by CW Ullman
“A few hours, maybe longer,” he said, giving My Ling the information she wanted.
“Please hurry. I’m afraid,” she exclaimed.
He let her legs stretch out and pinned her arms together and tied them. He tied her wrists together in front of her. He sat her up against a wall and left. She heard him jump off the boat and walk off into the forest. She waited a few minutes and listened to see if he would come back. When he did not, she smiled slightly remembering the last part of her nightmare: the metal I.D. tins. She pulled out one that had a slight jaggedness to one of its edges and started working on the ropes around her legs. Once her legs were free, she figured she could retrieve the knife from the drawer and cut her wrist bindings.
It took twenty minutes to cut through her leg restraints, but only a few minutes to get through the wrist bindings. Just as she finished, she heard a sound from near the wheelhouse. She glanced at the clock on the wall and was shaken to realize that the boatman had already returned. She found the biggest knife in the drawer and waited to stab the boatmen when he entered the room. She crouched behind the door and waited…and waited. He did not appear. She could hear him upstairs and wondered why he did not check on her. She thought perhaps he wanted to fuel the boat first and get underway before coming below. Then she had the thought it was not him, but Cham people stealing the boat. However, the engine never started. Then a bolt of terror shot through her, buckling her knees as she thought it could be Colonel Cin.
An hour more passed as people continued to make noise on the deck She wondered why they had not started the boat or ventured below deck. Were they waiting to ambush the boatman? The clatter stopped for a short time then began again, though she did not hear any sounds in the wheelhouse. Perplexed, she wondered what was happening.
She swallowed hard, said a small prayer, slowly opened the compartment door, tip-toed down the hall, and silently went up into the wheelhouse to see what was happening. Crawling quietly to the nearest window, she peered toward the bow and saw shadows moving, but could not discern who they were. She crept to the other side and there found a pistol next to a switch that turned on the outside flood lamp. She cocked the pistol and decided to flip on the deck light and fire the gun to scare the people off. She just hoped they had no weapons to return fire.
She crouched down, counted to three, and flipped the switch; the wheelhouse roof light flooded the deck. When she stood, looking back at her was nearly thirty monkeys. Something higher caught her eye. Hanging in the trees near the boat, were over a hundred sets of eyes staring back at the wheelhouse. There were monkeys everywhere.
My Ling knew these to be spectacled langurs, so called because they appeared to be wearing glasses. They traveled in large bands and were territorial by nature. She was going to run them off, but decided to let the boatman do that when he returned. After chasing them away, she reasoned he would be easier to deal with because he would be tired. She turned off the light and left the monkeys to their business. She went back downstairs, and crouched behind the door holding the cocked gun, waiting.
Hours passed before she heard the cans of fuel drop on the deck. He yelled at the monkeys who screamed back at him. He chased them around the deck and they scampered about, but would not leave. They jumped to another level of the boat, leapt over him, or ran through his legs. He fell down and they jumped on and off his body. The male juveniles pelted him with objects from the trees. Eventually he was able to force them off the boat.
My Ling heard the cap being unscrewed from the fuel pipe and the sloshing sound as the tanks filled. There was a momentary silence, then the wheelhouse door opened and his footfalls came to her compartment. He was cursing the monkeys when he opened the door, turned on the light, and did not see her. He walked across the room to check a pile of furniture My Ling had stacked. While his back was turned, My Ling kicked the door closed. He turned around to see her holding a revolver with both hands.
“We’re going back for the girls,” My Ling ordered.
“You better be careful with that gun, little girl,” the boat man sneered as he stared at the barrel. “You need to give me that before you hurt someone.”
She fired a round over his head. The sound inside the compartment was deafening.
“My father taught me how to shoot and load guns and I already killed a man in Phnom Penh. I’m getting the girls,” My Ling warned.
The boatman remembered Mr. Pok’s chilling tale of the beating of the teenage gunman.
“I want you to go out on the deck,” My Ling ordered.
She opened the door, let him pass and followed him out to the deck.
“I want you to unload that tool box,” she ordered.
