by Larry Bond
“Perhaps I’ll shoot her.”
“Then I’ll eat your heart while you’re still alive,” replied Jing Yo.
The man began edging toward the scooter. Jing Yo rose.
“I see you!” shouted the man. “Any closer and she dies.”
“Let the girl go, or you will die.”
“Not today.”
As the man reached the scooter, Hyuen Bo started to pull away. The man let go of her and fumbled for the ignition. Jing Yo launched himself, flying to his back as the motor caught. They both went over the handlebars, the scooter’s engine catching.
Three hard punches to the back of the man’s head rendered him unconscious.
Jing Yo struggled to control his anger. He rose, wanting nothing else but to tear the man’s head off his body. He picked up the man’s rifle, placed it next to his skull, and fired once, killing him.
It was an act of mercy, compared to what he wanted to do.
In the meantime, Hyuen Bo ran to the scooter and righted it.
“We should go,” she said as Jing Yo stood over the body.
“They’re soldiers,” said Jing Yo, pointing at the men’s uniforms. They’d pulled their patches from their shoulders. They were deserters. “They may have something we can use.”
“Come on, Yo.”
Jing Yo stared at her. In his heart he wanted her to go, to just leave, to save herself from the future she would be trapped in.
“They may have something useful,” he said, pulling the man he had just killed off the road and starting to search their pockets.
* * *
The rain eased as Jing Yo searched the dead men’s truck, which was more than likely stolen. There were a few extra rounds for the rifles, but nothing else of value, not even a few crumpled banknotes.
This was the army they were fighting against? An army of cowards without even enough sense to steal a vehicle that had gas? Without even a thousand dong in their pockets?
His true enemy was somewhere on the road south, getting farther away with each moment he dawdled.
“Are you sure you are okay?” Jing Yo asked Hyuen Bo when he returned to the scooter.
“I’ve had much worse.”
“There will be much worse to come.”
Hyuen Bo said nothing, tightening her grip around his waist as he took the scooter once more back on the road.
22
Hue, Vietnam
It was nearly dawn when Mara and the others reached the outskirts of Hue. The Vietnamese army had two camps along the Hue City Bypass immediately to the west of the city, and DeBiase told Mara the easiest and fastest way would be to take Route 1, which cut down the side of the Citadel, the core of the old French city. A thick mist hid the landmarks, even the flag gate.
Squished between Mara and Squeaky, Josh felt as if he were wrapped in a sweaty blanket. Mara was driving; Squeaky had dozed off next to him.
The headlights were on. The light filtered through the droplets of water, reflecting off the sides of the buildings that lined the road. There was traffic, cars and trucks coming with supplies and workers for the day. There weren’t a lot of vehicles, but there were certainly more than he’d seen before falling asleep.
“How far are we from Ho Chi Minh City?” he asked.
“We should be there by nightfall,” said Mara. “We still have a ways to go. How are you feeling?”
“My insides kind of hurt. I must have eaten something bad.”
“You have a fever.”
“Yeah.”
Mara put her hand up to his forehead. Her hand felt cool and soft, the touch gentle.
“We’ll see a doctor as soon as we get to Saigon,” she told him. “I don’t want to stop.”
“I’m okay,” said Josh. “Maybe …” His voice trailed off.
“Maybe what?” Mara asked.
“Maybe we could stop and I could …” He couldn’t find a delicate way to say it.
“Take a whiz?” asked Mara.
“Yeah.”
“Once we’re across the Perfume River, we’ll stop,” said Mara. “We’ll get some breakfast.”
“Is it far?”
“It’s just ahead.”
“How’s Mạ?”
“She’s with the SEALs. The have a little more room. Don’t worry; they seem to be taking good care of her.”
“I know. They bought her a doll. We lost it …”
Josh’s voice trailed off. All he could think about was the blood in the train car.
There was a train bridge. The road turned sharply to the east, following the river. Finally the bridge loomed from the fog. Mara crossed over, checking her rearview mirror to make sure that Kerfer and the car were still behind her.
“You really know your way around,” said Josh.
“Not really,” said Mara.
“You’ve been here before?” he asked.
“Couple of times. To get an idea of what was where. I like to travel,” she added. “It’s interesting.”
“Yeah.”
“We don’t have time for sightseeing, or we could have gone into the Citadel,” said Mara. “The Forbidden City has some restored ruins. It’s very pretty.”
“Forbidden City?”
“It’s like the city within the city.”
“Why is it forbidden?”
“It was the emperor’s home. It’s like in Beijing. It’s actually not that old—1805 or something like that. Hue was a provincial capital, and the French helped the emperor or encouraged him to build the Citadel as a fort. The Forbidden City is within the Citadel, which itself is a city within a city. A lot of it was destroyed during the war,” she added. “There was a huge battle here during the Tet Offensive. The Communists took over the city. When the Marines finally drove them out, they discovered mass graves. The Communists had massacred, like, six thousand people. Some they just buried alive.”
