she didn’t try to detain him. In the three weeks since they’d moved into the cave, she had become more and more cheerful as her mobility increased, thanks to the cane he’d carved for her. Without books to read, he found the rainy days hard to put up with, but she seemed content, whatever the weather.

Eve, though, was always uptight. She disappeared often, returning chilled, teeth rattling, to stand before the hearth fire. He knew she was counting off the days until her court date. He was too. It was now his deadline as well as hers. He’d promised he’d get her off the island in time for it.

At the volcano, he focused his attention on the horizon to the north. His heart beat wildly when he spotted a ship—a tiny dot that crawled steadily along the horizon. The vessel was barely discernable with the binoculars, but the steady, straightforward path distinguished it from a whale or other meandering object. As the day wore on, he spied
two more ships. The pattern of travel was the same. It was clear they were on an ocean highway, following the shortest path through the islands to their destinations.

So he’d been right about the island being an outpost. The soldiers could readily observe and report on enemy vessels, with the advantage that the island was just far enough off the path that no one would notice it. The bad news was that at that distance, no signal fire would be noticed. A boat would need a reason to come to the island. The uninhabited beaches and cove said that so far, no one had found a cause. Even the motherland of the Lone Soldier had dismissed coming.

Rain swept in, hiding first the sea-lane, then the panorama of the island below him, and finally, everything within arm’s reach. He descended the cone by touch more than sight, plastering his chest and hips against the stone, securing his foothold before releasing the grip of his fingers to search for a new hold. When the ground leveled to where he could walk, he stumbled off-course into the stream. He fell face first. The tumult of water submerged his head as if an iron hand forced him under. He came up fighting mad.

The stream would make an easy ride back if it weren’t for the waterfall at the end. He fought the current and crawled onto the bank. If this was what the deluge was like on land, what would it be like in the middle of the ocean? If they left the island now, would they be safe? The question called for a hard decision.

“I saw three ships on the sea-lane.” He let his excited companions chew on that part of the news. As chilled as he was, he needed the comforts of fire, chowder, and fruit before facing the second part of the news with them. The cave was filled with the damp, woody scent of the coconuts and firewood Eve and Crystal had dumped inside. Their exuberant chatter in anticipation of the trip ricocheted off the cave walls like ping-pong balls.

“I thought you were going to bring the boat to the cove.” Eve pulled up a chair next to his and sat, extending her bare feet toward the coals.

“I took it out for a test run. It’s ready, but I want to sail on a sunny day. Or at least start off on one so I’m pointed in the right direction.”

“Today would have been perfect.” She picked up a stick and jabbed it at the coals. “We shouldn’t have stocked up on coconuts. We wasted the day.”

“Not really. I needed to confirm the location and distance of the sea-lane. It’s far. Farther than I expected.”

“What difference does it make? We just head north.”

Betty limped over, cane in one hand, a coconut shell of fish-fragrant chowder in the other. She handed the shell to Jake. “What’s your guess at the distance?”

“Assuming the range of the binoculars is a max of thirty miles, I’d say thirty. The ships were barely discernible.”

Eve shrugged. “So?”

“So, if everything went perfectly, at five knots per hour it would take six hours to reach the sea-lane. We haven’t had six hours of straight sunshine since before we moved in here.”

Eve quirked another shrug. “As you said, we start out in the right direction and keep going, rain or shine.”

“That was my thought until the downpour on my way back from the volcano. Trouble is, we’re as good as blind in the rain. There are no markers on the ocean. We could go round and round in circles. We could head the wrong direction. We could even be in the sea-lane and miss a ship passing right by us. Or worse, it could plow us under.” He squared his shoulders for the reaction that was sure to come. “Trouble is, the rain has raised our risk to an unacceptable level.”

“Unacceptable?” Eve jumped to her feet as if a coal had landed on her toes. “Are you saying we shouldn’t go?”

Betty gaped at him. Crystal stepped next to her, her blue eyes as wide as he’d ever seen them.

“No. Well, yes. I’m saying you should stay here.” He set the coconut shell down. “I’m saying I will go by myself.”

“What? Why?” Eve’s voice rang with bewilderment.

