JASON STEED Absolutely Nothing (15 page)

As he passed the stall selling meat, he had to take a second look. It was selling what at first he thought was a small pig or even a sheep, but when he looked closer, this thing had canines. It was a skinned dog. The stallholder was cutting another one up, and a woman was buying parts of it. Jason made a mental note not to eat any meat while he was in Vietnam. He studied his map and headed Northeast, He hadn’t travelled very far when he came across a disturbing scene.

A group of six boys around fourteen were beating two younger boys around ten. Jason watched for a while, not sure if he should intervene or not. Eventually, he moved closer. The boys getting beaten looked different but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

“Stop it, that’s enough,” he said and repeated it in Chinese, although he doubted they would understand either. They looked at him and surrounded him. One-stepped forward and attempted to hit him. He caught the boys hand sand twisted it. Another came forward, and Jason threw out a kick at the youth, catching him in his stomach. He released the first youth and shouted at them again. They looked at him bewildered and called him a name.
"Con lai." Jason never understood what the word meant, but they all started chanting it.

A woman stepped forward with a broom and shouted at the youths, waving it madly at them. They ran off still chanting the word "con lai." She nodded at Jason and started to walk away. The two smaller children followed her, looking back at Jason and smiling at him with thanks.

“Thank you,” he said to her, brushing himself off. She turned and looked at him and looked around nervously to make sure no one else was watching.

“You speak English?” she asked.

Jason smiled at her. He guessed she was one of the children’s mothers. “Yes Ma'am. I’m glad I found someone else who can.” Jason smiled.

She beckoned Jason to follow her and the children to a nearby home. Jason was stunned by how bare it was inside, containing only a large mattress on the floor, some blankets, a few wooden boxes, chairs, a table, and an oil lamp.

“You’re not from around here. You must be careful. Many people in this village despise children like you, my son, or his friend. Your sort are not welcomed by many,” she said.

Jason looked at the two boys, he was trying to work out which one was her son. They looked different to him. One had dark skin, almost black, but had the eyes of an Asian. The other looked like a westerner, even had red hair, but had the eyes of an Asian.

“Our sort?” Jason asked.

“Yes, you know Amerasian or "con lai" as they called you.”

“Ameri what an? And what does
con lai
mean in English?” Jason asked. The darker coloured boy passed Jason a cup of water. “Thanks.”

“Con lai means half breed. Your father was an American and so was these boys' fathers. My son is called Yung, but his father called him Ian. Yung's father was killed six years ago when Yung was just three. This is Keong. His mother was forced by an American soldier or so she says. He has never met his father. The correct term is Amerasian”

Jason drunk the water and took it all in. “So you married an American?”

“We were in love.” She beamed. “We never married, although we planned to when the war ended. He was stationed here during the war. You must have seen other Amerasians? There are many of your kind here.”

“Em.” Jason paused and thought this could be the perfect cover for him. “Yeah I have. So doesn’t your boyfriends parent’s help out or the US government? Yung's father was an American; he would have had a benefit paid out or something to his son or you. Don’t the Amerasians get anything from the United States?”

“No, they deny Yung's existence. His father wrote to his parents in America and told them about our son, but they would never accept him as a grandson. My family cast us out. They call me a whore. Yung's father was called Derek,” she said, passing a picture of him to Jason. The picture was faded and creased. “He taught me to speak English. Did
your
mother teach you?”

Jason studied the picture. “Yes she did,” he lied. “My mother is ill. I need to contact her family in
Tay Ninh.”

“That’s too far for you to travel. It’s about one hundred miles away. How were you planning to get there?”

“I don’t know, walk.” Jason shrugged.

“It will take you days, and you being Amerasian will have more trouble on the way. I’m afraid for many people you represent a depressing time for us in Vietnam. They will blame you for the loss of their loved ones.”

Jason sat back and rested his head against the stick wall. He felt tired. He hadn’t slept and was overcome with jet lag. He woke up with a start some seven hours later. He was annoyed at himself for falling asleep. It was just after three in the afternoon. He had wasted valuable daylight hours. He said his goodbyes and left the small family.

After walking just a few miles he started feeling tired. The humidity was saturating and sapped his strength. He found himself on a dusty road. He passed burnt out and rusted tanks, Jeeps, and US Army troop carriers. He stopped and rested in a rusted army truck. The door squealed as he pulled it open to rest inside. He took advantage of his break to look at his map. Using his compass he could work out where he was. He was walking almost parallel with the Cambodian border.

The route he had taken brought him to a river. He followed along the bank. The area was strangely calm and quiet, apart from the constant buzzing around his ears from the mosquitoes. He marvelled at the landscape and ever-changing weather. He could be soaked by rain or fried by the sun. he was nothing in his immense jungle. In his entire life, he never felt so insignificant. The silence was later broken when he came across two fishermen landing their small-motorized canoe.

They eyed him suspiciously as they tied the small craft to a tree. “
Con lai,” the older one shouted and waved his hand angrily at Jason. He picked up a small rock and hurled in Jason’s direction.

“Oi, watch it! That nearly hit me,” Jason shouted back. The taller, younger fisherman picked up a stick and ran towards Jason.

“Con lai! Con lai!” he shouted again. He attempted to strike Jason with the stick; Jason ducked and swept his attackers feet away from him, sending him down to the ground. The stunned fisherman sat on the ground, his pride hurt more than anything when his older friend started laughing.

