Part 2 (1/2)
”I don't know. Something in our hold, maybe. Something that was there that shouldn't have been. Ammunition or fuel. Probably fuel. That explosion was far, far too ma.s.sive to have come from a single torpedo. For the love of G.o.d, it ripped Benevolence Benevolence in two. That's why she went down so fast, why hardly anyone survived.” in two. That's why she went down so fast, why hardly anyone survived.”
”But we're a hospital s.h.i.+p. We can't carry ammunition or extra fuel.”
”And why not? You think things like that haven't been done in this G.o.dforsaken war? The Germans and j.a.panese and Italians have done them. So have the Russians and the British. We're not above it. Not by a long shot. I promise you, something other than hospital beds and a single torpedo caused Benevolence Benevolence to blow up like that.” to blow up like that.”
Isabelle tried to recall the explosion. ”It was large,” she admitted, unconsciously rubbing the side of her sore hip.
”We're at the end of our supply lines out here,” Joshua said softly, almost as if talking with himself. ”We're thousands of miles from home or even Pearl Harbor. And I'm not surprised that some fool decided to have Benevolence Benevolence loaded with . . . whatever blew her up. Maybe that same fool betrayed us to the j.a.ps. Someone did.” loaded with . . . whatever blew her up. Maybe that same fool betrayed us to the j.a.ps. Someone did.”
”But wouldn't you have been told about the cargo? You're the captain, for goodness' sake.”
”Which is why I was kept in the dark. I wouldn't have let it on board.”
Isabelle shook her head in disgust. ”What a horrible, tragic waste. Of people. Of skills.”
”G.o.d help me for that.”
”It's not-”
”I should have looked,” he interrupted, continuing to stare at the sea, unaware that a mosquito drew blood from his bare back. ”I should have walked every inch of her before we sailed. I should have operated Benevolence Benevolence like any other s.h.i.+p-running emergency drills until everyone knew them by heart. Until people hated me. I didn't, and now . . . and now five hundred and seven bodies are out there because of me.” like any other s.h.i.+p-running emergency drills until everyone knew them by heart. Until people hated me. I didn't, and now . . . and now five hundred and seven bodies are out there because of me.”
”You've saved a lot more men than that, Josh. A lot. And you didn't kill anyone aboard Benevolence Benevolence.”
”I killed Benevolence Benevolence. She's out there. Torn in two and full of the dead.”
Isabelle realized nothing she could say would comfort him, and so she pulled him closer. At first she felt him lean away from her, but she gripped him tightly. She'd lost enough patients to understand what he was going through. Was he seeing their faces? Could he hear them crying out to him?
”I love you,” she finally said. ”And I need you. Annie needs you. And I know that this hole . . . this awful hole will never leave you, but you have to remember that we need you.”
”You don't need me, Izzy,” he replied softly. ”You're the strongest of us all.”
”I'm strong . . . when I have to be. Just as you have to be now.”
”I don't want to be strong.”
”But you have to be. You have to lead. You were born to do it, and you can't quit now.”
”I'm so tired.”
”I know. But you can't rest. Not now.”
Joshua nodded reluctantly, understanding that she was right, knowing that eight people still depended on him. She depended on him. Though he wanted nothing more than to sit motionless and mourn the dead, lament the demise of his world and almost everything in it, he knew that he could help the survivors. Once he helped them, once he ensured that Isabelle survived, he could mourn as much as he wanted. I'll pray for the dead later, he promised himself. I'll remember as many of their names as I can and I'll pray for each soul.
”What do we need to be doing?” Isabelle asked. He made no response, and she gently squeezed his arm. ”Joshua, what do we need to do to survive?”
He willed himself to address the present, the needs of the living. Sighing, he gestured toward the harbor. ”What's out there?”
She studied the sand and sea. ”Nothing extraordinary.”
”Nothing? Look at the harbor, and then the land behind the beach.”
She did as he asked, her eyes sweeping about. ”It's a nice harbor. And . . . and there's some flat ground behind the beach.”
Joshua nodded. ”The harbor is perfect. It's deep and big and amazingly protected. And the land behind the beach is suitable for a runway.”
”So?”
An image of Benevolence Benevolence's helm flashed before him-piles of broken steel and gla.s.s and bodies. He remembered stepping outside to watch the bomber soar toward his s.h.i.+p. By the time he realized that it had dropped a torpedo, and that the weapon was gliding through the water toward Benevolence Benevolence, all he could do was shout a series of futile commands.
”Joshua? What does the harbor matter to us? The land?”