“Because it’s too dangerous for all of us to go. In this weather, on a storm-tossed ocean, we’d each need to wear a life vest. We have two left, not four.”

“Then you and I can go.” Eve flung up her hands. “We’ll send someone back for Betty and Crystal.”

“No.” His breath froze at the thought of Betty and Crystal forever stranded on the island. “If we didn’t make it, chances are Betty and Crystal would never be found. That’s a chance I won’t take.”

Betty rapped her cane on the floor. “We should all stay. What’s the hurry? We have everything we need to wait out the monsoon.”

“I have a deadline to meet,” Jake said. He glanced at Eve. He’d made her a promise, and he would keep it.

“Foolishness!” Betty rapped her cane again. “Your life is worth more than any deadline. You’d miss it, anyway, if you died getting there.”

“Jake, no.” Eve shook her head. Shook it over and over, in fast little jerks. “Betty’s right. It’s not worth dying for.”

He tossed off a laugh. “I’m not going to die. If tomorrow is sunny, I’ll head out. And the day after that”—he smiled at them as if there were no question about the outcome—“we’ll all be headed home.”

Jake awoke restless, nerves on edge like when his battalion was preparing for a sweep in Nam. The soft puffs of Betty’s snores punctuated the silence of the sleeping corridor. He slipped out of bed and padded across the cold floor to the hearth for his moccasins. A faint glow painted the sky outside the three windows. His heart pounded. Unless the light was peeking from under heavy rain clouds, he’d be setting sail today.

A sharp squawk from the direction of the table startled him. He whipped around. Gulls. Three of them. The beak of the largest opened into a wide
V
and emitted a hiss. He sat so he faced them and hurriedly assembled his moccasins. Eve or Crystal could take care of the birds. If the weather proved fair, he wanted every available second to be aimed at the journey, not gull-chasing.

He circled to the cave door and raised it. The gulls repositioned to follow his path but didn’t leave the table. He crawled outside, tipping his face upward to determine his destiny.

He got to his feet and gawked at the sky. No gray overcast. No dark clouds. Only a scattering of feathery, white ones against a brassy sky. Yet he could feel the drop in atmospheric pressure—a sure sign a storm was on its way.

He climbed to the plateau above the cave to see what an ocean view might tell him. A gust of wind tossed dried leaves and twigs at his head as he accessed the top. Kindling and some of the larger sticks lay scattered over the ground. He blinked. Eve’s tidy stack of wood was in disarray.

Worse, there was no sailcloth covering it.

He spun around to scan the trench and minefield for where the wind might have dropped the sail. Nothing. He raced to the other side of the plateau. No sign of the sail on the ocean either.

He was sure he had secured the sail last night, tightly enough that the wind shouldn’t have dislodged it. The wind was strong, but certainly nothing unusual for the monsoon. How could this have happened?

The answer walloped him in the stomach.
Eve!

He dashed back down to the cave. The gulls squawked and flapped their wings but stayed on the table. He checked the sleeping ledges. His was closest to the chamber, then Eve’s and Betty’s and Crystal’s. Only Betty and Crystal were in their beds. He checked the other six ledges. All of them were empty.

And a life vest was missing.

Betty rose to her elbow. “Gulls again? I was trying to ignore them.”

“Eve’s gone. And so is the sail.”

“Oh, Lord, no!” She sat up. “What’s the weather like?”

“Clear skies and a strong wind. She’ll think that’s a good sign, but I can tell a storm is coming. There’s a low pressure front. And the sky’s a funny color.”

“Surely she’d turn back when she saw the rain clouds.”

“There aren’t any. Just little white ones.”

Betty’s hand flew to her throat. “Take me outside, Jake. I don’t like the sound of this!”

“Can’t. I’ve got to go after her.”

“No, wait! If this is what I think it is from my travels, she’s in big trouble. You need to know.”

He huffed at the delay but picked her up and carried her past the complaining gulls to the cave door. They crawled outside.

“Do you want me to take you to the plateau?”

“No need to, Jake. That sky says typhoon. That’s why those gulls are inside. They’re looking for shelter.”

He took off running.