“And now we’re trying to save them from the Chinese,” said Josh.
“Something like that,” said Mara.
* * *
They ate at a noodle shop. Josh didn’t have anything, his bowels and bladder still on fire. While he suffered from a variety of allergies, he’d been lucky with his health otherwise, and this was one of the worst sicknesses he’d ever had, or at least that he could remember. He joked with the SEALs that it was like having a hangover without the good part, but it wasn’t much like that at all.
“There’s no gas in the city,” Mara told the others after talking to the shop owner and some of the other locals. “Everyone claims there are stations with gas on the roads farther south. The south hasn’t been attacked.”
“That won’t last for long,” said Kerfer. “Assuming it’s true.”
Squeaky claimed he was rested from his nap and told Mara that he would drive for a while. She agreed. When Josh got up to leave, Mạ clung to him, so he carried her with him, even though his arms felt like lead weights. She slipped in between Josh and Mara, draping her arms across Josh. She was asleep before they started.
“Just stay on Route One to Da Nang,” Mara told Squeaky. “We’ll take that as far south as we can.”
“No more roadblocks?” asked Squeaky.
“I wouldn’t count on there being no more roadblocks,” she said. “But things should be easier. We only have to get to Saigon. We should be there by dark.”
A half hour later, they were at Da Nang, climbing past the crowded city. There were no troops on the roads, no fortified strongpoints, not even a stray tank at the turnoffs. It seemed like another country.
The airport came into view as they climbed and turned toward the coast. It was a long, wide expanse of black just to the west of the city’s most populated areas.
“Why don’t we just take a plane from here?” asked Squeaky.
“Good question,” said Mara. “They don’t think it’s safe.”
“And driving all the way down the country is?” said Squeaky.
“The Chinese control the air,”
said Mara. “Supposedly they cratered the runway the other day.”
“Send a helo.”
“I ain’t arguing,” said Mara, though she suspected that the limited range of helicopters would have made that difficult.
They had gone no more than a quarter mile when the ground on their left exploded, a volcano appearing before their eyes. The ground shuddered and the car lurched to the right.
“Stay on the road,” said Mara, reaching across Josh for the wheel.
“I got it, I got it,” said Squeaky. “Relax.”
Another bomb landed ahead, a few hundred yards to the left—not quite close enough to do any damage, but it certainly got their attention.
“Keep going,” Mara ordered.
“I ain’t stoppin’,” said Squeaky.
Josh saw something fly across the sky in front of them. At first he thought it was a large bird, a vulture swooping toward the road to pounce on a carcass before the cars mangled it further. Then he saw a splatter of white and black and red, splinters flying—a second shell struck a row of houses.
“Bombs,” he said.
“They’re shells,” said Squeaky. “There must be ships offshore. All right, so now I see why we can’t take a helo.”
“We have to cross the bridge before they hit it,” said Mara.
“How do you know they’re aiming at the bridge?” asked Squeaky.
“Go faster!” Mara shouted.
Mạ jerked up in Josh’s lap. He put his hand over her eyes as a shell flew down to the right, east of the bridge as they started across. Water exploded in a geyser. The right half of the bridge, which was used by trains, was covered in steam.
A train had just started across from the other side. As it pushed forward, a spray of water came up and splashed the lead engine. As it emerged from the geyser, the train seemed to duck, as if afraid of another shell. One of the shells had twisted away the support for the track, which collapsed under the weight of the engines.
It was too late for the train to stop. Josh watched the cars tumble forward, driving mostly straight ahead, doomed by their connection to each other. They kept coming, and falling, one after another.
Then a geyser exploded ahead to the left.
Mạ screamed.
“It’s okay,” said Josh, holding her tighter. “It’s all right.”
“Faster!” yelled Mara. “Go! Go! Go!”
The riverbank in front of them turned black. Their pickup truck jerked upward. Josh’s head flew backward, then whipped forward, his chin clunking onto Mạ’s head. The truck veered right, moved sideways, then straightened.
They were in a cloud of smoke, dust, and water. Mara yelled at Squeaky, urging him to go faster. Squeaky said nothing, struggling to keep the truck headed straight as the bridge began vibrating crazily.
“Just stay on the road!” said Mara as they reached the other side.
“Skipper,” said Squeaky, his voice cracking.
“Just keep going. They’re behind us,” said Mara. “Keep going.”
The smoke cleared suddenly. There were trees near them, and a row of buildings. It was as if the attack had never happened.
It hadn’t—here. Behind them, the bridge had just collapsed. The buildings along the river were now being targeted.
“Stop up there,” said Mara, pointing to an open lot at the left ahead. There was a large barnlike building at the back of the lot. A pair of gas tanks sat just in front of it.
Mara jumped from the truck and ran to the pumps. Kerfer and the car pulled in behind them.
“What are you doing?” yelled the SEAL commander.
