Left on Paradise (54 page)

The long-haired southerner raised his hand to speak. “I want a vote,” he said, “regarding whether we should fight or make peace.”

This motion was seconded and discussion was entertained.

“If we fight,” the long-haired man continued, “all of us could die. If we make peace, all of us could live.”

“If could were would,” John said, “I suppose we’d build wooden ships from wishes and sail to California.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Don’t bet on pipe dreams.”

“Well,” the long-haired man said after a brief pause, “even a slim chance is better than none at all.”

“We can’t know who will live or die if we fight,” John said, “but we do know—for absolute certain—that we can’t trust the northsmen to be honest or merciful. They have to be disarmed. Only then can we make peace.”

“You mean that we can only make peace on our terms. After we’ve crushed our own people.”

“Not on our terms. On safe terms.”

“I see the logic of both arguments,” Ryan said as he joined the debate, “but what if we combine them? What if we can bring about a truce without throwing down our weapons?”

“How?” John asked.

“Diplomacy,” Ryan said. “We can open a dialogue. Over time, both armies can slowly demobilize and foster good relations. We can negotiate for camp inspections, offensive weapon reductions, and maybe the eventual elimination of that gun once we’ve settled the causes of the war. From armed conflict we can move to cold war, then to détente and peaceful coexistence. It’s been done before.”

“We don’t have forty years.”

“Then we’ll need to accelerate negotiations.”

“I don’t understand how that can be done,” John said, “since there’s nothing to negotiate. Donovan’s marauders murdered natives and we saw it. We can’t lie about the crime, can we?”

“We can’t lie,” Ryan replied, “but a legal fiction may prove useful for all of us. This assembly is the law of the land and it can legitimize what took place. Ex post facto, if necessary. Can’t we grant amnesty from prosecution to our own wrongdoers? And if we do, no power on earth can touch them.”

“Tell that to the International Tribunal at the Hague.”

“If it comes to that, Donovan will have to fend for himself.”

“That’s exactly why,” John cried out, “he can’t give up the fight till all the witnesses are dead.”

“Talk about a conspiracy theory,” the long-haired southerner sneered. “Sounds like Ken Star and his right-wing chorus.”

“Let’s not go there,” John said, “but let’s ask ourselves this: what if Jason told the truth and the northsmen are going to make us kill natives to prove ourselves? Can you kill one?”

“Jason was a liar.”

“What if he wasn’t lying?”

“He probably hallucinated that little nightmare.”

“He was straight sober and you know it.”

“I don’t know anything of the sort.”

“Let’s assume for a moment,” John said, “that he spoke the truth. Would you kill to save yourself?”

“Isn’t that war?”

“The slaughter of innocents?”

“They’re not innocent. They ate our neighbors. Every one of them with teeth took a bite.”

Several voices cried out in agreement as neighbors claimed the cannibals were guilty of terrible sins.

“Yeah,” one man shouted, “let The Hague try them for cannibalism and war crimes. They started it.”

“They broke the law first,” a woman said.

“If the truth is known,” Ryan said, “the men we ... I mean, the men the northerners put to death broke international law and were punished rightly.”

“And what of Captain Strong and his family?” John asked. “By whose laws were they killed?”

The long-haired man from the south said nothing.

“Do you think American authorities,” John continued, “will let that murder stand? Do you think they’ll be bamboozled by sophistry?”

John looked around and saw that no one disagreed.

“We all know better,” John continued. “There will be a trial and every one of us will be called as a witness. Donovan knows it and he has to silence every voice. He’ll make every one of you prove yourself loyal to him through some terrible crime.”

“We can deal with that,” the long-haired southerner said, “when the time comes. For now, all we want is to stop the fighting. If we can just make a truce, we’ll be safe enough for a while. This fort will protect us and a truce will let us collect supplies.”

“Listen,” John replied, “if we lay down the sword, we won’t pick it up again. Right now, they’re trying to divide and conquer us. If we don’t hang together, we’ll hang separately for sure.”

“I call for a vote,” the long-haired southerner said.

After this man’s motion was seconded, John stood up and straightened his shoulders.

