The man squared as if to fire, though it was clear from his aim that he didn’t know where Jing Yo was.
“You’d best shoot then,” said Jing Yo, taking a step and throwing himself feetfirst at the man.
The gun went off as they went down, a loud, violent rattle in the rain. Jing Yo landed square on the man’s chest, knocking him down. He sprang up, then went down into the man’s side, knee-first.
The man bashed his rifle against Jing Yo’s head, hitting him just above his eye. As he reared back to strike again, Jing Yo grabbed the gun and rolled forward with him, both men holding the rifle as they went down the embankment.
His enemy’s face pressed against his as Jing Yo fell beneath him. The man’s breath smelled of rotten fish. Jing Yo started to push to the left, trying to slip out from under him. The man raised his skull, then smashed it into Jing Yo’s forehead. Jing Yo hit him on the temple with his left fist. Still the man fought back, hitting him with another head butt.
Both were still holding the rifle between them. As long as they did that, neither would have an advantage. But to let go of the gun was to risk giving the other an insurmountable edge.
When his punches failed to move the man off him, Jing Yo grabbed the man’s hair and tried to pull him down. But his enemy’s bulk protected him, and he was able to push back and attack with another head smash.
I must take the risk, Jing Yo thought.
He pushed the rifle against his enemy’s chest. The sudden change in direction caught him off guard. As the man fell back, Jing Yo pitched his elbow and forearm up, smacking the rifle into the man’s face and striking his eye. The man winced, instinctively ducking back and loosening his grip on the gun.
That was all the advantage that Jing Yo needed. He tossed the rifle aside, and with his upper body free, his hands flew to the man’s head, his knee up into his groin. With one hard twist, the man’s neck was broken.
Jing Yo threw him to the side and scrambled for the gun.
The man’s accomplice was by the truck, shouting. Jing Yo grabbed the rifle, then threw himself flat, unsure where the other man was.
“Pean!” the man yelled to his companion. “
Jing Yo crawled up the side of the ditch, willing his eyes to focus. He saw two shadows near the cab of the truck. The man had Hyuen Bo.
“Pean!” he called again. “Where are you? Should I kill the girl?”
Jing Yo raised the rifle. He wasn’t sure when of the shadows was the man, which was Hyuen Bo.
She was behind the man, very close, held around the neck.
Ten yards. An easy shot.
Jing Yo pressed the trigger. The AK-47 clicked. It had run out of bullets.
“Drop the girl and I’ll let you live,” said Jing Yo.
“Who are you?” yelled the man.
“Let go of the girl.”
Jing Yo heard her struggle. The man twisted around, pulling her in front of him.
“You think I’m a fool?” said the other man. “Where is Pean?”
“You’ll meet him soon enough if you don’t let her go.”
“Perhaps I’ll shoot her.”
“Then I’ll eat your heart while you’re still alive,” replied Jing Yo.
The man began edging toward the scooter. Jing Yo rose.
“I see you!” shouted the man. “Any closer and she dies.”
“Let the girl go, or you will die.”
“Not today.”
As the man reached the scooter, Hyuen Bo started to pull away. The man let go of her and fumbled for the ignition. Jing Yo launched himself, flying to his back as the motor caught. They both went over the handlebars, the scooter’s engine catching.
Three hard punches to the back of the man’s head rendered him unconscious.
Jing Yo struggled to control his anger. He rose, wanting nothing else but to tear the man’s head off his body. He picked up the man’s rifle, placed it next to his skull, and fired once, killing him.
It was an act of mercy, compared to what he wanted to do.
In the meantime, Hyuen Bo ran to the scooter and righted it.
“We should go,” she said as Jing Yo stood over the body.
“They’re soldiers,” said Jing Yo, pointing at the men’s uniforms. They’d pulled their patches from their shoulders. They were deserters. “They may have something we can use.”
“Come on, Yo.”
Jing Yo stared at her. In his heart he wanted her to go, to just leave, to save herself from the future she would he trapped in.
“They may have something useful,” he said, pulling the man he had just killed off the road and starting to search their pockets.
This was the army they were fighting against? An army of cowards without even enough sense to steal a vehicle that had gas? Without even a thousand dong in their pockets?
His true enemy was somewhere on the road south, getting farther away with each moment he dawdled.
“Are you sure you are okay?” Jing Yo asked Hyuen Bo when he returned to the scooter.
“I’ve had much worse.”
“There will be much worse to come.”
Hyuen Bo said nothing, tightening her grip around his waist as he took the scooter once more back on the road.
22
Squished between Mara and Squeaky, Josh felt as if he were wrapped in a sweaty blanket. Mara was driving; Squeaky had dozed off next to him.
The headlights were on. The light filtered through the droplets of water, reflecting off the sides of the buildings that lined the road. There was traffic, cars and trucks coming with supplies and workers for the day. There weren’t a lot of vehicles, but there were certainly more than he’d seen before falling asleep.
“How far are we from Ho Chi Minh City?” he asked.
“We should be there by nightfall,” said Mara. “We still have a ways to go. How are you feeling?”
“My insides kind of hurt. I must have eaten something bad.”
“You have a fever.”
“Yeah.”
Mara put her hand up to his forehead. Her hand felt cool and soft, the touch gentle.
“We’ll see a doctor as soon as we get to Saigon,” she told him. “I don’t want to stop.”
“I’m okay,” said Josh. “Maybe…” His voice trailed off.
“Maybe what?” Mara asked.
