by Nick Carter
We reached the Mekong River late in the afternoon. I could hear it for a long time before we reached it. The trail made a slight turn in the jungle, the surface of it softened to a weedy sand, ahead grew a clump of thick vines, and on the other side stretched the river. Where we stood it ran deep and quick, looking like a wide ribbon of green canvas. Because of the depth and width at this point it gave a sense of hidden power.
Sariki suddenly got very talky.
"We cannot cross here," she said louder than I had ever heard her. "We must find a shallow place, and we must cross after dark." Her pert nose was wrinkled. She looked up and down the river.
"Why?" I shouted. "We can drift with the current. We can go in together and hang on to one another. If we have to, we can take a log or some wood to float on. Why do we have to wait until dark?"
"The river is patrolled. It will be less dangerous at night. In the daytime the river is used by the Vietcong. It is patrolled both day and night by American boats and helicopters. They shoot anything that moves."
"Wonderful," I said without feeling.
She led the way downriver, staying close enough in the jungle so that we couldn't be seen by snipers on the water.
I followed her closely, noticing that the tight little bun on the back of her head was coming loose. It bobbed with each step she took and spidery wisps of it were sticking to her moist neck. It was a nice neck, kind of long and smooth. I knew that unless something in our relationship changed, or we reached our destination quickly, I was going to have problems.
Walking behind her that way I caught myself looking for things. The way portions of the peasant pants pulled tight when she took those long steps. The way the blue blouse clung across her breasts. I was very physically aware of her. She was too easy to look at and too close too often.
We walked along a set of rapids, the white water swirling and boiling around boulders, with sharp jagged rocks just under the surface. I thought about jumping from boulder to boulder, but there was one place where I would have had to be able to leap tall buildings in a single bound. Sariki kept going. I kept following and watching.
Above the rapids we came to a section of swift, shallow water. The current was so quick it looked dangerous, but the water looked less than waist high. Sariki studied it, looked upriver, then downriver. With each gesture the bun loosened more and more. To keep from thinking about her I checked out a shallow spot myself. There were enough rocks to hang onto so you could keep from being swept away. I thought we should try it.
"When it is dark," Sariki said. "It is much too dangerous in daylight."
We eased out of our packs and sat on rocks along the bank. Sariki looked across the river to the other side.
"Why did you leave?" I asked.
Her head twirled around to me. It was just enough to almost break the bun loose, but not quite. She looked at me as though I had been invading her thoughts. "Leave where?"
"That village in Northwest Cambodia, the one where your two brothers and cousin live."
She looked away from me. I could see the hard set of her jaw arching to the pointy chin. The skin of her cheek looked so smooth it seemed to be stretched. But she did not answer me. I realized I had not once seen her smile.
It was about an hour or two before dark. I leaned against the pack and lit a cigarette. "Sariki," I said, "you and I have been traveling together for one full night and almost one full day. In that time I could count the total number of words you've said to me on my fingers and not use both hands. Maybe the fact that I'm an American offends you. Maybe you think I'm beneath you in stature, you being a chief's daughter and all. Maybe you think I planted that dagger in Nam Kien's chest." She was looking at me now but with no expression in her eyes. But at least I had her attention.
"If that's what you think, you couldn't be more wrong. I know you told me not to talk about it, but if you think Nam Kien and I were enemies you are mistaken. We were almost hit in one village by a group of North Vietnamese teenagers. We got away and hid while they passed us. The next village was wiped out by them, and in the one after that, they were waiting for us. It was a trap. I killed six of them. Somehow they'd picked up an older one, a leader, I guess. The seventh was killed by Nam Kien, but not before he had plunged that dagger in Nam Kien's chest. He told me to take him to your village. That's what I did. I was with him when he died."
"You are an American agent seeking out the Society."
"Is that why you're so indifferent toward me? Because I'm an American? I mean I've traveled alone before, but I didn't leave four footprints, and I wasn't made to believe I was just taking up space."
