Free The Caprices by Sabina Murray Page B

twenties. His clothing was torn in patches and his eyes were milky, clouded.
    “I think he’s sick,” said Francino.
    “So what?”
    “Save your bullet. If we can get him back to camp, he might be useful. He must have come from somewhere.”
    “And?”
    “He’s got to have some information.”
    Burns laughed. “You want to take him prisoner?”
    “Yeah,” Francino looked at the Jap. “Prisoner. Prisoner,” he said. He clasped his wrists a few times mimicking handcuffs.
    “Might make more sense if you did what the Japs do, just slice his head off. He’d understand that.”
    “I’m just following regulations. Either he’s surrendering, or he’s friendly. I think he’s surrendering.” Francino looked squarely at Burns. “If you want to shoot him, go ahead.”
    Suddenly, the Japanese soldier sat on the ground. He crossed his legs like a schoolchild and looked warily first at Burns, then at Francino.
    “We should get going,” said Francino.
    “I don’t like this,” Burns said. “There’s something wrong here. No Jap walks out of the jungle and surrenders. What makes you think that he’s alone?”
    Francino nodded almost imperceptibly.
    They’d been waiting for an ambush ever since. Burns was convinced and then not convinced that the Japs were following them with the intention of eating them. Cannibalism, said Burns, was commonplace in Japanese society. Ever since the start of the war, the Japs had supplemented their diet with Allied flesh. That’s why, when you killed a Jap and checked his rations, there were only rice balls, no meat. They didn’t need to carry it, you see. They liked it fresh. Francino was of the opinion that starving troops didn’t carry any rations at all.
    “Who told you about the Japs eating people?”
    Burns licked his lips. “Jimenez. He lost his best buddy.” Burns sensed protest. “Yes he did. Yes he did.”
    “All right. What happened?”
    “It’s like what happened to us, only different. I think there were a couple of other guys. Yeah, there were four of them, got cut off, then outnumbered. The Japs didn’t kill anyone. They tied them up.”
    “Did they get the pot boiling?”
    “No,” said Burns. He looked over at the prisoner. “I swear, that fucking Nip is listening.”
    Francino shook his head questioningly.
    “He is.” Burns squinted in suspicion and the prisoner grew deeply solemn.
    “They didn’t kill anyone . . .”
    “Not one,” said Burns. “Then they took out the knife.”
    “Yeah?”
    “They cut strips off the guy’s leg while he was still alive. Something terrible, that. He was screaming and screaming. They was just carving the steaks right off the guy’s thigh.”
    “What was his name?” asked Francino.
    “I told you that. Jimenez.”
    “Not Jimenez. The guy who was getting carved into steaks.”
    “I don’t know. I think his name was Velasquez.”
    “Velasquez?”
    “Well, he’s dead, so who cares?” Burns lifted his two meaty hands to an uncaring God. He left the hands hovering in the air between him and Francino.
    “Why didn’t they kill him? Why didn’t they kill Velasquez?”
    “So he wouldn’t go bad. They kept him alive so he wouldn’t rot.”
    Francino listened to the sound of his own breath and calmed himself. Even as a story, this was horrifying. Even as a superstition, it was a terrible thing to fear.
    Francino was still trying to figure out why the prisoner haddelivered himself into their custody. Burns was right. The very act of surrender was not Japanese. He also found the man’s silence suspicious. He never protested anything, or attempted any kind of communication. He never insisted in Japanese or responded in any way to their questions. His very ease in their company added to Francino’s suspicion. Why was the prisoner calm, resigned? Francino studied him as he marched ahead.
    Burns came up close behind Francino. “I’ve seen you looking at him,” he whispered. “You feel it too.”
    Francino