Out of the Dragon's Mouth (11 page)

Fourteen

As she lay there, a cold hand reached down and inched its way along the waistband of Mai's pants, stopping at the bulge where she hid her gold bracelet. Long, slender fingers with jagged nails tugged at the jewelry and scratched her stomach.

Mai jerked to a sitting position and beheld Small Auntie, a startled, gap-toothed expression on her face, fumbling with her bracelet in the pouring rain. She could smell Small Auntie's foul breath as she grabbed her wrist and yelled, “Stop, thie
f
!
”

But no one heard, and Small Auntie, her face changing to a smirk, wrenched her arm away from Mai and ran, the bracelet clutched in her hands, her short body weaving across the sand and through the downpour into the dense bushes.

Mai, her soaked pants and blouse plastered to her body, struggled to her feet and raced after her, but stumbled on a fallen palm branch and sprawled in a pool of warm rain water. Where had Small Auntie come from? Why was she out in the rain, and how had she known about the bracelet in Mai's waistband? Mai wanted to pursue her, but she'd disappeared in the storm. She pulled up her blouse and saw a long bloody scratch.

A pair of black military boots approached her and stopped two feet away. Mai peeked up at a glowering Malaysian soldier covered by a rain poncho, a sticklike shape beneath it. Mai knew it was his rifle. She was afraid of the soldiers; she remembered how one had beaten the man who had stolen rice from the young woman at the food distribution center. She lowered her eyes, hoping the soldier would not notice her, but he had and growled and kicked some sand at her, then walked away laughing as if she were a stray dog.

Mai brushed the sand from her pants and clenched her teeth. She wished Small Auntie had died in the well with her husband. If only she'd never met her. She had brought nothing but bad luck.

The late afternoon sun finally broke through the storm clouds, a steamy heat rising from the ground as the rain subsided. The coconut palms were freshly washed, drops of water falling from their leafy fronds. Mai peered through the entrance of the clinic. No one was at the table. She wanted to see Hiep. She would think about her bracelet later. She crept into the tent and lifted the canvas flap behind the desk where his cot was. A strong medicinal smell mixed with the stifling heat made her gag, and she realized she had eaten nothing since morning. She ran outside and vomited on the ground near the entrance.

She wiped her face with her blouse and, cupping her hands over her mouth and her nose, edged back in, determined to visit Hiep. She could see his back through the faded green mosquito netting covering him. Lifting the netting, she saw his smooth lids closed, his gaunt face drawn, his thin chapped lips partially open, and she heard the soft moan of his breathing. She touched his hand. It was cool. Hiep moved his foot and turned on his side, the wooden legs of the narrow cot squeaking under his weight.

“Uncle Hiep, can you hear me? It's Mai. Tuan brought you to the clinic. The doctor is taking care of you. You're going to be all right.”
Can the doctor's medicine defeat Sang's curse?

Hiep's eyes met hers, flickered, and then closed. Mai held his hand and traced her finger around his oval nails, remembering how much she cared for him. She had known him all of her life. He had helped her fly her first kite, standing with her on the dike of the rice paddy and sailing the kite's dragon's body high above the mangroves until it shrank into a small blur in the blue. He had let her hold the string and she had felt the wind tugging at the kite, carrying it farther away from her. The wind had blown harder and the string had started to slip from her small hands when he put his larger hand over hers, steadying the kite and calming her fears. They had flown it together, and he had helped her reel it back in.

When it fell from the sky toward the rice paddy, she'd screamed, “Don't let my dragon get wet,” and he had laughed and guided it to a dry landing.

Now Mai turned Hiep's hand over to find the lifeline in his palm, hoping that it would foretell a long life. But it stopped in the middle of his palm.
Will his life be short?
She couldn't let that happen. She would have to do something. Covering him carefully with the mosquito netting, Mai left the tent, holding her rocking stomach, afraid she would vomit again.

