Winter in June (17 page)

“That's the last thing the Japs would worry about,” said Spanky. “The guy had to complete his mission, and if that meant getting caught while everyone else got away, so be it.”

Violet scanned the jungle around us. “If he was creating a distraction so that someone else could steal supplies, do you think the men who were with him are still here?”

A flash of light grabbed my attention and I peered toward the Suicide Cliffs looking for its source. A flicker of light danced near the entrance to the caves, though from this distance it seemed no bigger than a firefly.

“They swept the island pretty good,” said Spanky. “If there are
any Japs here, they'll want to lie low until the heat's off them, which means they won't try anything else tonight. In the meantime, they're posting guards up and down the Suicide Cliffs and along the shore, just in case they try to make a run for it before dawn.”

I was amazed he could be so confident about that. If they had no problem shooting Gilda and Jayne, surely we couldn't predict what they would or wouldn't do next.

“What about the supply huts?” I asked. “Is anything else missing?”

He didn't get a chance to answer me. The PA system crackled to life. We were all ordered back to our tents. Only authorized personnel were permitted to leave their quarters until first light.

 

It took me hours to fall asleep. The humidity seemed to grow by the minute until I swore someone was sitting directly on top of me. The jungle was no longer full of unusual animals sounding their nocturnal calls. It was riddled with Japanese soldiers toting their guns, looking for a chance to take a shot at the rest of us. My mind kept turning to Gilda and Jayne. Was Gilda out of surgery? Was Jayne in much pain? Would either of them be permanently scarred or damaged? It would be a terrible irony for Gilda to come all this way to reignite her career only to have it stolen from her when a sniper's bullet ruined her face for film.

Even though we'd all been ordered back to our tents, I could hear our men walking the road, talking in low voices about which way to direct their search. There were no loud whoops signaling that anyone else had been found. Eventually, I accepted that whatever was going to come to pass was going to happen regardless of whether or not I was awake for it.

It was only as I began to finally drift off that I realized I hadn't thought about Jack once since Gilda and Jayne were shot.

I slept through the morning bugle call and awoke shortly before 0800. I probably would've slept well after that if a young male voice hadn't told us that Rear Admiral Blake wanted to see us.

The three of us dressed in nervous anticipation of what this meeting would bring. At a quarter to nine we walked to his tent and waited for his secretary to lead us in.

Late Nate's makeshift office was impressive. While the building was nothing more than the same olive-drab canvas walls we inhabited, he made the place more permanent by adding a large oak desk, an Oriental rug, and pictures hanging from the rafters. He also had a typewriter and a phone, both of which seemed remarkably out of place on the island. But then that was the military. If they needed it, they got it.

As we entered the tent he gestured us into three camp chairs that had been lined up in front of his desk. A tower of papers was awaiting his attention. They were letters that he was supposed to help censor. “Good morning, ladies.” If his demeanor had been unpleas
ant before, it was downright Machiavellian now. “I hope you had a good night's rest.”

“We've had better,” I said. “How're Gilda and Jayne?”

“Miss Hamilton is doing quite well. In fact, you're welcome to visit her in the infirmary if you wish.”

I could feel my mood instantly brighten. Poor Jayne. She had to be terrified by everything that had taken place. I should've found a way to visit her last night. She would've done that for me.

“What about Gilda?” asked Kay.

“I'm afraid Miss DeVane had a very rough night.” He nodded toward the secretary to dismiss him. The younger man saluted him before turning on his heel and exiting. “She made it through surgery quite well, but the doctor is concerned that infection may have set in.”

“She hadn't been feeling well,” I said. “She's had a fever the last few days.”

He nodded. I wasn't telling him anything new. “The doctors are fairly certain that she has malaria, which is complicating her condition.”

“Can we see her?” asked Kay.

“That is up to the medical staff. Given her fragile condition and the worries about worsening infection, they are restricting access to her for the time being. I can assure you she is receiving the very best of care here. Once her situation stabilizes we'll want to take her to one of the better-equipped hospital facilities. I'll make certain that you have regular updates as needed.”

As needed
. Did the military have a course on making vague commitments to keep you out of a tight spot?

“What about the sniper?” asked Violet.

“He has been locked up and will be doing no more harm to anyone.”

“But did you find his accomplices?” asked Violet.

“What accomplices?” Late Nate's tone made it clear that the fact that there may have been accomplices wasn't a surprise, but our knowing about them was.

“We heard a rumor,” said Kay. “Some of the men were theorizing that he was creating a distraction while the supply huts were being raided.”

Late Nate's mouth twitched into a smile. “You shouldn't listen to scuttlebutt, Miss Thorpe. Nevertheless, I can assure you we have combed every inch of the island to make sure there is no one else here.”

