Dragon House

by John Shors

  “Thank you.” Iris picked up the phone and dialed the number for the Nha Trang police station. She handed the phone to Sahn. She listened to him talk softly but firmly. His face, usually so expressionless, depicted frustration, then anger, then satisfaction. As she often did, Iris wished she could speak Vietnamese. She’d take lessons, she promised herself, as soon as the center was opened.

  Sahn handed the phone back to her. She set it in her lap. “Well? What did they say?”

  “They are looking.”

  “Do you believe them?”

  He nodded, pleased by the response of his countrymen. “They are trying.”

  Iris reached between them and took his hands in hers. “Could we call the other cities again? And the smaller towns? Maybe someone saw something.”

  Sahn tried to remember the last time a woman had held his hands. It must have been my mother, he thought, probably the day before the bombs fell. To his surprise, he didn’t mind Iris’s hands gripping his. “I call them,” he said, wishing he could see her face clearly, if even for a moment.

  She squeezed his hands. “Cam on.”

  “You . . . you speak Vietnamese?”

  “Only a few phrases. And ‘thank you’ is one of them.”

  “You say it just right. Perfect. Who your teacher?”

  “No one. I’ve just been listening. On the street.”

  “You want learn more?”

  “I do. Very much so.”

  He straightened, proud that she wished to learn the language of his ancestors. “After children are back, I teach you one word every day. Okay?”

  “That would be wonderful. Really wonderful. I want to learn. I just haven’t had time.”

  “Vietnamese easy. Not like English. English give me headache. Vietnamese sound like . . . like birds talking in a tree. So nice. You be happier here when you speak Vietnamese. Then you have less problem. Then everyone smile at you.”

  “Everyone already smiles at me. Except you, of course.”

  The corners of his mouth rose slightly. “No believe everything you see.”

  “So your frown is really a smile?”

  “Just learn Vietnamese. Then my headache will go. And we can talk as many as you like.”

  She picked up the piece of paper listing the phone numbers of the police stations in nearby cities. “Are we going to find them, Sahn?” she asked, scanning the long list of numbers. “Please tell me that we’re going to find them. I’ve been praying that we will. Praying so hard. But I just . . . I really don’t know.”

  He sighed, watching the curly mass of her hair float before him. “Yes,” he finally replied. Aware that she was seeking encouragement, that she needed it, he added, “Loc is no smart. He should take them far from here. But he is no smart and he is lazy. So he will go to Nha Trang. I know his kind. Their life is like a . . . pattern. They are easy to see, even if my eyes no work. I catch hundreds of these men. These cowards. And we soon catch Loc. And he never see the children again.”

  “And when we do that . . . will you do something else for me?”

  “Do what?”

  She leaned closer to him. “Spread the word on the street. Let everyone know what happened to Loc. What he did and what happened to him. Tell them you’re with me. And that no one is ever going to hurt another one of our children.”

  Sahn nodded slowly, thinking again that she was a mongoose. “I tell them this and more.”

  “Cam on.”

  “Khong co chi.”

  Iris nodded. Though still sick with worry over Mai and Minh, she no longer felt so alone. Sahn might be old and nearly blind. He might have once killed Americans. But he was her ally, perhaps even her friend. And he’d protect what she held most dear.

  After dialing a number from the top of her list, she handed him the phone. As he began to speak, she patted his knee twice, closed her eyes, and tried to think of anything else she might do to bring Mai and Minh home.

  ABOUT TWO HUNDRED MILES TO THE northeast, Mai and Minh walked along the white-sand beach that dominated the shoreline beside Nha Trang. The beach appeared to go on forever—an immense, curving world that housed countless discoveries. Crabs scurried before them. Silverfish darted in the shallows. Palm trees swayed in the breeze. Though the city could be heard and seen, it seemed secondary to the beach. The sea, which stretched into the horizon, was the color of the sapphires that Mai had once seen in a storefront window. She thought the sea looked infinite, in some ways like the sky at night. Only the sky was one-dimensional, whereas she could stick her toe in the sea and look out across waves that never ended.