Where was Tuan? He had promised to bring the tiger pictures back. The tropical sun was setting, the rose-pink glow of twilight spattering the clouds before the night sky would hang its blanket over the island. If she hurried, she could make it back to camp before dark; she could bring the tigers to Hiep early in the morning. But when she turned her tired body toward the south of the island, the rain rang in torrents and the ground, already saturated, became a pool of mud. She spun around and dashed toward the clinic. The water crossing would be impossible in this storm. Where could she go?

Mai collided with a short, familiar figure also rushing through the rain. When she looked up, she saw Kien's face, his mouth wide with surprise.

“Kien, what are you doing here?”

He clasped her hand and guided her toward the clinic. They stepped into its shelter, out of the storm, listening to the pounding on the tarp above them.

“I'm so glad to see you,” Mai sobbed, wrapping her arms around her shivering shoulders.

“I came to see how Hiep is,” said Kien, the rain­water running in rivulets down his face, his dark hair matted against his neck. “Lan and Kim told me what happened. I was out collecting wood when you left.”

“He's very sick. The doctor said he had hepatitis.”

Kien reached out to touch Mai's trembling fingers. She pulled them away.

“I need to get back to our tent and get the tiger pictures to protect Uncle Hiep from Sang's ghost. Small Auntie stole my gold bracelet, and now our good luck is gone. If I don't get the tiger pictures, Hiep will die.” Mai's voice mingled with the whine of the wind beating against the tent. Just then, the dour-faced nurse appeared from behind the partition.

“What are you doing here? You have to leave.” She waved her arms in the air, trying to shoo them out as if they were the mosquitoes that descended at twilight.

“We need to see the doctor. Our friend Hiep is here. We want to find out how he is.” Kien took one step toward the nurse while Mai edged behind him.

“The doctor is only here in the mornings. Come back then.” She walked toward them and herded them out of the tent, into the wet night, pulling the flap down after them.

“Come on, Mai, let's go to the food tent.” Kien grabbed Mai's hand and pulled her after him, dashing toward a canvas enclosure across the beach where she could see a welcoming light flickering. Mai stumbled into the tent, still gripping Kien's hand, relieved to be out of the storm. Several long wooden tables stood in the shadows, which she knew would remain empty until the ship loaded with food arrived from the mainland in the morning. A small lantern flickered in the center of one table, but no one was there. Kien and Mai huddled together in a dry, dark corner where Mai hoped they would not be discovered. She brushed the water from her face.

She could hear the squish of Kien's T-shirt as he removed it and wrung it out. She wished that she were a boy so she could do the same, but her nipples had started to turn into large bumps like mosquito bites and she was embarrassed.

She remembered how upset she'd been when she'd started to bleed. She had felt a wetness between her legs one morning shortly after she'd arrived on the island. Her stomach had begun to cramp. She'd slid her hand into her pants and felt a sticky substance high on her thigh. Blood. If only her mother were here. She had gone to Small Auntie.

“Am I going to die?” she'd asked.

Small Auntie smiled. “No, Mai. No dying. You've just started your
kinh
, your monthly bleeding. You're a woman now.”

“But I don't want to be. Why must I bleed?”

“Some day you will have babies.” Small Auntie had
showed her how to tie a rice bag cloth between her legs. Now, being around Lan and Kim and the other older girls, she had begun to understand and accept what was happening to her body. They'd laughed when she had hunched her shoulders so that her breasts wouldn't show.

“It's all right, Mai. Stand up. Be proud to be a woman,” Lan said. She smiled back at her, but around Kien she was self-conscious of her budding body.

Mai shivered in her soaked clothing, listening to the
rain beating the tarp above them. Her finger traced the long scratch that Small Auntie's nail had carved on her stomach. She could feel the blood crusted in its crevice.

“Kien, I'm worried about Uncle Hiep. Do you think he'll be all right? I want to go see him first thing in the morning.”

“Of course. We'll hang out by the pier and wait for the doctor to come from the mainland.”

“Tuan went to get the tiger pictures. I hope he gets back before it's too late,” Mai said.

“Shh. I think I hear someone,” Kien whispered, touching her arm.

