Her face lit up. She grabbed and squeezed my hands. Hers were tiny, but strong."Oh, thank you, sir! Thank you."
I blushed at her enthusiasm. “Never mind. Now you'd better go.” I'd noticed Sergeant Chokchai headed my way. He didn't approve of what he called “fraternization” between us and the camp's inhabitants.
"Everything secure, Private Nu?” He loomed over me. I swallowed hard. He came from Bangkok. He had made it clear in his view, I was just a stupid hick from the Northeast.
"Yes, sir. Everything is normal, sir."
"What were you doing, talking to that filthy Burmese cunt?"
I winced at his foulness. “Nothing. She wanted to know the time, that's all."
"Why should she care? She's not going anywhere!” Chokchai gave a nasty chuckle “You should know better, though. Don't talk to them. Don't get involved in their affairs. Oh, they'll act all polite and respectful, but they're snakes. They'll stab you as soon as your back's turned. You remember what happened to Sakon, don't you?"
"Yes, sir.” Sakon had been another sergeant. They had found him behind the mess hall with his throat slit. Everyone assumed that he was murdered by one of the refugees, even though he was a brutal officer who had many enemies.
"Just remember, they're animals. Ignorant, superstitious animals.” He looked over his shoulder in the direction that the girl had disappeared, shaking his head in obvious disgust, before returning his unwelcome attention to me.
"Private Bom has the runs. I want you to take his guard shift after you finish yours."
"But, sir..."
"That's an order, Private. Or are you tired of being a soldier?"
"No, sir.” There were no jobs in our village these days. My mother depended on the thousand baht that I sent her each month, though she cried whenever I telephoned her.
"If army life is too tough, we can always send you back the rice fields."
"I can handle it, sir. But can I have fifteen minutes between shifts to go to the toilet and get something to drink?"
Chokchai's grin made my skin crawl. I could tell that he wanted to say no. Then he decided that the extra four hours standing on guard was torture enough—for the moment. He nodded. “Why don't you go now? I'll take the watch until you get back. But you'd better be on time."
"Yes, sir.” I handed him my rifle. He slung it over his shoulder, then strolled over to lounge against a tree, out of the sun but still within view of the gate.
After a quick stop at the latrine, I hurried back to the thatched bamboo hut that served as our quarters. The single room dwelling was empty. Afternoon sunlight filtered in through the chinks in the walls. A fly buzzed in lazy circles near the ceiling.
I unlocked the chest at the foot of my cot and rummaged around until I found a brand new pencil. On impulse, I grabbed a cheap school notebook, too. I had planned to try keeping a journal. Between the work load and my homesickness, I hadn't gotten around to writing a word in the three months that I'd been stationed here.
About to close the trunk, I hesitated. Maybe Chokchai was right. Maybe I shouldn't get involved. It could be dangerous, if not physically than economically. I couldn't afford to lose this job, awful as it was.
Nonsense. She might be chao khao, from the primitive hill tribes; she might even be dirty and disease-ridden, as Chokchai believed, but I couldn't believe that she meant me any harm. She was just trying to survive.
I saw the girl's lively face in my mind as I raced back to the main section of the camp. Where could she be? No one waited beneath the water tower. That wasn't surprising since it wasn't three o'clock yet. I scurried along the dirt paths of the camp, between the bamboo shanties perched on wooden stilts. I dodged scrawny chickens and barefoot toddlers, searching for a glimpse of the would-be teacher. In the shade under the huts, women crouched over charcoal braziers. Men squatted idly, smoking handmade cigars and staring off into the distance. They watched me, impassive, as I hurried by in my tight, hot uniform. My nose wrinkled at the mixture of smoke, garlic, rotting garbage and human excrement.
It was hopeless. I didn't know her name. I had been told that there were more than thirty thousand refugees crammed into the camp, which straggled two kilometers up the hillside to the foot of the cliff. How would I ever find one girl?
My fifteen minutes grace was running out. Finally, after checking that nobody was watching, I stuck the pencil inside the notebook and left both weighted down by a rock under the water tower. Chokchai brandished the gun at me when I arrived back at the gate.