“Either we fight,” John declared, “or I leave. I won’t surrender myself to Donovan. Who’ll fight with me?”

Though thirteen hands were raised, John’s proposal fell short of a majority.

“Fight or die,” John said. “Who wants to live?”

Now, only twelve hands remained raised.

“One last time,” John said, his eyes red and shoulders stooped, “who will stand against the northsmen?”

Several hands dropped. Only a handful of westerners continued to favor armed resistance.

“We’ll make peace in the morning,” the long-haired man said as he stared at John, “and no one breaks the truce tonight. I propose we make sedition a capital offense. Anyone who starts fighting dies like Jason. We’ve already made a truce. Why should we all be killed for old-fashioned notions of honor?”

The assembly enacted his proposal, with even Ryan and Olivia breaking from their home village in showing willingness to give Donovan a chance to prove his intentions were peaceful. The majority also thought a few days without fighting might allow time to bolster defenses and gather provisions for a long siege. Guards were posted on the perimeter and reserve troops lay down to rest. For the first time in two days, there was no immediate fear of battle.

42

Detente and Death

Rain fell at dawn. Winds picked up first and showers followed a few minutes later, falling so fast that fires were extinguished and wood soaked before coverings could be raised. Consequently, breakfast brought only cold coffee served with a spoonful of sugar and a few drops of goat milk, along with withered fruit and shriveled vegetables. After eating, the refugees squeezed themselves into their tents, seven or eight people pressed into dwellings designed for four. Only sentries remained at their posts—without tarp, poncho, or raincoat. Suffering was great and many parents went hungry to provide extra food to famished children. Even so, work started midmorning amidst rain and mud: trees were knocked down to clear the perimeter, logs set into the bermed wall, and water jugs were filled to capacity with rainwater.

It was noon when Father Donovan’s emissary arrived. The man brought a scribbled note and met with refugee leaders in a nylon tent from which everyone else was excluded—most of them sent into the rain. Demanding an immediate cessation of hostilities, the northsman required Viet and John to make a separate peace and promised that any man or woman (even those singled out for special treatment) who swore allegiance and proved loyalty would be spared since every available fighter was needed to hunt cannibals. Furthermore, the emissary threatened anyone who continued to fight with death and also warned that their families would be denied protection from the heathen. The messenger smirked when told Steve was dead.

After several westerners insisted on proof of Donovan’s trustworthiness by removal of the firing pin of the pistol or the surrendering of bullets, the emissary made a counterproposal—suggesting an exchange of hostages as a better way of securing peace. He argued that removal of the gun alone wouldn’t reduce tensions if evil motives and sharp sticks remained. Though Viet and John were appalled by the proposal, their compatriots weren’t. Many even applauded the suggestion, claiming that mutual vulnerability was the safest course of action. The northern messenger claimed the idea of a hostage exchange was his own and requested permission to confirm the plan with Father Donovan and the northern war council. Despite objections from several westerners that they didn’t trust the northern emissary, the majority of refugees voted to send the ambassador back to his own people for further guidance while the allied villages voted whether to proceed.

Soon after the northerner left, the refugees gathered to consider the exchange of hostages, assembling atop Mount Zion under dark skies as Ryan called the General Will of the People into session. Though the rain drove hard and everyone soon was drenched—shivering from the cold and embittered by the situation—no one objected to the meeting.

“We have to vote yea or nay on exchanging hostages,” Ryan said, “and decide how to choose them. I need a motion.”

“I propose,” the long-haired southerner stood as he spoke, “we exchange hostages with the north camp to make peace.”

Ryan asked for a motion to second the proposal and received one before calling for discussion.

“If we fight,” a southern woman said, “they win. Every one of us knows we can’t beat them as long as they have that gun. One effective attack and we’re dead and our families and friends left to their mercy.”

“If we exchange hostages,” John objected, “our loved ones still are at their mercy. Our only chance is to fight to get that gun. We still outnumber them and they know it. A few traps and a good ambush and that gun won’t mean anything. Donovan will find himself at our disposal. Alone.”

Dr. Graves lowered his umbrella and raised a hand. “How many of us,” he asked, “would live to see such a victory? A pyrrhic victory is a total loss, medically speaking.”

