shortly afterward—and yet he dreamed.
He saw in his dream frightening air machines flying overhead. The huge soldiers in their black combat fatigues were running all over the island, stepping on him as they did so.
They were cutting down all the trees and burning the rocks and draining all the water out of the lagoon—and …
And taking the beautiful comfort women away with them.
What could be worse? Zushi’s bleary unconsciousness was asking itself. The island without trees would be barren, hot, like a desert in the middle of the vast ocean. The island without rocks would be formless, a puddle of mud—not solid enough to stand upon. The island without water in the lagoon would mean no fish, no coolness in the heart of day.
But the island without the comfort women—that would be the worst of all.
It was deep into the night when Zushi woke up again. The air was filled with smoke. The smell went up into his nostrils, into his lungs, and it felt like it was leaking back out his ears. It was a combination of cordite, burned flesh, and perfume.
It was the perfume that had brought Zushi around in the first place. He began sniffing, and in his semi-delirious state he picked himself up, wiped the blood from his head wound, and began following the smell of perfume.
He stumbled over rocks and bush and down into the creeks and larger streams, and once he’d passed the waterfall, he knew he was approaching the lagoon.
He reached a tall cliff that looked out over the lagoon. And that’s when all his fears came true. He realized that most of the trees on the island were either on fire or had already been destroyed. He saw that many of the huge rocks that had anchored the atoll had been blown to bits, and now the tide was rushing in on the lower parts of the island.
It was at this point that Zushi realized that while he was unconscious, a massive battle had taken place on the island, specifically around the lagoon. There were fires everywhere and bodies and shot-down Bugs and destroyed weaponry.
It was like this little bit of the world had come to an end.
Zushi then saw the most incredible sight of all. For the lagoon was indeed empty—not of water, but of the aircraft carrier he and his colleagues had stolen earlier and had planned on using to escape this haunted part of the Pacific.
The carrier was now about five miles out to sea, covered in thick early-evening fog. There was a bunch of tugboats pushing it, and another group pulling it. But how could this be? The pirates had not been able to get enough tugboats to move the damn thing. How was it moving now?
Zushi had his answer as soon as a fateful wind blew away some of the fog surrounding the carrier. He saw an enormous seaplane riding in the water about a quarter mile in front of the carrier with a huge line attached to its rear end and tied to the bow of the carrier. Along with the tugboats, the seaplane was pulling the vessel, and their combined strength was enough to get the ship moving.
It was such a strange sight!
Tears streaming down his face now, Zushi collapsed to his rear end and just watched as the strange group of vessels faded over the horizon.
He realized that he was probably the only one left alive on the island. All the food and drinkable water was probably gone, and there were no more weapons left, so complete the destruction had been.
But that wasn’t why Zushi was weeping. It was the absence of one more thing, neither food nor drink nor a means of protecting himself.
No—it was the absence of something else. There was no longer any scent of perfume in the air.
And that was why Zushi was crying.
CHAPTER 9
The Falkland Islands
T HE TWO JET FIGHTER planes lifted off from McReady air base at the first light of dawn.
The huge storm had blown itself out by this time, and though the seas were still very rough, with very high swells, the sky was clear and the sun was peeking through the typically dense overcast.
The jet pilots were on a
He saw in his dream frightening air machines flying overhead. The huge soldiers in their black combat fatigues were running all over the island, stepping on him as they did so.
They were cutting down all the trees and burning the rocks and draining all the water out of the lagoon—and …
And taking the beautiful comfort women away with them.
What could be worse? Zushi’s bleary unconsciousness was asking itself. The island without trees would be barren, hot, like a desert in the middle of the vast ocean. The island without rocks would be formless, a puddle of mud—not solid enough to stand upon. The island without water in the lagoon would mean no fish, no coolness in the heart of day.
But the island without the comfort women—that would be the worst of all.
It was deep into the night when Zushi woke up again. The air was filled with smoke. The smell went up into his nostrils, into his lungs, and it felt like it was leaking back out his ears. It was a combination of cordite, burned flesh, and perfume.
It was the perfume that had brought Zushi around in the first place. He began sniffing, and in his semi-delirious state he picked himself up, wiped the blood from his head wound, and began following the smell of perfume.
He stumbled over rocks and bush and down into the creeks and larger streams, and once he’d passed the waterfall, he knew he was approaching the lagoon.
He reached a tall cliff that looked out over the lagoon. And that’s when all his fears came true. He realized that most of the trees on the island were either on fire or had already been destroyed. He saw that many of the huge rocks that had anchored the atoll had been blown to bits, and now the tide was rushing in on the lower parts of the island.
It was at this point that Zushi realized that while he was unconscious, a massive battle had taken place on the island, specifically around the lagoon. There were fires everywhere and bodies and shot-down Bugs and destroyed weaponry.
It was like this little bit of the world had come to an end.
Zushi then saw the most incredible sight of all. For the lagoon was indeed empty—not of water, but of the aircraft carrier he and his colleagues had stolen earlier and had planned on using to escape this haunted part of the Pacific.
The carrier was now about five miles out to sea, covered in thick early-evening fog. There was a bunch of tugboats pushing it, and another group pulling it. But how could this be? The pirates had not been able to get enough tugboats to move the damn thing. How was it moving now?
Zushi had his answer as soon as a fateful wind blew away some of the fog surrounding the carrier. He saw an enormous seaplane riding in the water about a quarter mile in front of the carrier with a huge line attached to its rear end and tied to the bow of the carrier. Along with the tugboats, the seaplane was pulling the vessel, and their combined strength was enough to get the ship moving.
It was such a strange sight!
Tears streaming down his face now, Zushi collapsed to his rear end and just watched as the strange group of vessels faded over the horizon.
He realized that he was probably the only one left alive on the island. All the food and drinkable water was probably gone, and there were no more weapons left, so complete the destruction had been.
But that wasn’t why Zushi was weeping. It was the absence of one more thing, neither food nor drink nor a means of protecting himself.
No—it was the absence of something else. There was no longer any scent of perfume in the air.
And that was why Zushi was crying.
CHAPTER 9
The Falkland Islands
T HE TWO JET FIGHTER planes lifted off from McReady air base at the first light of dawn.
The huge storm had blown itself out by this time, and though the seas were still very rough, with very high swells, the sky was clear and the sun was peeking through the typically dense overcast.
The jet pilots were on a
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