The March of the Dragons

by Andrew McAuley

  'Perhaps you’re shy. Nobody wants to be first. Not to worry! We'll station two or three soldiers here at the University along with an administrator. If anyone should want to join- just speak to the administrator.'

  Tuấn bit his lip; feeling a churning weight in his stomach. The Chinese were trying to get business, shops and schools open again. All under the scrutiny of soldiers and commissars. Nowhere was safe.

  The officer picked up his cap. Placing on his head he snapped to attention, saluted the class and marched out followed by his cronies. There was no talking until the ringing of his tacks on the corridor tiles had faded.

  Teacher went to the doorway; checking the corridor was clear then carefully closed the door before returning to the front of the class. Perching on the edge of the desk he sighed.

  'Students,' his voice was gravelly, 'I'm glad none of you chose to join them. I could not stop them from coming. The Chinese are to be resisted, but we must choose our battles. Comply when there's no choice. Defy only when you can.'

  With that instruction, teacher began the lesson as if nothing had changed. He asked questions of the students, when nobody gave the answer he gave it himself. The sound of his voice and the squeak of his marker pen on the whiteboard faded from Tuấn's consciousness.

  At the end of the lesson Tuấn wasn't sure what had been taught. His notebook and pen remained undisturbed in his satchel. The class was dismissed. Rubber pins on the bottom of the chairs made their rude sound against the floor tiles as students got up to leave. He remained seated. One other student remained too. Phượng smiled at him. He smiled back.

  Phượng

  15th March, 11:30am

  Phượng watched the last students file out of the classroom. They passed teacher who held the door open. Vân hovered by the doorway. Phượng waved her away.

  Teacher peered into the corridor; making sure nobody was loitering before returning to his desk. Perching on its edge he waved his two students to come closer.

  'Have you both assembled your people?'

  They nodded yes.

  'Good. What is your state of readiness?'

  Phượng and Tuấn exchanged a sideways glance. Tuấn hummed; searching for an answer. Teacher scrutinized him over the rim of his glasses.

  'Sir, the curfew and army patrols have made it difficult.'

  Phượng mumbled her agreement.

  Teacher nodded. Rubbing his hands together as if he warming them. His forehead creased as his stared at his hands. 'Miss Phượng, what is your readiness?'

  'Teacher, I have my group. But... we, uh... have no weapons. No supplies. I promised I could arm them.' She felt her cheeks flush. Maybe they should have done more. She wondered if this was how malingerers felt when scolded. She had never been in trouble.

  Teacher paced around his desk. Picking up a pen he scribbled frantically onto a sheet of notepaper. Once finished he handed it to Phượng. It showed an address in Phu Nhuan district.

  'Memorise, and return the paper before you leave the room. Both of you go to the address half an hour after close of school. Don't tell anyone.'

  Teacher's stare bored into her. She nodded; careful not to break eye contact before he did lest he doubt her resolve. He then turned the same hard stare on Tuấn. She read the address three times; 47/1 Phung Van Cung. It was about fifteen minutes’ drive under normal conditions. It would be easy to get there and back before curfew.

  'Who should we ask for?' Tuấn said.

  'It will be clear when you arrive. Can everyone in your cell use firearms?'

  Both students shook their heads no.

  Teacher sighed. His gaze drifted to the far wall of the room. He rubbed his chin.

  'We need to act soon,' he whispered 'you have two days. Use this time wisely.'

  'What happens in two days?' Tuấn said.

  'That detail will be cascaded to you later.'

  Tuấn nodded. They were being told to act, but there was still no direction. If Tuấn had any doubts he didn't show it. His hair was different today; he'd back-combed it or something. It went well with his prominent cheekbones, straight nose and thin lips. Even with his thick rimmed glasses he looked masculine. Why didn't he use contact lenses?

  'Are you both up to the task? If not, now's the time to say so.' Teacher's frown tore her from her reverie. Had he noticed her wandering attention? She wound a lock of her hair around her finger. She'd already gone too far to go back. She wasn't going to tell Huy she was calling the whole thing off. He wouldn't let her off that easily. The only way was forward. She nodded yes.