  Though normally the sight and feel of the sea would have prompted Mai to run and play, she knew that Loc was near, and she couldn’t forget how the mustached man had put his hand on her shoulder and squeezed it. His touch had made her feel cold and violated. She hadn’t wanted his hand on her skin, but he’d touched her all the same. If Minh hadn’t jumped to action and distracted the men, Loc’s cousin would have touched her more.

  Feeling panic rise within her, Mai reached for Minh’s stump, holding it tight. “We have to escape,” she said. “Today. Tonight might be too late. Please, Minh. Those men are mad at you for winning the game. And Loc’s cousin . . . he . . . he scares me. I don’t want to see him again.”

  Minh nodded, studying their surroundings, wondering if they should pay someone to drive them far away.

  “Stop it, Minh! Don’t stand there and pretend that you can’t speak!”

  He turned toward the sea. “Loc is on the sidewalk by the street,” he whispered. “I could hit him with a stone.”

  “So?”

  “So, I don’t want him to see me talking.”

  “Please, Minh. I can’t stay here with him. I’m too scared. Can’t we just leave? Get on a bus and leave?”

  “He’ll see us.”

  “What if we went to the police?”

  “I don’t trust the police. He’ll bribe them.”

  “Maybe it’s time to take a chance. Maybe they’ll help us.”

  A Westerner walked toward them, and Minh lifted up packets of postcards that Loc had bought for them to sell.

  Knowing that Loc was watching, Mai tried to smile at the foreigner. “Good morning,” she said in English. “You like postcards? Maybe it time for you to write your mother. I think you away from home for long time. Sure, sure, she want to hear from you.”

  The man smiled and extended his hands. Minh gave him the packets.

  “Please, sir,” Mai said. “We hungry. No eat breakfast. Please buy one packet. Only fifteen thousand dong or one U.S. dollar.”

  Leafing through the postcards, the man shook his head. “These aren’t very good.”

  “Please, sir,” Mai replied, “please buy one packet. Maybe you have a wife or girlfriend? Sure, sure, they excited to get postcard from you. You make them so happy. And my brother and me, then we can eat breakfast. Maybe enough rice so we not hungry today.”

  The foreigner sighed. “I’ve got ten thousand dong. I’ll give you that.”

  “No. Please, no. That not enough. I buy these packets for ten thousand each. I make no profit if you only give ten thousand. Please. Fifteen thousand. It not much money. So little money to make your mother happy. Please, kind sir. Fifteen thousand dong to make your mother happy. Sure, sure, you is good son. Please make her happy.”

  He smiled, reaching into a zipped waist pouch. “You’re a good saleswoman.”

  “No. I good saleswoman if you give me twenty thousand dong for one packet. Then I very good. Then I make good money and your mother is so happy.”

  “Twenty thousand?”

  “That great deal for me and you.”

  He laughed, handing her twenty thousand dong. “You win,” he said, and took the packet.

  Mai gave the money to Minh. “You is good man,” she said. “Sure, sure, your mother happy now. Tell her I say that you are good man. Tell her what you do.”

  “I will.”

&
nbsp; “Do you have children?”

  “Two. A boy and a girl.”

  “How old?”

  “Five and seven.”

  “Do they go to school?”

  “Yes.”

  “They must be lucky. Do you bring them something from Vietnam?”

  “A couple of dresses. And a stone dragon.”

  Mai nodded, wishing that the man were her father. Minh’s father. He seemed wonderful. She would go anywhere with him, do anything to be his daughter. She bit her lip, holding back sudden tears. “Tell your daughter that Vietnamese girl say hello.”

  “What’s your name?”

  “Mai. Tell her Mai say hello.”

  “Good-bye, Mai. Thank you for making my mother happy.”

  “You are welcome.”

  Mai watched the man depart, his footprints deep and long. She wanted to follow him. Maybe he’d hold her hand and take her someplace warm and beautiful. “I don’t want to say good-bye to him,” she said to Minh, a tear finally tumbling. “Maybe if we told him about Loc, maybe he’d help us.”

