The Year of Counting Souls by Wallace Michael

Author:Wallace, Michael
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781477823767
Publisher: Lake Union Publishing
Published: 2017-06-06T04:00:00+00:00

Morning brought a spectacular vision of deep mountain gorges and craggy, mist-covered hillsides. The trail snaked around mountainsides, over gushing streams, and past towering moss-covered walls. The air was thick and dense with the smell of trees and wildflowers. White cockatoos soared overhead, along with other birds that filled the air with their calls and screeches.

A rumble came from deep in the mountain range, sounding like the distant boom of guns. But it was thunder, nature’s artillery, and the rain began to fall. A drizzle turned almost at once into a deluge just as they were crossing a rope-and-plank bridge. The men on crutches struggled across, and Frankie began to sob, sounding so miserable that Louise felt sorry for her in spite of everything. The trail on the other side was a muddy current they had to wade through.

At the moment when things couldn’t seem worse, they stumbled upon a grass-roofed shack on the side of the trail. Cargadores had taken refuge inside, and urged the newcomers to join them. They had a smoky fire going and were chewing betel nuts.

One of the cargadores handed them sweet, sticky rice balls wrapped in banana leaves. Louise had never cared for their gummy texture, but they tasted wonderful now, as they’d trudged all night with little to eat. The other Americans accepted theirs gratefully and shared cigarettes in return. Only Frankie turned up her nose at the food.

Louise attended to blisters on hands and in armpits caused by hobbling on crutches for hour after hour. She gave more quinine to Johnson, who collapsed on a woven reed patati and shivered uncontrollably. As she worked, more refugees from the village and its hospital kept joining them, until the shack was packed and people were practically sitting on top of each other. Among them was Maria Elena and several more of the wounded.

“How are they doing?” Louise asked Maria Elena in a low voice after taking a quick glance at the newcomers. The three nurses had tucked into one corner, knees drawn against their chests to leave more room for others.

“Some better, some worse. Private Zwicker is in bad shape.”

Louise frowned, surprised. “I thought he was on the mend. Don’t tell me his wound is infected.”

“Dysentery,” Maria Elena said. “It hit him just after you left.”

She looked about but didn’t see the man. “Where is he?”

“Outside, I think. He can’t go long without taking a break, if you know what I mean.”

Poor fellow. Pouring rain outside, and he was squatting miserably in the jungle, voiding his bowels. She didn’t have anything to give him, either. Just then, he limped in, looking as pale and feeble as an old man. The only place to sit was near the entrance to the shack, where the water left the ground muddy, but Zwicker looked relieved to be in position to get back outside in a hurry the next time his bowels opened up.

There were two good things about the rain. First, it gave a break to exhausted men and women, and second, Louise figured it would slow the Japanese, too.

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