Left on Paradise (51 page)

Crack.

Though Ryan was the first to realize what had happened, even those watching with the naked eye saw the distant form of a man fall into the sea.

“Oh lord,” Dr. Erikson said, “they have guns.”

“That’s illegal,” a tall woman said. “They can’t keep them.”

“What’re we going to do?” Dr. Erikson asked. “We aren’t armed.”

“Shit,” the tall woman said as she turned pale. “Only criminals have guns.”

The sound of quick steps from the woods startled them and everyone spun around, weapons raised. There was no need since it was Steve and two sturdy compatriots from the east village.

“I heard gunshots,” Steve said. “What the hell’s going on?”

Ryan handed Steve the binoculars.

“It was the northsmen,” he said. “They shot Jim Strong and smashed our radios. Also it looks like they’ve commandeered the yacht.”

“What’s this about?” Steve said.

“It’s not about anything good,” Ryan said as looked Steve in the eyes. “Jim Strong was talking about war crimes when he heard of the trouble with the natives. I wonder if they’re trying to escape.”

“Or headed,” Steve said, “to Columbia for more dope.”

“There were,” Ryan said, “four people on that yacht and I’ve heard only two shots. The women may be hostages.”

“They have their boat,” Steve said. “We can only hope they’ll leave.”

“I don’t think so,” Dr. Erikson said. “Look.”

Everyone turned seaward. Flames now rose from the deck of the yacht and lit its hull like a torch as the launch shoved off and motored north.

“It’s to the death,” Steve said. “We need to move everyone inland before they catch us in the open. We need weapons, blankets, tents, food, medicine, and matches from the emergency tents.”

No one moved.

“Now!” Steve barked out loud as everyone scampered for supplies.

Within minutes, couriers were sent to brief islanders in the south, east, and west villages—to warn of danger and direct loyal citizens to secure a stronghold in the hills. Ryan and Steve also instructed a runner to sound the emergency alarm.

39

The Second Amendment to the Constitution

Soon after a distant siren broke the still of the evening, John instructed west villagers to light a bonfire to signal to scouts posted atop Mount Zion that their warning had been received. As Kit soothed her fussing baby near the fire, the rest of the western villagers assembled in the mess tent. Though no one knew what had happened, men sharpened weapons while women and children gathered provisions as speculation ran wild. Some thought the alarm caused by jittery nerves while others guessed a raid by escaped cannibals. No one supposed it was their own kind gone awry.

As dusk darkened, west villagers noticed the bobbing of a flashlight descending Mount Zion and it wasn’t long before a winded runner arrived from the trail near the Pishon River. The runner paused to catch breath before explaining the situation—warning westerners of northern treachery. He gave directions to the emergency assembly point before sprinting toward Mount Zion while shouting a final warning for the west village to make haste.

Now John took charge, posting Sean and Olivia as sentries and ordering everyone else to fill backpacks with blankets, tents, clothing, food, and other necessities—and advising everyone to wear boots and to bring enough water and firewood for several days. With preparations soon complete, sentries were recalled and given a few minutes to retrieve personal gear before John led the column of armed refugees toward Mount Zion: an unsheathed ax in his right hand and a dimmed lantern in his left. Olivia and Ilyana tucked hand axes into their belts and helped Lisa carry a medicine chest. Behind them, Kit and Maria herded six children and a goat as Linh coaxed Tiffany forward. None of the mothers possessed weapons except for kitchen knives stored in their backpacks. Ursula walked before Sean and Viet—who shouldered a thick pole from which jars of water and bundles of wood dangled—while Sean carried a long-handled ax and Viet armed himself with the steel helmet originally found on Roanoke Island and a hand ax slipped into his belt.

As the party of westerners inched up the slopes of Mount Zion, their voices became little more than grunts and whispers. When the refugees saw fires burning from the northern end of the island, they knew their enemy didn’t sleep and moved even more quietly through the night. When the westerners reached the crest of Mount Zion after a three hour march, they met two armed men who led them to a large ravine and showed the new arrivals where to pitch camp—warning the latter to keep fires small so flames didn’t reveal their position.

While Sean and Viet pitched tents, John searched for Ryan and Steve. He found them in a ravine.

“Glad to see you two,” John greeted the two men.

“And I’m glad to see you made it,” Ryan said. “Is Maria with you?”

John nodded.

“Kit?”

John pointed toward the western refugees and nodded a second time.

“How’s Tiffany?” Ryan asked.

“Slipping into shock.”

“I’m sorry about Deidra. How’re you doing?”

“I don’t know,” John said. “Just trying to survive.”

