Toward Night's End: A World War II Murder Mystery by Sargent M. H

Author:Sargent, M. H. [Sargent, M. H.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Historical, Mystery
Amazon: B0051VF1JI
Goodreads: 18930249
Publisher: Salt Castle Publications
Published: 2011-05-19T07:00:00+00:00

Manzanar War Relocation Center, Owens Valley, California. April 3, 1942

The cheers were so loud. For both teams. It was the bottom of the ninth, score tied at four a piece. Daniel stood at third, ready. The boy at the plate had two strikes against him. Just hit the ball, Daniel thought. I’ll make it home, and we’ll win, five to four. Just hit the ball. Then the coach of the other team walked to the pitcher’s mound. Time-out.

Daniel relaxed and took his foot off the base. Henry came over. “You okay?”

Daniel nodded. He kneeled down, taking the opportunity to tie his right shoelace again.

“Anything but a pop-up, you go fast, got it?”

“I know,” Daniel told him.

“Fly ball, you wait and see what happens.”

“I know,” he repeated. The shoe tied, he stood up. He immediately saw his mother, a huge, proud smile on her face. Julia was saying something to their grandfather, gesturing with her hands. Probably explaining what was going on.

“New pitcher,” Henry said.

Daniel turned to see another boy run out to the mound. The original pitcher trudged off the field. “He any good?”

“I don’t know,” Henry said. “Doesn’t matter. Anything but a pop-up, run hard for home.”

“I will,” Daniel assured him, returning to third base, his left foot on the bag, his back to his family watching. Henry clapped him on the shoulder and left.

The cheering started up all over again. Daniel watched as the pitcher threw his first pitch and their hitter swung and hit the ball. The crowd erupted. A bouncing drive between first base and the pitcher. He could hear Henry yelling, everyone yelling as he took off for home. Running hard.

From his left, he could see their first baseman gather up the ball and throw it toward home plate. Daniel ran faster, then took off, sliding for the plate, feet first. The throw came in, Daniel ducked below the ball, his feet sliding across home plate. He made it!

The catcher snatched the ball, tagging Daniel on the arm. But it was too late. He knew it.

“Safe..!” the umpire yelled. “Safe..!”

More cheers. Daniel stood up, a grin from ear to ear. Then suddenly, the catcher tackled him. He fell to the ground, momentarily dazed. The catcher straddled across him, pulled his right arm back, then whaled on him, his right fist slamming Daniel’s cheek. The blow stunned Daniel. Then another hit. And another. Then the crowd erupting again. Cheers? Were they cheering?

Another blow. This time across his nose with an audible thwack. He felt the blood pour out, pain like he had never felt before. Then he heard the chants. “Uragirimono.” Over and over again. “Uragirimono. Uragirimono. Uragirimono.”

Someone else piled on. More vicious hits. “Uragirimono..! Uragirimon...!”

Traitor, Daniel thought. They were calling him a traitor. He briefly wondered why. But he knew why. He tried to speak, but then a brutal hit across his mouth. He tasted his own blood. From his nose? Or his mouth? That was his last thought before he lost consciousness.

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