The Mystery of Yamashita's Map (20 page)

‘We’d better be careful is all I am saying, just . . . we’d better keep our eyes open.’

Lisa yawned. ‘That’s easier said than done, although I think I might have nightmares now.’ Joe touched her tenderly on the shoulder. ‘I’m here now,’ he said. ‘Don’t worry about a thing.’

The door was closed as usual but somehow he knew he had to get behind it. He put a shoulder to it and pushed with every muscle and sinew in his body; the more he pushed the harder it got until, like a giant wave of release, it fell open and he stumbled inside. It was a dark room, smelling of damp and vegetation. He felt about with his hands but found nothing. Suddenly a match was struck and the face of a young boy was illuminated. ‘I have been waiting for you,’ he said, in a soft gentle tone. The boy took his hand and led him to a corner where, covered by a fallen mound of earth, a Golden Buddha sat. The boy leaned forward and pulled at its head. Slowly, he removed it to reveal its hollow body full of emeralds and rubies, diamonds and sapphires, gold coins and all manner of riches, trinkets and chains. ‘This belongs to the temple,’ the boy said. ‘The temple.’ 

Kono woke in a sweat and reached across to his water jug. He splashed some water on his face and poured the rest down his throat. He had been having these dreams for some time now and could make nothing of them. At first he had assumed that they were nothing, just like every other dream he had had in his lifetime but these were different; these demanded more attention – like the niggling pain that never goes away and means something serious.

* * *

The next morning, the professor was the first up. As the others awoke he marched into the clearing. ‘I have found the river,’ he said. ‘Well, its mouth. All we need do is follow it. Breakfast?’

He placed a heap of firewood on the ground and began lighting a fire with a box of matches that he had secreted in his jacket. ‘They must be dry by now,’ he said and struck one. After a few tries it burst into flame and he lit the dry wood on the ground.

‘You know,’ he said to no one. ‘I think the ocean may be teeming with fish.’

Joe rubbed his eyes. ‘It’s a bit early for the boy scout stuff, isn’t it?’ He rolled over and closed his eyes again.

The professor stood and crossed over to the shelter. He kicked the main vine that held it to the tree and the whole thing fell, in a flurry of branches, leaves and vines on top of Joe, Lisa and Fraser.

‘Now,’ he said. ‘Fishing?’

At the water’s edge, Joe, Lisa and Fraser were still blurry-eyed and sleepy.

‘How the hell do we catch fish with no line?’

Fraser thought for a moment. ‘I heard that if you tickle fish they go into a trance. We just need to find their sweet spot.’

‘Their sweet spot?’ Joe said. ‘Do you know where a fish’s sweet spot is? Do you know, Lisa? You don’t! There’s a surprise. I say we go into the jungle, find a big stick and hit them over the head.’

Lisa baulked at this idea. ‘That sounds a bit cruel.’

‘A bit cruel? You’re about to kill them, gut them, cook them and then eat them. You think hitting them is cruel?’

Lisa grabbed her stomach. ‘I need something to eat soon, though, I’m starving.’

Joe pointed at her legs. ‘Are those tights you have on?’

Lisa looked down. ‘American tan,’ she said. ‘I know but, hey, I left my others in the suitcase.’

‘Take them off,’ Joe said. ‘We can use them as a net.’

Lisa was not convinced.

‘Why not?’ Joe said. ‘Look.’ He looked around. ‘We make a net out of . . . this stick here . . . and we just scoop them into it. Take them off, take them off.’

‘This is the least romantic proposition I have ever had,’ Lisa said.

As she took her tights off, Joe fashioned a loop out of the wet branch and strung the tights over it. He held it out in front of him and smiled.

‘There, this has to work.’

An hour later it hadn’t worked.

‘Perhaps it’s the colour?’ Fraser offered, with a grin.

‘Every time we get near and I try to scoop, they get away,’ Joe said. ‘I can’t understand it, I was sure it would work. I was sure it would.’

