December 18, 1966
The terrain was changing. They were leaving the highlands behind, and the jungle grew less dense as the miles passed by. Here there were wide stretches of open land that had to be cautiously skirted or else crossed under night's protective cover. Though a handful of natives clad in nondescript black would not seem suspicious from the air, their cargo would, Khoi said, betray them to American eyes. Under no circumstances would they lose this prisoner. It was Major Quon's wrathful wish that the wretch reach Hanoi—and his just reward—alive.
In the flat land, the foliage was different. The bamboo grew thinner, and the trees were hardier. There was a strange look to the berry bushes, and the grasses were thick and coarse. The streams here were different, too. They flowed more slowly than those in the hills, and they were more turbid. There were broad standing pools, too, and shallow sloughs that it was easier to ford than to circumvent.
With such water came the bloodsuckers. Titi remembered leeches from her childhood in the marshy south. The black, gelatinous creatures would lurk in clouded waters, waiting for the passage of a careless leg to which they could adhere. As a little girl, Titi had known to avoid the water where leeches would hide. Now, she did not have that luxury. Her possessing desire to prove herself as hardy and stoic as the others rendered her just as helpless as the American when it came to choosing her own path through the wilds. She followed Khoi and Thanh wherever they walked, wading indiscriminately through shallow creeks and muddy ponds.
The guerillas seemed to accept the parasitic slugs as a matter of course. After each fording they would halt to roll up the legs of their trousers and flick off the feeding hemophages with a sharpened shaft of bamboo. At first, Titi could not bear to dispense this necessity. The sight of her slender brown calves marred by the bloating, glistening creatures turned her stomach, and she had to look away while Thanh removed them for her. After two days, though, she was beginning to grow acclimatized to it. She realized with some pride that she was becoming a soldier.
Another comfort was the prisoner's misery. Titi hated the leeches, and the way in which the places onto which they would latch itched, even after the bloodsuckers were removed, but at least she could get rid of the ones that attacked her legs. Such luxuries were not for criminals and enemies of the State.
The Air Pirate's calves and torn feet were covered in leeches. They were allowed to feed until satiated—then they would fall away on their own, leaving ulcerated sores that became first filthy, and then infected, weeping beads of pus down his bare legs. His limp was worsening, and each day Titi watched him struggle to his feet, wondering if he would last through the day. Yet, somehow, he always did, and as Thanh had prophesied, they did not have to carry him. Titi was beginning to believe that, injured and ill though he was, he would still manage to walk all the way to Hanoi.
Today, the rain was falling, and it was bitterly cold. Titi's clothes were soaked through, heavy and frigid on her body. She shivered as she walked, and her teeth clicked. It was not yet midday—which Titi knew because they had not yet halted for their plain camp meal; for the sun was hidden by thick gray clouds—and already she was weary. Though with each day the exhaustion was slower to take hold, she did not have the stamina needed for these grueling marches. Yet despite the physical discomfort, she was very happy today.
Khoi was giving her an English lesson as they trekked through the low growth of ferns and bushes. Today the language of politics was their topic, and Titi was drinking in Khoi's every word, watching his handsome face and beautiful body as best she could while still watching her path.
"Capitalist beasts of Wall Street," Khoi said, translating a favorite phrase of Quon's. "Deceive American people. Murder peace-loving people of Vietnam."
Titi repeated the foreign syllables carefully, stumbling over the sounds only when she lost her sandal to a root and had to pause in the rhythm of her march to retrieve it.
Khoi smiled. "Very good, beautiful one," he said.
He always offered adulations in the American tongue. Titi wondered whether this was to give her a true sense of the language, or because this way Thanh could not understand him. Titi felt most honored that Khoi had such admiration for her form. There was a strange thrill to the secrecy of their nightly love-making, too, that was quite apart from the glory of the physical passion. It was mysterious, alluring and to her sixteen-year-old heart, utterly enchanting.
Khoi continued with the lesson. "I am loyal to cause of Ho Chi Minh. I fight for a Free Vietnam."
Titi tilted her head in what she hoped was an adorable manner. "What is "cause", please?" she asked, enunciating carefully as she tried to show off her English.
He chuckled and brushed his hand against her hip. Then he explained quickly, speaking in their mother tongue so that there would be no confusion. Then Titi tried to repeat the phrase. "I loyal cause of Ho Chi Minh. I fight Free Vietnam."
A hoarse, half-delirious laugh came through the rain. Khoi whirled around far more quickly that Titi could, burdened as she was with the heavy travel pack. By the time she had changed direction, the others were all staring at the prisoner.
He was a pathetic figure, his dirty smock limp and dripping rainwater, his bound hands clutching the cloth high upon his chest. His bruised face was smeared with blood and mud, and the skin was broken where the iron collar chaffed constantly against it. He was shaking violently, and his skin beneath the filth and contusions had the hideous pallor of salted fish. Yet his pain-clouded eyes were glinting strangely, and his unnaturally white teeth glowed between split and swollen lips that were only just capable of curling into a defiant and mocking smile.
Then he spoke, so quickly that Titi could not understand all of his words. His voice was hoarse and rasping, but clearly scornful. "She doesn't have any idea what she's saying!" he sneered at Khoi. "She's just parroting you."
