Her foot struck an exposed root and she fell. Moaning, she willed herself to get up. Having seen a great deal of death but having never given much thought to her own, she started to sob. She called repeatedly for her brothers, her vision obscured by tears and grit. She tripped again and this time was slower to rise.
“Help!” she shrieked, finally reaching the bottom of the hill. She’d left a spear against a tree and grabbed it as she hurried past. The cave wasn’t far now. In a few more minutes she’d be there.
ROGER SWEPT THROUGH the jungle as if it were on fire behind him. He did not waste a single step or second. His path was straight, his legs and arms in constant motion. He leapt over fallen trees, rocks, and even a fairly wide stream. He heard Scarlet screaming not far ahead and her cries served to guide him. He cursed her for the screams, rage boiling within him. The thought of her ruining his carefully laid plans made him long to break her neck. She wouldn’t scream then, though she’d be able to watch him kill her. And kill her he would.
A branch grazed his arm hard enough that he winced. Still following her voice, he hurried past trees of all shapes and sizes, briefly reminded of the time that he’d chased a boy through Tokyo’s cluttered confines. The terrified boy had finally dashed across a street and directly into the path of a train. Its wheels had cut him in two, as if he’d been no more than a piece of meat beneath a butcher’s knife. Mesmerized by the enormous quantity of blood that had pooled from beneath the train, Roger had leaned against a lamppost and waited until the boy’s severed body was revealed.
The thrill of the chase propelling him forward as it had so long ago, Roger jumped over a log and suddenly saw his prey. Without hesitating, he launched himself in her direction.
SCARLET STUMBLED FORWARD. She heard a crack, turned around, and suddenly he was there. She screamed, thrusting her spear at him, her tremendous fear giving her a sudden surge of strength. Roger saw her thrust, instinctively spinning his body away from the threat. As the spear rushed past him, he brought his left hand down hard, breaking the weapon in two.
Scarlet shrieked and tried to run. His right hand open, Roger viciously chopped her on the side of the neck, and she crumpled. He then stepped beside her and stood motionless. After waiting for his throbbing lungs to quiet, he listened. He could hear only the distant pounding of the surf and the wind as it wrestled with the trees. Finally convinced that no one had heard her cries, he hid her broken spear under some nearby ferns. He lifted her up and put her over his shoulder. She moaned softly, and angered by the sound, he hit her on the side of the head. “Where the hell were you hiding?” he asked, pulling a fistful of her hair. “How did you pop up like that?”
Scarlet didn’t answer, whimpering.
Turning around, Roger walked toward the hill that she’d descended. He hardly felt burdened by her, and his progress was good. Soon he reached the hill. Soon he was climbing.
“Please . . . no,” she whispered, her vision and thoughts cloudy.
“Stupid of you to yell,” he responded, increasing his speed, attacking the hill as if it were another of his enemies. “You dumb old hag. Your pathetic cries brought me right to you.”
“My . . . my family. My little brothers. Please.”
“Your family thinks you’re dead. Your ship sank, remember?”
“I—”
“Do you know who sank it? Me. I sank it.”
“You?”
“I put that bitch on the bottom.”
“Please . . . for . . . for the love of God—”
“God has no love,” Roger said angrily, reaching the vantage point upon which Scarlet had looked for ships and birds. As she moaned and twisted atop him, he turned about, looking for the steepest section below. After locating what was more than a forty-foot drop, Roger lifted her from his shoulder. He then held her upright, so that her shoes struck the dirt near the precipice. “Are you scared?” he asked, enjoying the feel of her pounding heart.
“Please, don’t,” she muttered, her face lined with tears.
He lowered her enough so that her feet rested on the ground and he was able to give her belly a firm pinch. “You’ve been eating too much. Seen any other fat birds out there?”
“Why . . . why are you hurting me? Oh, please stop. Please.”
“Think you can fly like them?”
“I won’t . . . I won’t tell anyone. I . . . I swear it.”
“You’re right about that, you useless, used-up old hag.”
“But why are you . . . doing this?” she asked, shuddering as she wept.