In front of the wheelhouse was a three foot tall box. When he was done she ordered him into it.
“It’s too small for me,” he complained.
“I’m going to shoot you,” she threatened.
“No! No! I’ll get in,” the boatman pleaded.
He got in the box, My Ling slammed the lid and secured the hasp.
From the box, “Do you even know how to maneuver this boat?”
“I watched you and Mr. Pok every time I was in the wheelhouse,” My Ling replied. She turned around and saw the monkeys watching her from every limb of the overhanging trees.
She started the engine, keeping it in neutral as she set about untying the mooring ropes, hoping the monkeys would not attack. In the wheelhouse, she quickly grabbed a box to stand on, shifted into reverse and slowly backed out of the cove. She headed out to the main channel and back up the Tonle San.
The boat handled differently without the weight of the van. It sat higher in the water, was faster, and more responsive. She was halfway to Mr. Pok’s, when she realized she was very tired. She began looking for coves or tributaries so she could pull in and sleep. Just north of Tak Mak, she found a small river with steep rock walls. She motored up next to exposed roots and tied onto them. When she cut the motor, she heard the rumble of other engines out in the Tonle San. From the shelter of the small depression, she saw three rubber rafts speeding down river. They were filled with men holding AK47s. She exhaled knowing that had she been on the Tonle San, they would most likely have boarded the boat and killed her. She stepped out of the wheelhouse and went to the toolbox.
“I just saved your life,” she boasted. “Three boats just passed and did not see us.”
“I need to go to the bathroom,” the boatman urged.
“I’m not letting you out. Go to sleep,” My Ling ordered.
“You want me to piss in here?” he asked.
“I’m going to shoot you,” she threatened.
“No! No!” he begged.
She giggled to herself, looked at her surroundings and a chill went through her. On every tree limb, as far as the eye could see were monkeys. She had never seen so many of them. If there were hundreds at the last cove, she thought, this had to be thousands. She warily backed into the wheelhouse and lay down. After an hour of trying, though not succeeding, to sleep she heard a brushing against the window. She quickly cocked the gun thinking the boatman was out of the toolbox. She looked at the windows but did not see him. She slowly stood to locate him only to find the deck of the boat covered with monkeys. She slumped back down and hoped they would not break into the wheelhouse. Her anxiety was overcome by weariness and she drifted off to sleep.
She did not know how much time had passed when she awakened, but it was dark when she was startled by the sound of splintering wood. She reached for the gun, just as she saw the boatman stand up from the tool box. He had gotten onto his back and kicked open the lid. He ran around to the side of the wheelhouse kicking monkeys out of the way until he stood in the doorway.
“I shit myself,” he yelled. “I’m not going back in that box.”
My Ling shot him. He staggered backwards, tripped over monkeys and fell on top of some of them. It was like a signal had gone off; when the man fell. Monkeys descended out of the trees and swarm
ed onto the deck. They started ripping at whatever there was, including the wounded boatman. The shrieking frenzy that ensued was unlike anything My Ling had ever witnessed. She feared if she did not motor out of the cove, the monkeys would eventually break through the glass. She quickly started the engine and slammed it into reverse which scattered some of the monkey, but the boat stopped because of the tie-offs. She revved the engine but to no avail, and when the monkeys saw the boat stuck, more dropped out of the trees. The boat was laden with so many monkeys, she wondered if it would sink under their weight. She looked around the wheelhouse for something that would scare them off and brushed up against the light switch that flooded the deck with light. She then stuck the barrel of the gun through a vent and fired. Between the gun blast and the flood light, the monkeys fled the boat. Before they could return, she quickly ran outside and untied the ropes.
She traveled a mile up the river and parked in another inlet, then turned off the motor, dropped an anchor and waited. She feared she may have drawn unwanted attention from any patrol boats in the vicinity. She sat in silence and waited; when no one appeared, she went out to the deck and rolled the boatman’s mutilated body into the river. She looked in the revolver’s chambers and saw four bullets. She went below and searched all the drawers until she found a box of rounds.
