Eden (14 page)

Hiroshi has left Luna standing on the beach while he retrieves Leilu’s body, sealed in a makeshift yellow body bag of his own construction. He returns to view, cradling Leilu, walking toward the sea and motioning for Luna to join them. His face is expressionless and his eyes have a sense of calm about them. She runs to him crying, placing both her hands around his waist, trying to pull him in the opposite direction. “Hiroshi we can’t do this! We must go with the others, PLEASE!”

Hiroshi, unfazed, continues to walk toward the sea. “I don’t want to live any longer. Not without Leilu. We can be with our family now. This is how it was meant to be.”

“No, Hiroshi! No, you’re wrong. You don’t understand! I should have told you, but I couldn’t, I just couldn’t!”

Hiroshi pauses. “What are you talking about?”

Luna drops to her knees, sobbing, trying to find her voice through her cries. Her face wet with tears, she runs both hands through her silky black hair, pulling it away from her face. “I’m pregnant,” she admits. “It wasn’t right to tell you, not when you are grieving for Leilu.”

Hiroshi’s face turns pale and whatever calm had possessed him has vanished. “Are you certain?”

“Yes!” She shakes her head and wonders for a moment why men always ask that question.

Hiroshi bends slightly toward her, moving robotically in apparent shock, and with one arm he pulls Luna up to her feet. She stares into his eyes, black as coal, and from the depths of his soul he yells: “RUN!”

Meanwhile, Noah, having warned the others, is running furiously toward the fallen castaway.

“Oh, Tom,” he moans.

He kneels down beside the dead man and, placing his shoulder against the gnarled wood and pushing with his legs, moves the trunk until it falls with a resounding thud. Noah places both hands along Tom’s crushed chest, where he can feel several shattered ribs that punctured his right lung and left ventricle, killing him instantly. Noah pulls out his knife and cuts a lock of hair from the back of Tom’s head. He unfastens the butt of his knife and drops the tuft inside, before saying a quick prayer. When he stands, he is met by Patrick who stiffens at the sight of Tom’s body.

Noah is quick to divert his attention. “There’s nothing we can do for him. Do you know where Craig and Hank are?”

Patrick, still focused on Tom, answers with a distant, “No.”

Noah pulls Patrick away, turning him toward the campsite. He points to the others who are hurriedly grabbing what they can and looks into Patrick’s eyes. “Follow the others to higher ground. There’s not much time. GO!”

The push seems to work, because he moves toward the others. Noah charges diagonally across the beach looking for any sign of the missing men. His head is on a swivel as he scours the area.

“Craig! Hank!” he screams, over and over.

He doesn’t see the two of them until they are practically in front of him. Craig is moving much faster than Hank, who has fallen distantly behind. When Noah is in earshot of the two, he instructs them to run in the opposite direction and follow the others up the mountain. Hank’s pace is slow and he is drenched in sweat, his skin ashen; he gasps for air and looks like he may collapse. Noah orders Craig to help Hank along.

With the missing accounted for, Noah makes a beeline back to the campsite where Jeremy is lying on the stretcher alone. He is unconscious and wracked with fever, completely unaware of the calamity happening around him. Noah folds the man in his arms and sits him upright against Hiroshi’s cabin. He goes back to the stretcher and unravels the tarp, and through a series of cuts and twists, makes a carrying harness to transport the unsuspecting passenger. He positions Jeremy in the harness before turning his back to him and resting the dead weight on his shoulders. With the man still wedged against the cabin, Noah secures his cargo by crossing the straps tightly across his chest in the shape of an X and then tying each strap to the titanium hoops on his utility belt. He fastens the bottom part of the harness across his waist, looping the two straps in a fisherman’s knot. He pushes off to stand, with Jeremy pressed against his back, his head resting on Noah’s shoulder. He lets out a moan, but nothing more, as Noah takes the unconscious man’s arms and crosses them inside the harness with only his legs free to dangle. With Jeremy secured, Noah is ready for the long run to the top.

Chapter 11

Noah takes one last look at the sea, and off to the distance, but not as far as he would like, he sees a white crest, like death’s pale horse.

