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Back The Preserve
Chapters (56)
  1. Front Cover
  2. Half-Title Page
  3. Title Page
  4. Copyright Page
  5. AUTHOR’S NOTE
  6. 1.
  7. 2.
  8. 3.
  9. 4.
  10. 5.
  11. 6.
  12. 7.
  13. 8.
  14. 9.
  15. 10.
  16. 11.
  17. 12.
  18. 13.
  19. 14.
  20. 15.
  21. 16.
  22. 17.
  23. 18.
  24. 19.
  25. 20.
  26. 21.
  27. 22.
  28. 23.
  29. 24.
  30. 25.
  31. 26.
  32. 27.
  33. 28.
  34. 29.
  35. 30.
  36. 31.
  37. 32.
  38. 33.
  39. 34.
  40. 35.
  41. 36.
  42. 37.
  43. 38.
  44. 39.
  45. 40.
  46. 41.
  47. 42.
  48. 43.
  49. 44.
  50. 45.
  51. 46.
  52. 47.
  53. 48.
  54. EPILOGUE
  55. AFTERWORD
  56. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

They’d given him three days’ leave before he was to hold up his end of the deal. Tomorrow, he was to report to a classified facility south of here code-named The Preserve, where they would hold up their end. They had him on a short leash, sure they did. Yet his billet was pleasant. The vast two-story house had untold bedrooms and multiple bathrooms and a second stairway for the help, surely once a home of the landowning class, but like many residences here it also had a metal roof and mismatched black lava stones for a foundation. It stood inside a grove of scraggly trees right on the ocean, edging the black rocks along the surf. A short stroll north up the main road was the town of Kailua, which locals simply called Kona Town, as it was the hub of the Kona Coast. Kona Town had the fancy Kona Inn with its peaked red roofs and groomed lawns, where all the officers drank and touring big shots stayed. But the pale man in plain clothes who had met Lett at the steamer dock two days ago advised him to stay away from town, which was fine with Lett, especially with the storms that had come and gone and might come again.

The thought of more stormy weather and a short leash made him reach for that bottle of Filipino rum, but it was empty. He so missed Heloise, her knowing fortitude. He missed his boy with his light bulb of a forehead and smile that came at the oddest times, just when he needed it.

Tomorrow couldn’t come soon enough. Luckily his billet had its own bar, just downstairs. He wasn’t supposed to discuss his posting, let alone his cure, but someone in the know might be willing to chat, maybe a duty officer just off shift. He sat on the edge of the bed and buttoned up the shirt of the summer service uniform they’d issued him, his only possession here apart from toiletries and his classified travel passes. The last rank he wore up on the line back in 1944 was sergeant. Here they’d issued him no stripes, no insignia at all. Such was the deal. He stood and found his new brown GI shoes he’d kicked off, stepped into them, and made for the door.