Post by J.O.N ((Dragonwing)) on Jan 12, 2013 3:26:59 GMT -5
Entry One
Larger and larger vessels had slowly begun to creep down the Saigon River as Vietnam crept out from the shadow of war. It was still not unusual, though, for small fishing ships to float down the twisting, turning river. At night, the water looked as black as ink. Without the courtesy of the moon or stars, a single fishing boat could be lost upon the middle of the water.
It suited the old man’s needs perfectly. He drifted down the river within his tiny ship, watching the forest float past him. There wouldn't be much time left for him until the sun rose into the sky and illuminated his presence to the world. Looking up at the darkness covering him, he guessed he had no more than an hour left.
He tugged at his long, disheveled beard and continued paddling. His arms had been thinned by hunger and disease, and his nails cracked from years of labor and troubles. His wrinkled face was tanned from the sun, his eyes bloodshot from staring into the dark waters for hours on end. Behind him, his back bore many a trophy from the outside world, bought with his tears and his dignity.
Before his feet lay a large bundle of linen cloth, marred by blood and powder. Upon closer inspection, one would figure this to be a young man, wrapped in the funerary shroud customary to his old village. A few childish baubles were stuck here and there amongst the folds, memories of a simpler time. These would go with the body to its final destination.
Sadly gazing at the cadaver, the old man continued to paddle down the great river. Then, he sighed, and peered back out into the darkness. He paddled on. The first shadows of the day were just beginning to appear, accompanied by the first rays of the sun. The farther his rickety vessel took him, the more his shadow followed him. His peace was disturbed by the howling of monkeys from the canopy, and the first songbirds were just breaking their fast in the twilight.
Ahead of him, he saw a great clustering of debris, boxes, canvas, rope, and the like. Its source – one of the great vessels from the outside world. Men were just awaking onboard the ship, firing salutes before the dawn to its escorts. A blood-stained banner hung from its topsail, the Tricolore as they called it.
The man’s boat thudded against the sloop and, with surprising swiftness, he grabbed the corpse and leaped towards the rope ladder. He scrambled up the ladder, the body flopping on his shoulder against his wrinkled back. With a great effort, the old man grunted and landed his foot on the rail of the foreign vessel.
Firmly established on the ship (aside from the now exaggerated rolling of the deck), the old man tugged at his beard and surveyed his surroundings. A few of the cockaded foreigners were at the wheel with rifles, presumable the source of the salutes. He wisely chose to go below decks, via one of the trapdoors next to the topsail.
The old man grunted and shrugged the body across his shoulders. Then, he descended into the darkness below. As usual, he was quite lost in the labyrinth of the lower levels. Without aid from a lantern, and guided only by the new light shining through the cracks of the boards overhead, he felt his way through the maze of chambers and dormitories.
Men were snoring in filthy, salt-encrusted hammocks, and several livestock garbled desolately in their cages. The elder bypassed all these, and headed into a storage area filled with large barrels and cases. Black powder lined the lids of these crates, showing their recent use the day before.
Sighing, the man laid the body in front of the barrels, then took out a piece of flint and tinder from his satchel. He repeatedly struck the two pieces of metal together, but whenever he got a spark, it quickly died out. The elder heard the sounds of men being roused from their beds, and a clarion horn calling out to greet the dawn.
Finally, a spark was lit on the body of his son. The man, tears in his eyes, turned from the impromptu magazine and scurried towards the trap door. He shoved a few of the rousing Français out of his way and scampered up the stairs and into the light, filled his lungs with air to proclaim his victory. Before he could signal the others, however, he was suddenly defeaned by a great bang, and a violent throttle from the topsail. Suddenly, his world was filled with a great implosion, a bright light, and then darkness.
Entry Two
Larger and larger vessels had slowly begun to creep down the Saigon River as Vietnam crept out from the shadow of war. It was still not unusual, though, for small fishing ships to float down the twisting, turning river. At night, the water looked as black as ink. Without the courtesy of the moon or stars, a single fishing boat could be lost upon the middle of the water.