  'Sir, I'm ready!' Tuấn said, standing to attention. 'My cell will be ready in two days.'

  'Stay away from school tomorrow. Stay with your cells. Ensure they are ready.'

  'Ready for what?' Phượng blurted, 'how can we get ready?'

  Teacher looked down on her with the same withering stare with which he scrutinized wayward students. 'Be ready to commit yourselves unquestioningly. Specifics will be given when you arrive at that address. Is this beyond your capability, Miss Phượng? Tell me now, truly.'

  Phượng clenched her fists so that her nails dug into her palms. She was so stupid. Now both teacher and Tuấn would doubt her. If she showed such weakness with her cell, Huy and Vân would depose or desert her. 'I'm sorry, teacher. We'll be ready. I just meant... it’s hard to prepare for the unknown.'

  'Everything is unknown, Miss Phượng. Be vigilant. Be confident. Be ready. That will be your slogan.'

  Phượng nodded, but felt a growing weight in her stomach. She'd hoped teacher would spell everything out. She was more in the dark now than before.

  'Don't wait after class anymore. It's suspicious.' teacher picked up two sheets of paper from his desk. 'Write down the addresses at which you can be reached.'

  She wrote Huy's address. She tried to glance at what Tuấn wrote but he shielded it with his hand. Was he still staying with his Gran? Should she even ask?

  'Good,' teacher grunted, 'now go to your next classes. Say I detained you.'

  The students shuffled away. Nearing the door, she turned to see him still perched on his desk watching them.

  'Good luck,' he said.

  Once in the hall she stopped Tuấn with a hand on his arm, but couldn't think of what to say. 'What have we got ourselves into?' wouldn't go down well. Tuấn's tense expression relaxed. He placed his hand on her shoulder. She put her hand on top of his; gripping it tightly she closed her eyes. She felt a smile tug the corners of her mouth.

  'Don't worry. You must be strong,' Tuấn said, 'let’s go to class. You go first. I'll wait a minute to prevent gossip.'

  When he removed his hand, she snatched it, holding it tight. He cocked his head questioningly. With a weak smile, she released him and walked on through the empty hall. She felt he was watching her walk, and took comfort from it. His quiet and serious nature emanated a confidence and assuredness which she desired to achieve. He would always succeed; not through luck, but through careful consideration and planning. His confidence assured her.

  The rest of the school day dragged endlessly. She frequently checked the time. Few students paid attention during lectures; each lost in their own worries. Mr Trinh, their afternoon teacher made little effort. Directing them to read textbooks while he paced the room, peering nervously out the window. Every time there were footfalls in the corridor, students steeled themselves for the appearance of soldiers. Each time the footsteps passed by.

  Eventually the alarm signalled the end of the day. She followed Tuấn. A trickle of subdued students flowed through the corridors in place of the usual scores of chatting and laughing youths. Outside, students gathered under the parking shelter, muttering while watching the soldier at the main entrance with his machine gun. They were afraid to pass him for fear it was some kind of trap; that he'd prevent their leaving. Then one boy then scooted past on his motorbike. When the guard didn't react more students hurriedly left.

  Tuấn and Phượng
drove out together. She couldn’t move her focus from the guard as they approached the gate. His eyes didn't stay on her for a half second. Once in the street they drove side by side; accelerating to the speed limit. There was little traffic, but there was no point giving the Chinese an excuse to stop them. Two streets beyond the university Tuấn slowed; stopping his bike at the side of the road. She pulled in beside him.

  'Teacher said half an hour after school. We’re early,' he said, adjusting the strap on his motorbike cap.

  'What you want to do?'

  'Let’s go to the cafe.'

  Mrs Tam's roadside cafe was just a minute's drive. On approaching it was clear it had been packed up. Mrs Tam presumably fled the city along with the majority of the populace. There were just two vendors on the street selling the last of their stock.

