Fay looked at him, then at the crowd. The thought had never occurred to her that the gates might be barred or that there might be violence. The images of old news clips of the fall of Saigon and the evacuation at the American embassy flashed through her mind. "Johnny, you stay here for a half-hour — no, forty-five minutes. If I'm not back by then, go ahead and leave."
"Are you sure you want to take the chance on your own, Mrs. Dixon?"
"You want to come with me, Johnny?"
Johnny looked down the street and thought about Fay's challenge. "You're right. I better stay here."
That resolved, Fay gathered up their bags and the boys and walked around the barrier. The same policeman started to block her way but she shot him a cold, hard look that convinced him that she wasn't going to be stopped. Walking down the street at a brisk pace, the three of them reached the rear of the crowd. Telling the boys to hang on to her and not to let go no matter what, she began to plow her way through.
Though there was no frenzy yet, there was a great deal of tension in the crowd, and Fay sensed that things could go bad any second. As quickly as she thought that, she pushed it from her mind, concentrating instead on getting forward. They had just turned the corner and onto Ragheb Latin America, the street where the American embassy was located, when the crowd suddenly pushed back. There was much shouting as those in front tried to move back. The deafening noise of the crowd, the sudden turn of events, and the gathering darkness were frightening. Fay, however, resisted the push, standing her ground. Even though she had no idea why everyone was moving back, she was determined not to lose any forward gains they had made.
The crowd to her front suddenly parted, leaving her and the two boys alone in the center of the street. There was a moment of panic as she looked about to see what was happening. The noise of the crowd was now subsiding, replaced by the rhythmic tromping of rubber-soled boots on the pavement to her rear. Turning, she found herself face to face with a solid phalanx of American combat troops advancing on her. Their rifles, with fixed bayonets, were carried at the ready. In full combat gear and helmets, their faces lost in the shadows of the gathering night, they were without any vestige of human appearance. Instead, they presented the very image of a menacing machine, moving forward at a steady pace, irresistible in their advance, ready to strike if provoked.
For a moment she stood there transfixed.
The sudden appearance of a woman and two children standing in the middle of the street caught Cerro by surprise. All three were blond; they carried suitcases and clutched each other as if their very lives depended on it. Cerro had no doubt they were Americans who had decided to come to the embassy at the last minute. Instinctively, he threw his right hand up, signaling the company following him to halt before they ran the lady down.
"We're Americans — Americans."
For a moment Fay feared they were too late, that they might not be allowed in. That fear, however, was quickly dispelled as the captain leading the troops came forward. "Yes, ma'am, we know. Now, if you just get in between the first two ranks, we'll take you into the embassy."
Suddenly it was there, the moment of truth. Right up to that very second, Fay had had no doubt that she was going to leave with the boys. That was, after all, her duty as a mother. Scott had told her to do so. And all she had to do was walk a few steps, squeeze in between the soldiers, and she would be safe. She would be headed home — just like a good Army wife.
From the depths of her soul a voice screamed "No!" Fay hesitated. If she fell in with the soldiers and marched into the embassy with them, she would be just one more Army wife, another family member, a dependent, waiting to be whisked away to safety. That was, after all, what good Army wives did in times of crisis. And like all good Army wives, she would sit at home, alone, waiting — waiting for the knock at the door, the kind words meant to calm her, the funeral, the flag-draped coffin, the firing squad. And worst of all, the bugle, the goddamn bugle that announced it was all over, that her dreams, her hopes, and her future were at an end.
If she left now, all her talk of starting a new life, of creating her own person, able to stand up on her own two feet and make it on her own in the world, would end. There would be no second chance, no salvation from a life chained to a husband and family. In a single, irretrievable second she had to decide where her ultimate loyalty lay: to herself as a person or to her family.
Cerro stood there watching the woman as she stared at him with a blank look on her face. It occurred to him that he might have been wrong: perhaps she wasn't an American, just someone trying to bull her way into the embassy and get out with the Americans. He was about to advance to check her papers when the woman suddenly rushed forward, pushing the children ahead of her. "Captain, here," she said, offering him the boys' hands; without thinking, he took them. "Please, take these children to the airport and get them out of here," she continued, talking fast as she dug into her pocketbook in search of something. "They're Americans. Their father's a colonel. Here — here are their passports."
In shock Cerro let go of the older boy's hand and reached out to take the two blue passports. Recovering, he started to explain that he couldn't accept responsibility for the children. The lady, however, cut him off. "You have to. I'm with World News here and can't leave." Reaching into her pocketbook again, she pulled out an envelope. "Here, this is the address of their grandparents in Virginia. They'll pick them up at Dover."
Not believing what this woman was doing, Cerro tried to protest. The woman ignored him. Instead, she knelt down to kiss the two boys goodbye. She told them to be good, that Grandma and Grandpa would come and get them, and to mind the captain. Before Cerro could react, the woman was up and gone, lost in the crowd that was beginning to close in on them. With no choice, and sensing that a dangerous situation was building up, he stuffed the passports in his pocket and grabbed the older boy's hand. Turning back to his company, he yelled to two soldiers in the front rank to come up and take the boys. The soldiers ran up to Cerro at the double, slung their rifles, and led the boys back, placing them securely in the center of the column. In the growing darkness and noise Cerro never saw the tears streaming down the boys' cheeks or heard their low, mournful goodbyes to a mother already gone.
In the shadows of the Great Pyramids, Jan Fields watched the long columns of vehicles inching their way west. For hours the traffic had all been one-way. Neither the Egyptian government nor the U.S. military command had released any details on the current situation. It didn't take a military genius, however, to figure out that there was a crisis at the front and that the situation was deteriorating. The war, though its end was in sight, had taken an unexpected and dangerous turn. Like the approach of night, Jan could see only darkness and uncertainty in the future.
From behind, a sudden gust of wind swept over her, causing her to shiver. Folding her arms, trying to get warm, she continued to watch the long columns snake their way west in silence. The camera crew, finished with its shooting, was busy packing its gear and had paid Jan no mind when she wandered away.
For the first time that day she was alone. The cold night air, the silence, broken only by the distant rumble of trucks, and the darkness crashing down about her only served to deepen the depression and foreboding she had felt all day. As hard as she tried, Jan was unable to whip up the enthusiasm and drive that the current situation dictated. Instead of applying all her energies and talents to the single most important opportunity in her life, Jan found her thoughts drifting away from the business at hand and to the one thing she could do nothing about — Scott Dixon.