He crept closer. The Japanese had paused in their pursuit, probably wondering why the Americans had stopped. Were they planning to make another stand? Was it a trap? Knowing the enemy, they would not be stopped for long.
Deke was rewarded with a glimpse of Yamagata. The colonel stood alone in the moonlight, in the middle of the trail, scanning the path ahead for any sign of the Americans. Several of his men stood a respectful distance behind him. He held his bow in his hands, an arrow already nocked to the string, but the bow wasn’t drawn back.
Now or never, Deke thought.
He stepped out of the forest directly into Yamagata’s line of sight. Deke was close enough that he could see the whites of Yamagata’s eyes widen in surprise. Whether he recognized Deke was impossible to say — it was likely that Deke was little more than a silhouette, although he still wore the distinctive bush hat.
Yamagata did not hesitate. Deke had to give him credit for that. Fast as a viper, the colonel drew back the bow and fired an arrow at the target that had presented itself.
Deke saw the flash of the arrow’s white fletching as it came for him, fast as the blink of an eye. But Deke was ready for it and stepped to the left. The arrow slipped past him as quick and sinister as a striking snake, then buried itself into the tree that Deke had been standing in front of just an instant before.
Yamagata saw that he had missed and muttered something that sounded like a curse. At the same time, he reached for another arrow and fitted it to the bowstring.
Now it was Deke’s turn to move. He leveled the spear and launched himself at the colonel. The question was, Could he reach Yamagata in time? Deke would need to take five big steps to cover the distance. The colonel was an excellent shot with that bow, and he wouldn’t miss again.
One step, two steps—
Yamagata drew back the bow, exposing the left side of his broad and powerful chest to Deke in the process.
Three steps, four—
Their eyes met in the moonlight. There was no doubt now that Yamagata recognized him. There was also no doubt that Deke was not going to get to take one more step before Yamagata released his arrow.
Deke launched himself the final distance, leaping across the space between them, spearpoint thrust dead ahead. At the same time, he screamed something that was part rebel yell, part pure animal snarl.
The jolt as the spear struck home was so hard that the momentum threw Deke off balance, and he fell, the wrappings securing the knife handle to the body of the spear ripping away in the process.
But it was enough. The tip of the spear caught Yamagata just under the rib cage. Freed of the staff, the knife blade knew its business and still managed to thrust toward the colonel’s heart. An expression of surprise lit up Yamagata’s face. He released the arrow, which whipped past Deke so close that the tip sliced open his ear.
Firing that arrow had been Yamagata’s last act. Black in the moonlight, blood sheeted the front of his uniform as his heart beat its last. The colonel slumped to his knees; then with a final, almost puzzled look at Deke, he fell dead on the trail.
Deke stared down at him, his hands shaking, overcome by the awful savagery of what he had just done. He’d had no choice — it had come down to him or Yamagata.
There were still the rest of the Japanese soldiers to worry about. But they had been so startled by what they had seen that all they could do was stare at Deke and the colonel’s body.
Deke didn’t give them a chance to react. He reached out and retrieved his bowie knife from the colonel’s rib cage, then slipped into the forest.
Only then did the shooting start, but Deke had already vanished like smoke.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Deke rejoined the rest of the column making its way along the trail through the jungle. Having raced ahead in hopes of encountering the American advance sooner rather than later, Lieutenant Steele had left Deke and Father Francisco in charge. Deke hoped that Steele returned soon with good news. They needed firepower to end the Japanese pursuit.
With both Mr. Suey and Colonel Yamagata out of the picture, Deke and the others prayed that the enemy might abandon the pursuit. But from behind them, they still heard shouts and the occasional potshot. The enemy had not given up and was still coming after them.
Any resemblance to a military operation on the part of the enemy had gone out the window. Instead, it was clear that the Japanese were bent on revenge. Based on the shouts and apparent taunts being hurled at them, the enemy sounded like an angry mob.
To make matters worse, no ammo had miraculously appeared. They were all down to just a few rounds. Also, they were still low on food and water. Father Francisco reported that his guerrilla fighters were no better off in terms of supplies.
“If nothing else, my men have their bolo knives,” the priest said, then gave a knowing smile. “And God is on our side.”
“That’s good to know, Padre,” Deke replied. “I reckon we can use the help. Meanwhile, have your boys give whatever ammo they have left to Danilo.”
“Consider it done.”
The former prisoners were doing the best they could but still moved at what felt like a snail’s pace, barely staying ahead of the pursuers. They were all but drained of energy. Many of the men limped or leaned on makeshift crutches. Faraday was doing his best to urge them along, but there was only so much that he could do. With each passing minute, it became more worrisome that the former prisoners might fall back into the hands of the Japanese.
“They’re still coming after us,” Philly said. “Don’t they know when to stop? Yoshio, you ought to shout at them to give up and see what happens.”
“I could try, but ‘give up’ in Japanese is more of a curse word. It has very negative connotations.”
“That’s too bad for them. You know, I knew a girl who loved it when I gave her connotations,” Philly said.
“Save your yappin’ for the Japanese, why don’t you,” Deke said irritably.
Deke turned to look with concern down the trail behind them. He could only guess that leadership of the pursuit had fallen to Lieutenant Osako, who would be the ranking officer at this point. Deke had not counted on Osako to be quite so diligent in his duties or so determined. Perhaps he had underestimated the man.
“Everybody keep moving,” Deke said. “It’s the best we can do.”
He had gotten his rifle back from Faraday, although he had just three rounds remaining. That was better than nothing. It took just one bullet to make a difference.
Growing up, there had been times when he’d had just one bullet and had been expected to come back with something for the supper pot. For the Cole family and for most others during the Great Depression era in the mountains, buying a whole box of bullets at once would have been an extravagance. The general store several miles from their farm sold bullets and shotgun shells individually for a few pennies each. Sometimes even those pennies were hard to come by. Hard cash was a scarce commodity. Nobody wasted a shot back then, and Deke didn’t plan on doing that now. The way he saw it, three bullets meant three dead Japanese.
He and Danilo slipped toward the rear of the column and hung back there in the brush at the side of the trail. From their position, they awaited the appearance of the Japanese. They had chosen a bend in the path as their hiding place, giving them a long view down the trail. As soon as the enemy came into sight, they would have a clear shot at them. Deke doubted that they would have to wait long.
The priest had seen to it that Danilo had a few more rounds for his rifle, but how many? Deke used three fingers to tap his own rifle. Danilo nodded and held up four fingers. He knew well enough that Danilo would also make each shot count.