Stepping from the jungle onto the beach where Betty and Crystal had landed, Jake drew in a startled breath. Dark clouds camped the sky like a bivouacked army. Beneath it, the ocean was heavy and rolling, restless with suppressed energy. The wind whipped inland, rattling the leaves on the trees. Surely Eve had caught the warning and sailed back to the island. Or maybe he was right behind her and could stop her before she left.

The noise of the coastline had changed. No gulls rode the air currents. The surf’s steady lap was now a rough swash foaming at the beach’s edge. Palm fronds clattered in combat. The heaviness of imminent danger permeated the air like an invisible fog. It pressed against his skin and clogged his lungs.

He ran along the edge of the beach, straining to see any movement on the ocean’s surface. If Eve had made it out there, she must be attempting to return. The wind by itself would sweep her in. Or had the current caught her and was dragging her out to sea?

Halfway down the beach, the strength of the wind forced him to retreat to the tree line. He moved from tree to tree, mooring himself against the gusts. It would get worse as the center of the typhoon got closer. The wind was strong now, but not yet vicious. Typhoons advanced slowly, at a rate of seven to ten miles per hour. If he could find Eve, they could still get back to the cave before the worst of the storm hit.

Rain broke from the clouds and sliced bullets into the sand. His heart sank when he arrived at the four sticks marking the murdered sailor’s grave. Sure enough, the boat was gone. A path of disturbed sand showed where Eve had tugged the lighter to the ocean.

There wasn’t much he could do now. Except keep looking. He couldn’t give up until it was clear she hadn’t survived. If the current had caught her, she wouldn’t be too far out. She could still make it back to shore.

The beach ended, and he entered the jungle. He’d traveled the boggy terrain five times now, two of them to haul bamboo for the outrigger. One time he’d ended up in the quagmire of the swamp. His hair stood on end at the memory of the crocs he’d run into. No doubt they were instinctively quiescent in the threat of a typhoon, but the ones he had seen were big guys. He didn’t want to put their appetites to the test.

At the next beach, he fought the wind and rain to inspect the shoreline for the boat. The gale was pushing harder now, probably forty miles an hour. He staggered forward a step at a time. He couldn’t see worth spit, but he was sure he was on the beach at the southernmost tip of the island. It was where he had dragged Eve ashore when he rescued her from the ocean. God had saved them from being swept out to sea then.
Please, God, save her again
.

He all but stumbled over the lighter. It was on its side, half submerged by the waves pounding the beach. The left outrigger was gone, and the one on the right was broken. The sail was still attached, but the mast was broken in two. Both oars were missing.

He searched around the vessel for Eve, then extended his hunt up and down the beach. Had she made it to shore with the boat, or . . . ? He swallowed back the thought.

“Eve!” He hollered until his throat hurt. His voice was no challenge to the gale whipping about him, but he kept at it. He plodded up and down the shoreline, tunneling through the wind, examining the churning waves pummeling the beach. His stomach was leaden when he returned to the boat and inverted it. His heart sank further when he saw the crack down the lighter’s middle. He ran his fingertips over it. Numb as they were, he could still feel the split was beyond repair. The boat would probably break in two just hauling it up to the tree line.

He wrestled the waterlogged sail off and tugged it backwards over the sand toward the thrashing palm trees. Anger and grief wrestled in his gut. Anger with God for not protecting Eve; grief for the loss of her life. Anger with Eve for taking things into her own hands; grief for his failure to realize that of course she’d do that.

He entered the tree line and hunted for a place to stow the sail. Wet and heavy as it was, there was no way he could lug it back to the cave. The challenge of making it back there himself was increasing with every passing minute.

Shaking with cold, he returned to the beach to orient himself. The storm-tossed ocean frothed like a rabid dog, leaping and snarling at the black clouds overhead. The wind beat at the trees with a thousand fists and shrieked at their resistance. His legs and knees trembled. Never had he seen power like this.

“Jake!”

He spun around. “Eve?”

Was the wind fooling him? But, no, there she was, a short distance off, sitting with her back against a tree. She was slumped to one side, arms and legs sprawled, wet hair plastered against her head and face. Her hands, knees, and the lower half of her legs were caked with sand from crawling to the tree.

He ran to her and stood, heart pounding, gazing in disbelief. With all his might he wanted to grab her and shake her. Hard. “What were you were doing, taking off like that? I told you I’d—”

“It wasn’t your call, Jake.” Her face reddened, and her shout flamed as hot as his. “It was mine.”

