December 29, 1966

The trees were different here. They seemed both taller and more narrow than those of the southern jungles. Some did not even have leaves, but flat green needles. The berries were more sour, and the ground more rocky, and Thanh attributed all of it to the higher altitude and the more northern climes.

Titi believed her. The air was thinner, so that the young schoolteacher found herself tiring more quickly. The nights were certainly growing colder. When dawn crept over their campsite, it would invariably reveal the Air Pirate—who was at times not even able to stay awake long enough to eat the evening meal—awake. He would be contorted into as compact a ball as his bound limbs, mangled collarbone, and bruised ribs allowed, his lips a livid purple and his whole body shaking desperately. Barefoot and barelegged, with only the ragged and filthy smock to cover him, Titi did not wonder that he was half-frozen, but she refused to allow herself to pity him.

She was terrified that he would escape again. She took precautions against it: his hands were always bound before him now, and at night she would lash his ankles together as well. Even when it became plain that the coarse hemp was rubbing both wrists and feet raw, Titi did not relent. She was determined that he would have no opportunity to flee.

This was not her only precaution. When not in her hand, the rope affixed to his collar was always knotted around a stout branch or slender trunk. Though he was allowed a gourd of water with his rice or bannock in the morning, another with the noon meal, and small mouthfuls when the party halted, Titi cut off his ration each day when the sun sank below thirty degrees. By sundown he would be panting like a dog, and after a night of thirst he would be crust-lipped and weak. He would have been a fool to run when already dehydrated, and Titi knew that he was cognizant of that fact.

Despite the severity of her preventative measures, Titi had implored Khoi to reset the man's shoulder again, and in the end her lover capitulated to her pleas. Titi was not certain that anything could be done for his collarbone, and she did not wish to seem too sympathetic a gaoler, and so she left that injury untouched. Still, unless his right arm was knocked or jostled the captive's pain seemed nearly tolerable, and instead of growing weaker each day, he now appeared to be adapting.

This surprised Thanh, and she said so.

"He has the heart of a tiger," she told Titi one evening, eying the American with guarded respect. He had found a coarse rock, and was again trying to debride his suppurating feet. The effort of drawing his bound hands clumsily back for each stroke brought tiny, involuntary whimpers as his collarbone rippled the bruised skin stretched over it, and when he scraped the stone over pus and lesions, he could not help flinching in agony, and yet he persisted.

Thanh's hand drifted up to rub the border on her chin, where the scar tissue met the smooth, tanned flesh. "I have seen many Air Pirates," she mused. "None like this one. He reminds me of Bian."

"Do not say that!" Titi snapped. Then she closed her eyes and composed herself. "He is nothing like Bian," she said. "He is a criminal and a murderer."

"Perhaps," Thanh mused, slowly running her tongue over her lips, from the rough tissue to the silky and back. "I would have liked to see him in uniform."

Titi stared at her in bewildered horror. Was Thanh, loyal soldier and guerilla of the Viet Cong, lusting after the body of the wicked, murderous and disobedient American?

Thanh saw her expression, and laughed. "Oh, Titi," she said fondly, tapping the younger girl's chin with one knuckle. "You are so young. So innocent."

Not so innocent, Titi had thought, her eyes seeking Khoi almost instinctively.

It had been three days since that conversation, and their little party was moving through cultivated lands. It was dangerous to move across the rice paddies, for they were easy to spy from the air, and if American reconnaissance saw them and realized what they were transporting, there would be trouble. Thanh, however, practical as ever and unwilling to make the crossings at night, had come up with a clever solution. With Titi's wooden comb, she had raked out the American's short, curling hair, and she had plastered it over his forehead and ears, as low as she could, with black mud. The mud had dried into a helmet of grime that from a distance could not be distinguished from his hair. With his skin filthy, weatherburned, and gray-hued, and Cam Lan's castoff smock to cover him, he looked almost like a native. Only the dense growth of hair on his face seemed out of place, for like all Americans he was hairier than the men of Vietnam. This, Thanh promised, would not be visible from above.

The rice fields here were enormous, much larger than any Titi had ever seen. Khoi explained that because so many people lived in this region, much more food needed to be produced here than in the remote recesses of the highlands.

Certainly there were many people. Today alone they passed by nineteen, more than Titi had seen in one day since leaving Ap Hiep. In the early morning, they had seen half a dozen women working with hoes and spades in a fallow field, their non las tilted low to guard their eyes from the rising sun. Only the youngest, a pretty girl about Titi's age, but far more fair, looked up as they drew near. She stared in horror and curiosity at the Air Pirate, and as she looked at Titi, the young guerilla thought that she saw admiration in her eyes.

Next they had come across a crowd of children running up and down the berms. They shouted and laughed as they scared away the birds that circled the gravid fields, wings spread to catch the updrafts and beady eyes alight with greed. The children were all naked or nearly so, and their little brown feet were swift and sure on the uneven surface. Now and then one would take a corner too quickly, and tumble into the cold water, flattening the rushes that bordered the delicate rice shoots. This would prompt more laughter, loudest of all from the one who had fallen.

