Scars and Stars

by Dustin Stevens

  My uncle stopped himself and I shifted my gaze up to look up at him. It seemed like an odd place to stop and I waited for him to continue.

  He didn’t though, just stared out over the water and tapped at the kernels of millet on the page before him. The sun slid a little lower in the sky and the smell of dusk filled the air, the only sounds the muted conversation from the house and my uncle tapping on the page before him.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  “When you grow up in the country the way we did, you can’t help but have a strong stomach. Tending livestock, hunting, fishing, it doesn’t matter. You develop a natural deference to sights and smells.

  “I had skinned catfish, butchered deer, shoveled horse manure and pulled leeches from my own skin. None of that held a candle to what we walked into that afternoon.”

  My uncle paused for a second and sniffed the air, then snorted and shook his head.

  “We walked to the western edge of camp to where a small stream had formed, winding its way across the frozen ground. As we got closer we found it wasn’t a stream at all, but a steady flow of urine, feces and vomit. The three had mixed together to form a blue and green liquid that collected in stagnant pools, small pieces of something awful floating in them.

  “Isn’t it too cold for flies?” I asked as we walked towards the incredible stench. With each step my nose burned a little more, tears forming in the corners of my eyes.

  “Jack stopped and said, “Out here, yeah. We need to find someplace warm enough for them. You can’t have a mess like this without flies.”

  “We got as close as we could to the flow and turned to the right, walking along with our gaze darting to and fro. Every so often we came across a soldier relieving himself or vomiting. We paid them no heed and they did the same for us as we walked on, searching for our meal ticket.

  “As we walked on a little further, Jack stopped short. “You hear that?”

  “I pulled up and stood still, barely able to hold a thought beyond the smell in my nose. It started low, but after a moment I heard it to. Steady and persistent, like the humming of an idling engine.

  “Flies, and lots of them.

  “A canvas tent stood several hundred feet ahead and we moved towards it. We closed in fast, the hum growing louder as we approached. I drew a few feet ahead of Jack, almost running, envisioning the soup and bread I was about to receive.

  “I moved forward and reached for the tent flap and without thinking drew it back. As I did so Jack reached forward to try and stop me, but it was too late.

  “The sight before me caused me to add my own vomit to the stream.”

  I hadn’t expected that and my head snapped around to him. My eyes bulged a bit as he stared out over the water and I could see a wave of nausea wash over his face.

  “The tent was filled with sick and wounded men, piled upon one another in the tiny tent. Many had open sores over their legs, arms and faces.

  “The air in there was moist and sour and flies clung to the walls of the tent in heavy clumps. Many more lined the edges of the wounds on the men, the victims too weak to remove them or too tired of fighting an unending battle to bother.

  “A few men cracked their eyes open and looked up, responding more to the light and rush of cold air than us. “Two men with wispy hair and ragged beards squatted beside a prisoner. When they saw us they glanced at each other and back again.

  “Let me guess, you boys are new and hungry,” one of them said.

  “My voice was still lost to the sight around me and all I could do was nod my head, my throat locked and dry.

  “The man on the left said, “You boys look young and like you have some strength about you, so we’ll arrange a trade. We’ve got more men in here right now than we can handle. Most of them are suffering from dysentery and the ones who aren’t will be soon if we don’t get them separated.”

  “Jacks eyes darted back and forth. “How many?”

  “The second doctor looked at us each in turn. “Just like that, huh?”

  “You said you wanted to arrange a trade,” Jack replied. “We’re hungry.”

  “The two doctors moved forward and the first one stuck out his hand. “Rothchild, call me James.” He was a tall, thin man with a bald head accented only by a few wisps of light brown hair. He wore wire rimmed glasses and his eyes carried the red tinges of a man that didn’t sleep much.

  “The second shook each of our hands in turn and said, “Bill Quincel.” He had the matching red eyes of Rothchild, his wisps of hair blonde. His skin was leathered with age and he wore the expression of a man that had seen a lot in his years.

  “You boys start with this half of the room,” Quincel said. “Take as many as you can over to the main tent and place them close together. They’ll need the warmth of one another and most don’t have the energy to move themselves.”

  “It’s a hundred yards or more over there and there’s a dozen or so men here, so we don’t expect you to get them all. Take as many as you can and we’ll be in your debt,” Rothchild said.

  “I shot a look at Jack, who caught my eye and snapped his head towards the first patient. Without a word he grabbed the ankles of the first man in line and waited for me to grab his wrists.

  “Looking at the mass of men lying on the ground I looked at Jack and shook my head, then hefted the first man to my shoulder. He was sweaty and clammy to the touch, motionless as the crook of his stomach settled against my shoulder.

  “I’m not making any more trips than I have to,” I said and swung the tent flap open. The air stung cold after being in the tent and my pace was quick as I shuffle-stepped across the yard.

  “I didn’t turn around, but I could hear Jack crunching along as well.

  “I passed through the open sides of the tent and placed the man along the back wall where we had watched the film. A few moments later Jack placed another man beside him and together we adjusted them to keep them as warm as the situation would allow.