Several voices agreed.

Viet raised his voice over the chorus of assent.

“We’re not,” Viet shouted, his tone angry and agitated, “just talking about survival. This island is finished. Our camps are burned and our people dead. A yacht is sunk in our harbor and innocent people murdered—four according to Ryan, two of them women. There’ll be an investigation and the deaths of cannibals will come out. Father Donovan is a veteran of the Nicaraguan wars and knows it—and so should we. The criminals want to separate those of us who saw the atrocities from those who didn’t and we’ll either go along with the evil or be liquidated. Their own representative said everyone has to help hunt cannibals. What do you think he meant? He meant we all kill so every hand is stained and every mouth silenced. That will insure friendly witnesses at The Hague.”

Viet was catcalled.

“He didn’t say that.”

“You just want to save yourself.”

“What did happen on Roanoke Island?”

“I don’t really care,” the long-haired southerner said, “what happens to the savages. What I do care about is my own child. Only God knows what will happen to her out here if I’m killed and, since there isn’t a God, a truce is our … is her … only chance.”

“I’ve got two daughters,” Viet said, “and my worry is twice yours. But I won’t become a liar or a butcher in front of them to save my skin. Nor to save theirs.”

“I love my daughter enough to do anything for her.”

Viet stared at the man. “Anything?”

The man nodded.

“Will you murder a native child?” Viet asked.

“If it’s my child or a cannibal,” the man replied, “I would. Those children chewed our people. They’re not so innocent.”

“Murdering children is plain evil.”

“Not,” the gray-haired man declared, “as evil as sending your own child to the butcher when you have it in your power to save her. Would you leave your daughters without help in a foreign land? So they’re eaten alive by pagans or abused by Donovan’s thugs? That’s child abuse.”

“Don’t you see?” Viet cried out. “That’s why we fight.”

“You’re both right,” Ryan now joined the discussion. “If we fight and lose, we’re lost and so are our loved ones. On the other hand, if we surrender, we’re at their mercy and I don’t trust them any more than Viet does.”

Everyone waited for Ryan to split the difference of opinion.

“That’s why we have to exchange hostages,” Ryan said. “If they hurt our loved ones, we’ll take an eye for an eye. Mutually assured destruction does have its advantages. I don’t like the idea, but there’ll be less killing than war and hopefully none at all. Besides, have any of you stopped to realize it raises our odds to get some of their people off the battlefield? We can set terms so they lose a couple fighting men.”

“It’s mad,” Viet said. “Our odds may increase, but our ability to conduct operations doesn’t. Every spare man will be stuck with guard duty. And it makes the gun all the more lethal.”

“How’s that?” the southern man with long hair asked.

“Because they’ll have more bullets per fighter and can afford to miss more often. And because we won’t be able to overwhelm them with a concentration of forces. That’s the one thing they fear: that one of our people can break through and take the gun from them. It’s the one risk they can’t take.”

“But,” the southern man said, “if they surrender two or three prisoners, they’ll have fewer men to post guard, to flank us, or to protect Donovan while he reloads.”

“Check and mate!” someone shouted and several islanders clapped.

“Everyone knows the issues,” the southern man said as he panned the crowd. “I move we vote.”

The call for a vote was seconded and, a few minutes later, the poll was tabulated. Subsequently, it was decided by a two to one margin to exchange hostages. After the vote, Ryan stood before the rump of a people he had brought to the new world.

“All right,” Ryan asked, “any volunteers?”

No one volunteered.

“Then how do we draft—by vote or lottery?”

Viet moved that they choose hostages by lottery and his proposal was seconded. The poll was close, but a single vote determined the lottery would be used rather than nominations. After discussion, it also was decided every neighborhood should surrender a citizen as a hostage. Several southerners objected that this method put each of them at greater individual risk given their low numbers, but the westerners pointed out that they too had suffered massive casualties and blocked a revote. The various neighborhoods assembled in the rain and selected hostages. The gray-haired man was picked from the south and a muscular youth from the east. Ilyana drew the short stick from the west and Nurse Fallows was taken from New Plymouth village. Hostages were told to pack their personal effects and prepare to move.