The chase is on, and Noah’s pace is brisk and steady despite the uneven terrain and his heavy burden. In normal conditions, he can run a mile in four minutes flat, but nothing about this exercise is ordinary. His cargo is cumbersome and reduces his speed considerably. Jeremy, a man of average height and weight, bobs lifelessly in the harness and, as Noah makes his way up the incline, he finds the going increasingly difficult, planting a seed of doubt that he will be able to clear the flood zone in time.

Further up the hill, Max and Jacob are leading the others to higher ground. They take a moment from their climb to wait for their party to catch up and, as they do, they view the spectacle that is steadily closing in on them. From their perch, they witness the massive wave growing in size by the second as it closes in on the coastline. The sight is just as extraordinary as it is terrifying. They stand in awe, unable to say anything, while Evelyn, Alice, Josette, and Sarah catch up to them.

“Oh my God!” Evelyn gasps. “We need to keep moving! We aren’t out of its reach!”

Max turns to face the others and notices his sister is not among them. “Where’s Mia?” He looks back down the path.

Evelyn follows his gaze. “She was just with us.” She looks to the other women, who in turn look to each other, all wearing the same blank expression.

Max breaks away from the group. “Take the others and keep going. I’m going back down to find her.”

Evelyn knows better than to try to stop him and doesn’t bother. “Okay, but don’t take any unnecessary risks.”

Before the words have left her mouth, Max has already set off down the pathway, desperately calling out for his sister. When he turns the corner, he comes across Luna, jogging toward him. A few steps behind, Hiroshi cradles Leilu in her body bag. “Have you seen Mia?” Max asks them.

“Mia? Wasn’t she with you?” Luna breathlessly replies.

Max shakes his head in frustration. “Never mind, just keep going up, you’re not far from the others.”

He continues down the path and comes across Patrick, Craig, and Hank. Patrick and Craig are doing their best to help Hank along the trail, but he is in obvious distress and the front of his white dress shirt is stained with vomit. Max asks them if they have seen his sister, only to be met with the same confused expressions. He urges them to move faster up the hill, then leaves them in the dust.

*************

The great wave has reached the coastline and, within seconds, demolishes what had been their beachfront home. Surging water moves steadily toward Noah and his passenger. The burning he feels in his legs is unbearable as his pistons churn, digging deep to find that extra gear and, with the surge of adrenaline, he flashes back to a memory he can never outrun.

Deep behind enemy lines and long into the night, Noah runs at full speed and, for the first time in his life, in full retreat. Bullets and tracer fire whizz overhead, lighting his path through the darkness of the Afghan jungle. In a fireman’s carry, he brings his fallen comrade and First Lieutenant, James Mackey, better known amongst the Phantom Nine as Big Mac. The lieutenant had been shot moments before, the bullet entering his lower back and exiting his left thigh. Big Mac had served with the elite squadron since its inception, and he was its longest tenured soldier as well as Noah’s closest friend.

Lieutenant Mackey received the nomination after Noah offered a challenge to the recruits one day in St Athan, Wales, at the British Special Forces training facility. The objective was simple, Noah said, standing before the soldiers on a padded floor in the middle of a white circle, three meters in diameter. Anyone who could throw Noah out of the ring would serve in his squadron. It sounded easy, but it proved to be more difficult than any of them could have imagined; every soldier, including James, failed on his first try. However, Big Mac was the only recruit to ask for a second round. After so many failed attempts, it seemed an exercise in futility, but Noah allowed him one more try. Though not a large man by any means, standing under two meters and thirteen and a half stones, Noah was lightning quick and much stronger than his size would suggest. Most of the time, he would use the recruits’ over-aggressiveness and momentum to toss them effortlessly out the ring. And if someone was foolish enough to try brute force, he would quickly beat that out of them. Noah was merciless and unafraid to use holds that caused intense suffering.

On Mac’s first attempt, he decided to bull rush his much-smaller opponent and, with his superior reach and hands like meat hooks, figured he could hold on and allow his inertia to carry both him and Noah out of the ring. The plan went accordingly, but he overlooked one minor, and extremely painful, detail and because of it, let go of his hold and was catapulted out of the circle.

