by Kae Bell
“Then the Khmer Rouge came along and everything went to hell. We sort of got stuck in the middle then, as it were. So we hunkered down. By the time that madness ended, we’d built ourselves a nice little community here and made a few discoveries along the way. Figured we might as well stay put, see how things went. And we liked the privacy; no one ever came out this way.” He puffed on his pipe.
Andrew looked around him, shook his head, and said, “Let me make sure I’m understanding. You’re telling me that you are all Veterans of the Vietnam War?”
“That’s right. To the man. Quite a cast of characters we are.” He winked at Andrew.
“And you’ve not been home since…?”
“To the United States? 1968 for me.” Frank glanced around. Several of the men had left their tasks to gather round Frank and Andrew, curious about the unannounced visitor. “Different for everyone. But an easy forty years.”
“But, but…It’s better there now. So much better.” Andrew had been Navy, like his father before him.
A hunched old guy playing checkers yelled out, “You sure ‘bout that, son?”
Andrew nodded, emphatic. “Yeah. Absolutely. People celebrate Veterans. They welcome them. It’s not like it was. Not at all.”
Frank leaned back on his heels, crossed his arms and looked at Andrew over his thick black-rim grasses. A large gold ring flashed on his right hand.
“Son, we get out and about. We stay up on our current events, don’t we boys?”
The men murmured agreement.
“And we hear our guys are dying on the VA's watch. And young fellas killing themselves after years of deployment. That doesn't sound like a heroes’ welcome.”
“Sounds more like a fuck you to me!” The old checker player cackled, waving his cane.
Frank said, “Please excuse Ed, he was Special Forces. No manners.”
“Kick your ass though!” Ed yelled back, louder than necessary. His fellow checker player shook his head in disapproval.
Andrew felt dazed. He looked at Frank. “But what about family?”
Frank shrugged. “We were a rowdy young bunch when we joined up. Buncha misfits. None of us had much family to speak of. We were all pretty much running away from something or toward something better. So it made sense to stay. We had nothing to go home to.” Frank coughed.
“And not a married guy in the lot, save Jackson over there. But he was a special case.” Frank gestured to one of the guys washing clothes in the river, who heard his name and waved.
As he watched the waving man, Andrew heard a female voice ring across the cavern: “Alright fellas, supper's on.”
Frank’s eyebrows went up and he smiled at the voice. “That's Jackson's wife. We voted and agreed he could invite her on over. We all knew she was a hell of a cook.”
Behind him, the old checker player cackled again and double-jumped his opponent’s red pieces.
“And once things settled down a bit, we'd sneak out to the coast now and again, pretend we were some crazy lost vets, couldn’t find their way home. Which, I guess, we are!” He guffawed, along with the rest of the men, then his face darkened, his expression somber. The men fell quiet.
“We lost a lot of our brothers over them hills. So far away from home.”
He paused for a long minute and the cavern was silent, the only sound the river flowing.
“A lot of brothers,” he repeated, looking at Andrew. “Sometimes, when the loss is too much, a man's heart breaks, clear in two, and one part just sorta falls away into the hole where broken things go. And then he's left with a heart that can't never mend. And he goes about his business, making the best of things, with what he got left. That's what we done here.”
Ed, listening to this, paused from the game of checkers and shook his head, murmuring, “A man’s got limits.”
Frank continued. “And if you believe in all that Pchum Ben stuff - you can’t live in this country without picking up the customs - we wanted our boys to have a place here, a home, in case their spirits went looking for family, or something close to it. We think this here is a special place and we hope they do too.”
Andrew looked around. At the rough camp, the flowing river, the blazing fire, smoke wafting up high into the stony reaches of the cavernous ceiling.
“I bet they do.” He thought about what he knew about Pchum Ben. “You'd need a lot of coconut rice balls to keep 'em happy.”
Frank burst into a grin. “Haw! Damn straight we would, you hear that Ed? This fella said we'd need a lot of coconut rice balls, haw haw!”
