A Million Shades of Gray

by Cynthia Kadohata

  He ached for Lady. He wondered how she was doing. He hoped she was still with the wild herd. In the wild, female elephants always traveled in herds, while the males usually went off on their own. He had heard that some handlers worked with male elephants, but he had never seen that himself. It could have been just a legend.

  He had always expected that he would work with Lady until she died. Then he would travel to Ban Me Thuot, to Thailand, to America. After he was finished traveling, he would open an elephant-training school in Vietnam. People would come from all over the country to work with him. But now he had no idea what he would do, where he would go.

  There was a rare break in the leaves, and Y’Tin could see the sparkling mtu. His mind drifted to a song his mother had sung to him often when he was growing up:

  The moon shines over, over you

  The sun shines over, over you

  The clouds shine over, over you

  My heart shines over, over you

  He remembered how safe and protected that song had made him feel, with his mother’s heart shining over him. Even now, he would still feel comforted if she would come and sing to him. On the other hand, he was new to manhood, and he would not feel right asking his mother to sing for him. He had never seen a grown man make such a request of his mother.

  He fell back asleep, and when he woke up, it was light out and his mother was sitting watching him again. She was holding a bowl, and as soon as he sat up, she said, “Eat more,” and handed it to him.

  He lifted the bowl to his mouth and drank the water, then used his fingers to eat the potatoes. This morning the soup also had some green plants he had never seen. His mother was a big believer in cooking green plants. She thought green food was the secret to long life, but all Y’Tin cared about was meat.

  Y’Tin looked around. Tomas stood next to Geng, talking to her. Y’Tin felt a rush of anger. He doubted that he would ever forgive Tomas and Y’Juen for turning on him.

  Then his anger turned to this “commander” person who wanted to eat the elephants. He could not understand that at all. Elephants were part of the civilized world, just like houses and schools and books. If this commander was so smart, he would know that. He would know that eating the elephants was the opposite of being civilized.

  Y’Tin closed his eyes and concentrated on bringing back the past. After all, the shaman said that sometimes he could make things happen just by thinking about it. Y’Tin had never seen proof of this, but he did not think the shaman would lie. Y’Tin sat concentrating for a long time, but when he opened his eyes, his fate hadn’t changed.

  He saw that Tomas had left the elephants and was now leaning over someone covered head to toe in a blanket. That was his mother. Y’Tin wondered what Tomas thought about the commander’s plan to eat Geng and Dok. Even if the soldiers ate two elephants, that would not feed them for long. Then they would be right back where they’d started. So what would they have achieved? Nothing—that was the truth. In short, he disliked the commander, and when he met him, he knew he would dislike him even more.

  Y’Tin looked over at Y’Juen’s mother. She was crying. I hate Y’Juen, he suddenly thought, and the thought surprised him. He had grown up with Y’Juen. But Y’Juen had turned on him.

  High above, in the break in the leaves through which he had seen the mtu last night, Y’Tin could see the blue sky. He stared at it and tried to soak in its beauty and let it soothe his bitterness.

  He heard the sound of jangling and turned around to see his older sister.

  “Y’Tin?” H’Juaih was looking at him.

  “Yes?”

  “Y’Juen’s mother is sobbing,” H’Juaih told him.

  “Yes, I know.”

  “Y’Juen was supposed to go to the jungle north of here, carrying a message to another camp. He should have been back two days ago.”

  “Ama mentioned it,” he said coolly.

  H’Juaih looked confused, then her face fell. She was so compassionate that Y’Tin felt a rush of love for her.

  “Y’Juen is good in the woods.” He spoke “good in the woods” in English. It was the phrase Shepard used to describe someone who was an expert at negotiating the jungle.

  “I know. That’s what Ami told her, but she can’t stop crying. Will you talk to her?” Now he knew why his father looked so tired sometimes and why he had so many lines on his face. It seemed that every day that passed carried more and more to agonize over.

  Chapter Twelve

  Y’Tin followed H’Juaih to the center of the camp. As they walked, Y’Tin began to dread that Y’Juen’s mother would make the same suggestion that his father had—to go and search for Y’Juen. He was a natural candidate because he was such a good tracker and because everybody thought he and Y’Juen were best friends.