"It is my way. I am sorry."
"Okay," I said. "If that's how you are, then all I can do is feel sorry for you. You're a sad girl, and you leave sadness in your wake."
"Please!" She turned her head away from me.
"Then it isn't your way. There's a reason why you act like this. Have I said it, or is it something I haven't touched on yet? You don't strike me as the kind of girl who thrives on a caste system or snob appeal. But I don't know. I don't know you. We could go on like this for months, and I still wouldn't know you."
"It is the war," she said.
"No, that's too general. What part of the war? Have you been touched personally? I mean besides Nam Kien. Was your village blown up or your family killed?"
"Enough!" She jumped to her feet and walked far enough upriver so that I couldn't see her.
I tossed my cigarette in the river with disgust. Shadows were long, stretching halfway across the water. I watched the river swiftness and tried to think out the puzzle that was Sariki. It was possible she knew something about the Society she wasn't telling me. Three things about her stood out in my mind: What was her relationship with Nam Kien? Why did she have one of the Society's Silver Snake Daggers? Who did she get it from? Maybe she was actually a member of the Society itself.
She came back slowly. A typical female would have been pouting. But not Sariki. She had used the time away from the questions to fix her bun. She watched me closely as she approached in the fading sunlight. The expression on her face looked thoughtful, as though she wanted to say something. She sat next to me.
"You are beautiful, as all American men are supposed to be beautiful," she said. "You are strong and healthy to look at. And you say I am indifferent. It is true, but I wonder how open and friendly you Americans would be if your country were overrun by opposing attacking invaders."
* * *
We started across the river one hour after sunset. The extra hour was to give the twilight time to darken completely.
Holding our packs high, we stepped into the water, Sariki in the lead and me right behind. Surprisingly, the current was much stronger than it looked. The dark water pulled at my legs and ankles, and I had to hang onto the rocks tightly. Sariki was having trouble. Her legs kept sliding from under her, and when she tried gripping the rocks, her fingers slipped over the edge. I moved in a high-step splash to her side and offered my hand. She gave me a look of proud defiance and refused my hand.
The hell with her, I thought. I shouldn't have let her take over Nam Kien's job. I should have gone back and tried to get another guide.
As we reached the halfway point across the river the water grew colder and deeper. Sariki had her head bent back, thin arms grabbing for each rock she came to, pack held high above her. As a chief's daughter maybe she thought she had powers beyond other human girls. But her powers weren't going to help her if the current got any stronger.
We were past the halfway mark now. The river didn't get any deeper, and it hadn't started to shallow again yet. Because my legs were stronger, I was pulling up on Sariki. It was easy to tell myself I didn't give a damn if she went zipping along the rapids, but the fact remained that she knew the way to the village. I didn't. If she wanted to be proud and stupid that was her business. The water started to shallow now. Then I heard something else beside the hiss of swirling water.
&nbs
p; At first it sounded far away. Sariki and I both froze where we stood. There was a little moon glimmering on the water. I could see upriver and wondered if it was a boat. There was enough space between the rocks for a boat to pass, and although the rapids farther down were swift and rocky, a good boatman could maneuver them. Then when I heard the wup-wup-wup sound I knew what it was. I pushed Sariki.
"Hurry to the bank!" I shouted.
Sariki struck out quickly, half-swimming, half-jumping from the rocks. I stayed right behind her. Then I thought it would be better if I got in front of her. I could hurry to the bank, unload my pack, then help her. I cut out at an angle as the slapping water sounds grew louder. But I still could hear the powerful purr of the unmuffled engine. It was coming from upriver, and it was getting closer.
I was moving slightly downriver from Sariki, letting the current help me along. I swung between the rocks like Tarzan going through the trees. I was slightly more clumsy though. In the darkness, I could make out the shadowy bank right in front of me. The river bottom didn't ease up, and the bank looked high, muddy and grassy.