  Minh shook his head. “Stop, Mai. Don’t do that.”

  “But he—”

  “He’s leaving. And so are we. We’re going to leave Loc forever.”

  She rubbed her eye. “How?”

  Minh pointed down the beach toward a series of towers that carried cable cars to an island. An amusement park dominated the near side of the island, the destination of the cable cars. “We’re going to walk toward that, and when we get near it, we’re going to run. We’ll pay for a ride, and we’ll go to that island. I don’t know if Loc will have enough money for a ride. Probably not, knowing him. So we’ll get to the island and use our money to pay someone to take us in a boat to one of those villages we passed. And then we’ll take a bus to somewhere he’ll never find us.”

  “Not the center?”

  “No. Not now. Later, maybe. When he doesn’t expect us to return.”

  “But where will we go?”

  “Somewhere in the mountains. Far from here.”

  “But what will we do there? Our money will be gone.”

  Minh shrugged. “We’ll help a farmer. We’ll plant rice. Or catch fish from a river. Or maybe we . . . we can find flowers in the mountains and sell them at a market. And I’ll talk with everyone, Mai. Loc will never hear about a one-handed boy who doesn’t talk.”

  Mai looked at a cable car that glided toward the island. “Have you always been so smart, Minh the Schemer?”

  He took her hand. “I wanted to talk with you. But I couldn’t.”

  “You won all those games. So many games. No one ever knew how smart you were. Not even me.”

  “Will you run with me, Mai? To the cable cars?”

  “Now?”

  “No. Let’s get closer. And then we’ll take off our sandals and run.”

  “He’ll chase us.”

  “I know. But we’ll be faster. He won’t run well after smoking so much.”

  She squeezed his fingers. “What if he catches us?”

  “He won’t.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I’m sure.”

  She shook her head. “I’m afraid.”

  “Don’t be. He won’t run fast with so much opium in him.”

  “That’s true. Sometimes he can hardly walk. I’ve seen faster turtles.”

  “He won’t catch us.”

  Still holding his hand, Mai started to head toward the cable cars. “Thank you, Minh,” she said. “Thank you for taking me away from him.”

  “You’re my sister, Mai. Of course I’m going to take you away.”

  “Do you think we’ll be happy? In the mountains?”

  “We won’t have to beg. And we won’t have Loc.”

  “You’re not afraid?”

  “I’m afraid. Of course I am. But there must be more good people in the world. People like Mr. Noah and Miss Iris and Thien. People who won’t hurt us. I just want to find them. Then we’ll be happy forever.”

  Mai looked ahead, her heart starting to beat more quickly. “When will we run?” she asked, scanning the nearby street for Loc.

  “Soon,” Minh replied, also looking for Loc, needing to find him. “Remember the day we saw the rainbow over the river?”

  “Yes. That gull’s droppings almost hit you.”

  “Remember how later, that man let us sit at his bar and watch basketball next to those Americans?”

  “The Shaq was so good that day.”

  Minh smiled, glad that she hadn’t forgotten. “Pretend that you’re the Shaq when you’re running. He won’t catch us if we’re two Shaqs.”

  She tucked the packets of postcards into her shorts. “I won’t ever leave you, Minh the Magnificent.”

  “And I won’t leave you. You’re my sister. And my best friend.”

  “Do you want to see how fast I can run?”

  “Oh, yes. And when we get to that tree, the one that’s leaning toward the water, we’ll run. And no matter what he says or does, don’t stop running.”

  “I won’t,” she replied, her heart thumping, her face and neck damp with perspiration.

  “Don’t stop, Mai. He’ll shout, and frighten us, and you’ll want to stop. But don’t.”

  “I won’t. I promise.”

  Minh reached down and removed his sandals. He held them in his good hand and placed his stump against Mai’s palm. He turned his head and saw Loc walking beside the water, not more than a hundred paces behind them. “What does he care about the sea?” Minh asked.

  Mai scrutinized Loc, studying him, hating him. “His legs . . . they’re not working very well. He’s still full of opium.”

  “You’re right.”

  “Let’s walk faster. And then we’ll run. Run so fast.”