Ryan swept his hand around the camp.

“We’ve set up a perimeter,” Ryan said. “There are men with spears and axes hidden outside the camp and reserves posted inside. Tomorrow we’ll build walls to block bullets. We have a spring inside the camp and we’ve sharpened branches and saplings into arrows and spears. Dr. Graves hopes to concoct sedatives and poisons for arrow tips. We’ll have a fighting chance up here.”

John asked how many guns the northsmen possessed.

“We’re not sure,” Ryan said. “Steve said he’s only heard two pistol shots, probably the same caliber. We’re hoping there was just one or two guns on the yacht.”

“How many of us are there?”

“Before you arrived,” Steve now said, “we had most of the east village, New Plymouth’s staff, and what’s left of south village. The southerners have left only two men, plus women and children.”

“Then we outnumber them?” John asked. “I mean, the northerners.”

“They had five children and nine women,” Steve replied, “and lost one man in the war. That gives them nine men plus Jason. We figure they’ll lose a family or two to desertion. That totals maybe eight men against four westerners, six easterners, a staff member, and one southerner—plus our women. We have five or six women willing and able to fight. The northerners should have the same.”

“That’s only half our strength. Where are the others?”

“Some are wounded,” Steve said, “and others are conscientious objectors who refuse to fight.”

“We can’t afford,” John said, “the luxury of protest.”

“What can we do about it?” Ryan said with a shrug.

“I’d vote,” Steve said, “that anyone who won’t fight doesn’t remain in camp.”

“We can’t make them fight,” Ryan answered.

“We don’t have food and water for slackers,” Steve said.

“Well,” Ryan said with a sharp tone, “we can’t make anyone fight.”

“We’ll discuss it in the morning,” Steve replied.

It was at this moment that Viet arrived—excited and breathless. “There’s a fire to the east,” he said.

“Campfire?” Steve asked.

“The east village.”

Steve turned pale as Viet led him and the others to a ridge on the eastern side of Mount Zion and pointed toward a bright glow near the east shore. The men watched as the flames grew higher. Even from the heights, the silhouettes of burning buildings could be discerned wherever winds had pushed the smoke seaward.

“That’s the whole town,” Steve observed.

“At least,” John said as he put his hand to Steve’s shoulder, “you weren’t there.”

“I wonder why.”

“If I had to guess,” Viet said, “I’d say they’re forcing us to fight. They probably want to bring us to open battle.”

“That’s suicide against their guns,” Steve said.

“We need,” Viet said, “to protect our camp and fight on our terms.”

“Guerilla war?” Steve asked.

“Ambushes and traps,” Viet said with a nod. “We can make them afraid to move up this hill. Set up an outer perimeter and force them into firing lanes. We can bring supplies to camp as we need them. Till help comes.”

“When will that be?” Steve asked.

“God only knows,” Viet said. “God only knows.”

“There’s a sunken yacht,” John said, “and four missing Americans. Someone will be coming soon enough.”

Soon, all of the men of the camp organized a guard rotation and each one took his turn as sentry while his compatriots rested. Already, the campfire burned down and most women and children lay fast asleep, exhausted by travel and crowded into a handful of tents. Only a few teenagers and adults unrolled their sleeping bags beneath the stars. It was decided to call the General Will of the People into session at first light.

Dawn brought a cold breakfast since it was judged too risky to kindle a fire. Though the ravine masked firelight, it couldn’t conceal the upward spiral of smoke. Consequently, some islanders ate leftover MREs while others satisfied themselves with little more than salted perch. Two goats were milked to fill the bottles of the babies, but no one else drank—not even toddlers. No one was satisfied with small portions and there was considerable grumbling over the paucity of rations until leaders promised to send foraging parties to fetch food reserves from the villages and forests; though it also was decided the risk of danger was such that refugees must endure their hunger until nightfall. Only then could foragers be more safely deployed. No one wanted to die to scavenge a coconut.

Several scouts ordered to locate the enemy returned after two hours and reported that the motorized launch was anchored near New Plymouth—though no attack preparations were observed. Consequently, it was decided to convene a General Will of the People at midmorning to exploit the lull. Two men were sent downhill with flare guns and three women were posted along the hillcrest with binoculars while everyone else assembled in the ravine.

Ryan stood on a mountain swell as he addressed the assembly after passing around the remaining rations in a small bucket—several loaves of stale bread and a couple tins of imported herring—that did little more than stir hunger.

“While certainly it’s peacemakers who are most blessed,” Ryan declared, “some of us held a war council and drew up defensive plans. We need your ratification.”