Then the engine sound was so loud it sounded as though it was right on top of us. I saw the powerful light first. The helicopter was tracing the river. The copter rounded the curve upriver and passed lazily back and forth across the river as it came toward us. I couldn't see any guns, but I knew they were there. Sariki was about ten feet from me, and I still had a good five feet to reach the bank. The copter dropped altitude, and its large egg-beater blade churned up the water under it. It hovered, moving slowly. I bent backward with the pack, heaved it forward, then grunted with satisfaction as I heard it thump on the bank. Then I bent slightly and made a dive for the bank. The current took me down another 15 feet before I found a vine to grab. I pulled myself up the muddy steepness.
The copter passed over us and continued slowly on. In the shine of moon and reflection from the spotlight on the water, I could see the American insignia on it. Then it made a lazy circle. I was moving upriver along the bank, pushing my way through thick greenery. The copter came back faster. Leaves slapped against my face, my soggy pants almost tripped me.
In the brightness of the spotlight I could see Sariki. The bun of her hair had come completely loose and her hair fanned out on the water like dark moss.
The copter was zooming back now just a few feet above the water. Suddenly, there was a loud crackling and spurts of fire spit from somewhere along the bottom of the copter. The line of fire had splattered a row of water less than three feet from Sariki. Her hands slipped from the rock. The current took her to another and she tried to grab it. Again she missed. The copter had flown almost to the curve again. It made a roller-coaster dip and climb, then peeled back for another pass. It was going much faster now. Again fire spit from the big guns, and shells hit the water. Sariki was almost alongside me now. I was ready to jump in and grab her. But the current took a swift turn. Sariki was swept out toward the center of the river and down toward the rapids.
I couldn't see her. In the dim moonlight I watched the section of current that had taken her and saw which rocks it circled and on which side of the river it would reach the rapids. It stayed to the center most of the way. Then it seemed to move in two small whirlpools to the opposite bank. I felt a sense of hopeless despair. There was no way I could get across in time. And then I saw Sariki.
I had reached the rapids, and she had pushed out of the current that swept her. She had been swimming at an angle toward the bank. An undertow hadn't sucked her under; her head hadn't struck any rocks. But she was tired. Her strokes looked like a baby in its bath; the arms came up and swung down but without strength.
I was leaping over vines and bulling my way through thick leaves as I ran to her. She was beginning to hit the rapids, and part of her fatigue was caused by the fact that she was fighting the current. She wasn't making any progress, but at least she wasn't drifting. It gave me enough time to get in front of her. I was halfway down the rapids when she came over a little ledge and started twisting and turning. Her pack had already passed me. I knew this was going to be a one-shot deal. I wished there were more light.
I left the bank in a leap that sent me three feet into a large boulder. I landed on my hands and feet and froze, hanging on. The rock was slippery. River water splashed on my face closing my eyes. Slowly I moved to a standing position on the rock. Sariki wasn't coming toward me. She was closer to the center of the river, moving headfirst, her long dark hair billowing behind her like a waving flag. I had an uncontrollable desire not to take my eyes off her. Maybe that's why people drown while others look on.
I shook my head clear and looked at the area around me. She was coming very fast. Soon she would go on by and then nothing could be done. There was a fairly flat rock five feet out. Without thinking, I jumped for it. The edge of the rock struck my stomach. The wind was knocked out of me. The current was tugging at my legs, pulling me off the rock. I started clawing with my fingernails. The water seemed icy, colder than anything I had felt. I got my elbows on the rock and hoisted myself up. Sariki was coming by on the other side.
Her hand was held out to me. I reached for it and the current pulled her away from me. My hand hit the water, grasping at anything. I felt spidery strands of hair, then a thick richness of it. I gathered a handful of it, wrapped it once around my wrist and leaned back, pulling. I felt the drag of her body against the current. I kept pulling until I was at the opposite end of the rock. Her head was close now. I reached down, felt her back, got a hand under her arms and pulled her onto the rock with me.