  “One of the men cracked his eyes open and looked up at us for a moment, but closed them again. Once we had them settled, both remained motionless.

  “We walked back side by side with the gaze of many onlookers following us.

  “Jack swung the tent flap open and we both grabbed another patient. The doctors both looked up in surprise as we hoisted them to our shoulder and walked out again.

  “A few more glances came our way as we placed them beside the others. We walked back again and within minutes each added a third and then a fourth to the pile.

  “You getting tired yet?” I asked.

  “Jack cast a long glare in my direction. “Nothing a bowl of soup and some decent bread can’t fix.”

  “I snorted a laugh as we reached the tent and made the last couple of trips. By that last go-round even the frail men were feeling very heavy.

  “We arranged the men around one another, the ones that seemed to be in the best shape on the outside. A few soldiers had wandered over to watch and a few gave words of encouragement, but nobody offered to help.

  “Sweat was dripping from my nose and down my cheeks by the time we made it back to the tent. The doctors had spread the other men out on the ground, each of them with enough room to lay flat.

  “As we walked in Quincel sat back on his haunches and scratched his forehead with his thumb. “Damn. That was impressive.”

  “Rothchild rose to his feet and walked to the wall of the tent where a wooden crate sat. He reached into the bottom of it and pulled two small cloth sacks from it and tossed one to each of us.

  “What’s this?” I asked.

  “Rothchild motioned to the room around us and said, “Six ounces of flies for each of you. Enjoy your meal, you’ve earned it.”

  “I hefted the bag in my hand. “Six ounces huh?”

  “Quincel smiled and said, “Over time flies dry out, so we managed to get around that by inserting flecks of metal into them. Ups the weight, slows down the drying process.”

 
“So where do we take these things?” I asked.

  “Quincel motioned back over his shoulder. “Go to the guard tower just past the main tent. There’s a scale in there where they’ll weigh the flies. Once they make weight, you’ll get your food.”

  “Quincel nodded. “Thanks a lot guys, we appreciate it.”

  “You guys need a hand again,” Jack said, “come find us.”

  My uncle stopped and flipped the page. On it was several small glints of silver with some black crumbles spread around them.

  He smiled and pointed to the page below us. “These were originally flies with bits of metal inserted into them. Over time the flies have crumbled away, but you can still see the metal there.

  “Like most of the objects in this book, these too saved my life.”

  Uncle Cat stopped and returned his gaze to the water in front of us.

  “How did flies save your life?” I asked after a few seconds, still unclear what he was trying to tell me.

  My uncle tapped the page and said, “When you see flies, you see an annoyance or think of a bothersome buzzing. When I see flies I think of food, strength, and the energy it gave me to do what needed to be done.”

  I paused for a second, allowing the words to hang in the air. “What needed to be done?”

  My uncle didn’t bother to answer. He just gave me a knowing look and focused again on the horizon.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  My cousin Suzy swung the front door open and ran across the porch. We could hear her sniffle as she passed and tears streamed down her face. Her face was red and puffy, a steady stream of muttering sliding out as she went.

  She bounded down the front stairs in two steps and ran to the tire swing hanging in the front yard. Without stopping she jumped and wrapped her legs around the rope, landing atop the tire. I watched her as she shoved her thumb in her mouth and rested her head against the rope, the tire swaying in the breeze.

  Aunt Jane stepped out onto the porch behind her, the sound of her heavy shoes thudding against the floorboards. Her face was drawn and angry as she walked to the edge of the porch and stood stone still for several seconds.

  She exhaled and turned back to the house. She saw me watching her and said, “Children are to be seen, not heard,” and walked on inside.

  Throughout the ordeal my uncle’s eyes never left the horizon, the setting sun sparkling against his face. He waited several seconds for the door to stop reverberating behind us and said, “That afternoon we ate the soup and bread, which was just a step above gruel and hard tack. To someone that had been carrying people for two weeks solid on moldy bread, it tasted like Christmas dinner.

  “The doctors had been dead on with their measurements. When we gave the guards the small bags of flies they had laughed at such a paltry collection. It was all I could do to stay quiet as their eyes bulged at the scales reading six ounces each time.

  “After eating, we went back to the tent and asked the doctors if we could steal a corner of space for the afternoon. Rothchild conceded that if we were willing to haul their water each day, we could stay in the tent as much as we liked.

  “The tent was at least fifteen degrees warmer than the air outside and it was easy for us to agree to the terms. The air was damp and musty, but it was warm and that was most important.

  “We moved to the corner and curled into balls side by side and slept away the afternoon. Once or twice I could hear the doctors moving among us or feel a rush of cool of air from someone stepping in, but never enough to pull me from my slumber.

  “I’m not sure how long I lay on the ground, curled on some matted grass, that afternoon. It seemed I had just laid down when Jack shook my shoulder to rise.

  “Mph, what time is it?” I asked as I rolled to a seated position and rubbed my eyes.

  “Getting on towards dusk,” he said, pulling back the edge of the tent flap and staring out across the grounds.

  “How long have you been awake?”

  “Jack shook his head and said, “Little while is all. The last patient that came through here kicked me on his way out. Never did fall back asleep.”