“Good,” she whispered. She saw the violin in the corner and wanted to play it, but knew the sound could create problems. She looked at the gun in her hand and the violin in the corner and thought how much she had changed in the last two months. When she would finally tell this story to her father, she thought, it would be difficult for him to believe. She whispered to herself, “Fellow girl.”
The thought of the girls made her wonder how she would get them away from Mr. Pok. Maybe if she just started firing randomly once she got to his place, everyone would run and she could simply grab the girls and head back to the boat. Or maybe she could sneak in and get the attention of one of them and then round up the others and leave. While she was thinking of this she caught a whiff of her clothes and decided to find something else into which she could change. She went below, rummaged around, and found a man’s shirt and pants. She cut the legs off the pants and tied the shirt into a knot around her waist. A piece of rope, cut down to size, was fashioned into a belt. She bunched the pants with the rope and dropped on the floor the clothes she had been wearing since the helicopter. She heard a metallic sound when her shirt hit the floor and realized she had left the sailor’s identification metals in the pocket. She put them in her new shirt and headed upstairs.
My Ling started the engine, rolled up the anchor, and standing on her box at the wheel, steered the boat around and went back to the Tonle San. She entered the main channel and headed north.
Two hours later she arrived at the dock where the van had been off loaded. She turned off the engine and let the boat drift into the dock. She opened the box of bullets, put a few rounds in her shirt, more in her pants, jumped to the pier, and ran up the hill.
A dirt path guided her into the jungle where half an hour later she came upon thatched-roof huts that surrounded a house with bushes growing all around it. She crouched near a large animal pen attempting to see in the windows of the house. She looked in the pen to see what kind of animal was caged and jumped back when she saw a fully-grown sleeping tiger. My Ling crept to some bushes on the side of the house near another pen. She looked in the window and saw Mr. Pok talking to a woman. She wondered where the girls were and how she would find them without getting caught. While My Ling pondered strategy, a caged animal came up behind and roared directly in her ear. It was another four hundred pound Bengal tiger. The roar of the cat started a chorus of roars throughout the compound. She looked around and counted nine large tigers. Tigers normally roar at night and these cats kept it up for hours. My Ling stuck the gun in her pants, covered her ears, and crouched by a tree waiting for the roars to stop.
After the tigers went to sleep, the night quieted and My Ling was able to creep close to a window and listen to Mr. Pok argue with the woman. My Ling surmised the woman was Vietnamese because she understood them.
“Don’t yell at me. You don’t know what it’s been like around here,” the woman complained.
“It could NOT have been worse than what I just came through,” Mr. Pok challenged.
“Did Colonel Cin and his men raid you?” the woman shot back.
“He was here?” Mr. Pok was surprised. “What happened? Did you follow the drill?”
“Yes, we hid the cats and the drugs when word came that he had crossed the border and was coming this way. We had about a day to stash everything, but moving those cats is no easy job,” she complained. “He was on a horse and had a couple of hundred people. He was here for two days and left a week ago. He’s very mean-looking”
“One of the girls on the river saw him going north,” Mr. Pok said.
“He’s going to find out it’s not any better here than in Vietnam,” the woman continued. “He was a pain, but when we heard the Khmer Rouge were coming, we all hid. They swept through but there weren’t many of them. I can’t keep this up,” said the woman.
“Don’t go Vietnamese on me,” Mr. Pok sarcastically demanded which promptly started the woman crying.
“You’ve never understood me -,” she was interrupted by Mr. Pok.
“Here we go,” Mr. Pok added derisively. “I know: your parents were royalty, everything was stolen, they’re in Thailand, you hate monkeys, you miss your sister and now you’re addicted to heroin. I’ve heard it a million times. Here,” he handed her a package of heroin he brought from the coast. “This stuff will hold you a few months. Fix yourself, you’ll feel better. I’m going to bed.”
“You don’t understand me,” the woman cried.
Mr. Pok rolled his eyes and on the way upstairs said to himself, “The problem is I do.”