“Stay down, Captain Ahab, if you don’t want to get hurt” Jason said. “And while we are at it, stop calling me half-breed. That’s racist.”

The fisherman climbed to his feet. e took out his fishing knife and approached, trying to scare the boy away.

“Seriously, you’re gonna try and stab me now?” Jason asked with his hands on his hips. He studied the knife. It was thin towards the tip, suggesting it had been sharpened many times. He ran at the man and leapt into the air. He threw a kick and caught the man in the face. He grabbed the man’s wrist as he fell and twisted, causing the man to scream in pain and drop the knife.

The older fisherman approached cautiously with a fishing pole pointing at Jason.

“And all this because you think I’m a half-breed?” Jason cursed in disbelief although neither man could understand him. Rather than carry on fighting Jason took the easy option He pulled out the pistol that was tucked inside his belt and aimed it at both men. Immediately, they held their hands above their heads.

“Go run,” Jason shouted he gestured with the pistol. Both men understood and ran off into the dense undergrowth. They had no idea what the boy was saying but were smart enough to run when they had the chance.

He was pleased with himself when he worked out how to start the little motor on the canoe. He picked up his backpack and cast off. The canoe didn’t go very fast, but it was much easier than walking, and he was sure he would be able to get to
Tay Ninh before the fast approaching deadline. Jason still had no plan on how to find the actual prison or how to free his father but was sure he would think of something when he needed to.

Chapter Eighteen

The following morning, a five-man team from the Vietnamese army searched the river for the gun-toting boy. They never found him. The Vietnamese army was told to keep a watch out for him. Jason had travelled over forty miles before the early hours of the morning.

Dark rain clouds had blocked the moonlight and made it absolute darkness. It seemed to fold in on all sides around him and made it dangerous to keep going. He found a suitable place under a fallen tree to hide and tie up to. He slept in the canoe, spending much of the night swatting mosquitoes that fancied his blood.

Jason ate some of the fruit he had bought from the market the day before and drank a bottle of his water. He knew he would eventually have to drink the river water with the purification tablets but wanted to put it off for as long as possible. Earlier he had noticed a dead cow in the water that was rotten and full of maggots. He didn’t relish the thought of drinking from the same source.

After studying his map, he worked out he was back in Cambodia. So far he had only seen a few fishing canoes. Often he waved, getting nothing back in return other than a nod, and that’s the way he preferred it as he continued up stream. Unknown to him, three patrol boats were heading down river in his direction. One of them was carrying General Chow. He was really disappointed when the war ended with the United States. He enjoyed the action, killing Americans and torturing them. Part of him still believed that the war was raging on.

*

Back in the United States, Max gathered the reports from Thailand. News of the stolen aircraft being flown by a blond haired boy had also broken in the UK and US. The information that it was forced down and had to make a crash landing on a beach in Vietnam concerned Max. The Vietnamese official statement was they were still looking for the pilot. Max was unsure if that was true and wondered if Jason had got away or had himself been taken prisoner.

Max contacted SYUI in London and spoke to George Young again. George had called Scott Turner but he had not heard from Jason either. Scott played sick and was allowed to stay home from school. He wanted to monitor his ham radio. A year earlier Jason contacted him while in Jakarta via Morse code. Scott hoped if Jason was alive he may try the same thing.

*

The river meandered back into Vietnam. Jason was getting low on fuel and knew it was only a matter of time before he would be forced to ditch the canoe and continue on foot. He rounded a bend and his engine started to splutter, eventually stopping. He tried in vain, pulling on the starter rope, to start it, but without fuel it refused. Pausing and catching his breath, he thought he could hear something. He listened hard and heard it again. It was a motorboat.
Good they can tow me to shore,
he said to himself.

As the boat approached, Jason was horrified to discover it was a Vietnamese Army armoured motor launch with at least five soldiers on board. He ensured his gun was well hidden under his shirt and waved at them. They ignored his pleasant smile and pulled alongside. One kept his automatic rifle pointing at Jason.

They shouted something at him. He pointed at his mouth and acted dumb. Again they shouted. Jason smiled and held out his hand. He pointed at his mouth and shook his head. They seem to understand that he could not speak, but one still climbed on to his canoe and searched it. He came across Jason’s backpack. Jason dreaded what they might find. The solider shouted and he pulled out the map, compass, and three grenades. Another two guns pointed at Jason from the crew of the motorboat.

The solider held the grenades under Jason’s face and shouted at him. He pointed in the undergrowth, pretending he had found them. The guard struck Jason across his face, knocking the boy down on his back. Jason pointed again at the undergrowth. Eventually, they seemed to understand that he had found them. As they were used and American, they assumed he had come across them in the jungle. It was not uncommon for locals and children to find weapons and other military items, even dead bodies, left behind from the war. Very often children would step on a land mine and get killed or seriously injured.

The solider took his backpack; Jason stood and protested. He knew he needed the map. He jumped across onto the launch and held out his hand for the items. They laughed at him and pushed him back. One of the soldiers on the boat who Jason suspected was in charge said something to another and pointed at Jason. He wanted him searched. They suspected he was Amerasian, after all, they had come across thousands of them. But this boy was very fair and had sapphire blue eyes and not a hint of Asian.