"There you are! I was beginning to think that you'd escaped.” He laughed at his own joke. Barbed wire surrounded the camp on three sides; the sheer cliff wall guarded it on the fourth. The Thai government provided food and shelter for the people displaced by the fighting across the border, but it didn't want the filthy, ignorant, stateless refugees to wander freely. They would slash and burn the forests to plant their crops, slaughter endangered animals, or migrate to the towns and take jobs away from Thai people. That, at least, was the official theory.
"Sorry, sir. I think that I might have a touch of Bom's problem."
"Well, tighten up your asshole. For the next four hours, you're not going anywhere.” Chokchai grinned and swaggered off, probably to make some other private's life miserable. I settled the rifle on my shoulder and slipped back into my daydreams.
Excited yelps and shrieks reached me from the water tower fifty meters away. I shielded my eyes against the sun, trying to make out what was going on. There she was, holding the notebook triumphantly above her head while the kids danced around her. I couldn't see her face in detail, but I could feel the warmth of her smile beaming across the gap between us. I felt better than I had in a long time.
Before long, the noise died away. She had them seated cross-legged around her. She appeared to be using the cardboard like a blackboard. I saw the notebook pass from hand to hand as each child took a turn copying her script.
I wondered about her. I had heard that the hill tribe people were illiterate. Where had she learned to read and write? She spoke reasonable Thai, too. She had a bit of an accent, but then my bunkmates said the same thing about me.
* * * *
She found me the next morning. I was sitting on the steps of the barracks, reviewing Daeng's last letter. I insisted that he write to me, even though we talked by phone once a week. He needed the practice. I always sent his letters back, with spelling corrections. I was determined that, somehow, I'd help him go to university. That was the only way to save him from the trap I was in.
I had expected excitement and gratitude from her, but her face was twisted by worry.
"Hello, sir...” she began, tentative.
"Nu. You can call me Nu. And your name?"
"People call me Prean.” She pronounced it as two syllables.
"Pleased to meet you, Prean.” I tried to put her at ease. She stood there with her eyes downcast, her hands knotted together nervously. I stuffed the letter in my shirt pocked and waited for her to speak.
"Sir ... Khun Nu ... thank you so much for the pencil and paper."
"Never mind. I think you needed it more than I did."
"Still—your kindness means a lot, to me and to the children."
"Forget it. Really."
She raised her eyes. I was startled to see that they were dark blue, like dusk behind the mountains. Also they were glistening with tears. “I need to ask your help again. Something much more serious."
On impulse, I grasped her hands, gently releasing her tense grip. Her nails were bitten down to the quick. The creases in her palms were embedded with grime. Nevertheless, her skin was deliciously soft. Sympathetic tears pricked at my eyes. “What is it? How can I help you?"
"It's Su. One of the children. She's very sick. Diarrhea and a high fever."
"Did you bring her to the infirmary?"
"They said it was probably just some bad fish. That they couldn't do anything. I think she needs to go to the hospital. She's b
urning up."
"The hospital? In Mae Sot? That's more than two hours away!"
"I went to ask the commander for permission to take her. He wouldn't even let me into his office.” She tried to kneel before me. I stopped her, terribly embarrassed, not to mention worried that someone would see her. “Please, Khun Nu. She's much worse today than she was last night. She doesn't even know who I am."
What can I do? I started to answer. I can't do anything. I'm practically a prisoner here myself. But the desperation and hope I saw mingled in her face stopped my voice.
"We would need a Jeep...” I remembered when the commander sent Kai and me to town, a month ago, to pick up mail and supplies. Maybe I could convince him that we needed to make another run. “Let me see what I can do and I'll let you know. Where can I find you?"
"If you can get a Jeep, tie this around one of the supports on the water tower.” She held out the shoelace that had been securing her ponytail. It has once been red. Her jet locks flowed over her shoulders in a shimmering cascade. A lump gathered in my chest as I gazed at her, so small and vulnerable, so brave. “I'll meet you at the turn off for Baan Huay Bua, half a kilometer along the road. Around noon."