‘I’m so hungry,’ Lisa began, ‘that I’m hallucinating smelling chicken.’ She held her stomach. ‘Does that mean I’m going mad?’

Fraser looked around him and pointed at the professor. ‘It’s coming from the fire,’ he said.

They ran up to the fire and the professor, who was busily roasting what looked like a chicken over its roaring flame.

‘Where did you get that?’ Lisa asked.

‘It’s a manok,’ the professor replied.

‘What?’

‘Chicken, or cockerel really. There must be a village somewhere near here. They raise them for sport, fighting, then when they get too old, like this poor chap, they are just left to roam.’

Joe sat by the fire. ‘What an end. Makes you feel kind of sorry for him.’

‘Yeah, I will feel sorry for him as I am biting on his leg,’ Lisa said and plopped down on the floor.

They ate hungrily, throwing the bones over their shoulders and wiping their mouths with the backs of their hands.

‘So, where’s the river, uncle?’ Lisa asked.

‘It’s about a mile away. When you get nearer to it you can hear it – very faintly, but you can hear it. I suggest we follow it until we come to the hills on the map.’

‘I must say, professor,’ Fraser said, with his mouth full. ‘This is the best chicken I think I’ve ever tasted. We should save some for later really.’

The professor pointed. ‘The jungle will provide,’ he said, and threw another bone into it.

After they had eaten, the group stamped out their fire, broke up their shelter and scattered it. They gathered up what few possessions they had and made their way into the jungle, following the professor. They tramped for what seemed like hours, although in reality it was merely minutes, through dense undergrowth which was spotted and freckled with sunlight and damp. The professor walked at a quick pace that meant the others found it difficult to keep up, especially Joe, who was beginning to feel as though he would trade all of the beauty and the magnificence for a single shot of dry bourbon whiskey. As his feet tramped on the ground, they seemed to get heavier and heavier; his breath also laboured under the weight of his rapidly increasing detox.

He stopped by a tree. ‘Wait, wait!’ he shouted. ‘Do me a favour, would you? Just kill me here.’

‘Come on,’ the professor said. ‘Come on, no time to stop. Must get to the river.’

The others forged ahead while Joe lagged behind. Feeling he could not go on, he slumped to the ground. As he sat, out of the corner of his eye he saw something move; it was black and quick as lightening. It darted from his view into a thicket of dense foliage. Joe followed it on his hands and knees.

‘Here chicky chicky,’ he said. ‘Come to Joey, come on, come on.’ He crawled under the hanging branches and the low dangling vines. ‘I know you don’t want to be eaten but we all do what we have to. We’ve all got our place in the world, we all . . .’ He stopped as his hand hit something hard. He felt around and recognised the shape of an army boot. Slowly, his eyes followed the boot upwards until it turned into the grey-green colours of the Japanese Imperial army. His eyes continued until they hit the gaze of a gun barrel and then the staring face of the man who held it. It was pointed at the insignia on Joe’s US air force cap.

For a moment neither said anything. There was silence in the jungle. Even the screaming birds had stopped for a second in anticipation of what was about to come. Joe smiled and gave a faint laugh and the soldier cocked his rifle. Swiftly, Joe brought his hand squarely between the legs of the soldier, who doubled up in pain; Joe got to his knees and then up and ran for all he was worth. He crashed through the jungle with his arms flailing, shouting at the top of his voice. All around him creatures darted this way and that trying to get out of his way. He tripped over the root of a tree but automatically got up and began running again until he caught up with the group. Without stopping he crashed past them and along the trail made by the professor that morning.

Suddenly his feet gave way and he found himself in a trench, waving wildly in the mud and foliage. Lisa was close behind him.

‘What the hell’s got into you? What kind of racket are you making?’ Joe could barely speak. ‘S-s-s-s-someone back there, with a gun,’ he said. ‘Aiming it . . . at . . . me . . . my . . . head.’