Khoi glared angrily at him, obviously about to bite back, but the captive cast his dark eyes on Titi instead, speaking before the VC Lieutenant could collect his thoughts and translate them into English.
"You want to be a communist puppet? Can't you even think for yourself?" the prisoner taunted. "He says something, and you repeat it—you don't even know what you're saying!"
"I learn American," Titi argued. "I say American."
"The hell you do!" he spat, laughing with almost hysterical acrimony. "All you can do is—is—is—" His breath caught in his throat and a spasm of agony twisted those portions of his face still capable of movement. "All you can do… can do…"
Khoi raised his fist to strike him, but Titi threw herself between the lieutenant and the Air Pirate. "No, stop!" she cried, grabbing the officer's arm.
His eyes went wide with surprise and horror. Thanh cried out in angry dismay. "What are you doing?" she demanded.
Titi realized with a sickening wrench of horror that she had made a horrible mistake. Acting impulsively, she had placed herself in the precise position she had wanted to avoid. She had given into the insidious voice that told her the Air Pirate was nothing but a man, hurt and frightened and far from home, who was trying his best to be brave and strong; the same struggle she faced every day. By letting such thoughts come to the surface, she had opposed Khoi, and so, implicitly, Quon and Bian as well. She had opened herself to ridicule and shame. She had betrayed everything that she had been taught.
Trying to salvage the situation, she met her lover's eyes boldly. "I must practice," she said, hoping that she sounded forceful and unforgiving, or at least pragmatic. "Let me speak to him."
Khoi's eyes narrowed, and he nodded curtly. "Very well. Speak to him and discipline him, but do both well."
Thanh stepped forward, twitching the line in her hand so that the prisoner's balance was upset and he stumbled a little. "He is my captive!" she snarled. "We shall do as I say!" She turned to Titi. "Speak to him, and discipline him!" she ordered, thrusting the lead into the younger girl's hand. She then gestured that the men should move away, leaving Titi standing alone with the American.
He was watching her. There was wariness in his eyes, but something else, too. Curiosity, she thought. He was wondering why this was happening. Surely his treatment since capture would have taught him to expect a swift and debilitating blow. Titi swallowed hard to steel her nerves, and seized the iron collar, pulling his face close to hers. She tilted her head to one side in the way that Major Quon did when he wished to look most domineering.
"I speak American," she said.
"English," he corrected through his teeth. The rain was running into his eyes, and he blinked to try to clear his vision. "You speak English."
"English," Titi repeated, forcing herself to sneer. "You show disrespect. Very bad."
"Yeah, yeah, and I murder children and old women, too." The words were forced through clenched teeth.
"Confession!" Khoi cried. "You confess crimes!"
The Air Pirate turned to look at him—far too quickly, for he hissed in agony as strain was placed on the broken collarbone. He spat disdainfully in the lieutenant's direction. Titi gasped, and tightened her grip on the collar.
"Confess," she said. "You kill. Black Air Pirate."
"Like hell, little girl," he said. "What's a pretty thing like you doing Ho's dirty work for him, anyway?"
Titi shook her head instinctively. She didn't understand.
"Thought not," the captive croaked. "My arm," he said, slowly and clearly. "Please."
"No," Titi said. "No arm. Confess."
"You even know what that means, or are you just repeating what Jerry Lee Lewis over there keeps saying?" He tilted his chin towards Khoi, and his eyebrows twitched.
"Jeril Ilu Iss?" Titi echoed in confusion, looking at the others. Khoi was watching her intently. There was suspicion in Cadeo's eyes. Thanh was fingering her rifle butt. Titi turned back to the prisoner, even as he laughed again, the sound gurgling painfully in the back of his throat.
"Never mind, kid," he said. "Just tell that son of a bitch that he better enjoy it while it lasts, 'cause once we get wherever the hell you're taking m—"
A gurgling cough morphed into a scream, and a pink froth appeared on his lips. He pitched forward against Titi's arm, shaking with pain. Then his legs quivered and collapsed beneath him. With a cry, Titi sprung backwards, releasing her hold on the collar. Her other hand still held the leash, though, and his descent was halted with a sharp jerk. The prisoner gagged loudly, shuddering frantically. Then suddenly he was limp, even as Titi let go. He landed in the mud with a heavy noise, like that of a carcass thrown to the ground. Then silence fell over the jungle.
Titi ran back towards Khoi. "He is dead!" she cried. "He is dead!"
Thanh strode forward and knelt next to the Air Pirate, rolling him roughly onto his back and pressing her fingers to his neck. "No," she said, and then she spat upon him.
"No?" Khoi echoed. His strong arms held Titi close, and she buried her face in the cloth of his tunic.
"He lives," Thanh said. She hooded her eyes with languid lids. "But he will soon wish for death." She knelt upon his right shoulder, and then planted her hand on his left. She threw her weight upon her arm, and the breach between the two halves of the broken collarbone widened.
Thanh got to her feet, wiping her hands fastidiously on the hem of her wet tunic. She gestured sharply at Diep and Cadeo.
"We will carry him," she said coldly.