Out of the Dragon's Mouth (12 page)

The American doctor had just stepped off the pier and was striding across the sand toward them. The wooden fishing trawler he'd arrived on bobbed in the waves. Unloading crates containing the morning's food supply were two Malaysians, their bare backs glistening in the sun.

“Doctor, doctor, wait,” Mai cried. He veered away from them. Mai and Kien followed him to the clinic, catching up with him as he stooped to empty a stone from his sandal. The doctor slipped his sandal back on and stood up. Mai had forgotten how tall he was.

“I thought I heard someone calling me.” He brushed the beads of sweat from his forehead and adjusted the Red Cross cap on his head.

Mai bowed, folding her hands in front of her. “Doctor, please. How is my uncle?”

“Let's go in and see.” The doctor motioned her to follow him to the cot where Hiep lay sleeping and pulled back the mosquito netting. The rustle of the mosquito netting moving off his body wakened Hiep, and he opened his eyelids.

“How are you feeling this morning?” the doctor asked as he pressed his fingers to Hiep's wrist. The nurse hovered behind him. Hiep groaned and moved his hand to his side. The doctor reached down and felt it. Hiep groaned louder. Turning to Mai, the doctor said, “He seems to be about the
same today. We'll keep an eye on him. You're welcome to
come back and check on him any time.”

“Thank you, doctor. I'll be back. I have something
important to do.” Mai squeezed Hiep's hand. “I'll be back in a few hours, Hiep. Don't worry. You're going to be all right.”

Hiep's eyes widened as he heard her words. Mai knew she had to get the tiger pictures soon. He wasn't getting better.

When Mai and Kien arrived at the stretch of ocean that divided the island, they stopped to rest, kneeling in the sand to observe the crossing. Mai could see green algae covering the wet rocks. Today, the water circled in mad swirls around the path they would have to cross. Kien beckoned to Mai to follow him.

Mai's legs shook as she stepped out on the first rock. Hiep's life depended on her getting the tiger pictures. She stepped gingerly across the rocks, each one slipperier than the last, holding her dép in her hands and clinging to the rocks with her toes like the monkeys she had seen in the zoo, the salty water sloshing over her feet.

Halfway across she looked back and panicked. She was stranded in the middle. Too late to turn back. She pressed forward until she landed on the last rock, broad and flat, and whispered a silent thank you to the gods who'd protected her despite the fact that she had lost her lucky gold bracelet. The last leap was a small one and she made it easily, sprawling into the sand. She jumped up and grinned triumphantly at Kien.

“I did it,” she cried, shading her eyes to look for the tarps. Drawing closer, she could see Lan knitting in the shade of a bamboo tree.

Lan dropped her needles, stood up, and waved. “Mai, how's Hiep? I've been so worried.”

“He's very sick. I have to get the tiger pictures. Small Auntie stole my gold bracelet.”

“Sit down and have some water and tell me what the doctor said,” Lan pleaded, motioning to the water bucket.

Kien dropped to the ground and wiped the perspiration from his forehead. Mai gulped down a can of water and ran into the tent. Over the hammocks were the tiger pictures hanging where she had left them, but now on wet, ripped paper that was covered with black smudges.

“What happened to my pictures?” Mai wailed as she took them down and held them in her hands.

She looked up at Kien as he entered, followed by Lan. Had Sang's ghost destroyed the pictures? What would happen to Hiep now? Mai's body shook with fear.

Lan took one picture from her, examined it, and handed it back to her. “The rain, Mai. It came sideways. There was no way to keep it out. We tried hangi
ng rice bags, but they were not strong enough.”

Mai crushed the soggy paper into a ball. Suddenly, she remembered Tuan. “Have you seen Tuan? He came back last night to bring the food and get my pictures for me.”

Lan shook her head. “I thought he was with you. I didn't follow you when you crossed the water yesterday. I was afraid. I'm sorry.”

“He promised to get the tiger pictures.” Mai hurled the paper balls at the side of the tent. “Where is he? I should have left him to watch Uncle Hiep instead of sending him off for the pictures. Now what will I do?” She reached for Hiep's plastic bag hanging from the tent pole and pulled out the drenched pad of paper. “Everything's ruined. I can't even make another picture. There must be some way to make Uncle Sang's ghost rest.”

Lan removed the pad of paper from her hand. Mai's arms fell to her side and she hung her head in despair.

“We've come all this way and now we won't be able to leave the island,” she said.

“How is Hiep? What did the doctor say?' Lan asked again. Mai repeated the doctor's words. Then she told Lan the details about the theft of her bracelet. Lan gasped.