‘What the hell are you talking about?’

‘I saw someone with a gun, aiming it at me back there. Jeez, he looked mad. Right at my head.’

Fraser and the professor caught up. ‘What’s up?’ Fraser asked.

‘Joe said he saw someone with a gun,’ Lisa said. ‘We’d better have a look. Uncle, stay here and make sure he’s all right. Fraser, come with me, and Joe, keep quiet.’

Lisa and Fraser stepped quietly through the trail they had just made and made their way back to the spot where Joe had met the soldier, but there was no sign of him. As they searched in the bush a bird flew out and roosted in the branches above them.

‘What do you think?’ Lisa asked Fraser

‘I think perhaps he needs a drink.’

‘You think he made it up?’

‘I think he needs booze and it’s affecting his eyesight, or his mind. Whichever, there’s no one here.’

‘But we saw a plane last night. It could be them.’

‘Well, they’re not here now and never were if you ask me. Come on, we need to crack on.’

They turned to make their way back to the group. As they walked off, Corporal Yashida checked the bullets in his rifle. He had been waiting for this moment for sixty years and was not going to give up easily. He had been put in charge of this island and that is what he was going to do but he must wait, wait and see if there were others as they said, wait and see who owned the plane that he had seen the night before. For so long he had waited for this moment, he could wait a few more days. He smiled at the thought of the praise of his beloved General Yamashita and at the thought of his Emperor when they learned of his bravery and tenacity. These Americans and their cohorts would regret landing on his island.
 

Chapter Twelve

The jungle was sighing as the professor and the others pushed their way through it. Time was getting on and the sun was getting hotter. Fraser and Joe tried their best to forge a path through the dense growth but it sapped their strength and made them perspire with the effort. With every step they felt themselves getting weaker, until Fraser slumped down onto the jungle floor, his eyes rolling in his head, his hair matted underneath his cap. The professor looked at him closely. ‘What do you think?’ he said to Lisa. ‘He looks bad.’ Lisa bent over Fraser and felt his forehead. ‘I think we’d better rest a while here,’ she said, and sat down beside Fraser while Joe rested against a tree and began to suck at a twig that he had found digging into his shoe.

Suddenly there was movement all around them. There were no shapes, no tangible sights, just the sense of bodies flying through the canopy. Lisa covered her ears as the noises got louder and louder. All around them they heard the flapping of wings and the sound of the air being torn apart. The professor tried to stand but was knocked to the ground, his face flushed and scarred by tiny invisible talons. He put his hand to his face and felt warm wet blood on his fingertips; something that he could not see, something that was beyond his comprehension had struck him. Up against the tree, Joe stood transfixed, his eyes flickering from place to place, following as if in a trance. Lisa called to him but he made no reply. She crawled over and tugged on his legs, but Joe was somewhere else. His eyes darted this way and that, searching for something, tracking something that Lisa was not a part of. She screamed at him, pulled at his trouser leg, anything to shake him out of the trance he had fallen into. ‘Joe! Joe! Wake up, we need you.’ But Joe didn’t hear her. He merely stood, transfixed, looking at the sky and following the demons that were playing in front of his eyes. Lisa knelt on the ground, put her head on her knees, closed her eyes and felt her hair being played with by whatever it was that was surrounding them. As quickly as it had started it stopped. There was silence. Lisa lifted her head and looked around her. Fraser was seated on the ground, exhausted, barely able to move. The professor was flat on his back with pinpricks of blood on his cheek and Joe – Joe was smiling a huge smile as his head slowly lowered to the vertical again. ‘What was that?’ Lisa asked. The professor wiped his cheeks. ‘I don’t know for certain,’ he said. ‘But I would guess that that was our first meeting with the aswang.’ They looked at Joe, who had by now recovered. ‘The aswang?’ he said. ‘I see.’ And he moved off, through the jungle.