Page 12 of Sisters Under The Rising Sun
‘I suppose we just sit here and wait like everyone else,’ John says.
Chapter 3
Muntok, Indonesia
February 1942
‘Is anyone there?’
As the sun cleared the horizon, Nesta slunk further into the jungle, moving slowly, quietly, her senses on high alert, flinching at every sound. The jungle, however, was alive with noise, the rustle of birds in the branches, the whistle of the wind in the trees, the ever-present rasping of insects. But now she hears a human voice, and then gagging, choking, again and again.
‘Is there someone there?’
Nesta drops to the ground. It’s coming from the beach. Crawling on all fours through the thick vegetation, she is once again at the edge of the jungle. Her heart racing, her head ringing, it takes her a moment to register what she is looking at.
There is someone on the beach, spluttering and choking, struggling to stand. They have clearly just come out of the water. A young woman, who, failing to make it to her feet, topples over.
Nesta watches and waits. The woman gives up and lies still. Nesta’s nursing instincts kick in, instincts which are far more powerful than her fear. More powerful than her terrible thirst and mind-numbing exhaustion. She runs across the sand towards the survivor. The woman is lying on her side, her clothes sodden and coated in thick black oil, which also coats her face, hair and body. When Nesta gently turns the woman onto her back, a pair of bright dark eyes peer up at her, and a tiny smile says, thank you.
‘We need to get off this beach,’ Nesta tells her, matching her smile for an instant. ‘We’re too exposed.’
Much taller than the diminutive nurse, the woman allows Nesta to pull her to her feet, and together they hobble back to the safety of the jungle.
‘Are you hurt?’ Nesta asks.
‘No, but I think I’ve swallowed a lot of seawater.’
‘Lie down. You’ll be fine in a moment.’
The woman seems only too happy to be off her feet again.
‘Are you a nurse?’ she asks. ‘You look like one of the nurses that was on the boat.’
‘Yes, I’m Nesta. Nesta James.’
‘Phyllis Turnbridge. Australian?’
‘Yes. English?’
Phyllis nods. ‘Have you found anyone else? Any more survivors?’
‘No, but I’m sure there will be others, probably washed up somewhere further up or down the beach.’
‘What should we do?’
‘Rest here a bit, there’s a lighthouse not far away. I’ve been there already, didn’t get a warm welcome though.’
‘Japanese soldiers?’
‘Two local men seem to be living there, though I did meet two soldiers.’
‘Really? And they let you go?’
‘Didn’t seem that interested in me. The locals told me to leave, so I came here to watch and wait.’
‘Should we go back? I badly need some water.’
‘You up to walking?’
