“Get the fuck away from me,” Light said.
“Goddamn, you’re the only one who can do it. You got the starlight.”
Light said, “Can’t do nothing with the starlight but waste troops.”
“Dinks say you can,” Raymond said. “You—”
Light swung the rifle barrel to point at Raymond’s head. Short-timer jumped off Reynolds’ shoulder and ran down the side of the TOC.
“You open your mouth one more time and I’ll blow you away. Won’t nobody be able to raise you.”
Raymond took Reynolds by the arm and pulled him away. They scrambled down the side of the bunker. Jackson heard the water splash beneath their boots as they ran across the compound.
“You wait for me to call,” Light said.
Light left and disappeared into the darkness, leaving Jackson to sit alone in the rain.
Pictures in the starlight. Raising the fucking dead, Jackson thought. Crazy. All of it crazy.
Jackson did not have to wait long for Light to call. Two days later Jackson walked out the gate in a rain so hard he could see only a few feet in front of him and headed through the scrub for the jungle.
“I wasted the holy man,” Light said as they sat together in the hut. “Got him and a dink suicide squad.”
Jackson was surprised the leaf roof did not leak and the hut was not full of snakes and bugs. It felt much dryer than any bunker at the firebase. But the bunkers were not filled with that jungle stink of Tom Light.
Light explained how the NVA had come after him, led by the holy man.
“I kept wasting ’em but he kept raising ’em. Thought I was a goner,” Light said. “Then I got a shot at the holy man.”
Light had waited for them at a ford across a stream.
“They were dripping water, shining in the scope,” Light went on. “First I wasted the dinks. Point man had a French submachine gun. Probably left over from Dien Bien Phu.”
Light described how he had shot three of them in quick succession.
“They were dead, three head shots,” Light said.
Jackson said, “Sure, you killed them like you always do.”
“But I watched them get up,” Light continued. “Known he’s been doing it. But this was the first time I’d seen it. They were in the river. Running. Water spraying up all around them. Shining.”
“Different dinks,” Jackson said.
“No, the same. Same dink with that French gun. Don’t see much of them MAT-60s no more.”
“You missed.”
Light slowly shook his head.
“Didn’t miss,” Light said. “I was fixing to shoot them again when the scope filled up with light, hurt my eyes. Light paused and continued, “Then I saw that old holy man with his shaved head and those robes. I put it on him.”
Light put his forefinger on his left temple. “Shot him right here. Couldn’t have wasted him without the starlight.”
“You killed him,” Jackson said quickly. “He’s gone.”
“I shot him,” Light said. “It was like a big star cluster bursting all around me. I closed my eyes tight to keep them from getting burned. When I opened them and went to look for the body, he was gone.”
“Did you see him get up?”
“No.”
“They took him. If he could raise the dead, he would have raised himself. Think about it.”
“Do you think they buried him?”
“Sure, in the jungle.”
“Couldn’t raise himself? Was just another good sniper? No different than the Tiger?”
“You killed three NVA, one Buddhist monk. The ones you saw in the river were different men.”
Light nodded his head and seemed to agree.
“How did the big flare come out of him?” Light asked. “How did it get in me?”
Jackson said, “The scope. It’s fucked up. Hale’ll get you a new one.”
“You saw the men die in the scope,” Light said.
“I saw something. Don’t know,” Jackson said, gasping for breath.
The scope was dark, and Jackson began to wonder if he had gone crazy, if he had seen anything at all. He thought of Alfred Ten-Deer.
“I didn’t see a goddamn thing in the scope. I lied! Nothing! Not a fucking thing!”
Jackson gasped for breath and could no longer talk. He grabbed Light by the sweater and shook him.
“You kill them all!” Jackson said.
“Waste them,” Light said.
Light was shaking, his arms wrapped around his chest.
“Waste them, waste them, waste them,” Light chanted.
He sat with his legs outstretched, the rifle lying across them. Jackson picked it up and looked through the scope. The trees were there in the weird green light. Nothing looked unusual. It seemed to be working perfectly.
“Works fine,” Jackson said. “We won’t see no more troops in it. We won’t ever be in it.”
“Holy, hooooly, hooooly man,” Light chanted.
Jackson took a few slow deep breaths to try to calm himself. He put his hand on Light’s shoulder. Light was still trembling.
“He was just some old Buddhist monk,” Jackson said.
“Hoooooooly,” Light moaned, his body still shaking.
Jackson put his arm around him. He felt like he had put his arm around a rotten log, Light’s body damp and cold to his touch.
“You look through the scope,” Jackson said, pushing the rifle into Light’s hands. “There’s no holy man in it now. You’ll see.”
Light shook his head and said, “Don’t need to look. It’s in me now. Flew out of him into me when I shot him.”
Jackson removed his arm because Light had stopped shaking.
“What’s in you?” Jackson asked.
“The power,” Light said. “I can raise them. What am I supposed to do?”
“Kill the dinks,” Jackson said.
“I don’t know what to do. Just raise Americans? Raise the dinks too?
“You killed a Buddhist monk,” Jackson said slowly. “He had a shaved head. Carried a rice bowl. Smelled like a goat. A priest, a man, just like us. The dinks buried him in the jungle. You waste the dinks. Keep me alive.”
“No one has to die,” Light said.
Light was calm now, his voice steady. Jackson began to gasp for breath.
“You’re not Jesus Christ,” Jackson said. “That dink monk wasn’t Jesus.”
“Didn’t say I was,” Light replied. “But the power came out of that holy man and went into me. I can feel it moving around.”
Crazy, Jackson thought to himself. He’s gone fucking crazy. Light talking like he was Jesus Christ.
“Why wouldn’t the dinks give up their dead?” Light asked.
Jackson said, “They’ve always done that.”
“No, they wanted the holy man to raise their dead.”
What if? Jackson thought. But everyone knew the dinks did not think like Americans. Crazy. You’ll end up talking like Light about raising the dead.
“I’ll show you,” Light said. “We’ll kill us a dink, and I’ll raise him just like the holy man used to do.”
“Have you done it?”
“Not yet. I can do it. I can feel it in me.”
What if he did it? Jackson thought. Would I believe then? Watch him touch a man and that man get up and walk away. No, Light’s a good sniper. That’s all. He’s gone crazy.
“I believe you,” Jackson said.
“No you don’t, but you will,” Light said. “You go on back now.”
Light stood up and taking Jackson’s arm pulled him to his feet and said, “I’ll keep you safe.”
“We made a fucking deal,” Jackson said. “You keep my ass from getting wasted.”
Light laughed. “If the dinks shoot you, I can raise you. I got the power.”
Jackson was afraid Light would allow the dinks to kill him just so Light could raise him from the dead. A picture appeared in his mind of Light kneeling over his body and touching him over and over, trying to bring him back to life.