They are
His country.
285
Suddenly it’s quiet.
Cautiously, Chon gets up to see
Bathed in moonlight, Elena sits on the ground, her back against the grill of the Land Rover. Two dead
Elena calls, “Magda! Magda!”
Chon sees the girl stumble in the greasewood and brush, trying to get away from the scene.
Thinks, there will be time for her later.
He points his rifle at Elena’s head.
She looks up at him and says, “Do it. You already killed my son.”
O is standing at his shoulder.
Blood—black in the silver light—runs down her tattooed arm like a jungle waterfall. It flows from the mermaid’s mouth and winds down the undersea vines.
Chon tries to raise the gun but his wounded shoulder won’t let him. His arm goes numb and the rifle falls into the dirt.
Says, “I can’t.”
Elena smiles at O. And says, “You see,
O picks up Chon’s fallen rifle.
Says, “I’m not your fucking daughter.”
And pulls the trigger.
286
Chon catches up with Magda, in shock, stumbling around the desert, and grabs her wrist.
He knows what he needs to do, if they’re to get away. They all know it—if they let this girl live, they run tonight and can never come home again.
Chon looks over.
O shakes her head.
Ben does the same.
Chon rips the tape off the girl’s mouth, then her wrists. He shoves her toward the Suburban. “Get the fuck out of here. Get the fuck out of here now.”
She staggers toward the car and gets in. A few seconds later the car rooster-tails out of the dirt and onto the highway.
Chon walks over to Ben and O.
Just as Ben
Collapses.
287
Chon kneels beside them, rolls Ben over as gently as he can but Ben screams in pain.
Opening Ben’s jacket, Chon sees and knows.
Gets the morphine and the syringe from his own pocket.
He finds a vein in Ben’s arm and shoots him up.
288
O asks,
“He’s going to die anyway, isn’t he?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t want to leave him.”
“No.”
Chon breaks another ampoule and fills the syringe. O offers her arm. Chon finds a vein and shoots her up.
Then he repeats the process on himself.
289
O lies down and wraps her arms around Ben.
He presses his back against her warm stomach.
“You’d like Indo,” he mutters.
“I’ll bet.”
O strokes his cheek. Warm, soft Ben. She says, “Tell me about it.”
Dreamily, Ben tells her about golden beaches edged in emerald necklaces of jungle. About water so green and blue that only a stoned God could have dreamed up the colors. Tells her about crazy, motley birds doing Charlie Parker riffs at the incitement of sunrise, about small-framed brown men and delicate brown women with smiles as white and pure as winter and hearts to match. About sunsets of gentle fire, warm but not burning, satin black nights lit only by starshine.
“It sounds like heaven,” she says. Then, “I’m cold.”
Chon lies down behind O and presses close. The warmth of his body feels good to her. He reaches his arm over her and takes Ben’s hand.
Ben grips it hard.
290
O listens to the sounds in her head.
Waves gently breaking on pebbles.
She hears her heartbeat, and her men’s.
Strong, but slowing.
Warm now in the womb of her two men.
O.
We’ll live on the beach and eat the fish that we catch. We’ll pick fresh fruit and climb trees for coconuts. We’ll sleep together on palm frond mats and make love.
Like savages.
Beautiful, beautiful savages.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I have a lot of people to thank—my agent, Richard Pine, to whom I now owe dinner and a lot more; my buddy