“Small Auntie shouldn't be allowed to get away with this, but of course on this island we can't stop these things from happening. I'm sorry, Mai. I didn't know you had a bracelet.”

Mai hadn't wanted anyone to know about the bracelet, but now it was no matter.

“My mother gave it to me when we left. She told me never to let it go. It was our good luck. It was to remember my family, a promise that we would all be together again, and now the promise can't be kept.”

Lan nodded sympathetically. “My mother gave me this small ring.” She held out her hand and Mai saw an etched gold band on Lan's index finger. “But now I know my mother is dead and we'll never meet again. Here, Mai, I want you to have this.” Lan slipped the ring off her finger. “I want to give you my good luck. It might help to save Hiep.” Large tears in the corners of Lan's eyes trailed down her cheeks one at a time, as if each were waiting its turn.

“You didn't tell me your mother was dead. When did you find out?”

Lan's face grew taut. “A letter arrived three days ago from my father. She died of malaria two months ago. A neighbor of ours who just arrived carried it to me.”

Mai put her arms around Lan and wept. Together the two stood, Mai's head on Lan's shoulder. Mai wondered if her own mother was still alive.

“Keep the ring. It's your good luck, not mine,” Mai protested, pulling back and looking up at Lan. But Lan gently placed the ring in Mai's hand.

“I want you to have it, Mai. It would make me very happy. You know that I care very much for you and Hiep,” she said, her cheeks turning crimson.

Mai could see that Lan was sincere, but Mai's sorrow for her would not let her accept such a gift. “No, Lan. I can't accept your mother's ring.” She took her friend's hand and slid the ring back on her finger.

Lan looked down at her round band and then up at Mai. Her eyes were bright, and her lashes were moist. “I
will wear it for your good luck.” She gave a half-smile.

Mai took Lan's hand. “Thank you from the bottom of my heart. I've never had such a wonderful gift offered to me. But now that my bracelet is gone, I think I will have to make my own good luck.”

Fifteen

Mai had to get back to Hiep. The rain had started to flood the island again and she was worried that she wouldn't be able to cross the water. It had been foolish to come all this way for the tiger pictures. Tuan, no doubt, had realized that and stayed near the clinic last night. She needed to find him too. By now sheets of rain were slicing through the tent, the tarp on top flapping against the tent poles it was tied to, fighting to get loose and fly away.

“Over here.” Lan beckoned to a spot in a corner, where several empty rice bags had been lashed to the ground. They huddled together as the rain ran in rivulets through the tent. The storm raged all day and into the night. Mai curled up in her hammock and worried about Hiep.

“Can't we try the crossing? I'm so worried about Uncle Hiep,” Mai called to Kien, who was lying in his hammock.

“You'll drown if you try to cross in this,” he warned, and she realized he was right.

How she wished her father were here. He would know what to do. But he wasn't, and it was up to her. She felt old, older than she wanted to feel.

How she longed to be a child again, climbing the trees in the orchard behind the house with her cousins and the servants' children, sitting in the shade sipping a bottle of sweet sugar-cane drink, hearing the clatter of her sandals as she skipped along the tile path that ran the length of their house. Eating her favorite food,
bun thit nuong :
grilled pork with white rice noodles. Her stomach moaned, even though Lan had fed her two bowls of cold rice and vegetables before bedtime.

“Kien, are you still awake?”

“Yes, Mai, I can't sleep.”

“Neither can I. I keep thinking about Uncle Hiep and Sang's ghost. I'm afraid he's working his evil on Hiep and that he's going to make him die.”

“The doctor will help Hiep, Mai. His medicine is stronger than Sang's ghost.”

“I hope so, Kien. We were so happy before we lost the war, before all of this. I just hope our family can all be together again. I think the evil spirits are winning.” Mai sat up in the dark, on the wooden bench that was now her bed.

“Mai, you know you can count on me to help you. I'll help you fight Sang's ghost. He won't be able to win.”

Mai heard the strength in Kien's voice and it comforted her.

“You know, Kien, he hasn't visited me since we took Uncle Hiep to the clinic. I hope he isn't bothering Hiep. He's all alone there.”

Kien's face never left Mai as she watched the constant rain pound the beach the next day. No trips were made to the main camp. Mai could hear the rip of the metal when Lan opened two cans of beef stew. A little rice lay in a bag out of the rain, but it was impossible to build a fire. Mai could smell the strong aroma of the beef wafting across the tent and her stomach jumped. They had been conserving their food for the last few days. If the rain didn't stop, Mai did not know what they would do. She lay in her hammock worrying about Hiep.

