Fifteen

Mai had to get back to Hiep. The rain had started to flood the island again and she was worried that she wouldn’t be able to cross the water. It had been foolish to come all this way for the tiger pictures. Tuan, no doubt, had realized that and stayed near the clinic last night. She needed to find him too. By now sheets of rain were slicing through the tent, the tarp on top flapping against the tent poles it was tied to, fighting to get loose and fly away.

“Over here.” Lan beckoned to a spot in a corner, where several empty rice bags had been lashed to the ground. They huddled together as the rain ran in rivulets through the tent. The storm raged all day and into the night. Mai curled up in her hammock and worried about Hiep.

“Can’t we try the crossing? I’m so worried about Uncle Hiep,” Mai called to Kien, who was lying in his hammock.

“You’ll drown if you try to cross in this,” he warned, and she realized he was right.

How she wished her father were here. He would know what to do. But he wasn’t, and it was up to her. She felt old, older than she wanted to feel.

How she longed to be a child again, climbing the trees in the orchard behind the house with her cousins and the servants’ children, sitting in the shade sipping a bottle of sweet sugar-cane drink, hearing the clatter of her sandals as she skipped along the tile path that ran the length of their house. Eating her favorite food, bun thit nuong : grilled pork with white rice noodles. Her stomach moaned, even though Lan had fed her two bowls of cold rice and vegetables before bedtime.

“Kien, are you still awake?”

“Yes, Mai, I can’t sleep.”

“Neither can I. I keep thinking about Uncle Hiep and Sang’s ghost. I’m afraid he’s working his evil on Hiep and that he’s going to make him die.”

“The doctor will help Hiep, Mai. His medicine is stronger than Sang’s ghost.”

“I hope so, Kien. We were so happy before we lost the war, before all of this. I just hope our family can all be together again. I think the evil spirits are winning.” Mai sat up in the dark, on the wooden bench that was now her bed.

“Mai, you know you can count on me to help you. I’ll help you fight Sang’s ghost. He won’t be able to win.”

Mai heard the strength in Kien’s voice and it comforted her.

“You know, Kien, he hasn’t visited me since we took Uncle Hiep to the clinic. I hope he isn’t bothering Hiep. He’s all alone there.”

Kien’s face never left Mai as she watched the constant rain pound the beach the next day. No trips were made to the main camp. Mai could hear the rip of the metal when Lan opened two cans of beef stew. A little rice lay in a bag out of the rain, but it was impossible to build a fire. Mai could smell the strong aroma of the beef wafting across the tent and her stomach jumped. They had been conserving their food for the last few days. If the rain didn’t stop, Mai did not know what they would do. She lay in her hammock worrying about Hiep.

She glanced at her English composition book, then picked up her knitting needles and examined the scarf she was working on. The stitches were uneven and the surface was lumpy, but she was pleased with her first attempt at making an article of clothing. Mother would be so proud of her, and Grandmother would cluck her teeth and say, “Maybe that girl isn’t as lazy as I thought she was.” Grandmother was always scolding her for playing too much or not being clean enough. She didn’t believe that children should be children.

Mai tried to distract herself, but she saw Hiep’s face dancing before her—his yellow eyes, his parched lips, and his hollow cheeks. She wrapped the scarf around her neck, careful not to poke herself with the knitting needles. It needed to be a little longer, she thought. Those winters were going to be very cold.

Winter. Will I ever see it? Will Uncle Hiep ever see it? When Father had described America, it had sounded like a dream come true. But after living on the island for a while, enough reports had come back from resettled refugees about the harsh realities of their new life that Mai had become afraid of what the future might bring. For her and most of the young educated Chinese people who lived on the south of the island, life had been one of privilege and of power. All that had been taken away when the Communists came, and she didn’t know what would become of her.

In America, she had heard, the government changed every four years so that the same people didn’t stay in control all of the time. What kind of place can it be? Her stomach tightened with fear when she thought of it. She did not want her father to find out that life in America would be hard. It felt strange to suddenly feel protective of him. He had always been the protector, which was why everyone in the village looked up to him and went to him for help. It would be difficult for her family to start over, but at least they would be together.

“Mai, come and eat,” Lan called. “I’m sorry it’s not warm. It’s too wet to build a fire.”

