The road rose up and curved to the left, and I caught a quick glimpse of a general store passing by on our right. I swiveled my head, peering at the innocent-looking building with its friendly front porch and inviting doorway. I must have shuddered or something, because Miriam leaned over and said, ‘You all right?’
‘Yeah,’ I said, turning my head even more as we raced by Coopers General Store. ‘Just got bad memories, that’s all.’
‘Of the store, that one there? Why?’
I turned around and looked at that beautiful smile, the concerned look in those sparkling blue eyes. ‘Had a bad meal there once, that’s why.’
The amazing thing, to me at least, was that it didn’t take long, not at all. After stopping at the earthen berm that was blocking the access road to the state park, a group of military engineers looked around, poking at the ground and checking for land mines or IEDs. When they gave the all-clear, the bulldozer revved up its diesel engine, backed off the trailer and then got to work, tearing apart the dirt and trees and brush as though they were made of polyester foam. While this was going on, we stood outside our Land Cruiser while APCs kept watch at both ends of the road, and soldiers — a mix of Hungarians and Ukrainians -patrolled the woods. I still felt jumpy: the memories of having been here a few days ago, on the run, trying to survive, trying hard not to get caught, came racing back.
Peter was leaning against the dirt fender of the Land Cruiser. ‘Sun feels good, doesn’t it?’
I did the same thing, trying not to think of the days I’d spent in that smelly and cold school bus, trying not to think of what was out there, waiting for us.
Peter said, ‘My dad told me once, in London, that there were never too many sunny days, and if you got one you should enjoy it for as long as possible. Back when he grew up, there was still a lot of coal being burned in and around London. Lots of cloudy days. Not a bad piece of advice, to enjoy those sunny days that come your way. Your dad ever give you advice, Samuel?’
‘Yeah, but I never listened to it,’ I said.
Miriam asked, ‘What kind of advice was that, then?’
‘Never to volunteer,’ I said.
Even Charlie, up at the front of the Land Cruiser, heard me, and they all had a good laugh at what I’d said.
A dozen or so meters away the bulldozer started back up again on the flatbed trailer and there were some yells. Charlie said to Peter, ‘Looks like it’s time to saddle up.’
‘We ride again,’ Peter said.
I opened the door for Miriam, and just like that she reached up and kissed me. Right on the lips.
‘I’ll remember that,’ I said.
‘Good,’ she said. I climbed in after her and got the door shut just as Peter put the Land Cruiser in gear and we rejoined the convoy.
The going was slower this time, since the soldiers in charge were keeping a close watch on our progress. The helicopters raced ahead and then came back, hovering overhead, at an altitude of what looked like under a hundred meters or so. APCs and a mine-clearing crew led the way, and armed soldiers were again flanking our sides out in the woods. The river came in view to the right, the one I had forded, and I kept looking around on the left, looking for a particular tree, a tree where I had found a volunteer like myself dangling in the breeze. But the SAR unit that had picked him up had done a good job: there was nothing left, no parachute, no parachute lines, nothing.
Miriam squeezed my hand. ‘What are you thinking?’
‘Truthfully?’
‘Of course truthfully.’
‘OK.’ I was going to say something snappy, like I’d been imagining her in a bubble bath, wearing nothing but a smile, but I decided that Charlie and Peter didn’t need to hear something like that. ‘I’m thinking that maybe Peter will be able to hide me if we get there and there’s no Site A. I imagine that general will be very unhappy.’
Miriam reached up with her free hand, tickled Peter’s scalp. ‘You’ll do that, won’t you, Peter? Hide Samuel if there’s trouble?’
‘He should ask Charlie,’ Peter said. ‘I’m just a cop, nothing else.’
Miriam sat back. ‘Oh, I don’t think so. I don’t think cops can boss generals around, now, can they? Why won’t you tell me who you really are?’
Charlie wouldn’t let Peter reply, because he said, ‘OK, we’re here. Now the fun begins.’
We came up to a wooden bridge spanning a fast-moving stream that no doubt led into the river I had crossed the other day. The wood planks made a clunking sound as we drove across them. In front of us was a wide stream bed, and up ahead was a dirt parking lot. There was a steep hill at one end of it and two low-slung wooden buildings. There were stumps again, where signposts had been taken down. The convoy came to a halt, parking in a semicircle. I stepped out, slung my duffel bag over my shoulder.
Miriam saw me and smiled. ‘Still on the job?’
‘Until I’m sent home, yeah, I’m still on the job,’ I said.
The helicopters stayed overhead, darting back and forth like dragonflies seeking prey. Soldiers were moving about and I experienced a little taste of shame, remembering all the times I had thought badly of my father, his service, his chosen career. Being a soldier was more than a matter of black and white. Sometimes they were there in the middle, defending those shades of gray.
Peter got out, looked around. Charlie climbed out and stood next to him, his weapon slung at his side. With Miriam with me I felt indestructible, as though this UN team could go anywhere, do anything to protect the helpless and the innocent.
‘Where do we start looking?’ Peter asked.
‘Wherever the mine entrance is, I suppose.’
Charlie said, ‘There’s a crowd forming, over there by the hill. Let’s take a walk.’
We all walked over, each of us — except Charlie — carrying a bag of gear that marked his or her own specialty. With all the other people around and the soldiers as well, I had the feeling that our little inspection group was about to be overwhelmed. But damn it, we were going to do our job, so long as we could.
There was another series of wooden stumps set into the ground, where signs had been removed. General Hale, now wearing a beret, was standing beside a gravel path that led toward the steep hill. There was a cluster of soldiers and UN types around him, and he caught my eye, offering a slight look of ‘I certainly hope you’re right.’ I turned and looked at the gathering of APCs and earth-moving equipment and white Toyota Land Cruisers. All here because of me. As if she was sensing what was going on inside my mind, Miriam reached over and squeezed my hand.
‘It’ll be fine,’ she said. ‘Just you see.’
‘I hope you’re right,’ I said.
Peter said, ‘Enough of that kissy-face stuff. We’ve got work to do.’
Charlie said nothing. He just smiled and led the way up the path. It rose at a slight angle, fairly wide, and I noticed how chewed up it was. Tire tracks, lots of them, making the dirt look tom up. As we got further up the trail Peter said, ‘Congratulations.’
‘What do you mean, congratulations?’ I asked.
Miriam whispered something in her native tongue and Peter looked back at me. ‘Can’t you smell it?’ he asked.
Then I noticed it, right after he said it. A sickly, sour-sweet smell that made my throat swell up and my eyes start to water. Peter said, ‘You smell it once, you never get it out of your mind, Samuel, no matter how hard you try…’
Ahead of us the path widened, leading to an area where the ground rose steeply and where rock was exposed at the side of the hill. A heavy-duty green canvas tarpaulin was secured against the side of the rock and it moved some, as if it were breathing. A mine-clearing crew was there, looking spectral in their gas masks as they finished their work with their detecting equipment. I coughed again, my eyes still watering, trying to take it all in. Peter said, ‘I hope you’re not too fond of what you’re wearing, mate, because when we’re through here it’s going to be good for burning, and nothing else.’