She glanced at her English composition book, then
picked up her knitting needles and examined the scarf she was working on. The stitches were uneven and the surface was lumpy, but she was pleased with her first attempt at making an article of clothing. Mother would be so proud of her, and Grandmother would cluck her teeth and say, “Maybe that girl isn't as lazy as I thought she was
.” Grandmother was always scolding her for playing too much or not being clean enough. She didn't believe that children should be children.

Mai tried to distract herself, but she saw Hiep's face dancing before her—his yellow eyes, his parched lips, and his hollow cheeks. She wrapped the scarf around her neck, careful not to poke herself with the knitting needles. It needed to be a little longer, she thought. Those winters were going to be very cold.

Winter. Will I ever see it? Will Uncle Hiep ever see it?
When Father had described America, it had sounded like a dream come true. But after living on the island for a while, enough reports had come back from resettled refugees about the harsh realities of their new life that Mai had become afraid of what the future might bring. For her and most of the young educated Chinese people who lived on the south of the island, life had been one of privilege and of power. All that had been taken away when the Communists came, and she didn't know what would become of her.

In America, she had heard, the government changed every four years so that the same people didn't stay in control all of the time.
What kind of place can it be?
Her stomach tightened with fear when she thought of it. She did not want her father to find out that life in America would be hard. It felt strange to suddenly feel protective of him. He had always been the protector, which was why everyone in the village looked up to him and went to him for help. It would be difficult for her family to start over, but at least they would be together.

“Mai, come and eat,” Lan called. “I'm sorry it's not warm. It's too wet to build a fire.”

Mai put two spoonfuls of stew on her tin plate, clinking her spoon against the can.

“Take more,” Lan urged.

Mai shook her head, her eyes lowered. “I know this is almost the end of the food. Someone has got to go to the main camp.” She licked her lips, savoring the taste of meat and gravy.

“It's too dangerous, Mai. We could drown.” Lan put the can down.

“I'm tired of waiting. I need to see Uncle Hiep and find out how he is, and we need more food.”

“If Tuan is with him, he'll be taken care of. The best thing to do is wait.”

“I can't wait. Uncle Hiep's life is in danger.” Mai smashed a mosquito as it landed on her arm and flicked it to the ground.

Just then Kien came dripping into the tent. “Quick. You won't believe your eyes.” He pointed to the sea.

“What is it, Kien?” Mai jumped to her feet and clutched his arm.

“A trawler. They've sent supplies.” Kien clapped his hands and jumped in the air.

Mai's chopsticks clattered against her tin plate as she pushed the hanging rice bags aside and rushed down to the shore. A fishing trawler, its deck stacked high with wooden boxes, chugged slowly through the water about two hundred feet from shore. Mai stood and watched as it moved across the water.

“Stop,” she cried. She waved to three Malaysian sailors who stood on the deck, but they looked straight ahead as the trawler disappeared around the edge of the island. Kien stood by her side, his mouth open.

“Why didn't they stop? Don't they know we need food?” Mai complained.

“I guess there's no place to come in here without hitting the reefs. The boxes of food would just sink if they threw them into the waves. I'm sorry I got our hopes up,” Kien said, turning to walk back to the tent.

Mai followed, wondering what she should do now. There was no way she could help Hiep while she was trapped here. Or was there?

Sang's body still lay at the bottom of the well, despite his spirit wandering, seeking vengeance. She remembered her parents taking food and paper money and clothing to funerals to present to the dead to use in the afterlife. She didn't have any paper money or clothing, but she could take some food to the well to appease Sang's ghost. She would have to do it secretly, for they had so little food left she was sure no one would let her take some to feed a ghost when so many living people would be starving soon. But perhaps Sang would leave them alone and let Hiep live.

She would have to find some food.
Can I do it?
The food would be the easiest part of the plan. Taking it to the well was frightening. Everyone knew the well was haunted now.
Can I face Sang's ghost?

If only there was someone who would go with her. She knew Lan and Kim wouldn't go. When they had heard of Small Auntie's threats, they had warned her to stay away from the well. No, she would do this by herself.

That evening, as she divided the last can of chicken curry with Lan and Kien, Mai waited until no one was looking and hid her portion in a tin can, covering it with the plastic bag. The rain that had drenched the island all day ceased after dinner, and Kien and Lan went to check the crossing.

Mai perched on a rock with Kim, knitting her scarf, waiting for the sun to set so she could steal off to the well. It wasn't far from camp, but she knew if she told anyone what she was doing, they'd stop her. She could hear them now, chastising her for wasting good food. But she had to save Hiep, and with the tiger pictures gone, it was her only chance.

