“Sheeit,” he said. “You go on, then, dammit. But don’t go cussin’ William Johnson when the VC are cuttin’ your womb open while you still alive. You think I crazy and you scared. Let me tell you somethin’, lady. I have been real scared travelin’ with you and that gook kid. My ass ain’t been worth nothin’ since I took up with you. Get the hell out of here if you so het up to do it. I’m gonna contact that squad I saw. If I can get ’em to swing back by the village and there’s enough left of you to put in a body bag, I’ll see to it your mama gets it to bury.” He turned around.
“William?”
“Unh huh.”
“Did you maybe capture a smaller gun I could have just in case it does look like I’m going to be captured?”
He snorted and handed me the machete without a word and marched off. I looked after him for just a moment, feeling irrationally abandoned, but then I looked away and saw Ahn at the edge of the rice paddy, and a flurry of people in pajamas and conical hats running into the paddies toward him. I plunged down the hill and into the trees, expecting to feel the trip wire of a booby trap against my shin, or my foot step first into nothingness, then to be pierced by pungi sticks as I fell into a tiger pit. It must have been wishful thinking. I got to the paddy in one piece, in time to see that it was not Ahn who was causing the commotion among the villagers.
16
When I first saw the snake I thought, What’s that fireman’s hose doing here? I thought it might be something the villagers used for irrigation. Ahn sat at the edge of the paddy, very still, and I wondered if he was having second thoughts about being with his people again. I thought he was scared of something that insubstantial. Then I saw the fire hose more clearly, noticed that it had a distinct aura pulsing from it, the dark red of old blood, anger, malice, and hunger brewed together.
The villagers swarmed across the paddy and then stood watching uncertainly. The snake reared up like a self-motivated Indian rope trick to about two and a half yards above the ground. That made it taller than any of them.
They were very small people, short and lean from hard work and hunger and intestinal parasites, and there wasn’t an able-bodied man among them. Ancient men, ancient women, pregnant girls who looked too young to have periods, and tiny children stood with their hoes and knives and watched the snake. It watched them too, swaying, and I thought its aura flickered with satisfaction as it eyed an infant on its sister’s hip. The snake thought it was one badass motherfucker, and it swaggered toward the people as if they were so many mice.
For their part, they prudently backed up, considering, but looked at it mainly as if it was a curiosity. They chatted at one another, as if expecting one of their number to come up with an answer. The snake lay back as if it was about to strike, and the slimmest of the pregnant girls leaped out well beyond striking range and taunted it, flapping her arms and trying to draw attention away from the others. Meanwhile, a few of the others circled back toward the snake’s tail.
The snake was a no-nonsense-type creature. It decided that if the damn-fool girl wanted to get eaten so badly, it would accommodate her. It didn’t so much strike as fling itself upon her. The others hacked at it as it flew past them, but it grabbed her in its coils and she cried out as it squeezed. Its jaws snapped onto her thigh and she abruptly stopped thrashing with her machete and collapsed within the coils. The other villagers tried to pull the coils loose, but the snake just squeezed more tightly. One of the babies, sensing the panic of its elders, bawled.
Ahn grabbed his stick and hobbled forward. I hadn’t said anything as I came up behind him, and he still didn’t know I was there. He grabbed the nearest old lady and held on with one hand and felt around the snake with the other until he found the tail, took it in his mouth, and bit. The snake stopped biting and the coils relaxed so that snake, girl, and Ahn all tumbled to the ground in a heap.
I couldn’t just squat in the bushes and watch. There was already one corpse lying in the grass, near where the snake had risen. An old woman or an old man, I couldn’t tell—just a mass of mottled skin and a hank of long gray hair in the midst of a bundle of rags. The snake was trying to free its head to reach Ahn. The others were pulling on various parts of the snake while an old man and a girl of about eight tried to whack at the reptile’s head without whacking the victim or Ahn in the process. Ahn continued to chow down on the snake’s tail.
