Shock of War

Neither man said anything. Zeus took a half step toward the door. The soldier who had raised his hand moved in front of him.

“Dr. Anway,” Zeus said. “I’m here to meet her. The doctor.”

Zeus held up the branch of blossoms.

“I have to see Dr. Anway.”

The soldier on the right said something in Vietnamese. His voice was soft; the words came slowly and distinctly, but of course Zeus didn’t understand what he said.

“I’m an American,” he said, though this would be rather obvious. He reached into his pocket and took out his passport.

The soldier who had barred his way took it, leafing through slowly.

“Dr. Anway?” said Zeus hopefully.

The other soldier said something in Vietnamese.

“I’m sorry but I don’t understand. I was told to meet her here.” Zeus glanced back at the people on the street. None of them seemed to be paying any attention to him.

“Does anyone speak English?” he asked.

No one responded. Zeus turned back to the soldier who had the passport.

“Dr. Anway,” said Zeus, pointing to the flowers.

The other soldier reached over for the branch. It wasn’t a violent gesture; Zeus thought he was offering to take them to her.

“I want to give them to her myself,” said Zeus, holding them.

The other soldier handed his passport back.

Zeus started for the door, but the soldiers immediately raised their rifles to bar him.

“Does anyone speak English?” asked Zeus loudly. He turned and repeated the question.

One of the men on the street looked back at him.

“Do you understand?” Zeus asked.

“No to go inside,” said the man. “Only worker.”

“I’m supposed to meet someone,” Zeus explained.

Just then the door opened. Two older Vietnamese men came out. Both were dressed in button-down Western-style shirts, and wore well-tailored trousers and dress shoes. Zeus guessed they were doctors.

“Excuse me,” he said. “Do either of you know Dr. Anway?”

“Anna?” said one.

“Yes,” said Zeus, guessing that was her first name.

“She left hours ago. Her shift ended early. We sent her home. She needed rest.”

Zeus felt as if his lungs had collapsed.

“Oh,” he managed.

“You should check in the morning,” said the man. “She will be here by eight.”

“Thank you.”

The man glanced at the flowers in Zeus’s hand and smiled. He and his colleague stepped over to the knot of other people. A van was just driving up the street.

“The van will take you to your hotel,” said the man who’d been speaking with him.

“No, that’s all right. I have another ride.”

“You should be careful,” warned the man.

Zeus walked to the corner, dejected. He fished the card out from his pocket, and took out his satellite phone. Then he put both back — he’d rather walk. It would do him some good.

He dropped the flowers on the ground. He should have known.

A bell rang behind him. It was an odd sound in a war, a light ring.

When he was younger, he thought of war and peace as two very separate things, different parts of the universe. Now he knew they were entangled, shards of each poking through the fabric of the other.

The bell sounded again, louder. Zeus turned to see a bicycle bearing down on him. He hopped back as the bicyclist pulled up.

It was Anna.

Anna.

“I am sorry to be late,” she said, sliding down off the seat.

“Anna.”

“Yes?”

“I… they didn’t let me in. Someone told me you had left.”

“Yes. I was able to get out. Come.”

She turned the bicycle around.

“I can call a cab,” Zeus said. “A taxi.”

“It is only a short way.”

“Oh… great,” said Zeus, starting to follow.

They came to the flowers. Zeus scooped the branch up and handed it to her.

“I… I got this, but I dropped it.” He winced, suddenly realizing he was underlining his loss of faith.

“It’s very beautiful,” she told him.

“Like you.”

“Hmmmm.”

Was she blushing? He couldn’t tell in the dark.

“You speak English so well,” he told her.

“I left Vietnam as a child. My parents sent me to Australia. Where I went to school.”

“Why did you come back?”

“I was always to come back,” she said, as if the question were odd. “Vietnam is my home.”

They walked past the street where the hospital was. Zeus felt his energy coming back.

“Do you like being a doctor?” he asked.

Another dumb question. Where is my brain?

“I like helping people.” She glanced up at him. “Do you like being a soldier?”

“Sometimes.”

“We are very grateful for your help. I have heard of your sacrifices. You destroyed enemy tanks.”

“Actually, the trucks that would supply them. We blew up their fuel.” “Ah.”

“Where’s the restaurant?” asked Zeus.

“I have made dinner,” she told him. “At my apartment.”

“Oh,” he said. “We can do that, too.”

* * *

Anna’s apartment building had so far escaped damage. Eight stories high, it was a plain, boxy building, the sort of nondescript structure that would have been anonymous in the West and even in most of Asia. Here, however, the newness and size of the apartments made it a place of luxury. Little cues signaled its status: a black wrought-iron fence around the small courtyard, a well-tended if small garden at the front, a fancy plaque that held the address.

Anna used a key to open the building’s front door. Zeus held it for her as she wheeled her bike into the darkened foyer.

“The electricity has been turned off,” she explained. “The city has to conserve.”

“Sure.”

“I’m at the top.”

“I’ll take your bike,” he told her, picking it up. “Show me the way.”

The bicycle was heavier than he expected, and by the first landing Zeus felt the strain in his arms. But pride kept him going. A skylight at the top of the stairwell supplied a faint grayish light, making it easier to see the steps as he worked his way up behind her.

“Here,” she said, putting her bike next to the door of the apartment at the end of the hall. “Wait.”

Anna put her key in the lock. A yellow glow spilled into the hallway as she opened the door.

“Candles,” she told him.