Kien and Lan stopped by the fire. Mai looked up at Kien.

“The water is down a little. If it doesn't rain any more, we should be able to cross by morning.” Kien's shoulders tightened. “It will still be very dangerous.”

“But what if it isn't down? What will we do?” Mai couldn't believe that they would be left to starve.

“Don't worry, Mai. We'll get across. We just have to time it.” Kien's voice was confident, but his solemn expression betrayed him. Mai followed him toward the tent.

“Kien, can I talk to you?” She hadn't planned on confiding in him, but she needed to know what he thought. She realized that she was too frightened to go to the well by herself.

“Of course, Mai. What is it?” He took a step toward her and looked into her eyes.

“I have to ask you about something. But it's private. Can we walk down by the shore and talk?”

He nodded and turned toward the beach, and she walked by his side, trying to decide where to begin. The full moon cast a silver path across the dark water, its beams dancing on the crests of the waves. The brinish smell of the sea stung her nostrils. She could hear Kien's soft breathing and the padding of his feet through the sand. The blood rushed through her as his arm brushed hers. What would he think of her plan? Would he laugh? They walked along in silence for a while, listening to the murmurs of voices from the camp mingled with the ripple of the ebbing and flowing of the waves.

“Do you ever wish you had never left home, Mai?” Kien's hands were stuck in his pockets. His eyes searched the black horizon.

“What do you mean, Kien?”

“I mean, do you wish you had stayed with your family, no matter what happened?”

“I don't know. I don't really feel I had a choice.”

“But what if you never see your family again?” Kien stopped and kicked a broken shell with his bare foot. “Sometimes I feel like I'm all alone in the world.”

“I know how you feel, but you're not alone, Kien. You have me.” Embarrassed, Mai quickly corrected herself. “I mean, us—Lan, Kim, Tuan, everyone.”

“I'm glad you're here, Mai. I don't feel so alone.” Kien took her hand. “You're my best friend. I've never had a best friend before.”

Mai didn't know what to say. She had never had a friendship with anyone outside her family, certainly not a boy, but she felt more than friendship for him. She had never been encouraged to express her feelings and so she kept them to herself, squeezing his hand as it encircled hers.

“Kien,” she stammered, “I've got another plan to stop Sang's ghost from killing Hiep. Will you help me?”

Kien arched his eyes in surprise. “What do you want to do?”

Mai explained her plan to take the food to the well and present it to Sang's ghost to enjoy in the afterlife, appeasing him so that he would not seek vengeance for his death.

“I've got to go tonight, Kien. I've hidden some food in my hammock. Will you go with me? His ghost may be at the well, and I'm not sure what he will do when he sees me.”

“We'll have to go early. Lan and I are going to check the crossing around midnight to see if the water is down. I've got a little extra food too. I'll bring it.”

Mai balled her fists into the bottom of her blouse. “I'll wait until everyone has gone to their hammocks. Then we'll slip out.”

Kien nodded and touched her on the cheek. “You're a very brave girl to confront a ghost. Are you sure you want to do this?”

“If you don't want to go, just say so.” Mai pulled away from Kien.

“Now wait a minute. Don't get angry. You know I'll help you. It's just that … ”

“You don't believe me, do you? You think I'm some silly superstitious girl from the village. Well, I will have to go by myself if you won't come.” Mai turned her back to Kien.

Kien grabbed Mai's shoulder and spun her around, his blue eyes narrowing, his cheeks drawn taut.

“I do believe in ghosts. I have my own.”

“What do you mean?” Mai's voice softened.

“I never told you about what happened to me before I arrived on this island.”

“You can tell me, Kien. I want to know all about you.”

“I made a decision that I would never tell anyone. But I want
you
to know.” Kien sat on the ground and Mai sat down beside him.

“When I was on the boat, we were attacked by Thai pirates. They killed most of the men and took our boat. They left the rest of us on a very small island. There was nothing to eat, and everyone was starving.” Kien's eyes became wet with tears. “At first, I didn't understand what was happening. When I was asleep, my friend Duc disappeared. When I asked where he was, no one seemed to know. It was as if he had vanished into thin air. That day we had a delicious stew that I was told came from a boar that had been killed. I believed them, but the island was so small, there were no animals. Finally, as more people—all of them single people traveling by themselves without family— disappeared, I discovered what was happening. An old woman told me, ‘Watch out. Sleep with your eyes open. You are next.' I asked her what she meant, and she just cackled. But that night I had a dream, and in the dream I saw the ghosts of all the people who had disappeared, warning me to be careful. Then I knew. We had been eating them. I was next—the last single person, with no family, no one to defend me.”