“Yours? I don’t recall that decision.”

“Do you recall I said no? That was my decision. You always assume yours overrides mine.”

Acid scalded the back of his throat. “Do you realize there’s a typhoon coming? Thanks to your uninformed decision, the boat is damaged beyond repair. We now have no way off this island you were so eager to leave.”

The tightness in Eve’s face deflated. She turned her head to the side and vomited what looked like a stomach full of salt water. For the first time, he saw the walnut-sized bump on her forehead.

“You’re hurt.” He knelt beside her and examined the lump. “Do you have any other injuries?”

She shook her head. “Not that I know of. I was thrown out of the boat. My head struck the edge.”

He looked her over for other signs of damage. The life vest had afforded at least some protection to her vital organs. “Everything okay in there?” He tapped the vest.

“I’m fine.”

“Can you walk?”

“A little ways.” She let him help her to her feet.

“How about a long ways? We want to get back before the full force of the typhoon hits.”

“I can’t. Let’s just go inland and wait it out.”

“Inland is croc land.”

She shook her head in obvious exasperation. “Okay, Colonel. You go your way, I’ll go mine.”

Flames bit the back of his throat again. “I didn’t come here to leave you in the middle of a typhoon.”

“Did I ask you to come? You can stop being a hero, Jake. Stop trying to save me.” She leaned against the tree and slid back to a sitting position. “I’m staying here.”

Before he knew what he was doing, he grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her to her feet. “If you thought your nightmare about wolves was bad, listen to the howling of that wind! That’s what you need to be afraid of! That’s what’s chasing us, and, like it or not, you are going with me!”

Her head rolled, and she vomited again. He stepped aside to avoid the spew but didn’t let go of her. She straightened to a wobbly stand, clutching his arms. Her fingers were ice against his skin.

“Wolves?” She laughed weakly. “Okay, Jake. I’ll go. At least you came, didn’t you?”

His anger
fizzled
at the reminder of the other part of her dream. Her father had failed her. Of course she wouldn’t trust easily. Life had taught her to look out for herself because no one else would.

“I’m here”—he softened his voice —“and we’re going to help each other, okay?
Lean against my back and reach around to clasp your hands at my waist.” He rotated and felt her body slump against his spine. He reached back, grabbed her hands, and brought them together at his belt buckle. “Atta girl. Now match your steps to mine. It will take both of us to fight that wind. Both of us, you hear?”

Her answer was slurred. “Both of ush? That makes ush both colonels, you know.”

Oh boy. That hit to the head really rang her bell. He dared a step forward and felt her chest heave. A spread of warmth pooled onto his back. The pungent odor of stomach contents whisked forward with the wind.

He folded
her hands under his and took the next step. “No way, lady. I just now got promoted to General.”

They staggered through flailing vegetation to avoid the worst of the wind while still keeping the beach in sight. More than he feared the storm, he feared the crocs. He hadn’t thought to bring one weapon with him. And now he had to haul Eve’s almost deadweight straight through the edge of the beasts’ territory.

The beach ended, and he had no choice but to cross the patch of jungle leading to the next beach. Croc land. Nervous sweat dripped from his armpits, replacing the pelting rain.

The path he’d hewn on his previous trips lay submerged in water. After several ankle-deep steps, he stopped. Eve was slipping down his back. If he had to run, her dragging feet wouldn’t just slow him; they’d be a handle for croc teeth.

“Eve, I need you to put your arms over my shoulders.” He crouched, scooting her higher onto his back as she flopped one arm and then the other onto either side of his neck. He grasped her forearms at his shoulders and stood. Her feet fluttered helplessly against the backs of his calves.

“Can’t walk,” she protested.

“You can walk when we get to the next beach. Right now I want you to keep an eye out for crocs.”

“Like that one?” She slapped her left elbow against his shoulder.

He swiveled in a half-turn. A blur of gray parted the reeds at a distance in a dead aim for them.

Adrenalin jump-started him into a run that would have won the gold medal in the one hundred meters. The hurdles too. He pumped muscle, leaped fallen branches, and ran like he’d never run before.