I knew that however frail these folks looked, they were quite strong from years of work that would have killed me. I knew that they were much quicker than I was, and that I would likely get myself snake-bit or hacked if I tried to help. I also knew that I weighed almost double what any one of them did, and that maybe dragging with all my weight behind it might help. And I had a hell of a big machete. I also didn’t think I would be able to live with myself, for however long I was going to be able to live anyhow, if I just sat there and watched that goddamn snake kill people who had survived bombs and bullets for so many years.
I waded into the paddy, my boots shedding pounds of accumulated mud into the watery muck beneath the rice shoots.
Ahn sneezed, releasing his hold on the tail, and it whipped away from the girl, sending Ahn flying. The snake’s head reared up about six inches from the girl’s body to watch the kid and lunge for the nearest spectator. It had to uncoil a length of itself from the girl to make the lunge, and when it did, I hit it with my machete, not even sure I was using the right end.
The snake’s body was bigger around than my neck, bigger around than my thighs even, so at first I wasn’t sure I had done any good. But the blade had bitten deeply into the body just behind the snake’s head and the snake hissed, shaking a head the shape and size of a spade, blood spattering into its eyes, and over me and several surrounding feet. I straddled it and bent over double so I could bear down on the blade, which was hard to do. The snake’s writhing knocked first one of my boots and then the other sliding in the mud of the paddy, but I held on. I had to. The machete jerked in my hands, but I held it clenched in both fists. I heard a crack and knew one or more of the girl’s bones were being crushed. She couldn’t even scream with her breath cut off like that. The other villagers tried frantically to pull the coils from her. I leaned more heavily into my machete. There wasn’t enough room between me and the girl for me to get good leverage on the snake’s head. Any moment now it would crush her to death and round on me.
“Push her away from me. Ahn, tell them push her away.”
Ahn started yammering in Vietnamese and the other people began rolling the girl’s shoulders and legs away from my back as if they unrolled people from snakes all the time. I dropped to my knees and used them like a vise against the snake, and it bucked like a rodeo bronc beneath me. But from this vantage point I could put most of my weight onto the machete. If I let go and the snake’s head snapped free, the war would be over for me.
I cringed inwardly every time the snake undulated, afraid the girl was being pulverized. I didn’t dare look back to see, and that almost got me killed.
Ahn’s tail biting, though I didn’t know it at the time, had caused the snake to loosen its grip somewhat, and the people were able to roll the girl out of its grip. But as soon as she was free of the tail, the tail was also free of her, and the tip whipped up and around my shoulders, jerking me, machete, snake head, and all, backward.
As the coils started constricting around me, my grip on my machete started to loosen. I felt the people mass behind me, grabbing armfuls of slippery snake.
Then Ahn’s head was beside mine, and his mouth grabbed an end section of tail and lightly chomped. The coils loosened and the villagers redoubled their efforts at straightening out the snake. That allowed me to keep hanging on to the machete and with it to bear the great head back to the ground.
“Got him,” I gasped, and wanted to laugh in spite of everything, because anybody looking on would have seen that I was a little confused about who had whom. William was right. I did think I was Sheena, Queen of the Jungle, s
erpent slayer extraordinaire. But the truth was, I didn’t exactly see a lot of other options. I was a big, strapping girl then and accustomed to wrestling three-hundred-pound ladies in body casts onto bedpans, having knockdown drag-outs with grown men with the DTs, and subduing hysterical three-year-olds while giving them injections. The snake was bigger and more dangerous and more powerful than any of the situations I was used to, but not by all that much.
“Somebody chop off his fuckin’ head, for Christsake!” I rasped. It was in English, no one should have been able to understand me, and Ahn’s mouth was full of snake, but the old grandfather with the hoe hit the creature a blow on the noggin and the coils fell from me like a feather boa. I fell back against a pile of villagers and lay panting for a moment. The old man kept hacking, his aura as blood-red as the snake’s had been, his face a calm, almost kindly mask.
I crawled over to the girl who had been bitten. Her aura was very dim, gray and muddy except for the part around where her leg had been bitten. That was deep black and spreading.