“Because I want to see you pop,” he replied, pushing her forward into the abyss below. As she shrieked, he watched her plummet, watched her strike the distant rocks. Blood spread beneath her, and again he was reminded of Tokyo, the memory warming him.
Roger spent the next hour carefully removing all traces of her true fate from the hill. He used a leafy branch to brush away his footprints. He sought out Scarlet’s body—wiping the tears from her face and the grime from her hands. He then followed their paths into the jungle, again eliminating all signs of their struggle.
Only when he was certain that the others would deduce that she accidentally fell to her death did he finally return to his radio. Buoyed by the thrill of the chase and kill, he calmly lit a cigarette and then reached into the case, removing his pistol. He caressed the weapon, longing to smell the sweet stench of gunpowder, to feel the heat of the red-hot barrel. The weapon aroused him more than cigarettes or booze or women ever had, for it gave him an ultimate, godlike authority—the ability to destroy anyone who sought to torment him. He also knew that the gun would never betray him and that he could trust it to give him exactly what he wanted. It was his friend.
The gun was a part of his salvation. And he was about to use it.
MUCH LATER, AFTER THE AFTERNOON had arrived and departed, Joshua waded out into the water and looked up at the hill that served as Scarlet’s observation post. Squinting, he tried to catch a glimpse of her, but couldn’t see quite clearly enough to discern anything so small. “I don’t understand it,” he said worriedly to Isabelle. “She’s so good at giving her signals. She’s as reliable as any sailor I’ve met.”
Isabelle stepped closer to him. “When did she last contact you?”
“As soon as she got up there. Must have been seven or eight hours ago.”
“Well, then, we should check on her.”
“We?”
“I could use a walk.”
Joshua nodded, wading back to the beach. He entered the cave to find and fill a canteen. After doing so, he and Isabelle left the cave and walked along the beach. They hadn’t gone far when they saw Annie and Akira, who were talking near a tide pool as they gathered mollusks for dinner.
“Where are you off to?” Annie asked, rising.
“To see Scarlet,” Isabelle replied. “She hasn’t signaled for hours. And we’re worried.”
Annie glanced at Akira. “How about joining them for a walk?”
“Of course.”
Annie carefully put their findings in a corner of the tide pool. She then stepped toward her sister, immediately noting the concern on Isabelle’s face. “Maybe she’s following a bird,” Annie offered.
Isabelle looked at the hill. “I hope so.”
The foursome proceeded down the beach, parts of which were inundated with dead fish. Earlier that morning, the fish had appeared. No one had understood how or why the fish had died until Nathan realized that they’d likely perished during the naval battle—perhaps poisoned by the oil of a sinking ship or killed by exploding shells. The fish, numbering in the hundreds, were now covered in crabs and flies. Joshua had thought about burying them so as to remove the stench, but needn’t have bothered—most of the fish were already half-eaten.
Arriving at the end of the cliffs, Joshua turned right and strode into the jungle. Isabelle, Annie, and Akira followed him. The jungle continued to seem quieter than before the typhoon. Only a few mosquitoes ha
rassed them, and with the soil still somewhat damp, seldom did branches crack underfoot. The hill loomed above them and they soon started to climb. The way wasn’t easy, and as they struggled up the slippery rise, they called Scarlet’s name. No response came.
Reaching the top of the hill, they continued to shout her name and peer into the jungle. Joshua studied the distant surroundings and noted that no ships were present. The sea and sky were little more than two shades of blue that merged at the horizon. Annie and Isabelle were still calling out when Akira suddenly put his hands to his forehead.
“What?” Annie asked anxiously, reaching over to grab his arm. “Akira, what is it?”
He shook his head, biting his lower lip. “She is . . . gone.”
“Gone? What do you mean?”
“Below. Look below.”
For the first time since they’d been atop the hill, Joshua, Isabelle, and Annie looked nearly straight down. Far below, Scarlet lay motionless on her back. A large amount of blood made the rocks upon which she rested glisten. Her eyes appeared to be open and unmoving, and without question she was dead.
“Scarlet!” Annie screamed. “No, no, no!”
