The Cloud Atlas

two to realize that I'd paused because some part of my brain was processing the boy as a new kind of bomb, one that lay far beyond the reach of my training. Perhaps he was his own bioweapon container.

He looked up, saw me, and gave a tiny groan. Then he screwed his face tight and, biting his lip, began to struggle to stand. I shouted for him to stop, and his eyes snapped open. I started speaking rapidly, explaining how he had to be careful how he moved, or else he might set off some of the charges. He frowned and replied in Japanese, and the two of us went on conversing like that for another minute, each of us oblivious to our inability to communicate.

Finally, I pantomimed an explosion, and told him, as best I could, to sit tight. He did. I studied things, walked around the balloon, decided on the best route to disarm the balloon and safely free the boy. I told the boy I would be right back, and then returned to Gurley

He and Lily were sitting now. She was staring after the balloon, tears in her eyes, but no longer crying. Gurley was still whispering into her ear, her hands in his. I stood at a distance waiting for them to turn to me. I tried to blot Gurley out of the picture and just take in her eyes, imagine that she was looking only at me, had only ever looked at me, but I couldn't. Gurley was there, and Saburo before him, and now, somehow, this boy, too. They were all there, all claiming a piece of her.

“Too complicated?” said Gurley, looking up. He began to disentangle himself from Lily while still holding her hands.

“No, sir, I-”

“Because I thought it might be,” Gurley said quickly. He gave Lily a squeeze and stood. He made a sour face and looked at the balloon. “Bastards. Can you believe-” he said, facing me, but really speaking to Lily. “Can you believe people would do this? Send children into war? Tie them to a balloon? And for what ungodly purpose? The cruelty-unspeakable. Cruel to him, but also to saps like us, called upon to witness the slaughter of a child.”

“I think we can-”

“I assume it's booby-trapped, Sergeant,” Gurley said, fixing his attention on me more sturdily now.

“Well, sir, it looks a bit like-”

“I mean-my word,” Gurley said, more confident with the direction his performance had taken. “Is it more humane to shoot him and then detonate the balloon, or-?”

Lily gave a half-cry and rose. “There has to be a way,” she said, looking at Gurley and then me. I looked at Gurley, too, unable to decode the strange signals he was sending. He wanted to do the bomb disposal job himself, for once? He wanted to impress Lily.

“Well, I think-sir, I think there is a way,” I said. “Some of the worst stuff you find on these balloons-well, on this one, it looks like that's all gone already, never put on or maybe dropped in the ocean.” I stopped. “As you know,” I quickly added. “All that's left are a couple of firebombs, the little charges, maybe the flash bomb on the balloon, but-”

“You trust there's no booby trap, Sergeant?” Gurley said, looking at me very carefully now.

If Sergeant Redes had been quizzing me, I would have said hell no, never trust a bomb about anything, especially a Japanese one, but instead I said, “This looks as safe as safe gets.” Then I looked at Lily, eager to win her favor. “And, well-the boy. Sir. It's worth a try.” But Lily was staring at Gurley waiting to hear what he would say.

“The boy,” Gurley said. “Well.” He looked around the tundra, as though searching for other balloons, other boys. Then he looked at me. “I wonder if you'd be so quick to dismiss a booby trap if it were you who were doing the disarming.” He gave a tight smile, and when I started to protest that I would be happy to help-I wanted to impress Lily, too, and moreover, I didn't want Gurley to kill us all-he waved me away. “Officers' work, Sergeant,” he said. “You know that,” he added, pinning me with a look that I'm sure he hoped would keep me from mumbling something about all the previous times I'd done the work of an officer. He stood, hands on hips, and surveyed the balloon. “Get the kit,” he said, “prepare the site.” Lily looked at him with such renewed fascination I almost felt ill; in the next moment, I almost grabbed for his damn gun.

PREPPING THE SITE consisted of checking it once more for any obvious booby traps-which, Sergeant Redes forgive me, I now dearly hoped to find and keep secret. I dug a small pit not far from the balloon to place the bombs in for safe detonation. It quickly filled with water, but there seemed to be no other option, so I let it be. I said what I could to calm the boy, tried to explain that Gurley would soon come to free him, and then laid out some of the tools from the kit. I made sure not to unpack the explosives, blasting wire, or hell box, afraid of what Gurley might do with them.

I then returned to Gurley and Lily and explained what I had seen. He nodded with a practiced weariness: yes, yes, Sergeant, you have told me all you know, which is, of course, so very little. Then he nodded to Lily, told me to take her back a safe distance, and proceeded toward the balloon.

I don't think Lily could tell how nervous he was. She didn't know his walk the way I did; she'd probably never seen him scared like I had. But I could see, in the hunch of his shoulders, his broken gait, that he'd wished he'd dispensed with the bravado and let me do the work. Replaying the conversations from earlier, I realized now that he'd simply wanted to fire at the balloon, its bombs, and the boy from a distance and be done with it. We'd lose a tremendously valuable prize, but, so what, his thinking must have run, we have other balloons.

We saw him speak to the boy and the boy speak back.

“Gurley knows Japanese,” I told Lily, as though she didn't know this and needed to. “He's a Princeton man,” I added, as a kind of dig, but I had little idea what I was saying and neither did Lily. We looked back toward the two of them.

We were too far away to tell, of course, but I was sure he'd frightened the boy, and I hoped Lily could see or sense this. But she just watched in rapt silence. I found the binoculars and handed them to her, hoping that her seeing Gurley close up would expose a bit of his ersatz heroism.

It didn't. Gurley went for the boy first, taking the wire clippers to the cord that held his arm fast to the balloon. The boy shrieked as the arm fell free, all wrong, as loose and slack as a piece of rope. Even without the glasses, I could see it bend in too many places. Lily lowered the binoculars and looked at me in pain. The gun had left a jagged cut that climbed her cheek, a crease of dirt and blood.

Gurley pulled the boy free of the balloon and laid him down. He seemed to be examining the boy, then working on the arm. The boy writhed, Gurley calmed him, the boy writhed again, and finally Gurley stopped what he was doing. He scooped the boy up in his arms, an act which made the boy shrink in size even more. It was hard to believe we'd ever taken him for a man. As Gurley walked toward us, we could see him try to take on a face he felt appropriate to the act-a sympathetic warrior, the soldier with a heart. But Gurley was so consumed with perfecting his walk that he wasn't paying enough attention to how he carried the boy, who was screaming in pain, shattering whatever pacific image Gurley was trying to project. By the time they reached us, Gurley's lips were drawn tight and he was sweating. I could tell he was angry furious, and I wasn't sure at whom: me? Lily? Probably the boy for spoiling the show. I was angry because Gurley had managed to leave the defusing task to me.

Gurley set him down gently enough. Lily's hands flew about the boy, not quite touching him, as if she didn't know where to start. Finally, she went to his face and ran two fingers along his cheek. The boy interrupted his crying to study her.

Gurley called me aside, and I tried to anticipate what he was going to say. “Shall we detonate the remaining explosives, sir?”

“What?” Gurley said, watching Lily watch the boy.

“The balloon?” I said. “Clear it?” I looked around. “Not that anyone would ever come across those bombs out here, but-still. Should I save the balloon?”

“Yes,” said Gurley, still not looking at me.

“But blow the explosives?”

“Yes,” Gurley said.