It did not take long for the children to notice the strangers, and soon the guerillas had a rearguard of eager young soldiers. They were well-behaved, and they did not presume to address the travelers, but Titi could hear them murmuring quietly amongst themselves, and she realized how much she missed her own little students. She wanted to speak to these young ones, and to listen to their naïve impressions of the strange scene, but she was conscious of her new position and the dignity that went with it, and she restrained herself.

Next they passed three boys, perhaps three years younger than Titi. Like the children, they came to the paddies because of the birds. They had long slings and smooth pebbles, and they were practicing their marksmanship. Seeing Khoi at the head of the procession, they called out, addressing him by his rank and saluting. The gesture was reciprocated crisply, and Titi expected that the encounter was over. As they passed the place where their dike and the one on which the young men stood met at a narrow angle, however, one of the youth raised his sling.

"American filth!" he hollered, his voice high and strong with vitriol. "Slime! Murderer!"

A stone whistled through the air, and before anyone could react, the Air Pirate toppled over the edge of the berm. Shocked, Titi let go of the lead rope before it could grow taut and strangle him. He landed amid the reeds with a wet splash, and sank placidly below the surface of the water.

Hastily, Thanh stripped off her riffle and shot pouch, thrusting them upon Cadeo as she barked at Trieu to relieve her of her pack. Kicking off her sandals, she slid down the bank of earth and into the murky water. It reached well above her knees, and Titi watched, numb with alarm and surprise, as the older girl waded towards the place where the prisoner had vanished. She reached under the water with both hands, and arched her back as she hauled the man out of the water. He was limp in her arms, and made no sign of consciousness as Thanh hoisted him upward. Khoi and Diep hooked him under each arm, and hauled him back onto the dike. Thanh reached for Titi's hand, and with her help clamored up, somewhat muddy and a little breathless.

The three boys were laughing, jeering at the American. Titi felt a surge of anger, but other concerns were more immediate. The water notwithstanding, a well-thrown stone from a long sling could kill a tiger.

"Is he breathing?" she asked, trying to draw closer to her prisoner. As the dike was only two and a half feet wide, this was not easy. Diep navigated carefully around her, so that they could change places.

Khoi nodded. "He is breathing," he said scornfully. He tapped a place on the side of the Air Pirate's head. Titi realized that it was already beginning to swell. The lieutenant chuckled. "They winged an alien bird," he commented. He got to his feet and called to the boys. "You will be fine warriors some day!"

Titi felt another hot flush of rage. They would be fine warriors because they had thrown a rock at a bound and unarmed man? But he was a criminal, she reminded herself.

The prisoner began to cough, a thick, wet cough. Foam appeared on his lips, and Titi seized the front of his smock, pulling him up into a sitting position to ease his breathing. Suddenly, with a hollow shriek of torment, he was awake, his bound hands clawing at her arm. Titi realized that she was putting pressure on the broken collarbone, and eased him back.

"Stop!" she ordered sternly. With a quivering, tormented inhalation, the captive managed to silence himself. Presently, glazed brown eyes searched the blank sky, and a ghost of a smile twisted the man's bruised lips.

"Fancy a swim?" he asked hoarsely.

Titi frowned in confusion, looking questioningly at Khoi. He shook his head and grabbed the prisoner's wrists. Titi took hold of his hips and helped him stand. He wobbled a little as they started out again, but managed to keep his feet.

The last person they passed, just before sunset, was an old man. He was seated on one of the planks of a post bridge, his gnarled feet swinging over the rice. His thin lips drew lovingly on a worn bone pipe, and he stared away into the distance with a deeply pensive expression on his wrinkled face. His beard was long and white and wispy.

He did not seem to notice them as the approached, and they might have passed right by on their way to the bluffs by the creek, but at that moment the Air Pirate succumbed to the effects of his fresh head wound. His legs shook, and he halted in his laborious gait, dropping to his knees. A spasm ripped through his body, and he leaned towards the left, over the edge of the dike. Then his eyes flitted across the rice field, and he curled back inwards. There was a sickening retching noise, and then a stink of bile as he vomited into his lap, bringing up acid, water, and what was left of his noon ration.

Khoi halted and clawed briefly at his forehead. "Take care of him," he snarled. "Or else kill him."

Thanh glared at him as she spoke to Titi. "You cannot kill him," she said firmly. "We will make camp among the trees. Take care of him and catch up to us there."

Titi stood still as the others made their way around her. Watching them move off, muttering maledictions against their tiresome burden as they went, she was filled with irrational shame. It was as if the prisoner's weakness and stupidity reflected poorly upon her. She slapped the Air Pirate across the back of the head. At the moment of contact, her anger was appeased, but it flooded rapidly back.