No one stirred.

“Our intent,” Ryan announced, “is to protect our people atop this hill while we send raiding parties to hit the enemy and gather supplies. We’ll set up traps on the trails and strike the northerners when they sleep. We’ll burn their tents and supplies and set their captives free. There’s unpicked food and uncut trees on this hill, so we can survive a month or two if necessary. They have guns but it won’t do much good shooting uphill as long as we’re over the ridge, so we can exploit the terrain. And if we can find some gasoline and oil, we can even the odds with incendiaries and explosives. Once their ammunition is used up, we’ll have the upper hand. All we need to do is make them shoot and miss.”

“Just how many guns and bullets,” a man’s voice called from the crowd, “do they have?”             

“Maybe one or two guns. Maybe a hundred bullets. It’s hard to say.”

“Isn’t that worth finding out?” the man pressed his point.

Ryan shrugged.

“And exactly when is help coming?” a woman asked.

“We don’t know,” Ryan said. “Our best hope is that the yacht will be missed and a search party sent.”

“That could take weeks,” someone grumbled. “We can’t wait that long.”

“We’re pretty sure Captain Strong was in contact with American military forces. We hope they’ll come looking soon.”

“That’s not much of a hope.”

“What do you propose?” Ryan said. “I suppose we could load the LCVP and sail for Roanoke Island—and end up cannibals eating ourselves if no one finds us. Or maybe we could head for the westerly currents and a slow death by starvation if we miss Pitcairn Island. Or maybe just let the northsmen butcher us one at a time.”

The man didn’t reply.

“Steve Lovejoy,” Ryan said, “will help build bunkers on the hill. This isn’t his first war. We’ll use trees and dirt to make a fortress. Then we can stock it with arrows and rocks, clear a field of fire, and set up traps—hidden holes with sharp spikes. Everyone builds and everyone fights. Anyone who refuses to work or fight leaves right now. Later tonight, we’ll send a raiding party to the north and supply details east and south. We plan to save the western reserves for future needs.”

A southern woman stood.

“We southerners,” the woman said, “have suffered enough. I lost both of my boyfriends and my friends lost their husbands. Why should we give up our food first? Why not the west camp?”

“Because,” Ryan replied with a scowl, “yours is safer to bring back to camp until we’re better prepared to fight.”

“But why don’t ...”

“I’m sorry,” Ryan said, “but we don’t have time to debate. All of us who plan to fight have agreed to this plan, including those on guard duty. We only need authorization to begin.”

A black-haired man from the east village stood.

“I’m a pacifist,” the black-haired man said, “and it’s against my principles to fight or support your war effort.”

“Then you can help collect supplies.”

“Not if they’ll be used by soldiers.”

“What do you propose?” Ryan said. “That the water you draw be shared only with non-combatants?”

“That’s not a bad idea.”

“What about the soldiers who stand guard while you gather food? Don’t they deserve a fair share?”

“My conscience won’t allow me to give food to armed men.”

“Will your conscience defend you?” Ryan asked.

The black-haired man looked down.

Steve now raised his hand to speak. “I vote that everyone who won’t fight be expelled from camp,” he said with a grim face and a curt tone, “and I mean, this morning. This camp is at war and everyone shares in the risks and dangers and protection. If you can’t do the crime, you can’t have the time.”

“You mean ... you mean,” the black-haired man protested, “you’d throw us at their mercy?”

“As you would us,” Steve answered. “If you stay, you dig trenches and build earthworks or carry an ax. Or you can leave. It’s your choice.”

“That’s a choice between killing and dying. You can’t force that decision on us. It’s obscene. It’s immoral. It’s ...”

“It’s the essence of war,” Steve said, “and we have no choice.”

“We need to vote now,” Ryan announced.

No one objected.

“Every wasted minute,” Ryan said, “may cost a man his life. Or a woman hers. Traps need to be dug before nightfall. I second this proposal and request a vote.”

The crowd assented and a vote was taken—with a majority determining that every citizen must choose fight or flight. Among those in the political minority, only the black-haired man and his wife continued to announce themselves conscientious objectors and declare their intent to depart. Without further discussion, the majority authorized the couple’s request for a week’s rations and gave permission to take a sailboat to Roanoke Island until hostilities ceased. Farewells were brief and the pair of resolved pacifists broke camp without delay. Meanwhile, Ryan briefed everyone else on specific war plans before fielding a host of questions. While most islanders approved of self-defense plans, a slim majority disliked offensive operations, either from hatred of militarism or fear of casualties. After an hour of debate, a vote was taken and limited defensive operations were approved.