Jackson felt no panic, experienced no fear of getting lost as he walked steadily for the big rock. Here and there were clear places where the air force had dropped bombs and napalm. But already the undergrowth had returned and had grown so thick Jackson walked around them instead of trying to push his way through. When he came out of the trees, walking on the outcropping, he saw a light ahead.
He walked into the hut, stooping at the doorway. Tom Light sat with his back against the wall, the candle burning in a holder made from an empty M-79 casing. The candle smelled like blueberries, but Jackson could still detect that jungle stink of Tom Light.
“Goddamn, the Tiger could’ve killed me,” Jackson said. “Why’d you let him shoot up the firebase?”
“You’re still alive,” Light said.
“You shouldn’t have let him pick us off. Didn’t you see troops dying in the starlight?”
“You got my mail?”
He read Light his mail and wrote a letter for him, both Light and his parents still writing the same sort of things. Light pretended he was in a base camp and even talked of going swimming and eating ice cream. His parents, maybe lying too, said the fishing was good and his mother’s heart was better.
“When are you going to kill the Tiger?” Jackson asked.
“When I get ready,” Light said.
“The Tiger’s killing men at the firebase. Are you waiting for him to kill Hale?”
“He won’t kill Hale. Lifers like Hale never get shot.”
Jackson learned from Light the Tiger had built sniping stations up in the tops of the big trees, the third canopy. He traveled from treetop to treetop by means of a system of Tyrolean traverses. The name sounded funny coming out of Light’s mouth. Jackson guessed the army had taught it to him in reconnaissance school.
“When the air force drops napalm, he hides in a tunnel,” Light said.
“Kill him tonight,” Jackson said.
“My scope is fucked up.”
“Broken?”
“No.”
“Let me see.”
Light shook his head and said, “There’s weird shit in that scope. I told you I ain’t using it no more.”
Jackson remembered that first night at the firebase when he had seen the flash in the scope.
“I want to see,” Jackson said.
Light blew out the candle. He took the lens cover off the scope and turned it on. A greenish glow appeared on the big end. It threw a circle of soft green light within the hut. Light squatted gook fashion and stared into it. He began to sway back and forth, mesmerized by the glow.
“Ain’t supposed to be glowing. Nothing in it now. I don’t want to see. Don’t want to know who’s gonna die no more.” He continued, “One night a dragon’ll jump out of it. I saw a dragon through it once over in the Ia Drang Valley.”
“Loose wire, that’s all,” Jackson said, trying to remain calm.
Jackson wanted the scope back in perfect working order. A crazy Light might wander off into the jungle, never to return, his protection withdrawn. The Tiger would kill them all. Jackson hit the top of the scope with the palm of his hand. The glow disappeared.
Jackson said, “See, a loose wire, that’s all. I’ll tell Hale you want another one.”
“No, don’t want another starlight,” Light said quickly.
“Kill the Tiger,” Jackson said. “Do it now.”
“Don’t want to use the scope,” Light said.
Jackson replaced the old battery with a fresh one and turned the scope on the jungle. He saw the trees through it clearly, like a forest growing beneath a green sea. Sparkles of light played around the outlines of the trees.
“It’s working fine. You look,” Jackson said.
Jackson started to hand the scope to Light, but he shied away from it as if Jackson were handing him a snake instead and shook his head.
Light said, “Remember the city I told you about. The mountain people say it’s a temple city. Way up in Laos. No NVA, no American troops there. I could go up there and live. Never have to go back to the world.”
Jackson gulped air.
“You can waste him easy,” Jackson said.
“You do it,” Light said.
Light attached the scope to the rifle and handed it to Jackson. The rifle felt heavy. Jackson knew he was not going to be able to shoot anyone with it.
“I don’t know how,” Jackson said, his breath beginning to come in ragged gasps.
“You walked up here tonight, didn’t you?” Light said.
“Sure, but—”
“Not many men could have done it.”
“You kept me safe.”
“You found me, didn’t get lost in the jungle. You’re as good as the Tiger. He makes mistakes. Remember, he missed me.”
Jackson pressed the rifle back into Light’s hands.
“I can’t do it. You know I can’t. You waste him,” Jackson said. “Your daddy said he was proud of you in the letter. He won’t be proud if you run away to hide in Laos. Remember your mother’s heart. What if you stopped writing? It’d worry her sick. You could get killed up there and no one would ever know. Your folks wouldn’t even be able to have a funeral.”
“I ain’t looking through the starlight,” Light said.
“Then don’t use it,” Jackson said. “You’re the best. Don’t need a goddamn starlight to kill a dink sniper.”
“I could use iron sights,” Light said slowly.
“Right. Goddamn, it’ll be fucking easy. Like hunting deer.” Jackson took a deep breath and continued, “I’ll help you. Just like we were on a deer drive back home.”
“I need to think,” Light said.
Light sat crosslegged in the center of the hut. What seemed like hours passed. Off in the distance Jackson heard the rumble of thunder. Light sat still, the rifle across his legs, his hands outstretched in front of him, palms up. Jackson, sitting with his back against one of the roof poles, tried to sleep, but the mosquitoes kept him awake. Finally Light spoke.
“You have to be the decoy.”
“What?” Jackson asked.
“The decoy. You said I was the best. If I’m the best, then nothing’s going to happen to you.”
Jackson gasped for breath, thinking of the fiberglass duck decoys he used back home. Sometimes the decoys got shot too when the ducks settled down among them.
“Well?” Light asked.
“You tell me what to do,” Jackson said.
“Right now we sleep. In the morning we kill the Tiger.”
Jackson lay down on the dirt floor and closed his eyes. When he woke it was morning and Light was gone. Jackson hoped this meant Light had decided to go after the Tiger by himself.
He walked out of the hut and saw Light sitting on the ground tying off the top of a plastic sandbag cover with a bootlace. The outcropping was covered with a dense morning fog, so there was no danger of being seen by the Tiger.
“What you got in there?” Jackson asked, motioning toward the sack with the barrel of his rifle.
“Present for the Tiger,” Light said.
There was a lump in the bottom of the sandbag cover. Maybe Light had frags or a claymore in it.
“What’re you gonna do?” Jackson asked.
“Booby trap him,” Light said. “You see, he’ll be coming up to shoot at the firebase as soon as this fog burns off. We’ll set you as a decoy. When he works around to get a shot at you, it’ll be Christmas morning for the Tiger.”
“Use the rifle?” Jackson asked. Light shook his head no, and Jackson continued, “What’s in the sack?”
“Talking about a trap too much’ll ruin it.”
“It’d be safer with the rifle,” Jackson said, beginning to wish he was back at the firebase.
“Can’t see up into the top of the trees. Fucking trees are two hundred feet tall. Like trying to shoot squirrels hiding up in the top of a big cypress back home. Not the way to do it. Don’t want to try to kill him in his house that way without the starlight.”