The bite was larger than any snakebite I had ever seen—the snake’s mouth was bigger than mine, and almost bigger than my entire head. The standard treatment for rattlesnake bites was going to be useless, I knew it, but nevertheless I grabbed a knife out of the nearest hand and sliced at the wounds. The girl took her breath in sharply and her hand shot toward me, a knife in her fist. I dropped my knife and caught her hand, barely keeping her from stabbing both me and herself. She was looking at me with what I would normally have interpreted as hatred, aura and all, but considering what she’d been through, I just figured she was a little unhinged, probably confusing me with her former assailant.
“Come on, you guys, hang on to her or I’m not going to be able to help her,” I said, and shoved her wrist into the bony hands of the nearest grandmother. I must have made my point clear enough, because three children and another pregnant woman rushed to help restrain her hands. Her eyes rolled in terror as she looked down at me and she moaned and squirmed under the blade. “Sssh, sssh, sssh,” I told her, as I’d heard Vietnamese women shush their babies. I sat on her leg to keep it from wiggling, so I could do just a little incision instead of major surgery. “I know this hurts, but I have to try to get the poison out.”
All around me the women were shushing her, hissing louder than the late snake. Hoping I didn’t have any new cavities or canker sores I’d forgotten about, I bent over her leg and made like a vampire, sucking up mouthfuls of venom and blood and spitting it out again—sort of a reverse artificial respiration. It was a huge snake and there was a lot of venom. Even as I sucked I could see the blackness spreading through her pelvis, up her torso, toward her heart, down her knee.
I knew I was getting nowhere, and now the adrenaline was wearing off and I was feeling the effects of exhaustion, starvation, and exertion all at once. Helplessly I spread my hands along the perimeters of the spreading blackness of the venom, mumbling senselessly at it to stop, dammit. I was tired, muddy, and frustrated and about to lose this brave if somewhat screwy young girl in spite of everything. The venom on my tongue made it tingle, and I was starting to turn from her and try to wash my mouth out when I noticed that where the bright mauve of my aura touched the blackness, it gathered before my hands as if I were herding it. I stared at it stupidly, then ran my hands down her trunk, up her leg, and across her pelvis, as if I were sweeping the venom out of her system. Where I touched the black, it retreated before my palms, until it gathered at the wound and bubbled up out of it, like an artesian spring. When it was gone I kept staring at where it had been for a moment, then ran my hand across my tongue. A sheen of black appeared on my palm, and I wiped it off against the rice.
The girl lay still, panting, her eyes wide and her face still terrified.
“Ahn, tell her I think it’s going to be all right,” I said, my tongue so thick I had to repeat it. “Tell her I think the poison is gone.”
I hoped I wasn’t raising false hopes. I hoped I wasn’t hallucinating. My head seemed too heavy to lift as I looked up at the faces around me: the girl herself, as pretty as Xinhdy had been, except for a gold tooth in the front of her mouth; the old man who had hacked the snake, most of his teeth gone; the children, wide-eyed and looking half-scared, half-excited. Finally the old man picked up the snake’s head and the children followed, trying to lift portions of the body. When I got to my feet, the man shifted his grip farther back and tried to hand me the head. I declined, and emptied my breakfast of stewed monkey into the rice paddy. I hate snakes. I can’t stand to look at them, much less touch them.
One of the girls helped the injured woman to her feet, while Ahn leaned on his stick and supervised. I felt the wounded girl flinch as I put my arm around her waist to support her on her injured side, but among us we got her back to the village. No mines, no booby traps. Just mud and rice and a concertina-wire barrier.
Later, four of the girls took a mat back out to the field and dragged home the snake’s first victim. I watched mutely as they laid the body out. She was not as old as I thought, just very gray. Her face was purpled from suffocation and her body had been crushed, her features so ugly with her death that I had to look away. The injured girl cried out and argued at length with one of the women who was attending the body, but was finally persuaded to lie back. Her aura radiated grieving, a gray as cold and empty as a midwinter sky.
As they cleaned the body and arranged the features back to a semblance of normalcy before laying a banyan leaf across the face, it seemed to me that the dead woman looked nearly like the live one. No wonder the girl had been so ready to kill the snake.