  Y’Juen’s mother was wrapped in a blanket. She was sobbing tearlessly, as if her eyes had run out of water. He hesitated, but then, as if she felt his eyes on her, she turned to him. “Y’Tin! Y’Tin!”

  He squatted next to her, and she pulled him down and cried on him. They sat like that for a long time, until one of Y’Tin’s legs fell asleep. Holding her, feeling her ache for Y’Juen, he felt bad about how he and Y’Juen had fought. But the fact was, they had fought. He did not feel the way about Y’Juen as he had mere weeks ago.

  Gut, heart, head. He searched for a feeling about whether Y’Juen was okay. But he couldn’t find a feeling or a thought or an instinct to tell him. He didn’t think it was time to panic yet, because in jungle time, a couple of days early or late didn’t matter as much as it would have in a village. That’s what his father had told him. When Ama had gone on missions with Shepard, he was never able to give the exact amount of time he would be gone. Sometimes he gave a time and it was wrong and other times it was right.

  Y’Juen’s mother did not say a word to him. She just held him and cried. Finally, he couldn’t stand it anymore and exclaimed, “I’ll go!”

  She looked at him with confusion.

  “I’ll go search for him.”

  Her face filled with bliss, and when she started to cry again, he knew it was because she was happy and grateful.

  “I’ll go with you if you want,” she said. “I’m not scared.”

  Y’Tin stared at the trees. Some of them were as tall as their houses had been long. “You don’t have to come,” he said. “I’ll leave now, Auntie.” He’d called her that for as long as he could remember. That meant he’d known Y’Juen for as long as he could remember.

  She took his hand and rubbed it as she stared gratefully at him.

  “If he’s out there, I’ll find him,” he told her. In his head he thought, Y’Juen is good in the woods, so he probably isn’t lost. If he’d been captured, Y’Tin wouldn’t be able to help him. One second Y’Tin thought the most likely scenario was that Juen had just gotten sidetracked, and the next second he thought he might have gotten hurt. Right this moment, he felt Juen was merely sidetracked. But he had told Y’Juen’s mother he would go in search of him, so he must. After all, it wasn’t Auntie he had quarreled with, but Y’Juen.

  Y’Tin trudged for an hour back to the soldiers’ camp, where the men were busy eating. He saw his father sleeping and didn’t wake him—he was probably exhausted from his mission the night before. But he spotted Y’Juen’s father and went to him.

  “Y’Tin!” he said warmly but tiredly, and Y’Tin wondered whether he had gone on the mission as well. Or maybe there were separate missions going on all the time.

  “I told Auntie I would go search for Y’Juen.”

  “Y’Tin!” He pulled Y’Tin into a hug. “You’re my second son. I wanted to go search for Y’Juen, but the commander wouldn’t let me. All day soldiers are always asking him to let them go search for someone. He and I argued about it for an hour yesterday.”

  “Can you tell me where Y’Juen was going?”

  “Several kilometers northwest of here. There’s another camp there. I haven’t been there, so I can’t
tell you more. Here, take my gun.” He held out a rifle, but Y’Tin hesitated. It would just weigh him down, and he didn’t know how to use it anyway. He remembered that mission he’d gone on, when he’d shot a bullet into the air. He had been lucky that he hadn’t hurt anyone.

  “No, I would probably just shoot my foot by accident,” Y’Tin said, forcing a laugh. “I’ll go now.”

  Y’Juen’s father walked alongside Y’Tin until the camp was nearly out of sight. “Travel safely,” Y’Juen’s father said.

  “Bye, Uncle.”

  Y’Tin took the path of least resistance, as Y’Juen probably would have. He concentrated on staying alert, to make sure to see, hear, or even feel anything unusual. The effort was exhausting.

  It wasn’t until midday that he spotted Y’Juen’s tracks, not going north but south, returning to camp. That meant Y’Juen had already delivered his message and had somehow gotten waylaid on the way back. Y’Tin felt a moment of anger toward Y’Juen, and then he felt guilty for feeling that.

