by Larry Bond
“Not very.”
“I don’t see a rail.”
“Are you kidding?” answered Christian. “The Vietnamese don’t put guardrails on their roads. They don’t even pave half of them.”
“Go wade out and see how deep it is.”
“Why?”
“Because it looks like we’re going to get washed away.”
Christian grabbed the door handle, pulling it sharply and snapping the door open so hard it flew back and hit his leg. He cursed, then stepped out into the rain. Zeus watched as he walked ahead of the van into the water.
He was right. It barely came to his ankles. Zeus started ahead.
“Satisfied?” said Christian, pulling himself inside as Zeus reached him.
“I just wanted to see you wet.”
No sooner had Zeus said that than the water seemed to pick the van up. It moved sideways, drifting with the swollen creek before the wheels caught again at the side of the overpass. Slipping on an angle, nose pointing nearly thirty degrees away from the road, the van lurched and skidded forward, out of the rain.
“So maybe I didn’t walk out far enough,” said Christian when they reached the other side. “Sue me.”
The rain began to slow as Zeus continued passing down the mountain. They slipped across 151, then headed toward the unnumbered road that followed Ngòi Bo, a narrow river that cut across the province’s central plain. They passed through two villages. Neither had any lights on, and it was impossible to tell if there were even people in the houses or not.
“We turn left at that intersection,” said Christian as the road appeared on the left. “We’re halfway there.”
As Zeus started to slow down, he spotted a canvas-topped jeep on the other side of the highway. Two soldiers in rain gear were standing near it, guns under their plastic ponchos.
“Poor slobs,” muttered Christian.
One of the men put his hand up, signaling that they should stop. Zeus started to pump the brakes, but as soon as his foot touched the pedal the rear end of the van began to skid to the right. He backed off the brake and started to steer into the skid, but the angle increased.
“Shit!” he yelled, yanking at the wheel desperately. The van pulled back suddenly, weaving the other way.
One of the soldiers leveled his gun. Zeus tried correcting but the van whipped out of his control. The man fired, riddling the back of the truck with bullets. Then he tried jumping out of the way, but he was too late; the rear end of the truck whipped into him, pinning him against the front of the other vehicle. As they rebounded off, Zeus got the van facing back in the right direction on the road. As he started to jump out to see if the man was all right, bullets crashed through the windshield. He leapt onto the ground, rolling on the wet pavement.
“Don’t shoot us. We’re American!” he yelled, scrambling to his feet. He ran around the side of the van, unholstering his gun. “Stop!” he yelled, turning the corner.
The soldier he’d hit lay crumpled at the foot of the damaged truck. The gunfire was coming from the rear of the truck.
“Zeus!” yelled Christian from inside the van.
“Stay down!”
“No shit — I’m coming out your side. I’ll cover you from the front.”
“Come on then.”
The soldier who was firing at them sent another burst into their windshield, taking out the rest of the glass. Zeus fired a warning shot, then yelled again.
“Stop!” he shouted.
The soldier came around the front of the truck, leveling his rifle at Zeus. Something automatic took over. Zeus squeezed off two shots, striking the man in the head. The soldier stood dead still for a moment, then teetered backward, falling back behind the truck.
Zeus ran to the first man, who’d been hit by the truck. He was still breathing.
“I’m sorry,” Zeus told him.
He pulled at the raincoat, which was bunched up around his neck, trying to make him more comfortable. As the top fell open, he saw the man was wearing a uniform different from the ones the soldiers in Hanoi had been wearing.
Very different. It was Chinese.
So was the truck.
“What’s going on?” asked Christian, running over.
“These guys are Chinese,” said Zeus. “They must be scouting.”
“This is a troop truck. Where are the rest of them?”
“They must be along the road somewhere.”
“We’d better disable the truck,” said Christian. “Then get the hell out of here.”
He started to pull the hood open. Zeus stopped him.
“Let’s take it.”
“We have the van.”
“The van is beat to crap. This is better. It’s bigger, and probably has six-wheel drive. We can get through the rain a hell of a lot easier.”
“I don’t know.” Christian looked at it doubtfully. “It’s Chinese.”
“So is half the stuff you buy in America.”
Zeus pulled open the door. The cab of the truck, a two-year-old six-by-six Dongfeng transport, was almost identical to those of the German NATO trucks Zeus had been in. It had a diesel engine mounted under the cab, with a five-speed transmission.
He pushed the Start button. It rumbled to life.
“Coming?” he yelled, rolling down the window.
“Go!” yelled Christian, jumping onto the side of the cab. There was no running board; he gripped the rail with his right hand and pushed his legs against the door, hanging off as if he were a monkey.
A bullet slammed into the top of the cab. Zeus struggled to get the truck into reverse. They lurched backward, then stalled.
“Shit!” yelled Christian, raising his rifle and returning fire over the top of the cab.
Zeus hit the starter and the truck grumbled back to life. He overrevved it, spinning and kicking mud as he backed up toward the road. He threw the clutch in, jerked the tranny into first, then overrevved it again. The truck lurched and moved forward very s-l-o-w-l-y.
