Shock of War

again, the tollkeeper banged on the door. He glanced in the mirror, saw her holding her hand up.

Change.

He reached down, took it, and with his hand shaking, restarted the truck. The gate was open; he eased through.

“Here,” he told Christian, handing him the money.

* * *

They drove in silence for another fifteen minutes. Zeus’s eyelids started to droop. Despite the anxiety and adrenaline, he teetered on the edge of sleep. Sleep was what he really needed — sleep would erase much of the fear; sleep would restore his strength; sleep would help him think clearly. If he slept, he could sort everything out. He could figure out how to get back to Vietnam.

He could decide what he felt about killing civilians.

He knew how he felt about that: he should not kill civilians. He could not. Even if he were at war, it would not be right.

If they tried to kill him?

Then they weren’t civilians.

What if they didn’t try to kill him themselves, but told other people who would try to kill him? What if they were going to do that, but hadn’t yet?

Where was the line?

“Hey — you failin’ asleep?” asked Christian.

Zeus shook himself back to full consciousness.

“I’m okay,” he said.

“You got a plan?”

“We go south. We get close to the water. We get a boat.”

“Right.”

“So you gotta get us close to the water. But not a big town. A small one.”

“If we’re gonna steal a boat we gotta do it soon,” said Christian. “It’ll be light maybe in an hour. Less.”

“Yeah.”

“I’d like to sleep,” added Christian.

“So would I,” admitted Zeus. “But we can’t.”

Christian checked the map. They were driving in the direction of Fangchenggang, a large port city. Would they have an easier time getting a boat there, or just outside it?

Outside, Zeus thought.

“We have to find a good road to take us around the city, into the suburbs but near the water,” he told Christian. “It would be better south — the closer we are to Vietnam, the better.”

Christian studied the map.

Zeus spotted a truck off the side of the road ahead. He slowed, saw it was two trucks. Then he realized both were army trucks.

“We’re getting the hell off this road right away,” he told Christian. He spotted a turnoff ahead. “Figure out where we are.”

13

Beijing

Cho Lai shook his head as his interior minister continued speaking. There had been more food riots overnight in Harbin. Meanwhile, the governor of Guangdong Province had sent police to “guard” a number of factories owned by party officials — a move meant as a threat to get more aid from the central government.

“All of this disruption when the country is at war,” said Cho Lai finally. “It is treason.”

The minister bowed his head.

“Criminals will be dealt with harshly,” continued the premier. “Remind them of that. And note, too, that we will not be blackmailed.”

“Yes, Premier.”

“You’re dismissed.

Cho Lai struggled to maintain his calm. On the one hand, he realized his people needed food — the shortages were severe, even here in Beijing: he had seen them himself on unannounced tours of the markets. On the other hand, he was solving the country’s problems. All he needed was time.

The premier rose and walked around his large office, working off some of his frustration. Things in Vietnam were not going as planned. His generals were like frightened children, afraid to take even the smallest of losses.

And despite everything, they remained petrified of the Americans. The Americans, who were hiding in the shadows.

Why be afraid of them? China had succeeded in blocking any vote in the UN. Cho Lai was confident that there would be no vote of condemnation from the American Congress, either. He had spent enough money on lobbyists there to feed Harbin Province for a month — if only there were food to buy.

Still, one American remained beyond his reach: the President. He was a clever enemy, the dragon of many forms.

Why should Greene of all people help the Vietnamese? It was absurd and unfair. They had been Greene’s tormentors.

Admittedly, this had been an error of Cho Lai. He had thought the President would secretly endorse the punishment of Vietnam. He had even fantasized about calling him and sharing a few boasts. In his imagination, his foolish imagination, Cho Lai had thought Greene would welcome the country’s humiliation.

The intercom buzzed. Lo Gong, the defense minister, was waiting outside.

Cho Lai ordered him in.

“We are proceeding with a new plan to take Hai Phong,” Lo Gong said. “We will move down the coast with our tanks. And then, a stealth attack — we have ships that are prepared to enter the port.”

“Excellent,” said Cho Lai.

“The storm is the only difficulty.”

“What storm?”

“The typhoon, Your Excellency.”

“Damn the weather! Move ahead. Always timid! Is every general in my army a coward?”

The minister’s face reddened.

“Out!” thundered Cho Lai. “Out, before I lose my patience.”

The defense minister left without saying another word.

14

Outside Fangchenggang, China

There was still another hour before dawn, but the city was already stirring, with a stream of trucks headed both toward and away from the harbor area. Traffic had already congealed on the major roads. Even the small byroads Zeus threaded through had a fair amount of vehicles.

Clusters of PLA trucks and soldiers were parked along the sides of several roads. Their mission, if any, seemed to be one of reassurance rather than actual security. In any event, they weren’t stopping civilian vehicles.

“There’s a line ahead,” said Christian. “More traffic.”

“Any way around it?”