  Y’Juen’s footprints were easy to recognize because the sole of one of his shoes had a hole. But Y’Tin saw prints only when Y’Juen had stepped on bare ground, and most of the jungle floor was covered with vegetation.

  Still, now that he knew the direction Y’Juen had been walking in, he was able to follow the trail even when there were few prints. When the tracks did show up, the footprints often lined up one next to the other, meaning that Y’Juen had paused over and over. If he hadn’t paused, the tracks would be one after the other, not side by side. He searched for blood in the tracks but didn’t see any. Instead of anger, he now felt worry. Y’Juen was either sick, injured, or exhausted. Or maybe all three.

  Y’Tin drank from his canteen and continued his journey. It was late in the afternoon when he spotted a body in the distance and knew immediately that it was Y’Juen. Y’Tin cried out at the sight, ran closer, and touched the body: warm. His heart leaped as he felt the warmth. He would not wish any Rhade dead, whether it was a friend or not.

  Y’Juen lay facedown. Y’Tin tapped his back. “Y’Juen? Y’Juen!” But Y’Juen didn’t respond. Y’Tin flashed on how Y’Juen’s mother had sobbed and sobbed. He felt a pulse on the wrist and wondered what to do next. If it were a hurt elephant, he would search first for the wound that must be there. He didn’t see anything on Y’Juen’s back, and he didn’t think it was a good idea to turn over the body … the person … Y’Juen.

  But if it were an elephant, he would turn over the body if only he could. Anyway, Y’Tin was going to have to move Y’Juen to get him back to camp; that is, unless he determined that it was better to go get help. But he didn’t have the slightest idea how he would make such a determination.

  There might be some blood that he needed to stanch the flow of. That settled it; he would turn over the body. He did so as gently as he could and saw the wound: a bruise on Y’Juen’s forehead that formed a circle almost as wide as a fist. Y’Tin’s hands began to shake at the sight of the wound. He looked around and noticed signs of a fight: injured plants … broken twigs … a second set of footprints. He felt his heart pounding. It felt like his chest was heaving inside and out. Now he knew why Y’Juen had been pausing so much: He was being tracked and needed to freeze when he heard his tracker. But the tracker had finally caught up with him… . Panic was rising in Y’Tin, and he didn’t know what to do about it.

  There was some daylight left. Not a lot, but enough to go a short way. No need to go get help—the only justification for that would be if there seemed to be broken bones, like, say, a broken back. But Y’Tin trusted that he would not aggravate a head wound by picking Y’Juen up. He grunted with the effort of hauling Y’Juen onto his shoulders. Unh! He weighed more than he looked like he would.

  Y’Tin struggled with every step. When he’d gone on that mission with his father and Shepard, Shepard had carried Ama’s friend without any apparent effort except for the sweat that had broken out on his forehead. If Shepard could carry a man, then Y’Tin could surely carry a boy. But Y’Juen was so heavy.

  With each step, Y’Tin wondered whether he was capable of taking another. He had never thought it would come to this—Y’Juen’s life depending on him. It was too much responsibility! He walked until the sun set. He considered walking farther, even in the darkness, in what he thought was the right direction. He was very tempted to try, but he knew that if he went in the wrong direction, that would mean he would get Y’Juen back to camp even later. And maybe not just later, but too late. So he stopped. He meant to lower Y’Juen gently to the ground, but he accidentally thumped him down. That made him feel thoroughly incompetent. Again he wondered whether it would be better to go for help, and again he rejected the idea. “I’m sorry I dropped you. I’m doing my best,” he mumbled, and was surprised when Y’Juen answered.

  “What?” Y’Juen said. “What?”

  “Y’Juen, it’s Y’Tin!” But Y’Juen didn’t say more. Y’Tin wrapped his poncho around Y’Juen and then lay on the ground next to him, on top of those succulents that covered much of the jungle floor. His teeth chattered in the cool night. How had life come to this? How?