Low gear was very, very low.
“Get us the hell out of here!” screamed Christian, ducking as fresh bullets hit the vehicle, spitting through the canvas back.
Zeus slammed the shifter into second and then third, grinding the gears. As the truck gained speed, he hit the corner of the van and pushed it out of the way. He continued up the hill, building speed.
“Go! Go! Go!” yelled Christian.
“You think you can do better, come inside and try,” muttered Zeus.
Two Chinese soldiers stood at the side of the road, not sure what was going on. Zeus popped on the headlights and saw them. Stepping on the gas, he swerved to the side as he passed, knocking one over and sending the other running for cover.
He strained so hard to see if he’d gotten him that he nearly ran off the road.
“You’re going to get us killed,” hissed Christian, still hanging on outside.
“Stop whining.”
“Stop so I can get in.”
“Not until we put some distance between them and us.”
“One of these days, Murphy, you’re going to get what’s coming to you.”
“I already have.”
Zeus stopped a half mile down the road. Christian climbed in the cab.
“I know what they’re doing,” Zeus told him. “We blocked them off, so now their flank is vulnerable. They have to come down Route 70, shut off all the little routes west. Their flank is even weaker than I thought. They’re adapting.”
“Wonderful. Can we get the hell out of here?”
Zeus started moving again, this time beginning in second gear rather than first. It didn’t seem to mind.
“The satellites and UAVs probably haven’t seen the advance because of all this rain,” said Zeus. “Call Perry and tell him what’s going on. The Vietnamese may want to pick off some of these units. They should get them now, while they’re still weak.”
“Are you out of your mind? The first thing he’ll do when I tell him
that is ask how I know. We’re not supposed to be here, remember?”
“Call him.”
“No f’in’ way. You call him.”
“Give me the satcom.”
Christian held it out to him. He started to take it, but Christian pulled it back.
“I’ll talk to him. You’re a pain in the ass, Zeus. You’ve always been a pain in the ass.”
Perry took the news calmly — or at least didn’t raise his voice loud enough for Zeus to hear as Christian explained what was going on.
“We’re less than a half hour from the pickup, General. Then we’re on our way back,” he said. “Piece of cake…birthday cake…Yes, sir…Oh, yes, sir…. I will…. No, sir. Absolutely not.”
“Absolutely not what?” Zeus asked when the radio call was over.
“I told him it was a piece of cake.”
“And?”
“He said don’t let the Chinese blow the candles out.”
30
Northern Vietnam
Mara was the first to hear the helicopter, and began shunting the others to the side of the road before its search beam came into view. The light seemed to cut physically into the rain, pushing it aside with a burst of steam that fell back as it flew. The chopper passed over the road very slowly, only a few feet over the treetops, moving so slowly an octogenarian could have kept up.
“I got it,” said one of the SEALs, loading up the grenade launcher on his gun as they crouched a few feet from the roadway.
“No,” said Mara sharply. “If you shoot them down, they’ll know exactly where we are. No way.”
“The spook’s right,” said Kerfer. “Hold your fire. Let them pass.”
They waited as the floodlight approached.
“You sure about this?” whispered Josh, sidling next to Mara. “They found us before.”
“If they were using an infrared system,” she answered, “they can’t right now because of the rain. See how low they are? They’ll pass right by us.”
“Okay.”
The helicopter seemed to pause as it came closer to them. Mara tucked her elbows in against her sides, holding her breath.
The chopper kept moving. No one said anything for a few minutes. Then Kerfer rose and went out into the road.
“It’s heading south,” said the SEAL. “Let’s get moving. Geek boy, you okay with that kid?”
“Fuck yourself,” said Josh.
“Fuck yourself back. Scientists.”
* * *
Josh’s legs ached from his hips to his ankles. He felt as if his bones had been replaced with stiff metal rods, and his muscles were battered rubber bands, overstretched and unable to keep his joints together.
Mạ had grown unbearably heavy. Finally she began to slide down, out of his grip; he leaned forward, barely able to deposit her on the ground before dropping her.
She clung to him, unwilling to walk.
“I can take her,” said one of the SEALs.
Mạ grabbed Josh’s leg more tightly as the SEAL gently touched her shoulder. Josh felt bad for the sailor.
“It’s okay, Mạ,” he told her, dropping down. “We’re all friends, honey.”
She said something in Vietnamese, then buried her head in his leg.
“Her whole village was wiped out by the Chinese,” Josh explained. “I think she’s just afraid of anybody in a uniform.”
“Poor kid. Crap. What bastards.”
“Are you coming with us?” barked Kerfer.
“Man, he’s a jackass,” muttered Josh under his breath. He nudged Mạ, moving his leg to get her to walk with him.
“Ah, his bark’s worse than his bite,” said the SEAL.
“I heard that, Little Joe,” snapped Kerfer. “My bite is worse than my bark. You got that, kid.”
“Bite me,” said Josh.
The SEALs cracked up. Even Kerfer laughed.
“Good one, geek.” He came over and punched Josh’s shoulder, nearly knocking him over. ‘‘Now keep your ass moving. The Commies are still looking for us.”
