Dark Side Of The Sun by Rachel Druten

Author:Rachel Druten
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Barbour Publishing, Inc.
Published: 2012-11-26T00:00:00+00:00

Twelve

It was midafternoon of the day Imogene and her family arrived that Jimmy drove into Manila. He was on a mission.

He parked the military vehicle just outside the city limits. Due to the shortage of gasoline, motorized transportation was nearly nonexistent on the streets now, and an official car would have created more attention than he wanted. He didn’t relish the possibility of having to explain to the commandant should he be seen.

The day had started oppressively hot, made worse by the moisture in the air. The humidity this time of year was another thing to hate about the war.

Seeing Imogene was the first ray of happiness he’d felt since leaving home five months ago. And even that was short lived. The look of hurt and betrayal in her eyes when he pretended not to know her crushed his spirit, even in remembering.

Couldn’t she see he had no choice?

He didn’t want to be here any more than she did. From the beginning he’d tried to make his father understand. But no. “Your duty is to the emperor,” his father had said.

Jimmy’s mother had tried to console him. “Don’t be troubled, Jimmu. Believe that God has a purpose for you, even in this. Open your heart and mind, and you will find it.” When he left, she wept.

His father had curled his lip at her weeping.

Jimmy felt a surge of bitterness, remembering the expression of disdain on his father’s face.

He rolled up the car window.

In the past he had taken God for granted, but now He was his solace and hope.

As his mother had urged, he had tried through faith to find the purpose in it all, to find God’s purpose for him. Like David in the Bible, he had sought a revelation. So far it had eluded him.

He got out of the car and shoved the keys into his pocket.

Dodging through the bicycle-riding soldiers who streamed up the boulevard like spawning salmon, he maneuvered around the line waiting to eat at the servicemen’s cafeteria.

Down the block he paused to look in the window of a converted department store, now a gallery exhibiting propaganda photographs and art.

Not what he’d choose to hang on his wall.

Japanese and Nazi flags hung in the windows of the shops that were still occupied. On the empty buildings were tacked placards from the Imperial General Headquarters with “liberation” directives that promised severe punishment if disobeyed.

Liberation. Whom did they think they were kidding?

He threaded his way through vendors selling a variety of merchandise, no doubt looted from warehouses along the pier. Anything from typewriters and canned goods to baby dresses and fine needlepoint. Sold, he noted, for the price of vegetables.

He decided to turn toward Jones Bridge and find a carromata to take him to the university. Since the “liberation,” the citizens had used the little carriages drawn by tiny horses, the Philippines’ original transportation.

Then he heard the screams.

A manned tank blocked the mouth of the bridge. As he drew closer, he saw a young Filipino boy lashed to one of the treads, his leg twisted beneath it.

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