It suited the old man’s needs perfectly. He drifted down the river within his tiny ship, watching the forest float past him. There wouldn't be much time left for him until the sun rose into the sky and illuminated his presence to the world. Looking up at the darkness covering him, he guessed he had no more than an hour left.
A bit further, and then they would leave the boat and enter the jungle. And, hopefully, neither of them would be seen again.
It had been too close, this time. Far too close. Trung had warned him at the last minute that his pursuers were coming for him, giving Bao barely enough time to cover his tracks and escape his small hut with the girl. Hastily, he had made his way down to the river, carefully making sure he hadn't been followed, and boarded the fishing boat his friend had left for him. Again, he thanked Cao Van Trung for everything he had done. He had been a guardian ever since the two had saved little Cara from the massacre. From Son My.
He hugged Cara tightly. The poor, frightened child. She deserved a better life than this. Bao had vowed to protect her since the death of her parents, to look out for her. He wished they didn't have to hide so much, but that was just the way of things for Bao.
“Will we be there soon?” Cara asked plaintively. She hadn't been able to relax since Bao rushed her out of their jungle hut.
“Hush. Yes, little one. Very soon. You must be brave for me, okay? Be brave for Bao.”
Cara sighed, and nodded. “I'll be brave. I'll try.” Then, after a few minutes of silence, she asked, “Who are those people, Bao?”
“They are men who are very angry with me. They are so mad that they could hurt us, so we're running away from them.”
“But why are they angry with you?” Curious child. Bao sighed. He would never be able to tell her the truth.
“I...had a fight with one of them, once. His name is Xuan. I beat him a little too badly, and he never forgave me.” He smiled. “Now, he wants to beat me.”
“Why did you fight?”
“He...well, I'll tell you one day, child. When you're grown up.”
Bao would have to think of a convincing lie later on, but for now, this feeble excuse would work. Cara looked upset that she wasn't allowed to know, but said nothing.
“Will you fight him again?” Cara asked.
“I hope not, little one. I certainly hope not.”
Cara nodded, accepting the answers Bao had given her, and fell still. Bao smiled. What a wonderful little girl he had managed to find. He did not deserve her, but he needed her. Oh, how he needed her.
They sailed down the Saigon River for another half hour. Bao judged they were running out of light, and sought out a suitable landing spot along the banks of the River. As he docked the boat, Bao was hit by a realization. His pursuers would think to look on the Saigon River, and they would easily notice a random fishing boat. They would be hot on his heels within the day.
He had not thought this through very well. In the rush of the escape, all that had mattered was getting away quickly. Perhaps if he continued along the river until they got closer to a city. They could hide away in Ho Chi Minh. Yes, that might work. They could meet with Trung, and stay with him for awhile. Trung would again ask to protect Cara, but that was his right. Bao would have to insist otherwise. He understood Trung's concern; Bao's lifestyle was dangerous for a little girl, but she needed him, and he needed her.
He would not stay with Trung long, for he did not dare put his old friend in danger. But long enough to...
“Hands up. Turn around. I've got you, bastard.”
Bao turned, and saw the face of vengeance itself. Xuan. Men were springing up from hiding places all over the boat. Cara screamed. Hatches opened up from the floor of the deck, and armed men poured out, their weapons all trained on Bao. One large man grabbed Cara, who screamed and struggled against his grip. Bao shouted and made to help her, but the guns pointed at his chest stopped him from going anywhere.
“Worry not. She will be taken care of.” Xuan smiled. “Unlike you, I make it a point not to butcher younglings.”
“How...how did you...”
“How did I...what? Get on this boat? Why, my dear old friend, this happens to be my vessel. The question should be why you have taken it.” Xuan sighed. “Was it news of my arrival? Yes, I suppose that would have you in a bit of a frenzy, wouldn't it? You know what, though, this was almost too easy. You've grown careless, old man. You used to be much harder to catch.”
Then, Cao Van Trung came into view. And he had no guns pointed at him. He seemed sad as he looked at Bao, a pitying expression on his face.
