Jurassic War

Forty-Seven

Tanaka led a contingency of privates over to the stockade. A chain and lock secured the prison door. Sitting low to the ground, an Imperial solider crouched to work the padlock open.

A bamboo cage, the bars were meshed together with twine. The door swung out and the lower bamboo rung dug into the earth before it could open all the way. Men huddled in the rectangular sweat box.

Pointing to the officer and the stout one, Tanaka ordered the soldiers to oust the two prisoners from the makeshift jail. The officer was thin and gaunt, but he led the captives in solidarity. And the stout marine had the capability to fight the hardest. Despite the efforts of Tanaka’s men, the Americans resisted, sensing that greater danger lay outside of the bamboo cage. They might have even felt safety in numbers, which would diminish upon the leader and strongest fighter being plucked from the hold.

“Move out, now!” Tanaka ordered the two prisoners in perfect English.

The officer shook his head, refusing. And the stout marine latched onto the bamboo bars.

When they paused, Tanaka pointed at his soldiers, and then, he motioned to the cage. The Hetai stepped forward. One smashed his rifle butt into the stout American’s fingers. The marine screamed and released his hold, shaking out his hand and sucking on the digits to relieve the pain. The other two soldiers jabbed at them with bayonets through the bars.

Both marines yowled in pain. Yet, they still resisted.

Tanaka kicked the cage door further open. He handed his rifle to a private standing nearby. And then, he got on his hands and knees and crawled into the cage.

Grabbing hold of the officer, he yanked the man towards the door. The prisoner continued to resist. He grabbed at the bars. Soldiers cracked his fingers with their rifles. The officer let go and Tanaka pulled him towards the door. Other captives latched onto his legs and tried to haul the man deeper into the cage.

“Strike them!” Tanaka commanded.

Then soldiers jabbed the prisoners assisting with the resistance.

When they let go of the officer, Tanaka wrenched the prisoner free and dragged him, kicking and screaming from the hold. Once they pulled the officer from the cage, the stout marine climbed out willingly. He must not have wanted to risk leaving the officer alone.

Tanaka grabbed his rifle, then directed a soldier to bandage the puncture wounds caused from the bayonets. A fresh recruit, the soldier frowned; he seemed to question why they would treat the superficial wounds. Tanaka did not bother with explanations. His patience since the defeat had grown short.

“Now!” He raised his rifle and smote the soldier in the helmet, as good measure for the insolence. “You do not question me.”

The younger soldier glanced back at him askance. Many of the Hetai on the island had begun to question him. Despite his best efforts, they viewed Tanaka as a failure. Still, the soldier understood his lower station and bandaged the wounds.

Once the injuries were dressed, Tanaka led the soldiers on a familiar procession to higher ground. They marched in a procession, with rifles at port arms, surrounding the prisoners. Pulling up the rear, Tanaka watched the captives as they lagged up the trail, watching for any signs of an attempted escape.

He also kept his eyes peeled on the jungle, scanning for carnivores that might attack them. The going was slow as they meandered down the pathway in the hot sun.

Eventually, the contingency made it to the clearing at the top of the hill. Tanaka marched the prisoners to the awaiting Jun-i and Gocho, who stood at the front of a semicircle of armed men. His former Gocho cracked a sardonic smile at him, brushing a hand across his fresh Jun-i insignia. Arrogance and power consumed his countenance.

Beside him, the new Gocho appeared diffident, nervous.

Recalling the decision to promote Superior Private Sato to Gocho instead of him, Tanaka had considered the soldier less experienced and meek. Sato was not a decisive soldier. He wasn’t a decision maker.

The new Gocho eyed him. An embarrassed look on his face.

Even though everyone now questioned Tanaka, the younger soldiers sensed that Sato wasn’t up to the task. Tanaka had responded to the situation by growing harder, less compassionate. He barked for his working party to clear out, then he pushed the prisoners to their knees.

Tanaka stepped back.

He watched the Jun-i step towards the American officer. A wild gleam filled his crazed eyes.

“We have rules of war,” the marine officer barked.

The Jun-i shook his head, disappointed. Americans displayed weakness.

“You must obey the Geneva Conventions.”

Jun-i grinned, derisively.

“Please…”

With a swift movement, the Jun-i unsheathed his sword, twirled it around, and swung it upward. The weapon spun to the crest of an arc, then it whooshed downward. A blazing gleam of metal reflecting in the sunlight.

The blade sliced through the officer’s neck. Blood spurted from the stump, as the head cleaved away from the body and thumped on the grass. It rolled towards the Gocho.

Another thud followed, as the officer’s body fell to the ground.

“No!” The stout marine cried, rising from the ground to fight, unafraid.

Tanaka rushed forward and kicked him in the back of the leg. Soldiers rushed to his side and pushed the American to his knees.

Struggling to free himself, the soldiers fought to keep the American in place.

“Get on with it!” Tanaka yelled to the Jun-i.

The Jun-i grinned and seemed to relish the situation. He took his time.

“What are you waiting for?” Tanaka grappled to restrain the powerful man.

“You dare order me?” The Jun-i smiled.

Tanaka did not like the tone. “No, sir!”

“What is it then?”

“Just trying to contain the situation,” he gasped.

“Too much for you?”

Tanaka shook his head. He’d had enough debate.

A lull broke up the discussion. Tanaka held the prisoner with an arm pressed up behind the man’s back. Other soldiers pinned down the legs, and another grasped the other arm, extended. Still, the marine was nearly impossible to hold in one place.

He thrashed, pulling Tanaka forward.

The sword twirled again, then rose high out of Tanaka’s sight. He braced for impact, expecting it might come down on him.

Instead, the blade split the marine’s neck open, severed his head. It lopped onto the ground; crimson streaks poured from the dissevered body. Blood spewed into Tanaka’s face and across his tunic.

He dropped the body, disgusted. But relieved it wasn’t him.

The Jun-i grinned in triumph.

As he wiped his blade clean on the uniform of the fallen, a vibration traveled across the ground. The tread of heavy footsteps followed, marking the scent of human blood.

“Run!” The Jun-i advised, then he headed for the pathway down to the ocean.

All the men scattered from the plateau, running for their lives.

Tanaka followed them. The creature stalked upon the scene as Tanaka reached the narrow path. It stopped to feast upon the sacrificed. Scrambling downhill, Tanaka wondered how much longer they could expect to contain a wild predator before it started coming after them.