Blade of Dishonor by Thomas Pluck

Author:Thomas Pluck [Pluck, Thomas]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Mystery, Action & Adventure, Thrillers & Suspense, Thriller & Suspense, War & Military, Thrillers, Military, Pulp, Thriller, Literature & Fiction, Mystery; Thriller & Suspense
ISBN: 1492253774
Amazon: B00F0N4G48
Publisher: Goombah Gumbo Press
Published: 2013-09-06T04:00:00+00:00

34.

Butch woke to bright light. Jean Marie smiled beneath a nurse cap, and bent to kiss his cheek.

“Wasn’t sure you were gonna make it, big fella.”

Butch smiled and stroked her hair. “I said I’d be back for you.”

“Let’s see that wound,” she said, and unbuttoned his uniform. “Not so bad. You’ll be home quicker than crap through a goose.”

Her lustrous curls haloed her face and tickled his chest as she leaned in for another kiss. “It’s the swelling that’s got me concerned. Let’s take a look at that.”

She unbuckled his belt and reached in his pants. Butch closed his eyes.

“You will drown in shit like your traitor friends,” Gantetsu whispered in his ear. His snarling rictus exhaled fetid death into Butch’s nostrils. He plunged his arm elbow-deep into Butch’s wound.

Butch writhed in agony as Gantetsu tore out a chunk of flesh and held it up like a trophy. “You took my head, I take your balls!”

Butch woke panting beside the extinguished campfire. He tried to sit up then fell back exhausted. His arms were wrapped tightly in a wool blanket, like a spider’s meal. Sea birds cried overhead, beyond the canopy of green.

Kazeta knelt shirtless beside him, frowning at Butch’s wound. “Smell bad,” Kazeta said. “Not good.” He washed it out with spring water from a container made from a palm leaf, then dressed and bandaged it with a clean strip of cloth.

He helped Butch sit up against a palm tree, then walked off into the woods. He returned with more water and a stringer of round butterfish, shiny as silver dollars. He gave Butch the water, and set to cleaning the fish.

“My fever broke,” Butch said. “That’s something.”

Kazeta grunted and deposited the fish heads in an empty helmet. He cut slivers from the rich peach-colored meat, and popped one in his mouth. He balanced another on the edge of the knife and held it out to Butch.

Butch wrinkled his nose. “Can’t we make a fire?”

“No fire, day time. Smoke. Soldier see.” Kazeta tapped the knife impatiently. “Eat, make strong.”

Butch choked it down. He’d never been a fan of battered walleye back home. Slimy raw fish straight from the ocean stuck in his throat like undercooked egg whites.

“How long was I out?”

“Three day,” Kazeta said, then held up three fingers.

“You said it right.” A squadron of planes buzzed in the distance. Butch squinted through the trees at the water. Morning fog shrouded the coast, leaving only the white shoulders of Mount Fuji bare. “After what we saw, it’s gotta be over soon. I know you guys fight to the death, but what’ll be left to fight for?”

Kazeta nodded and ate another chunk of butterfish. “People fight long after lose battle.”

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