Day of the Bomb by Steve Stroble Page B

Kong spotted
the .45 caliber weapon holstered to one of the new human’s belt.
When he recognized the thunder maker, the kind that had killed so
many from his troop, he shrank further into his refuge.
    “Welcome to Monkey Island!” Jason clenched the hands
of his rescuers.
    “Who are you?”
    “PFC Jason Dalrumple.”
    “I’m Sgt. Muldooney. This is Corporal Exodus. He’s a
medic. Check him over, doc.”
    “Over here, Dalrumple.” He led his patient to the
shade of the nearest tree.
    “So you guys have been fighting the Japs or the
Russians and the Japs? I saw the clouds of smoke over that way.”
Jason pointed. “You guys must have opened up with guns from at
least thirty ships from what I saw.”
    “Huh? Just how long have you been here, son?” Sgt.
Muldooney plopped down next to the castaway. “The war’s been over
almost a year now.”
    Jason’s head grew so light that he thought his brains
had been replaced by air. “No. Invading Japan was going to take at
least six months, probably longer than that. That’s what the
Professor said. He’s an officer so he would know. A navy officer
but they know the war just as good as the army ones do. Right?”
    “Invasion? We never had to. Those A-bombs made the
Japs see the light.”
    “A-bombs? What’s that? Never heard of it before.”
    “His vital signs are okay.” The medic placed his
stethoscope into his pack. “You sure look like skin and bones,
though. Like Sarge said, how long have you been stuck out
here?”
    Jason stood and led them to his shelter and pointed
at the date he had carved during his first day on Monkey Island.
His rescue team stared at each other and shook their heads.
    “August 7, 1945? Well that explains it. You washed up
here right before the bomb hit Hiroshima.” The sergeant placed his
hand on Jason’s drooping shoulder. “Corporal, break out that
K-ration we brought along and let him eat a bit before we take him
on back to base.”
    His patient’s vacant stare and silence convinced
Corporal Exodus to open the box’s main course, shredded stewed
chicken meat in a broth that had congealed into thick greasy gravy
speckled with yellow globules of fat. Jason swallowed the first
meat he had tasted since going overboard from his transport ship.
He jumped to his feet.
    “Kong! I forgot that I promised that he could taste
some real food first.” He turned and cupped his hands. “Hey, Kong.
Come and get it! You’re going to love this chicken.”
    “Who’s Kong?”
    “My friend. He’s going back to the States with me.”
He called again for his friend.
    “Is that him?” The sergeant pointed.
    “No. That looks like Screecher. He’s Kong’s friend
and always yells at him. I’ve learned to understand their
language.”
    The rescuers stared at each other and shrugged. Once
again the sergeant placed his hand on Jason’s shoulders. “We have
to get going before it gets dark. It’s dangerous trying to land or
take off when it’s dark in a seaplane. Real dangerous. Do you want
to finish off your K before we take off?” He pointed at the can
Jason held.
    “Do you think he’s scared? Maybe if you walk away for
a little while, he’ll come on out.”
    “I’m afraid we have to go now, boy. Maybe you can
leave the ration for your monkey friend? I bet he’d like it a
lot.”
    “But…” Jason scanned the trees a last time and
cursed. “But I promised him.” He dropped to his knees and placed
the can of chicken on the rock he and Kong had shared as a table
for hundreds of meals. After opening the can of fruit cocktail and
unwrapping the chocolate bar, Jason placed them next to the
chicken. Holding onto the bouncing raft’s sides did not quell the
sickness in the pit of his stomach. Halfway to the seaplane, he saw
a tiny speck running up and down the beach. He pointed but the
sergeant shook his head. Still in shock after learning he had
wasted a year in hiding for nothing because of his fears, he turned
toward the plane