Kalai Highlands
He tried to think of what to do. Move back in the cave? Stay very still? Shit or go blind? The light in the cave was failing, but darkness wouldn’t fool a dog. He checked the stretcher and discovered he was still strapped in. The drug was arguing with him: Relax. There’s nothing you can do.
No, he thought frantically; there has to be something. But there wasn’t. He was helpless. No wonder the natives had fled. They didn’t want to watch.
Something was definitely approaching out in the cave. He could hear pebbles being displaced, some scratching noises, and then even some panting. That damned thing was coming on.
He lay very still now, suppressing his breathing, trying not to make any sound at all. Then the dog hit the urine trail and the panting increased, along with a snuffling noise, as it tasted the bright human scent. More scrabbling across the rock-littered floor of the cave. It was darker now, must be night outside, he thought, but he could sense that damned thing getting nearer and nearer. He strained to see, watching the edge of that dogleg turn in the cave wall, clamping his breath in his throat, breathing only through his mouth, tensing against the straps.
There: a dark shape materialized at the edge of the dogleg. He could just barely make out ears, but the dog was big, really big, its nose busy vacuuming up scent. Then it froze. Oh, God, he thought: he’s sensed that I’m here. Then the dog barked.
It was a big bark, a really big bark that caused Sluff to jump despite his best efforts to keep still. And then came the roar of a thousand brown bats launching from the walls and ceiling and inner recesses of the cave as that big bark echoed off the ancient volcanic stone. The only thing going faster than the bats was the dog, who yipped once and then fled like a bullet, pursued by a tidal wave of fluttering, squeaking bats as they thundered down the cave and exploded out the entrance.
There was thirty seconds of silence, and then someone started laughing. He heard Japanese echoing back up into the chamber, and then more men started laughing, probably at the abject state of that supposedly vicious tracking dog trying to climb a tree out on the hillside. The general hilarity lasted for another thirty seconds, and then a voice of authority sounded off, followed by several “Hai”s.
After that, silence. Sluff found himself up on his hands and elbows, still trying to not make a sound. He strained his eyes to see down the tunnel of greasy rock, but everything was gray. And then, his nose started working. The smell was horrific. Every one of those startled bats had done what any self-respecting startled bat would do, and he was literally covered in fresh bat guano. That’s why the damned dog ran, he thought. I would have, too, if I’d known, and if I could run, which I can’t. He was covered and the cave was covered. The ammonia stink made his eyes water.
Great God, he thought. Where’s the bosun’s mate—I need some goddamned coffee.
The natives came back after about an hour. Four of them made their way into the cave, slowly, apprehensively, probably expecting to find a headless white man at that dogleg bend. One of them had a flashlight, which he switched on to behold a white man who was no longer white and who stank like a phosphate plant. There was a quick conversation, and then they came into his crooked little chamber, picked him up, and literally trotted down the entire length of the cave and right out into the humid darkness on the hillside. They scrambled down the hill until they came to a noisy mountain stream and then unceremoniously set Sluff and his stretcher down into the water. One of them stepped down into the creek to hold Sluff’s head up out of the water and then they waited.
The water felt wonderful—cool, not cold, but a welcome relief from the Solomon Islands’ heavy air. He consulted with his right hand, which agreed to function, and then cupped handfuls of cool water to his face and guano-plastered hair. After five minutes the stench of ammonia had abated, and they lifted him out of the stream and laid him down on the bank. Then Jennifer Matheson materialized, a flashlight cupped in her hand to produce a beam sufficient for her to walk but not attract attention. David was at her side. He wrinkled his considerable nose but then fell to work cleaning the area around Sluff’s head wound. The sudden smell of antiseptic filled the air. It stung but it was better than bat guano.
“Have a close call?” she asked.
“Two of them,” he said. “The dog found me, but then the bats launched when he barked. Scared him and he ran out of the cave howling. That scared the bats so they lightened their loads as they gained altitude. Every one of them, as best I can tell.”
She chuckled. “The Japs’ve gone on across the face of this mountain. I have two boys laying spoor to keep the dogs interested.”
“How many in the patrol?”
“A dozen, we think,” she said. “Regulars. Traveling light. They had four dogs, but we’ve thinned the pack down to two. Now the boys are leading them into an area of pig traps. Grave-sized holes in the ground covered in palm frond. The bottom covered in sharpened stakes. It works on pigs, and they’re smarter than dogs. In the meantime, we have to go the other way.”
“Ow!” he protested when David finally stripped off the dirty bandage.
“Sorry, sah,” David said. “’e gotta go altogether.”
“Where’s Jack?” Sluff asked, as David used surgical scissors to cut away matted hair. He was pretty sure he could feel his skull crackling.
“In a new hide with his teleradio and some sentries. He set up a half-dozen hides in these mountains against the day when the Japs actually landed. They know about the coast watchers, of course, so he has to keep moving.”
“They using radio direction finders?”
“Control warned us of that, but Jack doesn’t believe it. As far as he’s concerned, they’re a bunch of vicious monkeys dressed up in soldier suits.”
“He’d be wrong about that,” Sluff said. “We use signal flags and flashing lights right up to the moment when we know they’ve seen us. Then we use radio.”
“Tell Jack that, then,” she said. “The point is, this island’s not as big as Guadalcanal, so if they persist, we may have to take to the sea and go over there.”
She’d been in the islands long enough that the word there came out “dare.” David finished applying a new bandage. Sluff thought his head didn’t hurt quite as much as it had before. He was weary and hungry, but he thought he might be able to move his arms and legs in a coordinated fashion pretty soon. David got up, showed Jennifer that he had only one large bandage left, and then disappeared into the darkness. Two bearers took his place. She gave him a good drink of water and told him there’d be food where they were going. Somewhere in the far distance, a dog howled, the plaintive sound of a dog in serious misery. The sound gave everyone pause.
Know the feeling, dog, Sluff thought.