* * *
Even in the jungle a campfire can lend a cozy warmth. The one I made was smoky because there wasn't much dead wood to find. Along the rapids I managed to find a log or two, which had been waterlogged, then sun-dried. It was a cozy fire.
Sariki's clothes were drying around it. She was wearing my extra change of clothes, which she had insisted on changing into herself. Everything she had was lost when her pack was swept away. That sort of dumped her in my lap and seemed to make her unhappy.
I had carried her back, got a fire going, cooked up a batch of rice and gave her half my dry clothes. She had not uttered one word of thanks. Despite that, I felt good. For the first time since I met her, I felt like I was in charge. She may have known the way to the village, but I had her clothes. Like the Truehart villain, if she didn't play ball my way, I'd make her run around in her altogether.
She sat on a rock in front of the fire, legs together, bottom of my peasant shirt held tightly around her. She seemed awkward, embarrassed. She had taken the rice I cooked and had eaten in silence. Then she just sat there wringing out her long thick hair.
"Well," I said, stretching and yawning, "I guess it's about time to turn in." I knelt in front of her. She looked away.
"Sariki," I said softly, "I don't mind cleaning up the eating mess tonight because you've had a pretty harrowing experience. But from now on I think it's only fair that you pull your own weight. You can take the sleeping mat; I've made a comfortable bed from leaves. But you're not tripping off fifty yards from here to spend the night. If I'm that offensive to you then go ahead by yourself. Just leave my mat, that's all. I've spread it by the fire so you can be nice and warm. I think we'll get started right after sunup, if that's all right with you. If not, I'll be glad to hear any logical reason why not."
I waited. She kept looking at the ground to her right. Her hands were wrapped around her hair like it was some rope she was climbing up on. There was no expression on her face. I smiled at her and lightly kissed her forehead. "No complaints? Good. See you in the morning."
On the other side of the campfire, I stretched out on my bed of green leaves with my hands locked behind my head. Sleep eluded me. It had built so many thoughts — the river, going after Sariki, the helicopter. American. Lovely. I wondered how far we were from our destination. There would be villages in between where Sariki could find clothes and food, and maybe even another pack.
But until then we'd have to live out of mine. She was an ungrateful spoiled brat as far as I was concerned. I toyed with the idea of taking her over my knee. What would be the point of it? No, I'd let her guide me toward the ruins. In that village she spoke of where her brothers and cousin lived, I could either hire another guide or strike out on my own. In any case, I would be done with her. Then my eyes grew heavy. I slept.
* * *
Something awakened me, making me realize I was not alone. I turned to my side and smelled the richness of her hair. My eyes were still closed. I reached out and touched warm smooth flesh. My hand slid down the small of her back, over the firm curve of her smooth fanny, and my eyes opened suddenly.
Sariki was lying next to me on my bed of leaves. Her small naked breasts were pressed firmly into my chest. Her eyes searched my face intently, as though she were looking toward the horizon and trying to pick something out. Her lips parted slightly.
"Sariki," I started, but her hand came to my mouth. It was a slender hand with long slim fingers.
"You have saved my life," she said, and her low voice had a husky tone to it. "It was a brave thing you did. I wish to show you my gratitude."
"I don't want it like this," I said.
"Then take it for whatever reason you wish." Her petal lips pressed against mine, her mouth opened, tongue darting, hands touching, probing.
Then she was over me, raised slightly so just the nipples of her breasts brushed the hair on my chest. Her moist lips found my cheeks, my ears, my throat. I rolled back to my side again and tried weakly to push her away. My heart wasn't in it, and she knew it. I kept telling myself I didn't want it out of gratitude, but because of mutual need, a physical awareness of each other — man and woman — was basic.
My hand found the gelatin softness of her breasts. She guided the nipple to my lips. My hands moved lightly along her back; I pulled her down beside me, then raised on one elbow.