Mai put two spoonfuls of stew on her tin plate, clinking her spoon against the can.

“Take more,” Lan urged.

Mai shook her head, her eyes lowered. “I know this is almost the end of the food. Someone has got to go to the main camp.” She licked her lips, savoring the taste of meat and gravy.

“It’s too dangerous, Mai. We could drown.” Lan put the can down.

“I’m tired of waiting. I need to see Uncle Hiep and find out how he is, and we need more food.”

“If Tuan is with him, he’ll be taken care of. The best thing to do is wait.”

“I can’t wait. Uncle Hiep’s life is in danger.” Mai smashed a mosquito as it landed on her arm and flicked it to the ground.

Just then Kien came dripping into the tent. “Quick. You won’t believe your eyes.” He pointed to the sea.

“What is it, Kien?” Mai jumped to her feet and clutched his arm.

“A trawler. They’ve sent supplies.” Kien clapped his hands and jumped in the air.

Mai’s chopsticks clattered against her tin plate as she pushed the hanging rice bags aside and rushed down to the shore. A fishing trawler, its deck stacked high with wooden boxes, chugged slowly through the water about two hundred feet from shore. Mai stood and watched as it moved across the water.

“Stop,” she cried. She waved to three Malaysian sailors who stood on the deck, but they looked straight ahead as the trawler disappeared around the edge of the island. Kien stood by her side, his mouth open.

“Why didn’t they stop? Don’t they know we need food?” Mai complained.

“I guess there’s no place to come in here without hitting the reefs. The boxes of food would just sink if they threw them into the waves. I’m sorry I got our hopes up,” Kien said, turning to walk back to the tent.

Mai followed, wondering what she should do now. There was no way she could help Hiep while she was trapped here. Or was there?

Sang’s body still lay at the bottom of the well, despite his spirit wandering, seeking vengeance. She remembered her parents taking food and paper money and clothing to funerals to present to the dead to use in the afterlife. She didn’t have any paper money or clothing, but she could take some food to the well to appease Sang’s ghost. She would have to do it secretly, for they had so little food left she was sure no one would let her take some to feed a ghost when so many living people would be starving soon. But perhaps Sang would leave them alone and let Hiep live.

She would have to find some food. Can I do it? The food would be the easiest part of the plan. Taking it to the well was frightening. Everyone knew the well was haunted now. Can I face Sang’s ghost?

If only there was someone who would go with her. She knew Lan and Kim wouldn’t go. When they had heard of Small Auntie’s threats, they had warned her to stay away from the well. No, she would do this by herself.

That evening, as she divided the last can of chicken curry with Lan and Kien, Mai waited until no one was looking and hid her portion in a tin can, covering it with the plastic bag. The rain that had drenched the island all day ceased after dinner, and Kien and Lan went to check the crossing.

Mai perched on a rock with Kim, knitting her scarf, waiting for the sun to set so she could steal off to the well. It wasn’t far from camp, but she knew if she told anyone what she was doing, they’d stop her. She could hear them now, chastising her for wasting good food. But she had to save Hiep, and with the tiger pictures gone, it was her only chance.

Kien and Lan stopped by the fire. Mai looked up at Kien.

“The water is down a little. If it doesn’t rain any more, we should be able to cross by morning.” Kien’s shoulders tightened. “It will still be very dangerous.”

“But what if it isn’t down? What will we do?” Mai couldn’t believe that they would be left to starve.

“Don’t worry, Mai. We’ll get across. We just have to time it.” Kien’s voice was confident, but his solemn expression betrayed him. Mai followed him toward the tent.

“Kien, can I talk to you?” She hadn’t planned on confiding in him, but she needed to know what he thought. She realized that she was too frightened to go to the well by herself.

“Of course, Mai. What is it?” He took a step toward her and looked into her eyes.

“I have to ask you about something. But it’s private. Can we walk down by the shore and talk?”

He nodded and turned toward the beach, and she walked by his side, trying to decide where to begin. The full moon cast a silver path across the dark water, its beams dancing on the crests of the waves. The brinish smell of the sea stung her nostrils. She could hear Kien’s soft breathing and the padding of his feet through the sand. The blood rushed through her as his arm brushed hers. What would he think of her plan? Would he laugh? They walked along in silence for a while, listening to the murmurs of voices from the camp mingled with the ripple of the ebbing and flowing of the waves.