“Were any more supplies missing?” I asked.

“I'm afraid that information is above your pay grade.”

My dislike of Late Nate came back in waves. “Look, we deserve to know why our friends were shot.”

“It sounds to me like you already do. An enemy sniper saw the opportunity to injure our morale and did so. Why he chose to do that is of no import.”

Tell that to Gilda and Jayne, I thought.

“The important thing is that we stopped him before anyone else was harmed.”

No, the important thing was that Gilda and Jayne were still alive.

 

We hoofed it to the infirmary after meeting with Blake. A large red cross painted near the roofline helped differentiate it from the nearly identical Quonset huts that surrounded it. Inside, it was divided into a series of small rooms that were marked with their intended purpose. This wasn't a place you convalesced for a long time. If you were that bad off, you went to Guadalcanal or one of the hospital ships.

As we entered the building, Kay faltered. “I don't think I can go in there,” she said.

“Why?” asked Violet.

“I just…I just don't think I can.” She whirled around and walked out the way we'd entered.

“What was that all about?” I asked.

“Maybe she can't stand the sight of blood,” said Violet.

“Can I help you?” The voice belonged to a nurse with a head full
of tight gray curls topped by a white cap. Atop her schnozzle was a pair of rimless glasses slowly traveling the length of her nose. Her eyebrows were thick and unkempt. In fact, her whole appearance told of long days and longer nights stationed at the infirmary. She wore a sweater, cape-like, around her shoulders and a white nurse's uniform that had long since lost its crispness. She wasn't part of the bedpan commando; she was Red Cross. In her hand was a paperback book that two of her fingers were attempting to mark her page in. It was
War and Peace
. I wondered if she could clue us in to how it turned out.

“Rear Admiral Blake said we could see Jayne Hamilton. She was one of the girls brought in last night,” I said.

“Of course.” She glanced behind us. “I was told that Kay Thorpe was in your group. Is that correct?”

Her knowing Kay rattled something in my memory. She had a friend at the infirmary who'd helped to arrange her discharge. “Yes. She wasn't feeling well, so she went back to camp.”

“Tell her Ruth said hello. And please tell her to come by sometime. I'd love to know how she's doing.” The nurse showed us a smile marred by a pronounced overbite and ushered us into one of the larger rooms, where men stricken with jungle rot and heat rashes that had grown infected reclined while they waited for the antibiotics to kick in. At the end of the space, cordoned off from the opposite sex, lay Jayne. She sat upright in her bed and spooned some sort of liquid into her mouth.

“Hiya!” she said. Before she could put the spoon down, I flung my arms around her and forced her into an embrace. I would never take advantage of her again. I would never direct another cross word at her. I would make sure she was safe until the day I died.

“Ow!” she said.

I pulled back. “Am I hurting you?”

“More like suffocating me.”

“Sorry.”

She noted the look on my face and relaxed her own. “It's all right. It's nice to be cared about.”

I scanned her body—so childlike in the hospital bed—and tried to find a sign of the injury that had felled her. She looked exactly the same.

“What's the crop?” said Violet. “We heard you'd been shot.”

Jayne tucked her hair behind her left ear and showed us an angry red burn mark that marred the fleshy part at the top. “The bullet barely touched me. It was the fall that caused most of the damage.” She lifted the blanket covering her feet and showed us her swollen right ankle. “It's not broken, but it sure hurts like it is.”

While Violet seemed disappointed in the extent of Jayne's injuries, I was stunned by them. Just another inch and the bullet would've hit her skull. And what would my last words to her have been? Stop babying me?

My eyes welled up. I was such a selfish, awful person. First, I push Jack away and get him killed and now Jayne—

She took my hand and squeezed it so hard I almost yelped. “Stop it,” she said. “This wasn't your fault. I'm fine. I'm better than fine.” She fished something out of her pocket. “Look, they even gave me a souvenir. One of the men found it lodged in the upstage wall.”

It was a monster. Not a revolver's slug but a combat round designed to stop a man in his tracks.

“What about Gilda?” asked Violet.

“No one will say a peep,” said Jayne. “They have her in another room, and they won't let anyone see her. She must be terrified.” She licked her lips as she carefully chose her next words. “There was a lot of blood. At first I thought she must be dead for sure, but then I heard her moan.”

I sat on the edge of her bed, still clutching her hand in mine. “What else did you see?”

“Nothing. I mean I heard the gunshot. I felt the bullet whiz past me, and I grabbed ground, but I never saw where any of it was coming from. Have they figured out who did it?”

“They caught the guy,” said Violet. “It was a Jap hiding up in the hills.”

“You mean like those fellows who were watching our show on
Guadalcanal?” Jayne shook her head. “I guess we're too entertaining for our own good.”