Ed cackled, grabbing his crotch. “I'll show him my coconut balls!!”
Frank chuckled, his eyes twinkling.
Andrew looked around, at the tents, standard Army issue circa 1970. He had so many questions. Frank and Stuart exchanged a glance.
Frank put his arm around Andrew and said, “Let me show you the rest of the place.”
They walked down to the river bank and then along a path by the water, small pebbles crunching under their feet.
“It’s a lot to take in, I know. So I’ll tell you another story, maybe it’ll help. I had a buddy, who had a son before I flew out to Viet Nam. Named me that boy’s godfather, he did. That was a proud day for me, holding that little boy in my arms. Anyway, I heard that young boy growed up good and right. Went to fight in Iraq, spent four years in the fight. Came back home when that was over, but just wasn't the same. Trouble, you know. Couldn’t get help, no one would listen. Man up, they’d say. So that young boy tried to kill himself. He figured better to be dead than to have those demons in his head.”
Frank wiped his eyes, and sniffed. “Damn allergies.” He continued. “Well, I got wind of that, we all did here. We decided it was time to enter the fight again.”
He looked out across the cavern, at the ragtag band of men, then back at Andrew. “A nation that don’t know how to save its sons and daughters within its own borders, well, that’s a nation at a breaking point. So we decided to do our part.”
They had reached the end of the cavern. A high wall rose up in front of them. Frank gestured to Andrew to lean into a small opening at the base of the rock.
“Take a gander in there, son.”
Andrew sat down against the stone and leaned in. He had to stick his whole head and part of his right shoulder under the small opening. It was pitch black. Frank handed him a huge black flashlight. “This might help.”
Andrew turned on the flashlight and shone it up and around.
In the light, he saw a deep corridor that stretched as far as the light would reach. What gleamed back at him was gold. He stared in awe.
Andrew ducked his head out of the hole and said, “It’s gold.”
Frank gestured around him. “Sure enough is. Solid gold. When we found this little vein, we decided it was providence. See here. This mine has funded many a Veteran in need back home. None of those fancy-pants ‘We are warriors’ foundations tugging at your heartstrings while the CEO laughs all the way to the bank in his Mercedes. No sir. Just straight up cash in the pocket of someone who served his country.”
Andrew stared at this ragged old man who could have passed for a homeless guy on a street corner in DC.
“You're ‘Epitome’.”
“Damn straight we are.” Frank’s chest puffed with pride.
Andrew had read about the anonymous donor that went only by the name ‘Epitome’, that had made countless individual donations to veterans across the States. No fancy parties. No rubbing shoulders with movie stars. Just straight up helping the guys who had given up some of their freedom. And the families who had given all.
Frank continued. “Anyway. It’s good you’re here. We thought we'd better go legit before all those mining companies get out here.”
“Is that what’s happening?” Andrew asked.
“We hear this land, I mean the land above us, was conceded a couple months ago for exploration. Now, it’s only a matter of time before the digging starts and we
’re found out. And as you well know, we’ve got some less than friendly neighbors outside, shooting at anything that moves. We don’t know what that’s all about but it makes a walk in the woods a dangerous proposition.”
Andrew nodded. “I think I might know.”
Frank nodded and turned back to Andrew. “Well, you’ll have to let me in on it sometime. Pains in my ass.” Frank led Andrew back toward the camp. “There’s something else you need to see.”
“I told you we were busy here in the 90’s, trying to make ourselves comfortable for the long haul, build out our infrastructure, expand our camp. You can see we have power, courtesy of an inexpertly scuttled Russian submarine. We have water from the river. So we explored down here, dug around to see what else there was to see. And we found some artifacts. In fact, we uncovered a world made of metal.”
“What do you mean?” Andrew frowned.
“Son, I can only show you. Words just won’t do. Come along with me.” Frank called out to Stu to join them.