“Do you ever wish you had never left home, Mai?” Kien’s hands were stuck in his pockets. His eyes searched the black horizon.

“What do you mean, Kien?”

“I mean, do you wish you had stayed with your family, no matter what happened?”

“I don’t know. I don’t really feel I had a choice.”

“But what if you never see your family again?” Kien stopped and kicked a broken shell with his bare foot. “Sometimes I feel like I’m all alone in the world.”

“I know how you feel, but you’re not alone, Kien. You have me.” Embarrassed, Mai quickly corrected herself. “I mean, us—Lan, Kim, Tuan, everyone.”

“I’m glad you’re here, Mai. I don’t feel so alone.” Kien took her hand. “You’re my best friend. I’ve never had a best friend before.”

Mai didn’t know what to say. She had never had a friendship with anyone outside her family, certainly not a boy, but she felt more than friendship for him. She had never been encouraged to express her feelings and so she kept them to herself, squeezing his hand as it encircled hers.

“Kien,” she stammered, “I’ve got another plan to stop Sang’s ghost from killing Hiep. Will you help me?”

Kien arched his eyes in surprise. “What do you want to do?”

Mai explained her plan to take the food to the well and present it to Sang’s ghost to enjoy in the afterlife, appeasing him so that he would not seek vengeance for his death.

“I’ve got to go tonight, Kien. I’ve hidden some food in my hammock. Will you go with me? His ghost may be at the well, and I’m not sure what he will do when he sees me.”

“We’ll have to go early. Lan and I are going to check the crossing around midnight to see if the water is down. I’ve got a little extra food too. I’ll bring it.”

Mai balled her fists into the bottom of her blouse. “I’ll wait until everyone has gone to their hammocks. Then we’ll slip out.”

Kien nodded and touched her on the cheek. “You’re a very brave girl to confront a ghost. Are you sure you want to do this?”

“If you don’t want to go, just say so.” Mai pulled away from Kien.

“Now wait a minute. Don’t get angry. You know I’ll help you. It’s just that … ”

“You don’t believe me, do you? You think I’m some silly superstitious girl from the village. Well, I will have to go by myself if you won’t come.” Mai turned her back to Kien.

Kien grabbed Mai’s shoulder and spun her around, his blue eyes narrowing, his cheeks drawn taut.

“I do believe in ghosts. I have my own.”

“What do you mean?” Mai’s voice softened.

“I never told you about what happened to me before I arrived on this island.”

“You can tell me, Kien. I want to know all about you.”

“I made a decision that I would never tell anyone. But I want you to know.” Kien sat on the ground and Mai sat down beside him.

“When I was on the boat, we were attacked by Thai pirates. They killed most of the men and took our boat. They left the rest of us on a very small island. There was nothing to eat, and everyone was starving.” Kien’s eyes became wet with tears. “At first, I didn’t understand what was happening. When I was asleep, my friend Duc disappeared. When I asked where he was, no one seemed to know. It was as if he had vanished into thin air. That day we had a delicious stew that I was told came from a boar that had been killed. I believed them, but the island was so small, there were no animals. Finally, as more people—all of them single people traveling by themselves without family— disappeared, I discovered what was happening. An old woman told me, ‘Watch out. Sleep with your eyes open. You are next.’ I asked her what she meant, and she just cackled. But that night I had a dream, and in the dream I saw the ghosts of all the people who had disappeared, warning me to be careful. Then I knew. We had been eating them. I was next—the last single person, with no family, no one to defend me.”

Mai gasped. “What did you do?”

“At first I didn’t believe her. But then I realized there was nothing I could do. There was no place to hide and no one to defend me. I was so sickened by what she had told me that I didn’t care if I lived or died. But the next morning a ship stopped, rescued us, and brought us inside the Malaysian waters. It dropped us off here.”

“But what about the people who were with you? Are they on this island?”

“Yes. That’s why I moved down here right away. I was afraid they would try to keep me from talking about what they did. But I was a part of it. I have trouble sleeping. The ghosts of those people haunt me.”

“How many were there?” Mai’s stomach rolled.

“They killed four people. My friend Duc, two young girls, and a teenage boy.” Kien’s voice dropped to a whisper and his lips barely moved, as if the words were stuck in his throat.