Two figures silhouetted by the faint light of the lantern ducked in the tent. Just then the wick of the lantern sputtered and the flame went out. Mai reached for Kien, pressing her nails into his arm. She could hear the sound of a match being struck and see the faces of two Malaysian soldiers as they lit their cigarettes. The smell of tobacco permeated the dankness of the tent.

After dark, when the Americans and Europeans left the island, the soldiers preyed upon the refugees, stealing from them, hitting them, and raping the women. Lan had warned her to run if she saw a soldier coming. Mai prayed she and Kien would not be discovered. The soldiers moved toward the center of the tent as they laughed and inhaled their cigarettes. Mai and Kien drew farther back into the corner. Mai could hear a steady stream of Malaysian words, but she did not know what they meant. The two lit cigarettes glowed in the darkness like fireflies on a summer's evening.

What if the soldiers stay until daylight?
She and Kien had to get out of the tent before they were discovered. She was afraid to think what might happen to them. Just then she heard the voice of a third soldier, and listened as the first two soldiers coughed, grumbled, and followed the third soldier out of the tent and into the rain.

She exhaled in relief. “Do you think they'll come back?”

“I hope not. It's raining pretty hard.”

“Where can we go?”

“We'd better just stay here, Mai. It's safer than stumbling around in the dark.” Kien reached out and put his arm around Mai. She nuzzled closer, feeling the warmth of his body against hers.

“Remember the monsoons in Vietnam, Kien? I loved to lie in bed and listen to the rain on our tile roof. I felt so safe then.”
And
, she thought,
I feel safe with you now.

“I know what you mean. Weren't you ever afraid?”

Her cheek rubbed against Kien's bare shoulder. She sat very still. “Oh, yes, when the thunder boomed and the lightning made the sky show up like fireworks at Tet, I would hide on the floor next to my bed and call for my nanny.”

“My mother and I lived in a bamboo house with a
thatched roof that leaked so much when the rain fell, we had to hide under the table. Sometimes the wind would be so fierce I'd have to hold the door shut,” Kien said, shivering.

“Well, this isn't much better.” Mai laughed as the tarp started to leak above them. They crawled over underneath one of the tables. “I think it's raining more inside now than it is outside.”

“Just like home,” Kien whispered. “Let's try to get some sleep.”

“Kien, can I just ask you a question?”

“Sure, Mai. What is it?”

“Do you think Uncle Hiep is going to be all right?”

Kien did not answer her right away. Maybe he hadn't heard her.

“Do you think Uncle Hiep's going to be all right?” She started to cry.

“Don't cry, Mai. I hope he will be, but I don't know. A friend of my mother's had hepatitis and she recovered.”

“But, Kien, Sang's ghost is after Uncle Hiep.”

“I believe you, Mai. We'll get those pictures as soon as we can.”

Kien's words gave her no peace, and for the rest of the night she lay under the table, listening to Kien's quiet snores and the rain.
Uncle Hiep has to live. He just has to
. She closed her eyes, but sleep was a stranger.

She heard a cough. She scratched her nose and looked over at Kien, who was staring at her.

“Come on, Mai. We need to get out of here now, before someone comes.”

As they stepped outside, she felt the first rays of the morning sun on her face. Smoke from cooking fires was curling into the morning mist. She could hear the cry of a hungry baby and see women spreading wet blankets and clothing on rocks and bushes for the sun to dry them. Kien rubbed his chest and unrolled his wet T-shirt. A little girl, her thumb in her mouth, wailed for her mother to pick her up. Mai's stomach started to growl. Kien heard it and laughed. She turned to him and smiled.

“Your stomach is talking to you. Listen to mine. It's talking too.” Kien put his hand to his stomach as it too made a gurgling growl. “We'll have to eat when we get back to our camp.”

“I want to go see Uncle Hiep first. Then get the tiger pictures,” Mai called as she ran across the sand.

Kien sprinted to catch up with her. They crossed the beach by the pier, the wind blowing in their faces. Their open mouths gulped in the sea air. Their feet, dodging debris scattered on the beach by the storm, made deep prints in the wet sand. Mai felt like the kite she'd flown with Hiep, the wind ready to pick her up and blow her into the sky until she became only a small insignificant speck on the horizon.