  “He’s never going to hurt us again, Mai.”

  “You promise?”

  “Just run like the Shaq. And don’t let go of me.”

  Mai squeezed his stump. “I want him to see us running together,” she said, trying to slow her breathing, to stop her fear from spreading.

  “Why?”

  “Because I want him to remember how we ran away together. How we never left each other. He laughs . . . He’s always laughed at your stump. But he’s going to see me holding it. That’s the last he’s ever going to see of us, Minh the Wonderful. He’s going to see me holding your stump, and then we’re going to leave him forever.”

  THE WATER FELT WARM AGAINST LOC’S feet. He walked in the shallows, following Mai and Minh. He didn’t care if they saw him. In fact, he wanted them to see him. Though Minh had won six dollars for him in the game against his cousin, Loc was angry that it hadn’t been ten dollars. He’d bought the packets of postcards and had said that if they didn’t sell them all before lunch, they’d suffer.

  Thinking about Mai, Loc remembered how his cousin had looked at her. Loc knew what Vien wanted. But he wouldn’t get it until the price was right. And the price would be high.

  Loc bent over and splashed some water on his face. When he stood up, the world seemed to spin. He cursed his eyes and the cloud that the opium had left in him. Too much time had passed since he’d put the pipe to his lips. He needed to be lifted again. Then he’d be content. Then he’d find a woman and she’d please him as he imagined that she was his.

  Closing his eyes, Loc felt the sun on his face. He wasn’t happy to be back in Nha Trang. His mother had abandoned him here, and he’d had to learn how to live on the streets. He’d been beaten. Kicked like a dog. Later he was put to work by his uncle, growing marijuana in the hills to the west of the city. His power had increased as the years passed, at least until he tried to double-cross his uncle. Then only their shared blood had saved him. He’d been stripped of his money and possessions and sent to Saigon in the back of a truck full of pigs. That was almost ten years before.

  Loc opened his eyes and saw the ocean. For a moment, he couldn’t recall why he was at the beach. Then he remembered the children and
turned in their direction. To his surprise, he realized that they were running. They were holding hands and hurrying toward the far end of the beach. What are those brats doing? he wondered. He saw the half boy glance back at him, and suddenly Loc understood.

  Swearing, he kicked off his sandals and began to chase them. At first running in the deep sand was difficult. But then his mind and body started to clear. His strides lengthened. His speed increased.

  Loc’s rage at their betrayal was what fueled him. They were trying to escape, to abandon him once again to the streets. Without the children, he’d have no money. Opium and women would be beyond his reach. His life would be over.

  He clenched his fists, imagining what he’d do to them. He would have to teach them a lesson they’d never forget. He’d take them to a quiet place where no one would hear their screams. And he’d hurt them. Hurt them so terribly that they would never leave him again.

  “You’re mine!” he shouted, gaining on them with every step. To his delight, the half boy stumbled and the girl had to pull him up. They started to run again, helping each other over the uneven beach.

  You’ll never hold each other again, Loc thought. Never. I’m going to break your spirits. Break them in such a way that they’ll never mend.

  MINH HEARD LOC YELL AND HE turned around, realizing that Loc was much closer. “Hurry!” he shouted at Mai, uncaring whether Loc heard his voice.

  Mai began to cry, doing her best to run in the deep sand, still holding Minh’s stump. She frantically looked for someone who might help them, but this part of the beach was empty. And the cable cars were still far away. “He’s . . . so fast,” she sobbed, gasping for breath.

  “We can make it! Don’t stop!”

  “But he’s . . . too fast!”

  “Hurry, Mai! Please!”

  “I can’t!”

  “You can!” Minh shouted, leading her toward drier sand. She stumbled and he did his best to pull her up. Loc wasn’t far behind. Minh could see his bared teeth. “Run, Mai!” he screamed. “You’ve got to run! Faster!”

  Mai wiped her brow, and sand fell into her eyes, mixing with her tears, making it hard to see. Still, she did her best to run, terrified of Loc’s rage, knowing that she hadn’t seen the worst of what he could do to them.