"But how...?"
She smiled. “There are exits. Gaps in the barbed wire. Places where it's rusted away. We all know them."
"Then why don't you leave?” I imagined her, free, dressed in bright, clean clothing, laughing with friends. Teaching in an actual school.
"Where would I go? My village across the border? It's gone, burned to the ground by the generals’ thugs. My parents were murdered. My sisters were raped. I have no idea where they are now. Without an identity card, I couldn't get a decent job. Oh, maybe I could make it to Bangkok or Phuket and work in a bar. Flirt in exchange for drinks. Have sex with tourists. Would that really be any less of a prison than here?"
I ran her shoelace through my fingers, ashamed that I was so naive. “I see. Anyway, let me try talking to the commander. Keep an eye on the water tower."
"I will. Good luck, Nu.” Her small hand lingered on my arm. I gazed deep into those midnight eyes, wanting more than anything to erase the fear and distress I saw in them. “And thank you."
"Don't thank me yet. I have no idea whether I'll be successful."
I was lucky, though. The commander was a grizzled old career officer from Ubon Ratchatani, a short, stocky, dark-skinned Northeasterner like me. I wondered if when he was a private his fellow soldiers had called him “Peasant", too. He was sitting at his computer, looking tired, when I entered. I heard the humming of his personal generator outside the window.
I saluted as smartly as I could, then waited for him to acknowledge me.
"Yes, Private?"
"Sir, it has been more than a month since we last got the mail. The men are grumbling. I thought that, with your permission, I might make a quick trip into town. I could also visit headquarters and pick up any special supplies that you might need."
"Quick trip?” the older man almost laughed. “Between going and coming it will take you all day!"
"Yes, sir, but I have no special duties today. I'm sure that the sergeant can spare me.” I prayed that the commander wouldn't refer my request to Chokchai, who was sure to refuse.
"Very well.” He scribbled a note on the pad in front of him. “Give this to Corporal Heng. He'll give you the keys to one of the Jeeps. And here's two thousand baht. Buy me a case of Sang Som. Get some cigarettes for the men, too."
"I will, sir.” I saluted, then gave him a traditional wai. “Thank you, sir."
I practically ran to the water tower to set up the signal for Prean. By eleven thirty I was bouncing down the rutted road that wandered southward through the hills to Mae Sot.
Prean was already waiting at the intersection. Her face was grim. In her arms she carried a female child of five or six. Prean climbed into the seat next to me, settling the child in her lap.
The little girl moaned, her limbs twitching. Her black bangs stuck to her sweaty forehead. I laid my palm against her cheek. Her skin felt as though it were on fire.
"She's barely conscious,” murmured Prean. “Hurry!” I gunned the motor and the Jeep lurched forward toward its destination.
Despite the urgency, it was a slow, tense journey. For most of the way, the road was terrible. We were lucky to make forty kilometers an hour. Prean hardly said a word. She clutched the child to her breast, crooning a song in some unfamiliar language. From time to time she would dribble some water from a plastic bottle over the child's cracked lips.
We pulled into Muang Mae Sot around two o'clock. After the remote, primitive camp, the noise and bustle of the border town were alarming. I kept worrying that I was going to crash the Jeep, but we found the hospital without difficulty. The official at the desk told us to sit down and wait for a nurse. As soon as the nurse caught sight of Su's flushed visage and twitching limbs, she whisked the child away, leaving Prean and me behind.
Prean wanted to follow; I had to restrain her. “It's all right,” I assured her, trying to ignore my own worries. “They'll take good care of her. Remember, we shouldn't make scene."
"But what if she wakes up? She doesn't speak any Thai. She and her granny just arrived at Mae La a few months ago.” The young woman was frantic.
"Hush! Don't mention Mae La!” If anyone discovered that I'd helped one of the displaced Karen leave the camp, I'd be jailed, or worse.