Two hours later, the envoy returned. He brought with him four people: a tall northerner named Jake with a bandaged face, Father Donovan’s half-dressed girlfriend, a disconsolate Sally McNeal, and a terrified Bryan Murphy. The islanders confirmed they’d exchange two women and two men, but when their hostages were summoned, Ilyana was missing. So was her mother. Leaders immediately decided to draft another westerner and this time Maria drew the short stick. Within minutes, the northern envoy—assisted by the eastern and southern hostages—dragged her screaming from the camp.

The departing southerner begged everyone to keep the peace or he himself might die and the northern emissary warned the islanders to be sure they heeded the man’s advice. After the enemy left, the two northern men were bound with ropes at the center of the camp and their women placed under armed guard several feet away.

Rain continued to fall.

Thirty minutes after she was brought to camp, Sally told her guard she needed to use the latrine. She was escorted to the edge of the woods by Viet and did her business while the latter stood guard (careful to keep the woman within reach even as he respected her privacy). Afterwards, Sally asked to speak with her captor.

“It’s Viet, right?”

“Yeah.”

“I need to tell you something, but you must swear to be discreet.”

“What is it?”

“Swear.”

“I can’t promise until you tell me why.”

“Because,” Sally explained, “they’ll kill my daughter if I betray them and they’ll kill you if I don’t.”

“I’ll be discreet,” Viet said with a frown.

The woman stared into his face. “You’re a father?” she asked, her voice cracking as she spoke.

“I have two daughters.”

“I have to trust you,” Sally said after a long pause.

“Go ahead.”

“I don’t know how, but this a trap. For sure. Don’t trust the other two northerners. Only me and Bryan.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Donovan’s girlfriend volunteered to come and so did the guy. And they told us—I mean, me and Bryan—they’d feed our kids to cannibals if we resisted.”

“The northerners have cannibals?”

“A couple are tied up like animals.”

Viet looked bewildered as Sally continued.

“They let the beasts eat Andrea alive,” Sally said as she began to sob. “They tied her up and made Bryan watch his own wife die. It was horrible. Those women ate her like wild dogs. She screamed for hours while the northsmen smoked dope and laughed. Bryan broke free and pushed a cannibal into the fire, but Donovan tied him again and slit Andrea’s throat while they held Bryan’s eyes open. It was horrible.”

Sally’s voice cracked as she finished.

“Andrea,” she said with a tremor to her voice, “was the best friend I ever had.”

“What else do you know?”

“Only,” Sally said, “that they told me and Bryan to cooperate or they’d feed our children to the other one. They’re going to get all of us. Don’t tell them I said anything. Please, I beg you.”

Viet hugged the distraught woman, then dried her tears before leading her back to the other prisoners—where he ordered both Sally and Donovan’s blond girlfriend tied with cords before he called his fellow refugees to emergency session at the edge of camp. Only there did he repeat what he’d learned.

“We’ve traded four fighters,” Viet said after relaying facts, “for a warrior, a woman, and two prisoners. Plus we lost Ilyana and Olivia.”

“Exactly,” John said, “they’ve flanked us in the truce.”

Dr. Erikson stepped forward.

“This can’t be true,” the psychologist said with a tone both exasperated and anxious. “Donovan gave us his own lover.”

“Are you crazy?” John snapped. “He doesn’t love anyone or anything. He uses. He lies. He hates.”

“No one only hates,” the psychologist replied. “That’s pure abstraction. And I don’t believe it anyway. I’ve seen them together; he loves her.”

“You better hope so,” Viet said, “because you’ve staked your life on it.”

The blood drained from Dr. Erikson’s face.

“Sally spoke of a trap,” Viet continued, “so I had both women tied up. That way it won’t be so evident she clued us in. Plus it’ll keep that other woman under wraps.”

“So,” a woman’s trembling voice came from the back of the group, “what do we do?”

“To begin with,” John said, “we need to interrogate the prisoners.”

“What if they won’t talk?”

“We’ll see that they do.”

“How?”

“We’ll find a way,” John said with a grim look.