He dragged himself away from visions of the dead in the same manner that a car is towed from an accident. ”This island won't be ours for long,” he finally replied. ”It's too perfect. Too strategic. Both navies are in these waters and both navies will slug it out here or near here. Whoever controls the Solomon Islands will put airfields on them and will control the skies of the South Pacific, will have the airpower to maybe win the war. And because of that someone's going to claim this island. Maybe us. Maybe them. If it's them we're going to have to hide. Hide for as long as we can. That's what we need to be doing. Figuring out how and where to hide. Because if the j.a.ps come here and find us . . .”
”What? What, Josh?”
”We don't want them to find us. You. Your sister. Me. We'd all be in great danger.”
She felt her heart quicken its pace. ”Where will we hide?” she asked, glancing about the island.
”I don't know. But we'll find someplace. We'll find someplace and we'll wait. And no matter who comes here, we'll be ready.”
”But . . . but couldn't we take the lifeboat? Take it and find another island?”
”Another island could already be full of j.a.ps. Or we could easily be captured at sea.”
She tugged at his hand. ”Then let's get ready. We need to organize everyone and start searching.”
He took a half step with her and then stopped. ”Could we spend another few minutes here? I want to say good-bye. I . . . I need to say good-bye.”
Isabelle nodded and then gazed toward the sea, which s.h.i.+mmered as the strengthening sun beat down upon it. She wondered what lay beneath the waves inside Benevolence Benevolence. She cringed at the memories that quickly invaded her-visions of the doctor she'd tried to save, of Annie almost drowning. Like other such memories, she forced them from her, turning her attention to Joshua. She watched a tear drop from his lashes. She saw his lips move, and when no sound came forth she knew that he was praying.
Her husband was a strong man, Isabelle knew. In that way, they were quite alike. In that way, she was drawn to him. But she couldn't help but ask herself if she was right for him now. Could she best support him when she herself only knew how to press on, how to endure? Wouldn't he be better off with a woman who could cradle his head on her lap and simply listen? A woman like Annie?
A year ago, Isabelle could have been that woman. But not now. Not after seeing so many die such hideous deaths. Not after smelling the foul stench known as war. She couldn't sit and whisper that everything would be fine, because if truth be told, she'd said such words to boys who had needed to hear them. And she'd lied to those boys, because they had died before her eyes-died pleading for their mothers or lovers, morphine suppressing their pain but not their memories, not their tears.
Isabelle couldn't lie to Joshua. As much as she wanted to comfort him, as much as she yearned to make him feel whole, she couldn't be that woman. She couldn't be that woman because she didn't know if the end would be what he and she wanted, what they struggled and suffered to achieve. How could anything end well when an entire world was at war? When millions of men, women, and children were already dead and mostly unburied?
Isabelle put her head against his shoulder and cried with him. She cried for those aboard Benevolence Benevolence. She cried for her husband. And she felt so very alone until he turned and kissed her lightly upon the brow.
SEEING THAT HER rescuer was asleep, Annie decided that the time was right to inspect his wound, and carefully untied his soiled bandages. Her patient's thigh was swollen-the torn flesh red and oozing blood. Afraid of infection, Annie leaned forward and smelled the wound, which, had it gone bad, would have likely emitted a pungent odor. To her relief, she couldn't detect any sign of decay. Of course, she needed to clean the wound properly and rest.i.tch it-otherwise an infection was almost inevitable. But she needed supplies for such a procedure.
Hoping the boy and the engineer would find what she needed, Annie carefully rebandaged the wound. As she worked, she looked at her patient's face, wondering why he'd saved her. Though his face was the color of an old newspaper and though it was the face of the enemy, she found his features to be strong and likable. His skin was smooth and almost flawless-marred only by faint lines near his eyes and on his forehead. His cheekbones and chin were prominent, hinting at the strength she knew he harbored. She'd never seen hair as straight and black as his. Not even on any of the other j.a.panese patients. His hair reminded her of a cloudy night-thick, dark, and dominant.
Annie studied him for a few more minutes before rising. She then looked for others in their party but could see no one. She hoped people were discovering the supplies they'd need, that medicine would be found. It certainly needed to be. If it wasn't, she'd have to simply boil water, clean her rescuer's wound, and hope.
A large white bird dropped into the water before her, diving for an unseen fish. Annie looked toward the gap in the harbor, which revealed the azure vastness that was the sea. She couldn't believe that something so beautiful was the surface upon which so many men died such b.l.o.o.d.y deaths. Even though she knew that the Germans and j.a.panese desperately needed to be defeated, she also knew that war was repulsive and she wondered why it wasn't fought upon something equally unsightly. After all, war turned beautiful things-whether men or forests or cities-into scarred remnants of what they once were. How was the sea alone able to resist this change?
”Thank you.”