“Though I suppose the betrayal of those closest to you would help things along. And to think, all it cost was the truth. But we'll discuss that shortly. Knock him out.”
Bao looked with loathing and confusion at Trung as a masked man raised his rifle and brought it crashing down on his skull.
***
A groan. Bao opened his eyes and stared up at the canopy of the jungle. What? Why was he out here?
It slowly came back to him. The escape, the boat, Cara, Xuan, Trung. He bolted up, and saw Xuan sitting on a rock, deep in thought, eyes closed. Trung leaned against a nearby tree, and, when he noticed Bao, called to Xuan. “He's awake.”
Bao got up into a sitting position, and could hear Xuan's men behind him. No doubt their guns were trained on his backside. He wasn't tied up, but they would ensure that he didn't try to escape.
“Excellent.” Xuan rose, and stared directly into Bao's eyes. “Now we can end this.”
“Where is Cara?” Bao asked, softly.
“She is safe. Trung will take care of her.”
“He seems to be doing a fine job of that already. I would not have left her, not for a moment.” He directed his words, dripping with hatred, at Trung himself.
Trung met his stare, equally angry. “No, you would not, and that is why you were not a good guardian. You knew that you put her into danger, keeping her with you, and yet you refused to let me take her.” At that, Trung walked closer to his old friend, and knelt beside him. “And I never could understand why. No one was hunting me. She would have lived a normal life with me. And yet you insisted.” Trung sighed. “I should have argued more than I did, but I still trusted you.”
“And then you decided to stab me in the back.”
“Oh? Was it I who betrayed you? Perhaps if I knew you were a wanted murderer, I would have been more careful in my choice of friends.”
Xuan joined the conversation then. “Cara will be in much better hands now.”
“No, she won't. You need to let me take care of her, she needs me and...”
“Oh?” Xuan interrupted, looking amused. “Does she? Or is it the other way around?”
Bao sighed. “I just wanted to do something right, for once.”
“Then you could have given yourself up years ago. But you kept running. To atone, you probably told yourself. But what atonement could there be for what you have done?” Xuan breathed in, trying to relax himself. “You are a coward, Bao. You should have given Cara to Trung, but instead you put both their lives in danger by being associated with you. You did not even have the decency to tell Trung the truth.”
“He would not have aided me if I had.”
“Like I said, a coward, interested only in self-preservation. Your only interest in Cara was to use her as a proverbial shield in a time like this, to show me what 'good' you could do. I won't deny that you saved her life, but one right does not erase a lifetime of wrongs. And now, your wrongs come back to judge you. Be thankful that your executioner is more tired than vengeful, or I would find ways to prolong your demise.”
Tears began to well up in Bao's eyes, and stream down his wrinkled face. He could hear the screams from that fateful day...see the blood on his hands. Visions that had chased him down no matter how far he ran. Cara had been able to stop them from haunting his dreams ever since he had made the decision to watch over her, but Cara was not there anymore.
Bao was alone with the past.
“Thirty years, old man,” Xuan was saying. “Thirty years since you took everything I loved away from me.” Xuan pulled out his pistol and cocked it. “I've been waiting for this.”
“Do you really think revenge will solve anything, Xuan? You said it yourself, it's been so long. Perhaps we should just...”
“I thought I would enjoy hearing you beg for life, but truth be told, it just annoys me. You are not a good man, Bao. You slaughtered an innocent family. No matter how hard you try, you will never be able to wash away the blood of one child through the caring of another.” The visions were pounding in Bao's head. A mother, her arms wrapped around a small boy. Gunshots. A man yelling in distress. Bao's own beating heart, the realization of what he had done.
“Please,” Bao sobbed. “Please...make them stop.” He was talking to Xuan and to himself, to nobody and everybody. The knife, sliding so easily into the body. The blood spattering everywhere. The dead eyes, staring. Always staring, accusing, judging...
Bao raised his head and shouted to the heavens, “Forgive me! Make them stop!”
Xuan smiled sadly, raised his gun, and whispered softly, “I forgive you.”
The jungle erupted in sound. Then, after several long moments, it succumbed to silence.
