Letters Across the Sea by Genevieve Graham (spicy books to read .txt) 📕

real bad night vision and they get seasick in the dark. Something to do with the shape of their eyes.”

Max shot him a look. “That’s bologna. Arnie and I studied ophthalmology in our classes,” he said quietly. “Everybody’s eyes work the same.”

David’s expression fell.

Max slowed his breathing and focused on the air around him, searching for a sign the enemy was near. A sound. A flicker of metal. A whisper bouncing off the surface of the water. His senses were so heightened his body was alight with nerves, and he had to force himself to stay calm. Breathe in, breathe out. It was getting harder by the second. He could sense the enemy coming. He could feel their approach in his bones.

“Ever have that nightmare where you’re onstage and everyone’s watching, but you have no idea what you’re supposed to do?” Arnie muttered. “That’s where I am right now.”

Hours passed, and dawn peered over the horizon in a glimmer of orange. Max’s eyes were gritty from lack of sleep. He sniffed the air and his stomach rolled with near panic.

“They’re almost here.”

The whites of David’s eyes glowed in the morning darkness. “How do you know?”

He couldn’t place exactly how, but he was certain. “You remember playing ball, Arnie?” Down the way, he saw the flash of Richie’s smile. He was listening. Max had a feeling Richie sensed exactly what was vibrating through Max’s veins right now. “You know when you’re in the field and you don’t know if a runner’s gonna go or stick between bases, but you only have a second to decide? You gotta kind of open your mind, listen with all your senses. That’s what this feels like.”

He took a long, slow breath, and a tingle raced over his body. He sank a little lower into the ditch.

“They’re here.”

Suddenly there was a deafening boom! and a geyser of water shot into the air as shelling started up from the mainland. The next moment the ground shook beneath Max with the impact of an explosion, and they ducked under a shower of rocks, dirt, and shattered trees. All at once, orange bullet trails streaked through the air, and Max peeked briefly over the edge of the ditch. That’s when he caught a glimpse of men in boats.

Max fired straight ahead. “Aim for wherever those shots are coming from, Arnie!”

“I can’t see anything!” Arnie cried.

Max grabbed the cold barrel of Arnie’s rifle and pointed it. “Just shoot that way!” he yelled. “Watch for flashes of gunfire. Maybe we’ll hit someone.”

All at once Max could see the enemy, moving smoothly and confidently through the dark, climbing from their boats and closing the distance between them like fog on a warm winter night. Max fired back, visibility better now that the enemy was close enough to see, but it was obvious right away that he and the others were vastly outnumbered. Max felt something hard being shoved into his hand, and he looked down.

“Throw it,” Arnie said, gesturing at the grenade. “I don’t know how.”

“Me neither,” Max said.

“Maybe not, but you can throw like nobody else.”

Max knew the mechanics, but they’d never been trained on how to use a grenade. Praying he had it right, Max yanked out the pin, launched it, then crouched beside Arnie. The waiting seemed to go on far too long, then there was an explosion that shook the earth. When Max peeked out, he saw nothing but smoke.

“Retreat!” Sergeant Cox yelled. “Retreat! Head to the rendezvous in the mountains.”

In the days leading up to this, they’d committed the rendezvous location to heart, and Max knew it was a mile on, in a small cleft between two mountains. He braced then leapt out of the ditch, ducking and swerving in a zigzag pattern, firing backwards as he went, with bullets slicing zip! zip! zip! through the grass all around. David and Arnie ran beside him; he could hear their panicked breathing. As they raced past the concrete bunker, he heard one of the senior officers inside shouting into the telephone.

“We need artillery now, dammit! They’re here on the island! The Japs are here! We need assistance!” A pause. Then, “No, sir, I ain’t dreaming, for Christ’s sake. Don’t tell me they aren’t here. They’re shooting down my men while I stand here arguing with you. Get troops down here right away!”

Max kept running, David at his right, and through the darkness he spotted familiar uniforms ahead. He lost sight of them through the trees, then found them again and shifted direction to meet up with the others. Maybe I’ll make it after all, he thought.

White pain suddenly shot through his thigh, driving him to the ground. His cheek pressed against the sticky wet mud, and through the searing pain, his mind returned to medical school: Had the bullet gone through? Was it still in there? How close to the femoral artery was it? Could he stop the bleeding?

David dove flat beside him, took a look at Max’s leg, then glanced nervously around. They were in the open, right where they shouldn’t be, and Japanese bullets were tearing through the space, grazing leaves and pinging off rocks. David lunged for Max, grabbing him under his arms and dragging him behind a boulder. Temporarily hidden, they made themselves as small as they could and watched the enemy hustle past.

“You’re the medic,” David panted once they were alone. “What do I do?”

Max peered at his leg in the shadow of the jungle. From what he could see, it was bleeding freely, but it looked like the bullet had only winged him. As long as he didn’t bleed to death or develop an infection, it wasn’t going to kill him.

He reached for the first aid pack. “You need to make a tourniquet,” he said.

David followed his instructions, drawing a strap tight while Max gritted his teeth against the pain. When that was done, Max looked around, shocked by what he saw. He wasn’t the only one who had been hit. All