As soon as the hoop was up, the basketball started hitting the wall and bouncing off it. Winston watched as the nails immediately began to slowly pull away from their tenuous grip. He pondered a solution with what limited resources he had at his disposal.
May stirred, “is that the boys from down the street?”
“Yes, Mother, it is.”
“That’s nice. I think we have ice cream in the icebox. Share it with them, would you?”
“Yes, Mother.”
Winston grabbed the stepstool and the rifle. Though the nails hadn’t bit into the studs, they were close, and as the soldiers played a rough game of two-on-two (Russians against Middle Easterners), Winston used the rifle’s barrel, resting it against the stud for leverage, mustered all the strength he could, and bent the nails over to better secure the hoop to the barn’s wall. He hoped the trick would hold, and he lay back down next to May. He was concerned for her mental well-being, but unsure of what actions he should take. Right now, at this very moment, his exhaustion trumped May’s mental anguish, and would have to deal with it when he was fully rested. He closed his eyes again and fell back into a deep slumber, listening to the soldiers curse and laugh at each other, and the basketball bounce against the barn. It would remain like this for the duration of their time inside the apartment.
Winston awoke the next day at mid-morning. May sat upright in the bed, staring blankly at the wall three feet from her face.
“Good morning, mo cherry,” Winston said.
“There’s nothing for breakfast, Winston,” she said as she chomped on the apple, “this isn’t enough.”
May was on the verge of tears.
Winston got up and rummaged through what was left of the food. It was true — no cereal, no Pop-Tarts, no eggs, no bacon, no pancakes nor waffles, no toast, no grits, no sausage, and no maple syrup. He pulled out a few of the remaining items and displayed them to her.
“Creamed corn?”
May shook her head.
“Tuna?”
May shook her head in disgust.
“I know. Green beans.”
“Without salt pork?” May quipped.
“You ate all the peaches. Oh, hey, look.”
Winston found a package of four cups of mixed fruit in light syrup and held them up.
“Will this do?”
“I suppose.”
Winston found two plastic spoons and napkins and sat next to her. He handed her two fruit cups. And they ate breakfast together on the twentieth day hidden inside the barn. Winston finished his in a few minutes, while May attempted to relish the food for as long as she could. He threw his trash away and looked through a box where he remembered seeing a few games packed. Perhaps playing a game would help keep May’s mind sharp. He pulled out an old deck of Uno cards. May still savored the fruit.
“Game?”
May shrugged. Winston dealt the cards. May went first.
“So how was it out there?” She asked.
“It was… interesting.”
“Did you see anybody?”
“No.”
Winston changed his mind.
“Well, I did meet a North Korean soldier.”
“What?”
“Now stay with me, May. He was actually very nice. He helped me bury Med and Julie. And we buried a couple of his own.”
“Are you crazy, Winston? These people are not your friends. You could have gotten yourself killed!”
“Yep.”
“And I would never forgive you for that.”
Winston smiled.
“Uno.”
“Already Winston? I swear to God you cheat.”
“I do not cheat. I strategize.”
“That’s not even a word.”
They laughed. Winston was happy that May’s mental disposition appeared to be returning to normal. After three games (Winston, two, May, one), he put the game away and found a box of old photos and mementos. They discussed the circumstances of Winston meeting Woo-jin, and how the young North Korean soldier reminded him of his Vietnamese EOD partner, Tran, as they sifted through years of memories. May didn’t press him about Woo-jin. She remembered that Winston’s Vietnam-era days — and the years that directly followed his discharge — were difficult to speak of. Winston was one of the lucky veterans who was able to thrive in a nation that would not let them.
After a meager lunch, Winston pointed out Woo-jin. May thought him handsome and that he didn’t act like the rest of them. Winston agreed. They observed Woo-jin as he watched yet another basketball game. It appeared to be part of national pride at this point, with each faction gathered and rooting for their respective team. May and Winston laid back down, their peaceful world shattered by the noises of unsportsman-like conduct and the basketball smacking against the side of the barn. May didn’t read, and all Winston did was think about the horrors he had witnessed — that they were all just victims in somebody else’s war. It was all he could do to not stick his head out of the barn door and scream, “keep the fucking noise down! People are trying to think in here!”
Out Again
They were out of water by morning. Winston succeeded in making May drink, but she just didn’t want to take in as much as he needed her to. He also realized that he had grossly miscalculated bathroom activities. Getting the “processed” feces down the pipe took far more water than he had anticipated, as the liquefied waste became a paste that clung to the inside of the pipe. Before sunrise, while the soldiers were still at breakfast, he made a break for the woods to get more water. May objected; he implored the importance of water, and she implored the importance of his life. They were both right — however, one must be risked in order to save the other.
Winston dipped the three jugs into the lake and brought them under the overpass. It was a cool, pleasant day, but the sun’s placid rays warmed his tired body. He had never felt so fatigued in his life — and he had served his country in Vietnam. Soon, winter would come with its own set of challenges, which he didn’t yet have the inclination to fret over. He half-expected Jimmy to jump out at him, but then he recalled killing him and wondered why he felt no remorse. Anticipating that Woo-jin and his partner would soon be making their morning trash run, he stayed hidden under the overpass, laid his head back onto the hard concrete and closed his eyes, awaiting their imminent arrival. Naturally, that’s when Amadeus chose to make an appearance. The cat brushed against Winston, who, without opening his eyes, leaned down and stroked the cat.
“Where you been?”
Amadeus’ purring droned loudly in the silent Johnsonville air. Winston scooped the cat up, placed him on his lap, and ran stiff fingers through his fur, recalling the horror of his own recent tick infestation. Amadeus sat contently for his master.
“Looks like you been eatin’ perty well. Mother will be glad to hear that. Don’ feel any ticks neither. That’s a good thing.”
Suddenly, Amadeus bolted from Winston’s lap and disappeared into the thicket. Winston crept down the concrete and turned his eyes toward the trash pile, and just as he expected, the North Korean soldiers were making their morning trash run. He would sift through it when they left.
Winston watched as Woo-jin excused himself from his partner, who appeared to react with disgust, dropped the canvas sack, and stormed off, leaving Woo-jin scurrying toward the overpass, and to where Winston was currently hiding. Winston pushed himself and the three jugs of water as far up the underpass as he could, but ten feet up, one of the milk jug tops came off and spilled water, which ran down the underpass and toward the ground. Woo-jin plopped down in the spot that Winston had just occupied and pulled something out from his shirt when the water trickled next to him. He stood, unholstered his pistol, and aimed it into the darkness of the overpass — at the shadowy figure that was Winston.