“You have to tell someone. What they did was wrong.” Mai’s whole body shook, but she felt sorry for Kien instead of repulsed at what he had done.

“If they hadn’t done what they did, we would all be dead. We were on that island for several weeks. I’m just glad we were rescued before they killed me.”

“I’m sorry I doubted you. Thank you for telling me. Your secret is safe.” Mai tried to keep her voice steady. She had heard of the cruelty of the Thai pirates, the rapes, the murders, but not this. How could you eat another human being?

The Vietnamese on the island helped each other, shared their food if someone was hungry, offered shelter to those without it, and banded together to protect each other from the harsh treatment of the Malaysian soldiers. All except Small Auntie, of course. But even she had offered them shelter. Mai looked at Kien, sitting with his head in his hands, and wanted to put her arms around him as Ba Du had done with her. She stood up and cleared her throat.

“Kien, the others have all gone in now. Do you still feel like helping me? It’s all right if you don’t want to.”

Kien looked up. “I want to help you. Thanks for listening. I feel as if a bag of stones has been removed from my body.”

Mai slipped back into the tent, through the rice bag partitions, and took the small can of food she had hidden. She dropped it in her plastic bag and walked outside, where Kien was waiting. A few people were milling around on the beach, but most were under mosquito nets in their hammocks. Mai and Kien hurried along the edge of the jungle until they came to a place where the foliage was trampled.

“It’s a good thing the moon is out tonight. The well is back through these trees, along this path,” Mai said.

A shrill sound came from the treetop. A wail like a soul in agony. Mai froze. Sang’s ghost. Had he seen them?

“Quick, Kien. Run. It’s his ghost. He knows we’re here.”

They ducked into the jungle and flattened their bodies under a low lying fern.

“Mai, I think that was a bird. I’ve heard that sound before, early in the morning when I’ve gone out for sea cucumbers. Don’t be afraid,” Kien whispered as he lay prone on the ground beside her.

Mai could smell the scent of the soil in her nostrils and feel the cool dampness of the undergrowth against her skin. She lifted her head and looked toward the treetops at a flutter of wings silhouetted against the moonlit sky. Another melancholy wail pierced the night’s stillness, and then diminished as the wings dissolved into the darkness.

Feeling foolish and relieved, she and Kien stood up and pushed their way through the undergrowth to a path that led them along the edge of the jungle. A large clearing appeared, where a bare circular patch of ground lay partially covered by green vines. A small pile of rocks next to the circle bore testimony to the failed attempt to rescue Sang.

Mai looked at the covered well. Deep beneath that circle lay Sang’s body, probably already becoming one with the soil. She motioned to Kien and they moved one step at a time across the small space. Mai pulled out her can of food. She knelt on her knees, placed the food on the well site, and bowed to the earth. Kien did the same, and then they folded their hands over their hearts and chanted a prayer for the dead, their monotone song echoing in the darkness.

They remained prone after their chant, Mai praying silently for the release of Sang’s spirit to the afterworld. A branch cracked behind them and, startled, they jumped to their feet. They covered the food with vines and hid in the bushes.

A faint glow of morning light seeped through the trees. Had they been there all night? What would the others say?

Kien was not upset. He told her that he and Lan had decided not to check the water until morning, when they would be able to cross in the light. Mai felt triumphant, sure they had satisfied the ghost with their offerings.

“Now he can rest. His soul can go to the afterworld and won’t have to wander anymore,” Mai said. And Hiep will be safe, she thought to herself.

“We’d better get back. The others will wonder where we were,” said Kien.

Mai trotted behind him, anxious to eat breakfast but knowing there might not be any. The food had run out, unless Lan had found more. “Kien, let’s go back to camp separately,” she said.

“Don’t worry, Mai. You go first. I’ll come later and pretend I went out early to check the water.”

Mai slipped back into the tent and saw that Lan’s hammock was empty. No one was around. A few minutes later, Kien entered.

“Where has everyone gone?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” Mai replied. “You don’t think they’ve all gone to the main camp to get food, do you?”

“Perhaps. The water must have gone down. Let’s go see.”

Mai was anxious to see Hiep and eat. It would be good to get to the main camp.

“Do you feel better about Sang’s ghost, Mai?” Kien asked.

“I hope it worked, but I’m anxious to see Uncle Hiep.”