  'I’ll get a bottle of water to share. Wait here,' Tuấn said

  'Okay.' Phượng sat on her bike staring at the pavement where the cafe had been. 'Everything's changing so quickly.' She turned to Tuấn but he'd already driven to the nearest vendor. Her vision blurred. She wiped her eyes with her fingertip. Their whole lives had changed. What right did the Chinese have to do this? She swallowed the lump in her throat. Tears of anger; not sorrow she told herself. She jumped when Tuấn's bike pulled in beside her again.

  ‘So expensive,’ he groaned, ‘two dollars for one bottle. They won’t accept Vietnam Dong.'

  She pulled the peak down on her yellow cap so Tuấn wouldn't notice if her eyes were red. She took the offered bottle. Removing her surgical mask, she took a small sip.

  'They're stupid to sell water,' Tuấn muttered, 'food and water are the commodities in demand. What will they buy with money?'

  'Maybe they're selling it through altruism. To support their country folk.' She took another sip and handed him the bottle.

  'It's not altruism at two dollars,' he scoffed.

  They sat upon their bikes discussing the impact of the Chinese invasion on the economy; the way they might in class. Although it didn't particularly interest her, talking about it in such a normal way somehow helped. She soon found herself smiling as Tuấn criticised global policies and politics.

  'We should get going,' he said finally.

  'Sure.' Phượng pulled her surgical mask over her ears and fastened her helmet strap. Tuấn was still looking at her, his eyebrows raised silently asking if she was okay. She smiled. Although he couldn't see it through the mask the smile must have reached her eyes because he nodded.

  'You lead on, sister. You had the address.'

  They drove side by side. She plotted the route in her mind; there were just a few turns and although there would likely be a roadblock, it felt safer to drive along main routes.

  'Hey, slow down!' Tuấn shouted.

  They were approaching a checkpoint; which as usual consisted of two vehicles and half a dozen soldiers. She knew without looking at the speedometer that they weren't going fast. It might look suspicious to slow down too soon.

  'It's okay. You got your ID, right?'

  'Be careful. They're armed!' Tuấn shouted.

  Not wanting to upset him she slowed. The soldiers watched their approach; one directing them to stop at the side of the road.

  'ID! ID!' a soldier snapped, keeping his machine gun pointed at them while another casually sauntered over and snatched the ID cards.

  She removed her mask. The soldier held the photo ID next to her face; comparing the two before handing the card back. Within a minute they were waved on again. It wasn't a big deal getting stopped, but there was always the worry that one time it may go further than a simple ID check.

  They turned into Phung Van Cung street. She followed the building numbers to their destination; a tile shop. Like many home-made businesses it was open-fronted onto the street. The shop was crammed with boxes and stacks of tiles. Samples of different tiles decorated the walls from floor to ceiling. A middle aged man sat smoking at the rear of the store; watching the students through narrowed eyes. Beside him sat a portable TV blaring traditional Chinese music.

  The students turned off their motorbike engines. The scruffy shopkeeper made no move to get up; continuing to stare at them with a vague expression of distaste. Tuấn kicked out his bike stand, dismounted and removed his cap.

  ‘Is this the right place? A tile shop?’ Tuấn said.

  ‘I guess.’ She shrugged.

  'We were told to come,' Tuấn called out.

  The shopkeeper turned his head towards a door at the rear of the shop. 'Nephew!' he shouted. Exhaling a stream of smoke, he turned his glare back on the students.

  A youth with spikey black hair and a flat nose walked through the doorway with a cocky swagger. Phượng was shocked to see Đức from her class.

  'What the hell are you doing here?' Tuấn demanded.

  'It's my uncle’s shop,' Đức gestured toward the sour man in his chair.

  'Teacher sent us here on an errand,' Tuấn said, his tone cautious.

  'I know. Come out back. Uncle will bring your bikes inside.'

  'You knew we were coming?' Phượng said, wide eyed.

  'I knew someone was coming. You didn't think you're the only students in the resistance, did you?'

  Phượng and Tuấn exchanged looks.

  'Oh, you did?' Đức laughed. His expression then became serious. 'Well, you best damn well not tell anyone about me, or I'll kill you.'