“Oh, Scarlet,” Isabelle muttered, stepping next to her sister, instinctively putting an arm around her.
“No!” Annie repeated, shaking her head. “It can’t be true! It can’t!”
“She must have—”
“But how?” Annie asked in disbelief, interrupting Isabelle. “How could she be gone? She told me that she was careful! She said . . . she said this place was safe!”
Joshua dropped his head in sorrow and frustration. He made a sign of the cross and briefly prayed for her. Only when his prayer was finished did he study the area before him, the spot from which Scarlet must have fallen. A flat, rectangular slab of rock perched atop the precipice. From the edge of the rock, the drop immediately commenced. Noting the loose sand atop the rock and how it tilted toward emptiness, Joshua realized how easily she might have slipped. “That rock’s not safe,” he said quietly. “She must have been looking through the binoculars, and slipped.”
“We should go to her, yes?” Akira asked, wanting to comfort Annie but feeling constrained by the presence of Joshua and Isabelle.
Sniffing, Annie led the way, retracing their steps, her misery causing her to stumble several times. “She was looking out for us,” Annie said. “We should have looked out for her. Oh, why didn’t we look out for her?”
No one responded, as each of their minds occupied a different realm. Isabelle wondered how they would bury her. Joshua asked himself if he’d made a mistake in granting her wish to search for ships. And Akira scanned the ground before him, believing that Scarlet was too careful and capable to fall from a cliff. However, as thoroughly as Akira looked, as near certain as he was that something was amiss, he saw nothing but their footprints.
After dropping to the approximate height of where Scarlet lay, the four survivors circumvented the hill. “Do you want to . . . see her?” Joshua asked, as Scarlet came into view.
“We’re nurses,” Isabelle replied. “And she was our friend. Of course we want to see her.”
Scarlet lay between two rocks. Her open eyes were bloodshot. Her face was red from being exposed all afternoon to the sun. The rocks below her were covered in blood. Just to be certain, Isabelle felt for a pulse. Finding none, she closed Scarlet’s eyes. “She’s been dead for hours,” Isabelle said softly.
Akira dropped to his knees. Though he felt bad for this woman—whom he hadn’t known well, but nonetheless liked—he forced himself not to mourn for her or to console Annie. Instead, his eyes examined Scarlet as quickly as possible, settling upon a bruise on her neck.
“Why are you looking at her like that?” Isabelle asked.
Though tempted to mention the oddity of the bruise, Akira decided that it wasn’t the time or the place to discuss such matters. “She was Christian, yes?” he asked, knowing that she was.
“Yes,” Isabelle answered. “And we should bury her now. Before Ratu sees her like this.”
No additional words were exchanged as Joshua lifted Scarlet. He followed Isabelle down the remainder of the hill and into the jungle. After carefully setting Scarlet upon the ground beneath an old tree, he used his hands to dig in the soft soil. Akira started working beside him.
Annie sniffed, absently wiping her nose. “We’ll . . . we’ll be back.”
“Where are we going?” Isabelle asked.
“Don’t bury her yet,” Annie said, taking her sister’s hand.
Joshua and Akira watched the two women disappear. Then they returned their attention to the hole, widening it between them. “Should I have let Scarlet go?” Joshua asked, pulling a root from the soil. “Maybe it should have been my job to watch the sea.”
Akira picked up a flat rock and used it to dig. “She wanted to go, yes?”
“She did.”
“Then your choice was correct.”
Joshua continued to dig. “Why did you kneel so close to her? I know that Buddhists kneel, but I don’t think you were praying.”
“I will pray later,” Akira replied. “Please look at her neck.”
Leaning toward Scarlet, Joshua quickly spied the bruise. “What do you make of it?”
“Something soft hit her there. A rock would scratch, yes? But she has no scratches.”
Joshua touched the heavy binoculars that were still draped around her neck and amazingly were unbroken. “These could easily do it.”
“Easily? So sorry, but I think not. The bruise is too thin and long.”
“But it had to be the binoculars. Nothing else makes sense.”
Akira started to dig again, his pulse quickening with the scenes that formed in his mind. “The edge of a hand could leave such a mark.”