“There’s gas here. Come on!” yelled Mara from the tanks.
“You’re nuts, lady,” said Kerfer.
Squeaky put the truck in gear and steered over to the pumps. Mara already had the handle out. As she pushed it into the opening, a fresh salvo of shells, these much closer, rocked the ground nearby.
A small, thin man came running from the building and began yelling at them.
Mara reached into her pocket and held up some bills, but they didn’t seem to calm him. He stood a few feet from her, arms pumping up and down.
Squeaky leaned out the window of the truck. “Should I pop him?”
“No. Go. You’re full.” Mara pulled the pump out of the truck. “Get out of the way.”
The truck lurched forward. Josh twisted around to see what was going on behind them and saw the old man grab the pump handle as Kerfer drove up.
A shell whizzed overheard, crashing across the road close enough to throw some bits of dirt on the truck. Mara tried pushing the old man away, until finally she’d had enough—she slugged him in the side of the head, sending him into the dirt.
“Whoa, she’s got some fight, spook lady does,” Squeaky told Josh.
Two more shells landed nearby, this time on the left. The old man got to his feet and started yelling again, even as he backed away from Mara. She topped off the car, then put the hose and nozzle back. She held out money, but he refused to take it. Finally she threw it in his direction and ran to the truck as more shells hit the ground.
“Go, let’s get out of here,” she said.
The wheels kicked dirt and dust everywhere as they sped back onto the highway.
“Didn’t want to take your money, huh?” said Squeaky.
“The gas was for his family,” said Mara.
“That’s too bad,” said Squeaky. “You shoulda kept the money, maybe. ’Cause we’re so low.”
Mara didn’t answer.
“What was firing at us?” Josh asked.
“Probably some sort of Chinese destroyer,” said Squeaky. “More than one. We’re not too far from the water.”
“Were they close?” asked Josh.
“In the bay, at least. Maybe up the river. Vietnam doesn’t have much of a navy,” Squeaky added. “Probably right offshore. Take care of whatever defenses they might have—probably pathetic to begin with. They probably sailed right up, bombing whatever they wanted. Nothing the Viets can do to them.”
Josh slumped back in the seat. Mạ’s face was buried in his shoulder. She sobbed silently.
“So it gets easier from here, right?” Squeaky asked Mara.
“‘Easy’ is a relative term,” she said, turning her face to her window.
23
Da Nang, Vietnam
Jing Yo sensed he was getting close to his prey when the shelling started. He was only two miles or so from the river, but the bombardment quickly grew more intense. Finally, he saw a row of cars and flashing lights ahead and realized that the bridge must have been destroyed.
He took a U-turn and got off National Road 1A, treading back toward Cam Le Bridge. But the attacking Chinese ships had already put it out of commission. His only alternative would be to go farther inland, through the Tuy Loan suburb, before heading southward.
He found a row of cars stretching before him on the highway when he reached Route 14B. Several were abandoned, and the way was clogged with traffic. Even with the scooter, it was difficult to get around the jam. He treaded back and forth, hunting for open spaces, stopping and starting, several times going backward to try a different path.
The side roads were just as bad.
It took nearly two hours to travel three miles. By then the Chinese vessels had withdrawn. Smoke wafted on the breeze, clinging to the highway and the area around the rivers.
The bridge that took 14B over the river had been damaged by the assault. A barricade had been placed on the eastern bank; opposite him, a lone policeman stood in front of a small sawhorse, warning away cars and the curious.
Jing Yo stopped near the barricade, examining the roadway. It sagged about halfway across but otherwise looked intact. The bridge itself was only fifty meters long.
Jing Yo decided he would brave it.
“Are we going across?” asked Hyuen Bo.
“If we don’t go here, it will take us another hour to find a crossing,” he said. “
And we’ll be even farther from our direction. Do you think we can make it?”
“If you do.”
“Hold me tightly,” he said, pulling her arms around him.
He revved the scooter and shot forward. He’d gone no farther than ten meters when the road started to give way below. It dipped, then sprang back, as if it were a diving board. Jing Yo tacked left, easing off his accelerator. The road swayed left, and there was a loud noise, the crack a tree limb makes as it collapses in a heavy storm.
Jing Yo knew the road would not come back up this time. He accelerated, charging forward as the steel supports under the bridge swayed and snapped, one after another.
The policeman turned around and began waving his arms at him.
Ten meters from the end of the bridge, the right side of the road folded and fell below. Jing Yo hunkered against the handlebars, willing the scooter to the extreme left, clearing the remaining pavement as the deck collapsed.
He nearly ran into the policeman, who was too stunned to react as they sped past.
They drove on the highway for a few more minutes, until they were almost in Dai Hiep. Jing Yo slowed as they neared a cluster of stores and shops.
“Are you hungry?” he asked Hyuen Bo.
“If you are.”
“We’ll get something to eat,” he said. “They have too much of a head start now for us to catch up.”
Rat
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