Nhan had been running for ten minutes straight. She had out-maneuvered several machines and had bypassed two horrific street scenes with enough scarlet hues to shame the Red River. But she couldn’t dwell on the cost of the previous night. Not yet. She rested against a tree within view of the southern bank of the Red River, attempting to reach a rebel crossing still five minutes away, if it even existed. She had no way to confirm, but it remained her only way out of the city, unless she attempted to swim.
Two Chinese soldiers had attempted to halt her escape at the end of the last alleyway. She had dipped into an old woman’s house. The startled woman had a hot porcelain pot of green tea just steeped. When the soldier followed her, Nhan threw the pot at him, scalding his face as he collapsed to the floor screaming. The old woman said nothing—merely an observer to the chaos, slightly glad to have a glimpse of reality for herself. A second soldier entered and chased Nhan through the back end of the house. She managed to climb out the metal bars over a rear window. She was slim, after all. That allowed her to slip out from the row of houses and rest behind the tree, just minutes away from getting out of the city.
Nhan smiled at her cleverness, how a sixteen-year-old had outwitted the facility and how … She paused. … Everything replayed in her mind. … She re-thought through the circumstances … Minh’s father had arrived and Minh left with him. But as they left, the opening never closed. She wandered out of the room through a series of corridors. All empty. She had walked slowly, staying alert to any movement, but a massive shadow had followed her. Sun Quan. She recalled their conversation.
“The boy will never return. He will join his father. As you wish to rejoin yours.”
“I’m not afraid of you.”
“Foolish people may think and feel as they wish.”
“You want me alive, or I wouldn’t be here.”
“Of course. It was you who betrayed your father.”
“I would never betray him.”
“Your thoughts did. You led me right to them.”
“I didn’t …” She remembered how Sun Quan had clasped his hands onto both sides of her head when she was still in the facility. She had fallen to the ground, zapped of all energy. “You read my thoughts?”
“And I can read them now. Escape. It’s what you desire. What’s stopping you?”
She didn’t know how to reply, nor did she understand what Sun Quan wanted. “If she wants me to escape, she will help me.”
“She? So you too are a believer.” Sun Quan had moved closer. “How do you even know if she’s alive? Did you not hear? I defeated her, and her limp soul sank into Hoan Kiem Lake like a sack of rice.”
“But she lived.”
“Did she?”
“I heard you say it.”
“As you wish to believe.”
At that moment, a whisk of light had flashed in the corridor, and a dark figure, not fully formed, rammed into Sun Quan from behind. He fell forward, almost on top of Nhan, who moved out of his way just in time. Sun Quan turned and morphed out of his body, and the two semi-formless beings interchanged positions several times until one vanished down the corridor and the other followed. A second later, the giant figure of Sun Quan crashed into one of the black walls back-first, as if he had been hurled at a great speed. The force had smashed the wall into pieces, setting off alarms and flashing lights. She heard the voice only once. “Run.” Like someone had injected an audible word into her mind. She obeyed. She turned and sprinted down the corridor. More walls opened. Several machines passed right by her as if they were called away on more urgent business. The alarms buzzed, lights pulsed, but she continued running, thoughts bobbing in her head faster than her brain could understand. The adrenaline pushed her. Through the massive hall and out into the street, diving into a back alley, avoiding a machine at a dead end when she had climbed a trash receptacle and jumped headfirst into the unknown of the other side of the wall. She landed in a three-wheeled xich lo parked at the back of an alley. She tumbled off, onto the pavement, not feeling a thing, not noticing the bruising, not stopping to assess what had happened. She had followed the voice inside: run!
Her movement never paused, even when the soldiers spotted her and she dove into the old woman’s house and out through the grate on the back window, until she found herself panting loudly, leaning against the tree just a stone’s throw away from the Red River. And …
Her thoughts returned to the present. She stood up straight and walked out from the tree, no longer hiding. She faced the city. A small dirt street followed the edge of the river. She stood on the other side of it. Myriad small cement houses scattered themselves between weaving alleyways. A hodgepodge of electrical wires on poles crisscrossed each other like balled up yarn a cat had hopelessly entangled. The wires spanned in all directions and connected each house to the other, no matter how small or meager the dwelling. Everything was connected. The past, the present, the future.
What if … she wondered. She had a terrible sense that she hadn’t escaped. What if … She glared in all directions. Her body itched, like ants crawled on her skin, like she was covered with something she couldn’t shake off. What if …
What if they wanted me to escape … what if they’re watching me right now?
A sense of futility ripped through her chest. It was a game. They wanted her to run. They willed it. Did they? She knew it. She thought it. She played their game and nearly led them to … what? Whatever remained unknown to them yet known to her. She stood near the edge of the river, being no more free than when locked behind the black walls of the facility. One thing she understood clearly, she would not betray anyone, no matter the cost.
“I know what you’re doing. I will never help you.”
She called out to them. Nothing happened. However, the feeling in her chest grew stronger.
“I know you’re there. I know you’re watching me.”
She glanced to the rear, toward the river. What? What are my options? I won’t let them catch me. I won’t betray anyone.
Something about the Red River caught her eye. Perhaps the sun glittered its intentions on the turbid water in a way that beckoned hope. Perhaps she noticed how the river gripped the city in a tight noose—Hanoi: the city inside the Red River—holding it like a child in its palm. Perhaps the rebels owed their existence to the river for allowing them to survive for this long under the harsh Chinese regime. The river called to her as a friend. Inviting her to escape on her own terms. Lady Trieu came to mind. What does it mean if she is real? Is Sun Quan really who Minh says he is? Grains of faith percolate in the mind but can grow exponentially when all other explanations pale in comparison. If she wouldn’t allow herself to be caught, what were her options? The river and only the river. She learned the stories from history and folklore of Lady Trieu, but who else? What of the two Trung sisters? They also fought against the invading Han army. They fought valiantly, but in the end, what happened to them? They drowned themselves in a river. The Red River. The very river behind Nhan’s back. Was that the answer? The river. The Trung sisters ended it that way, but in doing so, lived on for millenniums. Would she be brave enough to do the same? How would the river treat her? And what of Lady Trieu? Would she hear her cry?