After what felt like forever, the nurse emerged from a curtained alcove. “Your daughter is stable now. We have her on an IV and the fever has started coming down. But it's good luck that you brought her. Her blood pressure was critically low, and her electrolytes were completely out of balance.” She looked from Prean to me, realizing that we barely understood what she was saying. “We think she's past the danger stage, but we want to keep her overnight for observation.” She thrust a clipboard at us. “We'll need your personal information, and your signature."
I waited for Prean to accept the documents. She caught my eye and gave a little frown. Of course, how stupid could I be? She couldn't take responsibility; she couldn't sign. She had no ID card. As far as official Thai society was concerned, she didn't exist.
If I signed, though, I'd be leaving irrefutable evidence of my own crimes. How had I ever allowed myself to get mixed up in this?
I glanced over at Prean's lovely face. Tears were gathering in her eyes. What the hell. What was legal and what was right were not always the same thing.
I grabbed the clipboard and scribbled my name, address, date of birth, age, ID number, house registration number, and whatever other information they requested.
The nurse scanned the completed documents, then nodded. “Thank you, Mr. Surapong. You and your wife can see Nong Su now."
The child looked tiny, lost in the white sheets. A plastic tube led from the crook of her elbow to a bag of clear fluid hanging over her head. Her eyes were closed, but her limbs no longer jerked spastically the way they had during the trip. Her color was better, too. Before, she'd been ghostly pale with spots of fiery red on her cheeks.
Prean gazed sadly at the girl, who was, apparently, not even a relation. Her hand crept into mine; I gave it a squeeze. “She'll probably sleep through the night,” the nurse whispered. “Don't be concerned. We'll alert you if there's any change."
We were ushered back into the waiting area. We sank into the plastic upholstery, not knowing what to do next. I think we both felt suddenly lost, outside the familiar confines of the camp.
Prean shook herself and tried to put on a smile. “Are you hungry? Let's get some noodles.” We sat an the open-air stall across the street from the hospital, silently watching the trucks and motorbikes trundle by and the dusk fall.
"Tell me about your life,” I said at last. “When did you come to the camp? How did you learn Thai?"
"I don't want to talk about that. It's just one long sad story. I'd rather hear about your life, your dreams."
"My dreams
! They're pretty ordinary. I'd like to see my mom comfortable and not needing to work so hard. I'd like my little brother to go to college. He's interested in engineering. I don't know where we'll find the money, though. My dad died when I was seven. Mum had to mortgage our land to survive. She grows vegetables to sell, but it's barely enough for food and clothing, let alone the interest on the debts. Maybe Daeng can get a scholarship. He's pretty smart, just a bit lazy."
"And what you? What do you want?” She grinned at me. “Do you plan to become a big general?"
"What? No way! I hate being the army. It's just a way for me to help make ends meet. I'm not as clever as Daeng."
"Oh, I don't know. You were smart enough to get us away from the camp."
I was silent. I didn't want to think about what would happen when I didn't return tonight with the Jeep. Maybe I could leave Prean here with Su, and drive back by myself. If I left now, I'd arrive before midnight, even with stopping on the way for the mail and the liquor. I could make up some story to explain the delay. But then how would Prean and her charge get back to the camp? And if they didn't return, how would they survive?
I snuck a look at Prean's face. She looked tired. Chokchai had been right. This woman, this illegal alien, had gotten me into deep trouble. Still, I had to help her. Only a monster would turn his back on her suffering.
Back at the hospital, we peeked into Su's room. The girl's breath was deep and even. Her skin temperature felt normal. A nurse shooed us out. We found a free couch in the waiting room across from a blaring television. We tried to read magazines. We tried to talk. Our conversations kept trailing off into apologies. With our worlds, our life experiences, our futures, so far apart, what could we say?
Gradually the hospital settled down for the night. The waiting area emptied. The television was turned off and the lights were dimmed. Aside from the official dozing behind the counter, we seemed to be the only people in the place.
Eventually, we slept.
Coming Together: At Last, Volume One Page 23