Frank led Andrew to the river, where several rough-hewn wood canoes were beached. They loaded themselves into the largest one, Stu in the front, Frank in the back, Andrew in the middle. Frank pushed them out into the water.
“Hang on son,” Frank said. “It’s quite a ride.”
Frank paddled to the river’s center, where the water ran swift. Andrew felt the current grip the canoe. The water was clear and blue, so unlike the Mekong.
They floated for several minutes in silence. It felt to Andrew like they were heading downhill. They began to move quickly. Ahead, he heard a roar.
“Hold tight everybody.”
The roar got louder and the water around them rougher. Away from the well-lit cavern, it was dark. Andrew could not see what lay ahead, could only guess. Suddenly Andrew felt himself falling, the canoe dropping several feet in the dark. He hung on as he’d been instructed. They fell for what felt like a good minute. The canoe crashed down and immediately started moving forward again. Andrew could hear Frank in the back paddling. Ahead, Andrew saw light.
The canoe rounded a corner, revealing what the men had found. The river slowed and meandered now by a vast sloping plain. The roof of this second cavern was so high, Andrew could not see it. Lights had been strung up, as in the first cavern. What lay in front of him was without question the most stunning sight of his life.
Chapter 23
Severine climbed into the tuk-tuk, closing the plastic flaps behind her. As Kiem drove slowly away, Severine leaned forward on the front seat, so her head was next to his.
“Kiem, when you turn the corner, I want you to slow down, but don’t stop and I’m going to hop out. I want you to keep driving and then to meet me at the entrance to Wat Steung Meanchey in thirty minutes.”
“Miss Severine...” Kiem sounded doubtful and more than a little scared.
“Kiem, please, just do this.”
As they turned the corner, Severine glanced back and could see Heang and the guard Cho through the plastic windows. They were standing watching the tuk-tuk. Once the tuk-tuk had turned the corner and she knew they were out of sight, Severine tapped Kiem on the shoulder. He turned his head briefly to acknowledge her and cut his speed in half, down to about five miles an hour. Severine opened the flap and hopped out, running quickly down the little alley that ran behind the houses.
Kiem sped up again and in a moment was gone. Severine stood in the dark of the alley, listening to the water running in the open sewer. She walked forward down the alley, counting the houses as she walked by. The wet ground squished under her sneakers.
She counted eight houses and at the ninth house, she stopped and looked up. It was three stories and Samnang had been on the third floor. She had walked down a long hallway. Samnang’s room was at the back of the house. Severine could see the little window above.
As thin cloud cover passed, revealing the moon, the night grew bright again. In the light, Severine saw the third-story window open. Samnang had understood.
Samnang stuck her little head out. Severine heard her little voice call out.
“Miss Severine?”
“Yes. Yes, Samnang, I’m here!” Severine waved and hoped they were far enough away from the front door that the guard would not hear them.
Severine flicked on her flashlight and turned the light up toward Samnang. Severine stood directly under the window.
“Samnang, are you ready?”
“Yes.”
Severine hoped the knot she had tied around Samnang’s waist was strong. She’d brought the thin rope in under her light sweater, coiled around her own waist like a belt. She was grateful that the guard had not thought to frisk her more than a quick pat down her back, arms and legs. When she hugged Samnang, she’d pulled off the rope and tied it to Samnang’s waist, tying the other end to the bedpost. Samnang weighed nearly nothing and the rope only needed to support her for a minute.
Samnang looked out the window again and then the next thing Severine knew, she had pushed her whole body through the little window and was hanging by her fingertips to the windowsill.
“OK. Samnang. I’ve got you.” Severine braced and tried to think of how long the rope was. She thought it was about fifteen feet. Samnang was turning in circles as the rope uncurled around her and she tumbled in circles at Severine, coming to a sharp halt, her thin body hitting the wall of the house.
“Ungh!” Samnang grunted with her impact against the house and the yank of the rope against her body. She was, Severine saw, at the rope’s end, but hanging three feet above where Severine stood.
“Samnang, are you OK?” Severine whispered.