  “My gaze swung over the room to find several sleeping patients, but no sign of the doctors.

  “Where’d Quincel and Rothchild go?”

  “Went to get dinner, they won’t be gone long.”

  “I raised myself to a knee and shook my head clear. Jack continued peering out from behind the flap and said, “When we go over there, don’t give up anything. Say as little as possible, keep your face as still as you can.”

  “These guys are up to something big, aren’t they?”

  “Jack nodded. “Yup. I just can’t tell if they want our involvement as help or as a diversion.”

  “We waited for the doctors to return and looped our way back over to the fire. The guards were watching as soldiers moved about, drawing their rations and preparing for the night.

  “A few minutes after dark, we stole up on the 3rd infantry encampment. Men were grouped tight and as we approached the crowd spread and drew us inward, closing back up fast around us.

  “Phelps, Spires, and Atwood sat three across in front of the fire in the same formation they had been in before. They looked like they had not moved at all in fact.

  “We said sundown,” Atwood said, motioning for us to sit across from them. “It’s a full ten minutes past.”

  “Jack and I returned his stare, but said nothing.

  “Spires nodded. “That’s good. We wanted to see if you two had the sense not to make a direct line for us with the guards watching.

  “First test passed.”

  “First test for what?” Jack asked, neither of our faces revealing anything.

  “Atwood leaned forward and pointed a beefy finger across the fire. “Before we go any further here, we need to know you boys are in. This is the kind of thing that could end badly and we need to know you two aren’t going to get any of us killed.”

  “Jack’s voice remained a steady dead pan. “First test for what?”

  “Phelps looked at each of us in turn and said, “We’ve been here for three weeks now. We were in Chon Ma for two weeks before that. With each passing day we lose a little more weight, get a little weaker. We need to do something and we need to do it soon.”

  “His words hung heavy in the air and the men around the fire edged a little closer, some fidgeting a bit.

  “What he’s saying is we have a plan. We need the personnel to pull it off,” Atwood said.

  “Spires swung an open hand around the fire and said, “You two have been here less than a day and I am sure you can see that many of the men are on their last legs. Most have been in camp as long as or longer than us and just don’t have what we need.”

  “And that is?” I asked.

  “Spires stared at us and said, “As of six weeks ago the United Nations knew about nine different camps across North Korea. This wasn’t one of them.”

  “There are Red Cross programs, prisoner exchanges, things in place to aid with the soldiers we know about. If nobody knows we’re here, we’re all sitting and counting days until we die,” Phelps said.

  “I think you can tell where we’re going with this,” Atwood said.

  “Jack nodded and said, “Few questions spring to mind right off.”

  “Spires raised a hand. “Let us get this out, then we’ll work on details.

  “I don’t know if you’ve heard or not, but every morning a group of men are sent to the river to fetch water for camp. The detail goes out in a group of seven, pulling a wagon that rests just behind the main tent. On the wagon are a dozen large wooden barrels which get filled with water and drug back each day. Once the wagon is back in camp, it’s a free for all until the water’s gone.”

  “Now the Koreans don’t care which seven guys haul the water, just so long as seven are there every morning to do it. We’re not sure how or why they decided seven, but we figure it’s because you need at least that many to keep the
wagon moving once it’s full,” Phelps said.

  “Spires added, “Our plan is once the morning comes, to plant a crew of our own seven guys to serve as the water detail. It shouldn’t be hard to convince the other prisoners to let them in and we can bribe them if we need to.”

  “Spires stopped short and silence fell around the fire.

  “So what do you need from us?” Jack asked.

  “Tonight when you leave here, make a trip past the main tent,” Spires said. “What you will find are the barrels strewn about on the ground, laying as they did this morning after the rush for water.”

  “Jack remained stone faced and nodded his head slightly. “You want to plant us in the barrels.”

  “Atwood nodded his head and said, “We want you two to hide in the barrels overnight. The next morning our guys will carry you to the river. They’ll submerge you just like they’re filling the barrels normally and you two will swim away.”

  “Phelps took over and said, “Given the time of year and what we know about the river, it’s going to be hard going. Some of the edges are frozen solid and some of the other parts haven’t frozen because of fast currents.

  “The wagon goes to the same spot every day, which is about a quarter mile from the rear gate. The current is running back towards the road you came in on. You’ll remain in the water until you’re out of sight, then be able to follow the river to the original road.”

  “From there the road runs due south back into South Korea,” Atwood said. “You’ll run parallel to it across the 38th, find allied forces as soon as possible, and send them back here for us.”

  “The men finished speaking and silence again fell over the group. I couldn’t see any faces beyond the five of us tight around the fire, but I could feel the others edging closer with anticipation.

  “You two haven’t said a word through all this,” Spires said, “so let’s hear your thoughts.”

  “Jack stared motionless back for a full five seconds before cocking his head towards me. “What do you think?”

  “I hadn’t expected Jack to pull me in like that, though I figure he did it to make us appear solidified to the officers. I gave a non-committal shake of my head. “Any time a plan can be summed up nice and neat that fast, I get a little worried.”