Sima Ku was sitting on an abandoned China fir pole, his head sagging onto his chest, his hair in total disarray. Second Sister lay across his knees, her head cradled in the crook of his arm, face-up, the skin of her neck pulled taut. Her mouth hung slack, a black hole in her ghostly white face. Second Sister was dead. Babbitt was sitting close to Sima Ku; his young face had the look of an old man. The upper half of Sixth Sister’s body lay across Babbitt’s knees, and it never stopped twitching. Babbitt stroked her shoulders with a hand made puffy by all the rain. Behind the decrepit gate, a skinny man was preparing to kill himself. His trousers had fallen down to his thighs, revealing underpants that were soiled by mud. He wanted to tie his cotton belt to the top of the doorframe, but couldn’t reach that high, even when he jumped; he was so weak he barely left the ground. I saw by the way the back of his head protruded that it was Sima Liang’s uncle, Sima Ting. Finally, too exhausted to try any longer, he reached down, pulled up his trousers, and retied his belt around his waist. He turned and gave the crowd of onlookers an embarrassed smile before plopping down in the mud and beginning to sob.
The morning winds blew in from the fields, like a wet cat with a glistening carp in its mouth, prowling arrogantly on the sheet-metal roof. The red morning sun climbed out of the hollows, filled with rainwater, dripping wet and exhausted. The Flood Dragon River was at flood stage, the crashing of its waves louder than ever in the morning quiet. We were sitting on the millstone, where our gaze was met by misty red sunbeams. The glass in the windows was spotless after a night of unremitting rain; August fields, obstructed by neither the building’s roof nor trees, were right there in front of our eyes. Outside, the flow of rainwater had washed the street clean of dust and exposed the hard chestnut-colored ground below. The surface of the street shimmered as if varnished; a pair of not quite dead striped carp lay in the street, tails still flapping weakly. A couple of men in gray uniforms – one tall, the other short; the tall one skinny, the short one fat – were staggering down the street carrying a big bamboo basket filled with a dozen or more big fish, including striped carp, grass carp, even a silvery eel. Excited by the sight of the two fish on the street, they ran over – stumbled, actually, like a crane and a duck tied together. “Big carp!” the short, fat one said. “Two of them!” the tall, skinny one said. I could nearly make out their faces as they bent down to scoop up the fish, and I was pretty sure they were two waiters from the banquet after Sixth Sister and Babbitt’s wedding, a couple of planted agents from the 16th Battalion. The men standing guard at the mill house watched them scoop up the fish. The platoon leader yawned as he walked up to the men. “Fat Liu and Skinny Hou, this is what’s called finding balls in your pants and landing fish on dry ground.” “Platoon Leader Ma,” Skinny Hou said, “it’s a tough assignment.” “Not really, but I am hungry,” Platoon Leader Ma replied. Fat Liu said, “Come over for some fish soup. A victory like ours deserves a reward of good food and drink for the soldiers.” Platoon Leader Ma said, “You’ll be lucky if those few fish are enough for you cooks, let alone the soldiers.” “You’re an officer, whatever your rank,” Skinny Hou said. “And officers need to back up what they say with proof, they must temper their criticisms with political necessities. There is no room for irresponsible talk.” “I was just joking. Don’t take everything so serious!” “Skinny Hou,” Platoon Leader Ma said, “in the few months since I last saw you, you’ve picked up the gift of gab!”
While they were squabbling, Mother walked slowly and heavily, but with determination, toward us, a red sunset at her back. “Mother -” I sobbed as I jumped down off the millstone. I wished I could have flown into her arms, but I slipped and fell in the mud at the foot of the millstone.
When I came to my senses again, the first thing I saw was Sixth Sister’s agitated face. Sima Ku, Sima Ting, Babbitt, and Sima Liang were all standing beside me. “Mother’s here,” I said to Sixth Sister. “I saw her with my own eyes.” I struggled out of Sixth Sister’s grasp and ran toward the door, where I bumped into someone’s shoulder. That rocked me for a moment, but then I took off again, cutting through the crowds of people. The gate stopped me. Pounding it with my fists, I cried out, “Mother – Mother -!”
A soldier stuck the black muzzle of his tommy gun in through a hole in the gate. “Pipe down! We’ll let you out after breakfast.”
Mother heard my shouts and began walking faster. She waded across the ditch at the side of the road and headed straight for the mill house. Platoon Leader Ma stopped her. “That’s far enough, elder sister!”
But Mother reached up, pushed him out of the way, and kept walking without a word. Her face was encased in the red light, as if smeared with blood; her mouth was twisted in anger.
The guards quickly closed ranks, forming a line like a black wall.
“Stop right there, old lady!” Platoon Leader Ma ordered as he grabbed Mother’s arm and would not let her proceed any farther. Mother strained to break his grip. “Who are you, and what do you think you’re doing?” Platoon Leader Ma asked angrily. He jerked her backward, nearly causing her to fall.
“Mother!” I cried through the door.
Mother’s eyes turned blue and her twisted mouth flew open, releasing a series of grunts. She broke for the door with no thought for anything else. But Platoon Leader Ma shoved her from behind, knocking her into the roadside ditch. Water splashed in all directions. Mother rolled once in the water and clambered to her knees. The water reached her navel. She crawled out of the ditch, drenched, muddy bubbles clinging to her hair. She’d lost one of her shoes, but hobbled forward on crippled bound feet.
“I said stop right there!” Platoon Leader Ma cocked his tommy gun and aimed it at her chest. “Are you trying to incite a jailbreak?” he fumed.
“Get out of my way!”
“What do you think you’re doing?”
“I want to find my son!”
My crying got louder. Sima Liang, who was standing next to me, shouted, “Granny!”
Sixth Sister yelled, “Mother -”
Moved by our weeping, the women in the mill house began to sob. Their sobbing mixed with the sounds of men blowing their noses and the guards’ grumblings.
Nervously, the guards made an about-face and pointed their weapons at the rotting gate.
“Stop that racket!” Platoon Leader Ma shouted. “You’ll be out of here soon.” Then he turned to Mother. “Go on home, elder sister,” he said comfortingly. “As long as your son hasn’t done anything wrong, you have my word we’ll let him go.”
“My child,” she moaned as she ran around Platoon Leader Ma and headed for the gate.
Platoon Leader Ma jumped in front of her. “Elder sister,” he said, “I’m warning you. One more step and I’ll have no choice but to take action.”
“Do you have a mother? Are you human?” She reached up and slapped him, and then set out again, rocking back and forth. The guards at the gate parted to make way for her.
Platoon Leader Ma, holding his cheek, shouted, “Stop her!”
The guards just stood there, as if they hadn’t heard him.
Mother was at the doorway. I reached out through a hole in the door, waved, and shouted.
Mother pulled on the rusty lock, and I could hear her labored breathing.
The lock clanged loudly and a round of gunfire tore crisply through the door, sending chips of rotting wood raining down on me.
“Don’t move, old lady!” Platoon Leader Ma screeched. “I won’t miss the next time!” He fired another shot into the air.
Mother jerked the lock free and pushed the door open. I rushed up and buried my head in her bosom. Sima Liang and Sixth Sister were right behind me.
From behind us, someone shouted, “Make a break for it, men. It’s our only chance!”