The eyes came closer. They were familiar. But not the surrounding face. It was thicker, the skin coarse and lined.
"Shee-it!" Youngblood said. "It is you, you sonovabitch!"
"You look old," Remo said slowly.
"The hell you say," Youngblood scoffed. "After twenty years, what did you expect, Nat King Fucking Cole?"
"Then it is true."
"What?"
"The war. It's over."
"You ain't heard?"
"I haven't been able to believe it," Remo admitted.
"Say! What the hell are you doin' here?"
"I don't know. I don't remember. I woke up and here I was."
"I enlisted, myself," Youngblood growled. "Thought you were drafted."
"They tell me it's been twenty years, but all I can remember is the war."
"They found you in the jungle, did they?"
"No, I captured a tank. I drove it here. They ambushed me. Another tank."
"An old T-54?"
"Yeah."
"Hah! You dumb shit. You got snookered. That thing's got a wooden cannon. It can't shoot riceballs."
"Well, you don't have to be so happy about it," Remo complained.
"Sorry, man. I been here so long I'll take my entertainment any flavor at all."
"Who else is here?"
"There's only seven of us now. There used to be more than thirty. I'm senior officer now. That's why they got me in this here conex. You'll love it. Like an oven during the day and an icebox at night. What happened was, a prisoner escaped. A Vietnamese named Phong. They got me in here as punishment. Hey, is that how you come to be here? Did Phong send you?"
"I told you, I can't remember what I'm doing here. In my head, it's still 1968."
Youngblood grunted a laugh. "Yeah, my watch kinda stopped too. You know, Remo, you look different. "
"So? "
"I mean it. You look different. But not much older than I remember. Geez, wherever you been, man, you ain't aged a lick."
"I think I'm dead," Remo said hollowly.
"What?"
"I think I died in the bush. I'm a ghost."
"Hey now, man. Don't you be pulling any spook stuff on me. That shit don't go with me."
"Spook," Remo said. "That's the other thing. Remember Captain Spook? He's here. We killed him and he's still alive. What does that tell you?"
Dick Youngblood's low voice rose in gales of laughter. The conex shook with the enthusiasm of his howls. "Remo, you are one confused fuck," he chortled. "But I know how you must be feeling. I felt my own ass pucker the first time he turned up in my face."
"Huh?"
"That ain't Captain Spook. That's Spook Junior. His son. Calls himself Captain Dai. They do seem to be painted with the same ugly stick, don't they?"
"Son?" Remo said in a dazed voice. Then, "Shh. I hear someone coming."
In the darkness, Dick Youngblood put an ear to the metal wall.
"I don't hear shit."
"Footsteps. Very quiet."
"You're hearing ghosts. Probably your relatives."
"Then I'm seeing them too," Remo said. "Look." Youngblood let Remo guide him to a bullet hole.
"A gook," Youngblood said. "Old, too. Never seen him before."
"That's Uncle Ho."
"Ho Chi Minh is dead too, but if that's him, I take back everything I said."
"Uncle Ho is what I call him. I met him out in the bush. "
"Just like that. Who is he?"
"I don't know his name. But he claims he's my father. "
"Yeah, now that you mention it," Youngblood said dryly, "I can see the family resemblance."
The Master of Sinanju waited until the camp settled down for the night. He had patiently awaited the coming of his pupil to the Vietnamese prisoner camp. As always, Remo was late.
It had been simpler to allow Remo to be captured than to interfere. In Remo's present state, Chiun did not wish to risk losing him to wild gunfire. When he believed Remo had been in the big metal box long enough, Chiun approached silent and unseen by the few guards picketed about.
"Remo," he whispered.
"What do you want, Ho?" Remo asked in a surly tone.
"Simply to speak with you, my son," Chiun said sweetly. "Are you comfortable?"
"Of course not. I'm a freaking prisoner."
"Oh," said the Master of Sinanju, as if just noticing that fact. "Why do you not escape?"
"How?"
"These convenient holes," Chiun told him, inserting a long-nailed finger into one of the bullet holes. "They are just right. They make wonderful handholds with which to tear off a nice section of wall."
"Watch it!" Remo barked. "You nearly poked my eye out. "
"Your fault for peeking. You do not need to see me to understand my words."
"You're right, Remo," another voice said. "He is a crazy old gook."
"Who is that?" demanded Chiun. "Who speaks?"
"A friend of mine," Remo told him. "What of it?"
"The one named Youngblood?"
"Yeah. How'd you know that?"
Youngblood snorted like a bull. "Because he's a gook," he said. "You've been set up, Remo."
"It is too bad," said Chiun sadly.
"What is?" Remo wanted to know.
"That you have found your long-lost Army friend. It is very sad."
"Look, Ho. Why don't you take a hike?" Remo suggested. "We've got a lot of catching up to do."
"How can you speak such hard words to one who has meant so much to you?"
"Easy. I'm dead. Dead people can do whatever they want. "
"Ah, then you remember that you are dead. That is good."
"It is?"
"Hey, I don't want no part of this conversation," Youngblood said hotly. "This is bullshit."
Chiun ignored him. "What else do you remember, Remo?"
"Nothing."
"Nothing?" squeaked Chiun. So Remo did not remember after all. And until he did, Chiun could do nothing with him.
"That's what I said. Now screw off."
"But you do remember that you are dead. You have been dead now for many years."
"Then it's true," Remo said hollowly. "How did you know?"
"Why, because . . ." Chiun began. A thought occurred to the Master of Sinanju. A fable of Remo's upbringing he had once shared with him. "It is because I am your guardian angel. Yes, your illustrious guardian angel. I am here to escort you to where you belong."
"You? My guardian angel is Vietnamese?"
"No, Korean."
"North or South?"
"North, of course."
"My guardian angel is a Communist?"
"No, dense one. Your guardian angel is Sinanju."
"I think there's been some mistake. I'm Catholic."
"Emperor Smith is worried about you."
"Who's Emperor Smith?"
"Why, he is the ruler of America, of course. He sent me to bring you back."
"Did you hear that, Dick? America's turned into a monarchy. Probably because we lost the war, I'll bet. Hey, why would this emperor send someone to bring back a dead man?"
"He's messing with your head, Remo," Youngblood said. "Send him away."
"I am telling the truth," Chiun said haughtily.
"Prove it," Remo snapped.
"How?"
"Get us out of here."
"Why did you not ask before? Wait here."
"For what?"
"I am going to create a distraction to assist your escape."
"Did you hear that, Dick?" Remo said sarcastically. "Uncle Ho is going to create a distraction. If you have anything to pack, now's the time to start."
"I ain't listening to either of you. You're both flipped out. "
"Do not worry," promised the Master of Sinanju. "This will not take long. The elephant of surprise is on our side."
After the Master of Sinanju had vanished, Dick Youngblood had a question.
"Did he say 'elephant'?"
"I think he meant 'element.' Like 'element of surprise.' " Remo was looking through the bullet holes eagerly.
"What're you looking at?" Youngblood asked. "I want to see what he's going to do."