* * *
“I think I hear the truck,“ said Mara.
The SEALs peeled off to the side, leaving her in the road. Kerfer took her gun and went by the shoulder, kneeling as he aimed his own weapon at the space in front of her.
“Remember to get out of the way if he doesn’t stop,” said the SEAL lieutenant. “Get far away, because we’ll blow the crap out of him.”
“Thanks,” said Mara.
“Don’t mention it.”
Mara turned around. “You okay, Josh? You got the girl?”
“We’re fine.”
The rain was starting to let up. Mara remembered what DeBiase had told her — it would probably end just as the van came.
A pair of lights appeared around the bend. Mara took a breath, trying to relax herself.
It was their ride. Finally.
“Hey,” yelled Kerfer as the truck pulled around the corner. “That’s no van. That’s a Commie troop truck. Look at the lights.”
Mara froze. She didn’t know if Kerfer was right, but it was too late to run anyway.
She put up her hand to signal them.
She’d throw herself to the left, roll in the mud. The SEALs would take care of the truck and whoever was in.
The vehicle wasn’t stopping.
Damn.
The headlights blinded her.
Mara tensed her legs, swinging her hip to the right to act as a counterbalance. The truck began to skid. The tires screeched as they held, lost their grip, then held again. It stopped about six feet from her.
The driver’s-side window rolled down. A man stuck his head out — a big target for the SEALs, Mara hoped.
“Hey!” he yelled. “I hope you’re Mara.”
“I am!”
“I’m Zeus Murphy, U.S. Army. This is Major Christian. Where the hell are your SEALs?”
“Errp, errp,” said Kerfer, stepping from the shadows as his men surrounded the truck, brandishing their weapons. “You’re our ride?”
“You got it.”
“What do you say we get the hell out of here?”
“Fine with me,” answered Zeus. “I have to pay double if it’s not back in Beijing by sunrise.”
31
Northern Vietnam
Jing Yo folded his arms before his chest, watching the road as the helicopter swung through the valley. They’d been searching now for over an hour; clearly, they were not going to find the scientist like this.
The rain was letting up, but without the infrared detection gear, he and whoever was helping him could easily hide in the jungle when the helicopter passed. But searching on the ground would be almost impossible — there was just too much territory to cover.
He was beaten.
“We have thirty more minutes of fuel, Lieutenant,” said the pilot. “What do you want me to do?”
“Keep searching on this road,” said Jing Yo. Reaching for the radio, he called into the division headquarters, looking for the intelligence officer who was acting as a liaison. “Have there been any more transmissions from that satellite phone?”
“No,” said the officer. “We are monitoring.”
“What about other transmissions? American transmissions on their military band?”
“Their radios are very difficult to detect,” said the officer.
Then an idea occurred to Jing Yo, so simple that he wondered why he hadn’t thought of it before.
“The satellite phone that the scientist used — is there a way to get its number?” he asked.
* * *
The more he drove the truck, the more Zeus felt comfortable with it. It wasn’t very fast — the speedometer claimed ninety kilometers per hour, but that was clearly wishful thinking. Still, it was very sure-footed, easily moving through the muddy road and deep puddles along the creek. The rain had almost entirely stopped, but the downpour had flooded the waterway, and it overlapped much of the road. Sections of the highway we
re completely covered by running water, which fought against the wheels as they started up the mountain.
“We’re going to need some way around that intersection where we left the van,” Zeus told Christian. “Find me some little village or something to get through.”
“I’m telling you, there are maybe three roads out that way, and they’re all within one kilometer of each other. The mountains block everything off.”
“Can we go south on 151?”
“You have to go back almost to the van to get there. You want to risk that?”
“It’s either that or we backtrack to the spot where they had that fire-fight,” said Zeus. “You want to do that?”
The SEAL commander had told him everything that had happened. He also assured him that they’d have no trouble rushing past any Chinese soldiers they came across.
Easy for him to say; he was sitting in the back with the others.
“There’s some little village here we might be able to get through,” said Christian. “A couple of klicks from here. Maybe there’s a road through it that isn’t on the map.”
There were plenty of uncharted roads. The problem was, they generally went nowhere, which was why they were uncharted.
“Maybe. We’ll decide when we get there,” said Zeus. “Keep watching.”
* * *
Sitting against the side of the truck, Josh let his body go slack. It was over. He was going home.
It didn’t seem so much like a bad dream as like a piece of his imagination. Time had been balled up incredibly, twisted around.
But it was real. He had the digital camera to prove it.
Josh reached into his pocket and took out the camera. Mara jostled against his side. She’d nodded off practically the moment they’d climbed in. Mạ, who was tucked around him on the other side, had too.
He flipped the switch to play and watched the screen. There was the village; there were the bodies, and the time stamp. It was all evidence.
They might not believe him. They might think he’d made it up. But this was indisputable.
“What are you looking at?” asked one of the SEALs across from him.
“The Chinese destroyed a village. They murdered everyone there. I got a video. Here, take a look.”