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marine staggering around the bunker, his quivering hands reaching out. She saw now that his face was gone, replaced by a gory mass of torn flesh. He swiveled his head hideously and helplessly trying to see, though all that remained was dripping scarlet eye sockets. Pitifully, he staggered to the table and put his hands on it, allowing it to take his weight. She saw now that he had no jaw; his upper teeth, the few of them left, exposed like pink pegs in the purple mush of his palate. Captain Sakuri came inside and wordlessly gripped the man by his shoulder and turned him around. Then the captain put a dagger in the man’s hands and watched stoically as the Imperial marine plunged it hard into his stomach and jerked it once, then twice, his terrible face bubbling his agony Though she knew it was sinful, she was grateful when the man fell. She rose to go to his side, to pray for his everlasting soul. Captain Sakuri roughly pushed her away. But then he looked at her, and for just an instant, she thought she saw no hate in his eyes but a kind of desperate sadness, a yearning for an end to the torture. She entered his eyes for a moment, to allow him to understand that she desired such a release herself. Startled by her silent honesty, he opened his mouth to speak, then closed it and walked swiftly to the portal and outside, leaving her and her fella boys alone once more. Now she knelt beside the faceless soldier, crossed herself, and said a prayer for him, and then one for herself:
    Saint Monessa, as ye had such faith, ye chose to die upon baptism, let me have an equal faith in the mission God has visited upon me. In yer few short years on earth, ye acquired a marvelous humility and serenity. Teach me, Saint Monessa, and take me and me fella boys under yer protection.
    When Sister Mary Kathleen finished her prayer, she waited with hope that she might receive a sign from the tiny saint. She looked up at the roof of palm logs and, though she knew full well it was but her imagination, saw a child in a robe, much like the habit she wore, except woven with goldthread. The little girl was alert, as if listening, and then she cocked her head, and Sister Mary Kathleen decided she was hearing her prayer. In an instant, the child was gone, climbing into a white nothingness toward the throne of heaven itself.
Run for me, little saint,
the nun silently urged, and then she thought she heard a small tinkle of joyful laughter even while the ground beneath her shook. Though she did not fear death, Sister Mary Kathleen feared pain, and her heart pounded in her chest. Something awful was coming now, something gigantic and wounded, and it was coming to maim and kill all that stood in its way.

9
    Josh staggered along the beach. He still couldn’t quite believe what he’d just seen. Sergeant Bordelon and the other sergeants of the Seabee-turned-marine outfit had crawled up next to a bunker and calmly tossed in spewing sticks of dynamite. The bunker exploded in a rain of logs and sand, and then they had sprinted to three more and dynamited them, too. When a blasting cap had gone off in Bordelon’s hand, blowing away his thumb, he’d laughed and wrapped it up in a torn strip of his shirt. All the while, Japanese snipers were sniping away. Though wounded several times, Bordelon never stopped until a bullet caught him in the stomach. Finally, he sat down. “Helluva place to die,” he remarked as Josh sat down beside him.
    Josh didn’t deny the man the truth. “I’ll make sure nobody forgets what you did today, Sarge. You and all your sarges.”
    Bordelon laughed, frothy pink bubbles appearing on his lips. “That presumes you’re going to get off this island alive, Josh!”
    Josh waited until Bordelon died before walking back to the beach. Based on an ache he felt in his leg, he suspected he’d been hit again. Bullets snapped past his ears, but he didn’t care. His back hurt too much to stay bent