Ahn wasn’t allowed in while they dressed the corpse, and the injured woman looked at me, still angrily, as if I were committing a terrible breach of manners, but the truth was I didn’t have the strength to drag myself out of there. I fell asleep while they were finishing the preparation of the corpse.
I awoke some time later to the groans of the girl beside me. She was on the mat and I lay beside her on the dirt floor. I was so stiff I could scarcely move, and it flashed across my mind that perhaps the snake had done me more damage than I realized.
But the girl’s groan gave way to a sudden, panicky scream. I sat up and automatically reached for her pulse and stared at my watch, counting. Her stomach was rolling beneath the light cotton of her pajama top, and she clutched it with both hands.
This time she looked at me entreatingly, “Dau quadi,” she breathed. “Dau quadi.”
She was aborting, of course. It was actually inevitable. Even if the venom had never crossed the placental membrane, being squeezed in the coils of a giant snake was bound to be damaging to any growing fetus. I stretched out to the door of the hut and yelled, to whom it might concern, “La dai, la dai,” and hoped the urgency in my voice would make up for the lack of explanation.
It was almost over before anyone else could reach her. Blood and water gushed from between her thighs, soaking her pajamas and the mat before I could turn away from the door again. As the first village woman ducked into the house, the fetus, a very small fetus, delivered. It was not well developed. It could almost have been any sort of a baby creature, poor pathetic little thing. It hadn’t had a chance. The women brought cloths and we wiped her clean and I wrapped the fetus in one. She grabbed my wrist. She wanted to see it. I shook my head at first and she persisted, so I showed it to her. It helps sometimes when you know what you’re mourning.
She began to cry, then to wail, and one of the other women touched me on the shoulder and nodded that I should leave the hut. I rose ponderously to my feet, feeling like an out-of-shape water buffalo behind the small lithe figure ahead of me. We hadn’t far to go—just to a hut a few yards away, which was blessedly empty except for Ahn, who was tucking into a bowl of rice. He looked up long enough to nod at me and went back to eating.
The woman showed me a mat with a roll of cloth at the head for a pillow. I sat down gratefully and started to go to sleep, but she sat o
n her heels and reached for my bootlaces, as if she thought she was my maid or something.
“No, no,” I said, and tried to wave her away. “Ahn, please tell this woman I don’t need a maid, just some sleep. She should get some sleep herself or she could lose her baby too.”
“I tell her, co, but she be mad—lose face.”
I compromised by sitting back up again and helping her take my boots off. A little girl brought me a rice bowl and a bottle of hot Pepsi, which I opened with the church key William had given me. She took the bottle from me and poured the Pepsi into a bowl.
The little girl put her hands together and backed off, leaving the Pepsi beside me. I put my hands together and bowed at her too. I was going to receive a crash course in Vietnamese customs, I supposed. But tired as I was, I was elated. William had been wrong and I was right. These people seemed no more threatening than my patients. I hadn’t walked into the clutches of the enemy, I thought, just into a strenuous one-woman medcap mission, with a side dish of indigenous prehistoric wildlife.
Ahn stirred and coughed in his sleep. I felt his forehead. He was burning again. The rice and the Pepsi were something I wouldn’t have touched ordinarily, but I had to have something in my stomach if I was going to renew my strength. As the food took effect, my perception of his aura deepened. Blackness spread from the stump up his leg. I was sure that if I disturbed him to do so, I’d find a knot in his groin. Well, now that I’d gotten the hang of the old faith healer bit by trying it out on a perfect stranger, the amulet’s power was bound to work on Ahn too. I spread my fingers so that each touched the end of one of the threads of infection and concentrated on thinking of the veins as being clean and clear, with nothing but healthy blood flowing through them. The black threads knotted near the stump and, with a little urging, drained out the end. While I was working, the little girl was on the ball. She brought me water in what looked suspiciously like the same sort of basin we used for patients at the 83rd. I supposed it was just another of the instances of the black market moving in mysterious ways.
The Healer’s War Page 25