An’s thoughts continue:
“And the two women, what will they do to them?
“They will do nothing because they are prisoners in that upper room, and they have no way to fight back. But the two guards will be called in and advised to keep quiet.
“Would those two pitiful ones have guts enough to escape?
“No! Even if they have the guts, they will have no chance to do so. After Nong Tai’s escape, they will constantly live under the surveillance of guards. They will swallow bitterness and pretend to be mute and deaf, to be just walking corpses, or else wooden figures standing in long halls without sunlight.
“The sex-addict minister will not soon change the guards. Perhaps in a week, or two, or three? It will depend on his sexual appetite. After he has satiated his bestial desire, the two women and the guards will all perish together. As he himself had done, those two soldiers most definitely had also raised their hands thousands of times under the flag, swearing to destroy the enemies of the people and protect the nation!”
“Why are you laughing? What are you laughing about?” Nong Tai suddenly asked.
An quickly replied: “I remembered a funny story.”
“Then tell me, I am bored.”
“I cannot. It’s very gross.”
Nong Tai was silent and annoyed.
An caught on that he had a tendency to force laughter when pain gnawed at his heart. This strange habit — just formed — had become a skill as if it had been part of him forever.
“The man from Xiu Village is completely dead, I don’t see him anymore,” he thought, and a few moments later a pitiful question arose:
“And the two children? What will these dogs do to them?”
He visualized little Mui’s black eyes; her sweet breath when she whispered in his ears; the gentle swish of her hair brushing his cheeks; the warm and sweet feeling each time the little girl put her tiny hands in his large ones — the hands of a hunter. At the thought, An felt a sharp knife scraping his heart as blood dripped from the wound.
“No! I must not think of these things anymore. Just believe that behind me is a silent and dark grave. There is nobody left. No Xiu Village; not even my uncle and aunt or my parents-in-law. All are removed from this earth. I will be the last one. The last one must live to report on these Vietnamese executioners. I must do that at all cost…”
Suddenly An felt weary. He told Nong Tai, “Let’s lie down. My back really hurts. The bench is long enough for four people, therefore we can stretch our legs comfortably. Don’t forget that past the border post there will be no horse or buffalo cart, but only a pair of feet. The road is long and steep, it will not be easy.”
“Just rest, Comrades. I will let you know when we arrive,” said the driver.
“I will pay you the balance when we see the border outpost,” An reiterated. “If the horses are well and we are earlier than usual, I will pay you extra to buy corn and honey to feed them.”
“That will do,” the cart owner cheerfully answered. He then started singing an old-style song that An had never heard. His voice was warm and resonated loudly in the deserted hills. He must have been a singer during his youth, just like the artists who had played the flute all night in Xiu Village. He lay down on the bench, listening attentively to the song. The local verses mixed in a coarse manner with poems and proverbs, rather ordinary:
Dear lady from the other side of the river,
You in the bright shirt, wrapped in a pink scarf,
Are you married or waiting for someone to come and ask?
If you are married but your husband is away, come here to me.
Here it is deserted and quiet, nobody will see.
Don’t be shy; life is short; no more than a hand’s span.
Pretty one, trundle on over here.
The panels of your dress fly up; exciting my burning heart,
As if I walk on fire, sit on charcoal…
The horses’ footsteps on the road created a sad melody that blended with the driver’s lament. Slowly, sleep came and pulled An into pitch dark waves.
5
“Wake up! There’s the border defense fort,” the cart owner shouted, waking them.
“Hell, it’s too bright!” Nong Tai cried out, removing the hat covering his face. An immediately closed his eyes because the bright light was like a thousand pins poking them, immediately causing them to water.
After keeping his eyes shut for a while, An covered his face with the hat to get used to the intense light. Then he opened them. The cart owner said:
“I warned you already. People from the north who come here all complain about the sunlight in Nghe An. Nonetheless, you are lucky because today the Lao wind is not blowing.”
“If it does blow, then what happens?”
“Comrades, you are about to go over there. No need for curiosity, you will soon know.”
“Where’s the border fort?”
“See it yet? The highest red dot; that’s where the defenders put their flag. Before it was the French flag. After the revolution it’s a red one with a yellow star.”
An counted out some money and gave it to the cart owner. “Please take this. There is extra to buy honey and grain for the horses.”
The owner put the money in his pocket then bent over to pull out of the cart packages wrapped in dry banana leaves.
“Comrades, you are too generous. I, too, must know my duty. They say that giving and receiving makes everybody happy. Here are two kilos of very good cane sugar. Comrades, in the jungle you can suck the cane to quench your thirst. If you are lucky enough to make it over the pass at the border outpost, then you can give half to the soldiers. Up there they are bored, so every time strangers pass, for fun they find many reasons to make them sit around and wait.”
“Isn’t there a rule?”
“There is no rule, but there they are bored. Very seldom does a horse cart go up here; mostly military vehicles. Civilian cars don’t come here. If you were locked up in that post all year, you would do just the same.”
The cane sugar smelled wonderful. An said, “We need give them only half. We need to go while there is still light.”
“If you had no cane sugar, you two would probably end up sleeping there overnight; not until morning would you be allowed to go on into Laos. Most of the detachment is from the north. They tend to fuss over all kinds of anecdotes about their native region.”
An was quiet. But Nong Tai looked out for a moment, then turned around to tell him in a terrified way, “Brother Thanh, they stand in line to meet us at the top of the hill!”
He looked up and saw the red flag clearly. Indeed, the soldiers were standing in line to block the road as if an ambush was being set. Instinctively he touched the gun on his hip. So, at the same time, did Nong Tai. The two looked at each other.
An lowered his voice and asked the cart owner, “Why do they stand in line like that?”
“Out of boredom,” he replied tersely, without stopping his whipping of the horses. “Anyone in their shoes would do the same. They come to see the horse cart. Later they will look at you two comrades. Then they will gossip. We only hope that they will quickly let you go on.”
“Ah, like that huh?” An said, already thinking of what to do next to get through this stretch quickly and safely.
“Lucky that we’re crude,” An went on. “We don’t much know how to chat with citified soldiers.”