  He remembered the way he and Y’Juen used to play together. Y’Tin could run and kick harder, but Y’Juen could kick more accurately. The earliest memory he could recall dated back to age four, but his mother had told him they’d been friends since they first started walking. Then Y’Tin thought about just a week and a half ago, when Y’Juen had insulted Ama. He hadn’t thought he would ever forgive Y’Juen. But there, right there on the jungle floor, he forgave him. He could not blame Y’Juen for looking up to the older boys. That is, he could blame Y’Juen, but what would that get him?

  And Y’Tin remembered again his father’s adage: The jungle changes a man. Ama had been trying to explain to Y’Tin why people needed houses instead of just living in the bush. Y’Tin didn’t see what difference it would make. After all, he slept every night in his hutch, which was more like a tent than a house. But Ama had explained that people acted different in the jungle—without houses, villagers became less civilized. “Even your hutch preserves your civility,” his father had said. Y’Tin was always impressed when his father got philosophical that way. In short, Y’Juen, Tomas, and even Y’Tin had changed when they were in the jungle together.

  “What?” Y’Juen said again. “What?”

  Y’Tin didn’t answer, just stared into the darkness, worrying about his best friend.

  Chapter Thirteen

  In the morning Y’Juen seemed to have gained weight. Y’Tin’s neck and back ached like crazy, but he kept going anyway. He made slow progress, and it got slower the closer he got to camp. War was so much more tiring than daily life. He knew his father might find that thought naive of him, but Y’Tin had not realized just what war consisted of. War was exhausting. These last few weeks had depleted all of Y’Tin’s reserves. He did not think he would be good for anything when he got back, least of all becoming a messenger. He felt irate at the thought of the commander giving him a job as soon as he got back. If the commander tried that, Y’Tin would have to tell him no. That was all there was to it.

  When he finally reached the soldiers’ camp, he set Y’Juen down, again harder than he meant to. Ama was already running toward him. He saw a number of men looking at the body, but they seemed hardened, uncaring.

  Instead of saying hello when his father arrived, Y’Tin said, “He’s alive. But his breathing is uneven. He—”

  “Let me get his father,” Ama interrupted. “Go tell his mother.”

  “But who will take care of him?”

  “We have a doctor from another village. Now go.”

  Y’Tin ran off. Without Y’Juen on his shoulders, he felt free and light. It seemed like only half an hour before he reached the women’s camp. He went straight to where H’Juaih was sitting with Y’Juen’s mother, comforting her. Y’Juen’s mother looked up at him with fear in her eyes.

  “He’s alive,” Y’Tin sai
d. He opened his mouth to say more but couldn’t think of what else he wanted to say.

  Her face was a mix of terror and joy as she jumped to her feet and set off toward the men’s camp.

  After that Y’Tin wanted to be a hunter for the village, not a messenger. He did not want anyone carrying him on their shoulders. Plus, if he was successful, he could provide meat for the men and help steer the commander away from the idea of eating the elephants. If only he knew how to use a gun.

  He went to see his mother, who was now sitting with H’Juaih. Jujubee was laughing with one of the other young girls. Y’Tin tried to remember the last time he saw someone laughing, but he couldn’t.

  Ami hugged him and rubbed at his face again. She had never done that before the village takeover, but now she was doing it regularly. “One of the soldiers found some rice in an abandoned village. Have some.”

  She dipped a cup made from bamboo into a pot and came up with steaming rice. Y’Tin gobbled it down. He hadn’t eaten rice since he was digging that hole in the cemetery. After that thought, the rice tasted less good, but he ate it just the same.

  He ate several cups of rice and then lay down to nap. Sleeping after a meal of rice was probably as good as it got during a wartime.

  “Are you going to tell him?” H’Juaih asked Ami.

  Y’Tin didn’t know what that meant, but he knew it wasn’t good. And he knew the last thing he felt like hearing was something that wasn’t good. But he looked at his mother and asked, “What?”

  “The commander has decided to take the elephants tomorrow for the soldiers to eat.”

  Y’Tin suddenly didn’t feel tired anymore. He told his mother that he was going hunting right that second. He picked up his crossbow. “I’ll need to catch something big,” he said. He thought that, if necessary, he would take down a wild elephant to save Dok and Geng. He didn’t know if he could do that with a crossbow, but he would worry about that later.