  Not sure how to respond, Phượng followed Tuấn's lead by just nodding.

  'Good! Come on out back!' Đức waved them toward the doorway.

  The room behind the shop was a storage area filled with even more boxes and tiles. Crates and a pair of large bins overflowed with fragments of broken tiles. Đức stopped by a stack of three crates and patted the top one. His wide grin made him look a little crazy.

  'This is what you came for.'

  'What is it?' Phượng felt she already knew the answer.

  Đức picked up a crowbar he'd kept handily beside the crate and prised the lid open; sending it to crashing to the floor. Reaching inside he pulled out clear plastic bags filled with tubes of sealant and passed them to Tuấn. 'Drop these anywhere.' After the sixth bag, he stepped aside. Sweeping his arm in a grand invitation to look into the crate.

  Phượng removed her surgical mask before peering inside. There were the weapons. Đức plucked out a black pistol with a brown grip. Grinning, he held it up for his fellow students to admire. 'There’s eight of these. You get four each.'

  'Where'd you get them?' Phượng gasped.

  'My father's a policeman.' Đức shrugged. 'Before the city fell many officers took it on themselves to requisition the firearms for use in the resistance.'

  'How many bullets are there?' Tuấn said, reaching into the crate. Đức slapped his hand away.

  'No touching! Not until I've talked you through the proper use.'

  'I didn't know you knew about guns,' Phượng said

  'Dad’s a policeman remember? Keep up!' Picking up a magazine, he slid it into the handle of the weapon. He demonstrated how to pull back the top of the gun, which he called the slide; explaining how this primed the weapon.

  'The safety should always be set until you're ready to shoot. When you're ready, flick this... Now it's live. When it's empty the slide will spring back. Slap in the next magazine. Don't forget to put the safety on when you're done.'

  The two students watched wordlessly as Đức twice demonstrated the technique. He then held the pistol grip towards Tuấn. He made him practice the procedure twice before the pistol was passed to Phượng. She fumbled with it; almost dropping it. The gun was much heavier than she expected. One of the boys tutted.

  'Aim it,' Đức ordered.

  It was hard to hold steady with one hand. She clasped both hands around the grip. It felt better, but she wouldn't like to have to hold it steady for a prolonged period.

  'Don't keep your arms straight,' Đức scolded, 'bend a little at the e
lbow or the recoil might break your damn elbows.'

  Đức kicked her feet into what he said was a more appropriate stance, then made her hold her left palm under the butt of the gun; the fingers cupping her right hand. He criticised her for letting the barrel drop, and made her hold it up longer than Tuấn had. Did he think she needed more instruction because she was a girl? She didn't protest. She wanted to get it right.

  'Alright, that'll do,' he said, 'it's about as much as you can learn without shooting. Just be wary of the recoil, and don't be afraid of the noise. Now, you've got two magazines for each weapon.'

  'Is that enough?' Phượng said.

  'Depends how you use it.’

  'Can we get more later?'

  'No. In fact, you're not to come back here again. Ever.'

  'The Chinese have automatic weapons and body armour,' Tuấn said.

  'Yeah...' Đức said with dismissive shrug, 'after you've killed one, take their weapon. They have better weapons.'

  Phượng and Tuấn stood in stunned silence. There was no point protesting to their classmate. He only had the police side arms. They should be grateful for that much she decided.

  'I also have these for you,' Đức removed two envelopes from his pocket, handing one to each of them. 'Don't read them now. Don't discuss them with anyone but your own cells.'

  'Our orders?' Tuấn said, studying his blank envelope.

  'Yeah. Don't worry; I didn't write them.' Đức smirked. 'Follow them to the letter. Burn after memorizing. Action time is eight am. Day after tomorrow.'

  'Are you sure we have the right envelopes?' Phượng said, noting that both were blank.

  'Doesn't matter which of you gets which orders. Just that they're carried out. Now, get your school satchels. If you don't have room in the bags for four guns, throw out your school books.'

  'How many more weapons do you have?' Phượng immediately felt stupid for asking the question.