Part 42 (1/2)

She grimaced. ”Of course not. What kind of fool do you take me for?”

At noontime, they were already on Route 1, getting close to the border. already on Route 1, getting close to the border.

Foreign employees at the wire services who had already abandoned the country left keys with directions to their cars, and the three had been able to take their pick.

Nothing military because one couldn't be sure that isolated pockets of VC didn't still believe the war was on. They settled on a custom-painted pink station wagon with peace signs and the graffiti YOU ONLY LIVE TWICE on the side. They would try to pa.s.s themselves off as hippies or smalltime drug smugglers--anything was better than being press if they were stopped.

All three sat in the front seat and filled the back with scavenged tires from other cars and cans of petrol. With their equipment on top of that, the car was filled to the roof and made it impossible to see out the rearview mirror. Starting at dawn, they had already stopped to repair three punctured tires. The car had no air-conditioning, so they rolled down the windows.

The hot air battered Helen's face, her lips, turned her hair into sharp las.h.i.+ng wires, but it felt good being in motion and having a purpose. Her mind skated, full of dangerous curves and valleys, a grand adventure. Once she got to Thailand and flew to Linh, they would take some time off in California. There would always be other wars. All in the service of this excitement that was commensurate with the risk one took. At times she had the dispiriting notion of needing to remain constantly in flight, although after all these years, she was growing tired, never alighting in one place too long, never putting her full weight on the crust of the earth in case it gave way. Her job was to get pictures, but sometimes she forgot why.

The countryside appeared empty. When they did pa.s.s villagers, there was more a look of surprise in their faces than anything else. Helen didn't know what she expected to see, nothing had changed--only the same barren fields and plots of banana trees and patches of scrub that had always been.

Matt sat in the middle and rolled a joint, pa.s.sing it back and forth among the three of them. He wore metallic blue-tinted sungla.s.ses that reflected Helen's image back to her.

”When did you first come here?” he asked.

”Why're you wearing those gla.s.ses?” she asked.

”You should have seen her. A schoolgirl practically wearing bobby socks,”

Tanner said.

Matt took a deep drag on the joint and held his breath for a minute. ”When?” he finally squeaked out, still holding smoke in his lungs.

”We need to stop and eat,” Tanner said.

”I'm starving. What did you bring?” she said.

”Whatever I could find. Some chips. Mangoes. C-rations,” Matt said.

”Who would bring C-rations?” Tanner yelled.

”They'll keep,” Matt said.

”Jesus.”

”You know what--you do it next time, Mr. Gourmet.” Matt turned around with his knees in the seat and burrowed in a bag behind the seat. A can flew out the open window.

”What're you doing?” Tanner yelled.

”You said you didn't want C-rations.”

A bag of potato chips flew out. Helen pressed herself into the door. ”I came at the end of 'sixty-five. I dropped out of college to come. I worried the war would be over by the time I graduated.” She shrugged, but Matt and Tanner were still arguing. ”I wanted to find out what happened to my brother. The pilot refused to land so the crew pushed the men out from ten feet up. He broke both ankles and while he was stuck in the mud the enemy shot him. He died like an animal.” MacCrae had s.h.i.+elded her from the ugly details but over the years, she had found them out. The relief of feeling nothing at those words.

”f.u.c.king pigs.” Matt took a long drag off the joint. The smoke emptied out of his mouth with a gasp.

”You're like, drawing attention to us, throwing things out the window,” Tanner said to Matt.

”I'm hungry,” he said, flinging himself back down into the seat.

Her story, told at long last and at such cost, seemed already forgotten by both of them. Minutes pa.s.sed.

”So why'd you stay so long?” Matt said.

Helen was silent. ”Because it seems like you're doing the most important work in the world. Leaving was like dying.”

They drove on in silence until they heard the soft thunk, thunk, thunk thunk, thunk, thunk of another of another flat tire.

”Jesus,” Tanner said.

They pulled off near a small hut, hidden from the road by a bamboo thicket.

Tanner pulled out the jack and a new tire while Matt wandered off toward the building.

”Where are you going?” Tanner yelled. ”Why don't you help me?”

”I'm taking a p.i.s.s, okay?” Matt said.

”Why's he going to the hooch? Asking for a bathroom?” Tanner shook his head.

”He's resourceful, that boy.”

A few minutes later, Matt reappeared around the corner of the hut and waved them over. Up close, Helen saw that his eyes were marbled with red veins from lack of sleep and smoke. They followed him to a small dirt yard in the middle of which lay a struggling but still alive goose.

”His wing and his leg are broken,” Matt announced in a dreamy voice.

The animal labored to get away but only made dusty circles in the dirt. Its black eye looked dull, but when Matt moved closer, the bird made a gritty, hissing noise at him.

”How can you tell?” Tanner asked.

”I grew up on a farm, man,” Matt answered. ”And it's about lunchtime.”

Tanner snorted.

Helen looked from one of them to the other. ”Don't we need to get going?”

”We need to eat,” Matt said. ”Give me an hour.”

”I'm still working on that d.a.m.ned tire. Go ahead,” Tanner said. ”Are you sure that thing's not diseased? Doesn't have rabies?”

”Birds don't have rabies, man.”

Helen regretted coming with these two, couldn't stand their squabbling any longer. Their recklessness made her afraid. She had lasted this long because she took only calculated risks. With the fall of Saigon, she'd done her bit. Covered the takeover, and should have gone home. Cambodia was a whole other thing. ”I need to get out of here. I need to get to Linh.”

Both of the men turned to look at her.

Helen wiped her face. ”Never mind.”

Matt's attention went back to the goose. ”Maybe he fell out of a cart or was run over. He'll be dead in a few hours and then he'll go to waste.”