"You stupid," she told him. "Stupid Air Pirate."

There was a dogged exasperation beneath the misery in his voice. "I told you, I'm not an Air Pirate," he said hoarsely. "My name is Albert Calavicci. My serial number is B-933-852. I was born 15 June, 1934. I'm a lieutenant. An officer in the United States…armed forces. I'm a prisoner of war, and I'm entitled to humane treatment under the—"

With the nimbleness of a cat, Titi sprung around the man, crouching before him. She shook his iron collar violently.

"You not prisoner of war!" she shrieked, irrationally aggravated by this most recent repetition of one of the man's favorite phrases. "You criminal! You bomb jungle, you kill children! You kill children!"

He looked up at her suddenly, and there was something strange in his eyes. It was beyond the pain, the defiance and the obstinacy. It was a desperation that had nothing to do with his current situation. For a moment, Titi saw a man. Not an Air Pirate, or a criminal, or the image of the propaganda from Hanoi. A man. Just an ordinary person.

Then the American closed his eyes and sighed wearily.

"You don't want to do this," he whispered. "You don't want to hurt me, but you have your orders. We both have our orders."

Titi recognized that word. It was an interrogation word. The illusion was shattered, and she was able to grip reality once more. She was a soldier, and he was her prisoner. A criminal and a murderer." Orders!" she snapped. "You tell me your orders! Where bomb? Give targets."

He drew in a deep, shuddering breath. "Calavicci," he said flatly. "Albert. Lieutenant. B-933-85—"

She cut him off with a sharp slap that rang hollowly in the cool twilight air. "You walk," she said, wrinkling her nose involuntarily as she caught the stench of vomit. What a fool he was, to retch all over himself instead of onto the rice field. He deserved no mercy. He was as stupid as a pig. She picked up his leash and turned to walk away. If he would not walk she would drag him.

His voice called her back. "Wait!" he cried. Titi froze. He had addressed her in her own tongue. She turned to look at him. He was looking up at her again, eyes wide and watering with pain and nausea. He whispered his next words, his clumsy American tongue tripping over the syllables. "Water, Titi, please," he breathed.

A chill ran up Titi's back. The sound of her name coming from American lips was at once bizarre and terrifying. Suddenly she felt very open and vulnerable, as if the whole of the Air Pirate's country, with its bombs and its napalm and its wicked, feral hatred could see her, little Titi who had been a happy schoolteacher in a pretty village in the mountains—until this man had fallen from the sky and torn her away from her home, and changed the course of her destiny.

She was frightened and lonely and homesick, but none of those emotions were permitted. She had to be brave. She had to be strong.

In times of war, even women must fight.

Titi threw back her head and spat upon the prisoner. "No orders, no water," she said harshly. Then she twitched the rope, jerking him forward so that he had to thrust his bound hands against the sod to keep from falling. "Now you walk."

Slowly, excruciatingly, the man got onto his torn feet. He swayed a little, and then bit his lip, the corner of his mouth twisting spastically at the taste of acid that still lingered there. Resolutely, he resumed his awkward, limping gait.

As Titi turned, she caught a glimpse of the old man in her peripheral vision. She tried to ignore it, and quickened her pace. He had lowered his pipe into his lap, and he was watching her, his gaze steady and piercing…

And filled with an unspeakable sorrow.

MWMWMWMWMWMWMWMWMWMWM

She and Khoi made love that night, their passion made fierce and feral by his frustration and her confusion. When at last they fell back, spent, into the damp leaves, Titi had almost forgotten about the old man. She stared up at the black blanket of clouds, breathing in deep pants as Khoi stroked her possessively. It was a strange sky tonight. Directly above her, it was black and velvety. It reminded her of hair, of Me Dè's hair…

The thought of her mother, whom she could still not quite understand was not really her mother, brought a lump into Titi's throat. She cuddled closer to Khoi, taking comfort in the feeling of his warm, slick body against hers. He began to kiss her forehead as only a lover might, and she could hear him making soft sounds of pleasure again. Consoled by his desire, Titi looked up at the sky again.

Suddenly she was on her feet, crying out in horror and pointing. There was a place midway between the horizon and the highest point of the arc of the sky where the blackness faded to a strange pink glow. It grew more intense as it neared the earth, as if the light of a great flame was reflecting off the clouds in the way that candlelight reflects off of the roof of a hut.

"Fire!" she cried. "There is fire! The Americans—"

Abruptly she realized that Khoi was laughing. His hand reached up to caress her leg, and he pulled her back down, into his lap. He kissed her, and then began to pleasure her gently with his hand, all the while chuckling softly.

"Titi, Titi," he murmured. "So excitable. That is the light of Hanoi. We are very near to the city. If the Air Pirate does not make more trouble, we will walk through the day tomorrow, camp on the outskirts for one night, and then report in after dawn."

Titi leaned into his fondling caress. So the journey was almost over.

This time, when they were finished, she truly had forgotten the old man.