Which is why it was surprising that, on his second try, he did exactly the same thing he had done the first time. He knew that Noah would lock and twist his arm and bend it in the opposite direction. Big Mac had to do what no one before him would do: Even though the pain was excruciating, he refused to let go, and he and Noah flew together out of the ring. Noah was no worse for wear, but Mac was left writhing in pain with a dislocated elbow. Painful yet effective, First Lieutenant James Mackey won the admiration of everyone there that day, no one more than the man who injured him.

With Noah nearing the medevac location, his fallen friend stretched across his back, he sees the rescue choppers descending. Under a hail of fire and mortar shells, his progress comes to a screeching halt when a mortar round impacts nearby. The explosion throws Noah and Big Mac to the ground, leaving the captain dazed, his head ringing. He fades in and out momentarily and when he comes to, he finds himself lying flat on his belly. He looks up to see that the choppers have landed and are laying down a hell storm of cover fire. When he turns his head to the right, he sees Big Mac staring back at him. Although his eyes are open, the fire within them has been extinguished. Noah slowly pulls himself to his knees and crawls over to his friend; to his horror, he sees Mac ripped in half, his bottom section nowhere to be found. His entrails are strewn in all directions and Noah is soaked in his blood. He stands, and while still woozy, grabs what’s left of his lieutenant and carries him to the chopper.

A wall of water nips at Noah’s heels, as he fights to outpace the crashing tide. Loose sand stings his face and he feels the charging roar and rumbling earth in the pit of his stomach. Jeremy has finally wakened, but is too weak to move or speak, as he’s tossed from side to side as if on the back of a wild mustang. Mere breaths away from being crushed or drowned under the pressing weight of the salted hammer, he spots Max coming into view. When Max sees them, he is quick to smile, but his grin flips when he sees the tidal wave barreling toward them.

“Go back, Max! RUN!”

Heeding his own words, Noah runs till the very end and, at the last possible moment, he leaps into the air while simultaneously being enveloped by the wave. Noah and Jeremy tumble in a series of rolls and flips and the sheer force of the wave loosens the harness that holds them together. They are swiftly swept off the hill but, luckily, land on a hard ledge jutting out from the mountain like a narrow plank. The impact separates the two, and Jeremy is thrown out of the harness headfirst, tumbling toward the edge. In a wild lunge, Noah grabs Jeremy’s right wrist in midair. The weight of the fall drags Noah, lying on his stomach, toward the ledge as he tightens his death grip on Jeremy, kicking and screaming for his life. Noah hooks his left foot against a gnarled root sticking out from the mountain and, with his left hand, squeezes the corner of the ledge to keep from teetering over. The helpless man dangles precariously over a 200-meter precipice.

To complicate matters further, the runoff from the tidal wave pours down in sheets, causing Noah’s hold on the man to slip. “Grab on to my arm with your free hand!” Noah shouts at Jeremy. “Do it NOW!”

Jeremy screams something unintelligible, but he makes three attempts before finally latching on to Noah’s forearm, digging his nails into it with his body now half turned toward the mountain. Noah grimaces. “Okay, now using your foot, push yourself up and climb over me. I won’t let go of you until you have a solid hold.”

Using his good leg, Jeremy pushes himself up to Noah’s eye level. Disoriented and unfocused, he releases his grip on Noah’s forearm, but instead of reaching for his shoulder, he raises his hand into a fist and attempts a left cross. Reacting instinctively, Noah lets go of Jeremy’s wrist and uses his free hand to block the strike. The melee is brief. Unbalanced, Jeremy falls backward, his arms flailing wildly. Noah tries to catch the falling man, but his hand is wet and he cannot grab hold of him. He watches helplessly as Jeremy slips through his fingers.

Noah doesn’t move for a long while. He lies there, catching his breath, exhausted, his muscles on fire. Finally, he musters what strength he has left to pull away from the ledge and unfasten the empty harness. He throws it hard against the side of the mountain before huddling against the rock to avoid the stream of water rushing from above.