“I heard that,” she shouted The woman ripped open the bag, sat in a chair next to an end table, pulled out a syringe, a long piece of cloth, a spoon, and a lighter. She broke off a few granules from the package into the spoon, lit the lighter and cooked the substance. She laid the spoon down, quickly tied off her upper arm, drew the melted substance into the syringe, and plunged the needle into her anticubital fosse. She loosened the cloth, reclined in the chair, and passed out with the syringe dangling from her arm. My Ling almost vomited.
My Ling searched around trying to figure out how she was going to find the girls and get them down to the boat. She sat under a banana tree and decided to wait for one of the girls to appear and quietly get her attention.
As the morning sun rose, a rooster crowed and My Ling heard Mr. Pok upstairs yelling for someone to get out of bed. She heard footsteps and then out into the yard holding a bucket, walked Huyen. My Ling tried to get her attention, but Huyen did not see her. Huyen walked over to a barrel, scooped seed into the bucket, entered a pen and spread it around for chickens. She retrieved eggs, closed the pen gate, and was walking back toward the main house, when she heard a hiss and stopped to look around. She saw My Ling waving and with trepidation walked up to her.
“I thought you left?” Huyen asked.
“No, I was kidnapped by the boatman. Mr. Pok promised him that I would go with him if he took us all up here. I did not know until we got here,” she explained. “I came back for you.”
“It’s a trick. You’re going to keep us and hurt us,” Huyen stated flatly.
“No, Huyen, we’re going back to Vietnam. I came back to get you, Dao, and Di.u. I had to kill the boatman; I have his boat.”
Huyen looked at her for an extended time, shuffled her feet, and kicked at the dirt.
My Ling smiled broadly and asked, “Aren’t you glad to see me? We can leave,”
Huyen looked at the dirt she was kicking, then up at My Ling, and with a very small smile said, “I guess so.”
“Where are the girls?” My Ling asked.
“They’re upstairs,” Huyen offered.
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“Bring them here and we’ll go to the boat. Hurry,” My Ling pressed.
“You promise you’re not going to hurt us,” Huyen exacted.
“Of course I’m not going to hurt you,” My Ling replied.
“Okay, I’ll get the girls. Wait here.” Huyen said, slowly turning and walking into the house. My Ling thought where else is she going to wait. If they ran the tree line, it would be enough of a head start to make the boat. About ten minutes had passed before she heard the screen door open and close. Huyen approached with a smile. My Ling had never seen her smile like this.
“Where are the girls?” My Ling whispered.
Huyen twisted slightly side-to-side as her smile grew. My Ling saw she was looking behind My Ling and guessed that the girls were standing behind her. She turned to hug them, but instead met Mr. Pok holding a rifle inches from her face. Mr. Pok reached into her waistband and relieved My Ling of the pistol.
“I told you she had a gun. She was going to kill you and take us,” Huyen said with a triumphant grin.
“Get up and go in there,” Mr. Pok ordered pointing to an empty pen. My Ling walked into the pen and Mr. Pok paddle locked it.
“You are a dangerous girl,” Mr. Pok accused My Ling. “Did you really kill the guy?”
My Ling was dispirited and broken. She risked her life to return for the girls and Huyen betrayed her. With tears brimming, she looked at a fully smiling Huyen, still twisting. My Ling could not respond to Mr. Pok’s question, she just hung her head and sat in a corner of the pen; a pen that would be her home for the next year.
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CHAPTER V
Huyen became the keeper of Bi’ch (Jade), the woman in the house who was the Vietnamese wife of Mr. Pok. Huyen instantly bonded with the desperately dysfunctional Bi’ch, because she instinctively knew what she needed. She adopted Bi’ch as her surrogate mother. She learned quickly how to fill a syringe with heroin and fix Bi’ch. Once the heroin took effect, Huyen sat and stroked Bi’ch’s hair the same way she had stroked her mother’s. Bi’ch became dependent upon her, a responsibility Mr. Pok was only too happy to hand off. Huyen quickly became the daughter Bi’ch had always desired and that position held Huyen in lofty sway, allowing her to lord over My Ling and the sisters.