“Yes, Miss Severine. Yes, OK.”
“Samnang, I can’t reach you. We need to hurry. I’m going to give you a knife and I need you to cut the rope. OK? Can you do that?” Severine reached into her blouse and pulled out a thin penknife.
Severine mimed cutting a rope. “Like this, see?”
Samnang nodded. Severine stood on her tiptoes, stretching her arm upwards as far as she could, holding the knife by the blade up to Samnang, who reached for it and grabbed it in her little hand. She began to saw at the rope. Severine stood beneath her, her arms outstretched, waiting. With a last hard drag of the serrated knife, Samnang tumbled into Severine’s arms. The knife fell with a splash into the murky puddle at Severine’s feet.
Severine burst into a run. She was not sure how much time they had. A dog had started barking nearby and would soon wake the neighbors. She did not need any curious passersby asking what she was doing.
With Samnang on her back, her bony little arms wrapped around her neck, Severine jogged down the alleyway back to where she had jumped from the tuk-tuk only minutes before. Samnang was light on her back and Severine breathed into the cool night air. Her feet made quiet footfalls as she moved down the dirt alleyway. If she could just get down to the main road where she had told Kiem to wait.
Heang stepped out from the shadow of the building, his gun pointing at Severine.
“You are a persistent woman,” Heang said. “But your tuk-tuk driver is foolish and circled back to see if he could find you. We wondered why he had come back, so we stopped him to ask. He said he was worried about you. Isn’t that sweet. But I am afraid he won’t be driving you anywhere, any more.”
Severine’s stomach turned. Oh no, poor Kiem.
That was her last thought before the injection delivered by Cho knocked her out. The Ketamine forced her into a deep place.
*******
The old Cambodian lady walked slowly down the street with the wide circular basket of fruit on her head. She hoped to sell everything today, there were many workers at the construction site and they were always very hungry. As she waited, she spied a big dark lump lying on the side of the road and curious, she approached it. It was a man, she saw, lying in a crumpled heap. She kicked him and scolded him in Khmer.
“Have some respect for yourself. Drunken fool, lying in the garbage.” She kicked him again an
d shook one hand at him before she walked away.
Kiem stirred. He was lying in a small dirty stream lined with rubbish. A stray chicken walked by and pecked at his foot. His head hurt and he put his hand at the back of his skull. It was sticky. He pulled his hand away and looked. Blood, but not too much.
He remembered waiting for Miss Severine last night, then deciding to drive back to find her. He had worried she was not safe with those bad gangsters so close by, she was too risky for a lady, he thought. He had parked his tuk-tuk a few streets away and then tiptoed forward to the alley where he had dropped Severine. Then someone had hit him on the head with something hard and after that he did not remember. They must have dragged him into this stream of garbage.
As he stood up, he felt sick to his stomach and fell back down to his knees. Some local women walking near him on their way to work giggled at seeing him sitting in garbage and at his dirty clothes. He yelled at them and asked them for some water. They giggled some more, and one called out “Crazy old man, sitting in the trash, you should know better.” They thought he was a beggar.
But one of the younger ladies approached him shyly and gave him a bottle of water. “Sum tho,” he called out, as they walked away. Thank you.
They were still giggling, looking back at him as Kiem took a sip of the water, then a bigger sip. Then he tilted his head forward and dumped the rest of the water on the back of his head to clean the cut.
He checked his pockets. He still had his phone. Stupid gangsters. He dialed Miss Severine but there was no answer. But he heard a ringing sound nearby. He hung up and the ringing stopped. He dialed again. More ringing. He stood up slowly and walked in the direction of the sound. There, lying near a sleeping stray dog, was Severine’s phone, ringing.
Uh uh, Kiem thought. Not good.
He picked up Severine’s phone, dried it with his shirt, and slipped it in his pocket. He walked down the slowly waking street, past a wire basket filled with chickens, clucking at him as he walked by.
Something bad must have happened to Miss Severine after they bumped his head.