“A hand? You’re saying she was killed? But why? There’s no one else on this island. There’s—”
“There is Roger. And where was he today?”
“Roger’s a brute, and a dangerous one at that, but he wouldn’t kill Scarlet. There’s just no motive.”
Lifting a rock from the soil, Akira continued to dig. “May I tell you something?”
“Please don’t ask me that question again. Tell me whatever you’d like.”
“When I was interrogating the prisoner, we spoke in Japanese.”
“I remember.”
“He asked me to fight with him, to attack you while he attacked Roger. And when he asked me this I think . . . I think I saw Roger tense, as if preparing to defend himself.”
“You believe that he understood you?” Joshua asked incredulously. “That he speaks Japanese?”
“I am saying that he appeared to understand me. And perhaps he is not who you think he is. Perhaps Scarlet saw something that she was not supposed to.”
Joshua didn’t immediately respond, though he stopped digging, his face tightening in consternation. “Mother Mary, are you sure?” he asked, wondering if Roger had betrayed them. The mere thought of such treachery nauseated him.
“I am not sure. Perhaps.”
“But . . . but could you test him? Could you somehow test him?”
Voices emerged from the jungle, and Akira nodded. “I will test him in the morning. Be ready.”
Joshua stared at Scarlet’s bruise, reeling at the possibility of Roger being responsible for the sinking of Benevolence. Forcing himself to start digging once more, he glanced up at the approaching figures of Isabelle and Annie. “Where did you go?” he asked in an unsteady voice as Isabelle emerged from behind a bush.
She gave him an odd look and then pointed behind her to Annie, who carried several beautiful bird feathers. “She loved birds,” Annie said softly, her face wet with tears and sweat. “So it seemed . . . like they should travel with her.”
Akira nodded, proud of her for thinking such thoughts, and disappointed in himself for not properly honoring Scarlet. Pushing his conversation with Joshua from his mind, he bowed slightly to Annie
. She sat beside him, and for the first time she openly held his hand in the presence of others. He looked into her bloodshot eyes and felt a sudden urge to pull her against him. Instead he squeezed her hand, which caused tears to tumble down her face.
Joshua carefully lifted Scarlet’s body into the hole. Annie leaned forward and placed two feathers in each of Scarlet’s hands. The feathers were green and red, likely from one of the many parrots that inhabited the island. “She just wanted to go home,” Annie said. “To go home to her family.”
“Let us hope that she still will,” Akira replied.
The four of them knelt on the damp earth and prayed. The Christians prayed that Scarlet was in heaven, and that her family would find the strength to handle her death. The Buddhist prayed that she was being reborn and that her path toward Nirvana was growing short.
After everyone had opened their eyes and it appeared as if each was no longer praying, Joshua said quietly, “I’ll bury her.” Looking from Isabelle to Annie, he added, “I know that you’re her friends, but friends don’t . . . they don’t need to see everything. So please go back to camp and wait for me.”
Akira bowed to Joshua and then rose. Wordlessly, Annie and Isabelle followed him as he stepped away from the old tree, from the spot that would cradle Scarlet forever. Joshua sadly watched his wife depart, wishing that tomorrow he could take her to the house she wanted by the sea. Scooping up handfuls of soil, he began to bury Scarlet. He buried her from the feet upward, because he knew that it would be most difficult to place the dirt on her face. And he was right. When the soil covered her mouth, he knew that at least upon Earth, she would never taste again. When it covered her nose, he knew that whatever scents she held dearest were forever gone to her. And when it covered her eyes, he shook his head in profound sadness, for she’d never again look upon her brothers or her birds, and from what little he knew of her, it seemed that she’d miss these sights the most.
THAT NIGHT THE FIRE burned lower than usual, as if flames were by nature jovial and they too were in mourning. No one bothered to add additional branches or to stir up hot coals. The remnants of dinner sat idle on a large leaf—unusual because such leftovers were always immediately tossed into the sea. Conversation, which had been rare, tended to focus on either Scarlet or a desire to go home. Ratu had taken her death hard and now sat almost motionless on a log, his fingers wrapped around the shark-tooth necklace.