The river taunted her with its lore, and at that moment, nothing could have tempted her more than the slow methodical ripples on the water. She blocked out thoughts of her father and of Minh and even of the rebellion. She thought only of the water and what it offered her. She would discover its glory. She had no other option. It compelled her to action, so she waved her arms at the alleyways. The hidden eyes, whatever they were and wherever they were would know her deed. She would tell them. Everything.
“Sun Quan. I know you allowed me to escape. I reject it. I will not be a traitor, nor will I be your prisoner. You may come after me, just as you attacked the rebel base, but you will not win. We will never surrender to you. As the sunrise peeks over the Gulf of Tonkin, so too the Chinese will desecrate our sacred land. But sunrises necessitate sunsets. And you are much closer to your sunset than you realize.” She waited. Her heart pounded. “Show yourself. I know you’re there!”
The sureness of her breath couldn’t drown out her human traits. Sweat dripped from her forehead. She fidgeted with her hands, and she listened to the rattle of the wheels. The machines rolled out into the open. A dozen of them. She had provoked a response. Now it was her turn. All she had to do was run toward the river.
As a first machine edged towards her, instincts took over. The river called her name, and she obeyed. Step after step. Hurried. Aching legs. Blurred vision. Ears hearing the vibrating rattle of the machines now in pursuit. A shot fired as she stumbled over the bank and tumbled to the bottom near the edge of the water. The machines lined the river bank like an attack on a cliff ready to swoop in and swarm the enemy at a lower position. They possessed a dramatic advantage, but she had the water. All hers. She would give it everything she had.
She held her breath out of instinct and plummeted underneath as bullets pocked the surface. She swam down in the murky water which blinded any hopes of navigation. If she allowed her body to float to the surface, death awaited her in the name of a hundred bullets from a dozen machines. So she asked the water to take her, to allow her a home like the two Trung sisters of old. May her sacrifice in the deep allow the rebels to fight another day. She opened her mouth to allow the water to consume her when a turtle’s head rubbed against hers. The turtle smiled, and she smiled back. The turtle dove down, the wake current sucking her in. Terrible thoughts betrayed her, but she followed the turtle. A vortex swirled her downward into a tunnel only inches wider than her body, and she closed her eyes and wondered if the Trung sisters had received such treatment. Before she had an answer, she emerged sliding on wet, matted grass in the midst of jagged limestone peaks. She caught herself on all fours, and twirled in each direction, recognizing her surroundings. She had been here before. Hoa Lu. The ancient capital of Vietnam a couple hundred miles south of Hanoi. She looked up, and a long-tailed bird approached at great speed. After two dramatic, hairpin circles overhead, it landed in front of her with Lady Trieu on its back. She dismounted and walked toward the girl.
“Nhan.”
Her lip quivered. “Yes.”
“You have been very brave, and so you’ve been granted a task. One I think you are ready for.”
Nhan nodded but studied every inch of the woman.
“You will lead the southern attack.”
“What?”
“In two days time, you will lead an army northward to confront Sun Quan.”
“I, I, I …?”
“An army like no other.”
“I’ve never led an army.”
“No matter. I have chosen you. Do you believe you are ready?”
She was real. She lorded over Nhan like a fairytale, a page from a book she had read coming to life—chosen for a purpose by the greatest of heroines. She had no special skills or training to boast of. She had lingered in her father’s shadow for the last two years, willing to help the cause, but mainly ruffling the feathers of whomever she crossed. But now the hero figure of folklore tasked her to do her part—the part she had always wanted to play, an important one, one her father never trusted her with, one her age prevented her from achieving, but now… The warrior asked once more. “Are you ready?”
“Yes, but I don’t know of any rebel bases near here?”
“Your army will not be made of rebels.”
“I don’t understand. Who are they?”
“They will begin arriving tomorrow evening. Be ready for instructions.”
Nhan nodded as Lady Trieu walked back toward the bird.
“But who are they?”
Lady Trieu smiled at Nhan, mounted the lost bird, and took off into the sunset. Nhan sat in the grass near the stream splitting the granite cliffs into sides, like two mammoth monolithic giants facing off against each other. She had chosen. She would be on one of the sides, ready to do her part.
A Chinese soldier interrupted Sun Quan and the Chinese man as they looked over Hanoi from the top of their newly constructed building in Ba Dinh Square.
“Excuse me, sir. The girl …”
“Lieu’s daughter?”
“Yes.”
“Did she lead us to anything fruitful?” asked the Chinese man.
“No, she drowned in the river.”
“We drowned her?”
“No, sir. She jumped in and never resurfaced.”
Sun Quan winced at the Chinese man before ordering the soldier to leave them.
“I take it you don’t think it’s a normal drowning?” asked the Chinese man.
“She playing with us?”
“The girl? I doubt it. She’s just a child.”
“No, Trieu. She’s going to use her. Just like Trieu did. Threw herself in the river. Just like the Trung sisters did. Drowned themselves in the river. No, we haven’t seen the last of the girl.”
“Oh, Sun Quan. You are so caught up in the illustrious past. I care more about the present. What are we going to do about Trieu?”
Sun Quan didn’t respond, but they both knew the answer.