 

We found Kay back in our tent flipping through
Stars & Stripes
.

“What happened to you back there?” asked Violet.

She blushed and pushed the paper away. “I'm sorry. I just started feeling woozy, like if I was in there another moment, I was going to pass out.”

“Ruth told us to tell you hi,” I said.

Kay blinked twice. “Did she? That's nice. How's Jayne?” If she changed the subject any faster, we would've gotten whiplash.

“Good,” I said. “Better than good. She'll probably be out in a day or two.” A new rush of rain rapidly flooded the cement floor. I snagged Kay's copy of
Stars & Stripes
and sat on my cot. An article described the tough time Clark Gable was having in the air force. In the B Bag column (allegedly named for the synonym for female dog), soldiers groused about the delay in getting V-mail and the censor's inconsistency. There was a brief article about Irene Zinn's death. As of the Pacific theater edition's printing, there'd been no leads in her murder.

“Did you get to see Gilda?” asked Kay.

“Nobody can,” said Violet. “She's in a private room and not allowed visitors.”

Kay nodded at the news. Water trickled across the uneven ground looking for a place to puddle.

“She should've taken her Atabrine,” said Violet.

“She probably would've if you'd kept your big mouth shut,” said Kay.

I was so shocked by Kay's outburst that I bit my tongue. Had she really just said that?

“What's that supposed to mean?” said Violet.

Kay left her cot and stepped toward her, dodging puddles in the process. “You're the one who went on and on about how yellow it would turn us. It's a miracle we don't all have malaria.”

Violet sat up. “You think this is my fault?!”

I left my cot and stepped between them. “Of course Kay doesn't think that.”

“The hell I don't.”

I took Kay's arm and tried to pull her back toward her bed. She resisted my attempts, pulling me forward with her. “Violet didn't fire the gun,” I said.

“No, but she certainly didn't help matters—”

I squeezed her arm. She was going to be wearing a colorful bracelet of bruises if she didn't close her head. “And she didn't force her to ditch her pills either. If anyone's to blame it's Gilda for being vain.”

Kay looked down at her arm and seemed acutely aware that I'd squeeze her until she was black and blue if I had to. “Okay, it's not your fault,” she said with all the sincerity of a Bund member saluting Roosevelt. “But you have to admit you forced her hand.”

“I don't have to admit anything,” said Violet.

Leave it to her to help the situation. I released Kay's arm. “Break it up, you two. Gilda would hate to know we're at each other's throats like this. We know who the culprit is. There's no point in blaming anyone else.”

Kay rubbed her arm and retreated to her cot.

“He'll probably commit maui maui or harem harem or whatever you call it,” said Violet. “Some punishment that'll be.”

“I don't think they'll let that happen,” I said. “They watch them pretty closely. And it's not like he has weapons in there.”

Spanky popped his head into the tent. “What's the dope, ladies? We heard Blake met with you this morning.”

“Jayne's fine. Gilda's hanging on, but she has malaria,” said Violet.

“That's rotten luck.”

Kay shot another look Violet's way. “Tell us about it.”

“He wouldn't tell us anything about the supplies,” I said. “Or the accomplices.”

Spanky entered the room, dodging the raindrops where he could. He surveyed our deteriorating ceiling and pulled a roll of gray tape
from his pants. He tore off strips and plastered
X
s over the larger holes.

“Word is, not much is missing,” said Spanky.

“Do you think they got scared and ran?” asked Kay.

“Could be. Men went to battle stations pretty fast. My theory is that they were picked up, and Blake is too embarrassed to get the word out that there wasn't just one Nip loose on his island but a whole flock of them.”

“How could he keep something like that quiet?” I asked.

“When you're a rear admiral, you can make your men declare the world is square. There's power in that star.”

“It makes sense to keep it quiet from us,” said Violet. “But from the men? You'd think he'd want them to know the sort of threat we're under. Otherwise, who's to say that there won't be more Japs on the island tomorrow?”

“Between you and me, the men are pretty riled about what happened. I think Blake's trying to keep the lid on things to keep the peace. It's not going to work though.”

“Why not?” I asked.

A drop of rain made it past Spanky's handiwork and landed on his head. “Because the men want blood. Heaven help those Japs if Gilda dies. I have a feeling if that happens, any Nips in the South Pacific are going to find themselves with a bullet in their brain pan.”

 

The day passed achingly slowly with no further word about Gilda. Kay and I played cards to pass the time while Violet read and wrote letters home. The rain kept up its steady thumping, though thanks to Spanky the room remained much drier. None of us were up for eating with the officers, among whom Van Lauer would still be included, and so we munched on what provisions we had among us. Violet passed her flask as though it were a peace pipe and Kay accepted her offering warily.