“And?”
“Well… let’s see… it was back in ’74. He’d just got here from Hanoi. In fact, now you mention it, it was you he was with. He said you blew out too, but didn’t know what happened to you. So he got fished out of that same drink, I guess. Artery got opened, but the Zips fixed him up, and he was fine by the time he got here.”
“What happened to him here?”
“They shot him.”
“Why?”
“Well…” Landis seemed suddenly uncomfortable. “Well, he told them to fuck off. He told the honcho here, a Red Air Force shit whose name I can’t remember now, that he wasn’t playing ball. So they shot him.”
Hollis nodded.
Landis said, “They had all the pilots they needed from the Zips then, so if you got testy with them, they shot you. Then the war ended, and the KGB started taking over. You know about all that?”
“No.”
“You want to know?”
“Some other time.”
“Okay. Hey, sorry about Simms. But there are probably a few other guys here you know from our bunch. Jessie Gates?”
“‘Crazy’ Gates?”
“Right.” Landis rattled off a dozen other names, and Hollis recognized three or four of them. Landis said, “Say, let me introduce you to my little guy.” He turned to the boy and called out, “Timmy. Come here and meet an old friend of mine.”
The boy jumped down from the tire and ran over to them. Landis said, “Timmy, this is… what are you now, Sam, a general?”
“Colonel.”
“Terrific. Timmy, this is Colonel Hollis and Miss Rhodes. This is Timothy Junior.”
Everyone shook hands, and the boy smiled bashfully. Landis said, “Timmy is almost six. There are a few other kids his age here but not too many. He likes the older kids anyway. Right, kiddo?”
The boy nodded. “Joey Reeves is my best friend, and he’s nine.” He looked at Hollis. “Are you from America?”
“Yes.”
“I’m going to America someday.”
“Good. You’ll like it.”
“I’m going to go there to work for peace.”
Hollis didn’t reply.
“America is a good country.”
“Yes, it is.”
“But bad people run the country.”
Hollis glanced at Landis.
Lisa asked the boy, “Do you speak Russian?”
“No. We learn things about Russia but in English.”
“What do you learn?”
“Russia is a great country that works for peace. Someday, Russia and America will be friends. Then Dad, Mom, and me can leave here and live in America if we want. Or in Russia. Russia is close to here. America is far away.”
Lisa knelt and took the boy’s hands. “America wants peace too.”
“But bad people run the government.”
Hollis put his hand on Lisa’s shoulder, and she stood.
Landis said to his son, “Go on and play.”
The boy ran off.
Landis watched him, then said, “At first they thought that sex was enough, then they understood that some of us actually had a paternal instinct and our women had the maternal urgings. So they let us have children. They want to keep us contented here, busy with everyday things. But solutions lead to new problems. Like the kids. There are about sixty of them now. The oldest is the Brewer kid, Rick. He’s ten. Ted Brewer’s wife, Svetlana, was the first to conceive after they lifted the ban.”
“And what,” Hollis asked, “is the problem?”
“Well, they didn’t know how to bring up these kids. So they came up with this hybrid system where they teach the kids a modified American curriculum in English, but they also teach Russian history and Soviet ideology. It’s kind of screwed up. They think they can send these kids into America like they do the Russian students. But I don’t know. I think all these kids are going to go bonkers as they get older and realize they’re in prison.” Landis looked at his son, swinging again on the tire. “My poor little guy.”
Lisa watched the boy awhile, then looked at Landis. “Do you teach him the truth at home?”
“No.”
“Why not? You could in subtle ways—”
“Miss Rhodes, they told me that if they discovered I was doing that, they would kill the boy. Not take him away, but kill him. And kill my wife too.”
“My God… I’m sorry…”
Landis shrugged. “It’s all velvet gloves over steel fists here.” He looked at Hollis. “Say, Sam, did you ever happen to hear anything about my wife? I mean my American wife? Maggie?”
“No, I don’t think so. I’ll try to remember.”
“Would you? I’d appreciate that. I had two boys. Timothy… my other Timothy… and Josh. They’d be grown men now. Tim would be thirty, and Josh would be twenty-four. I sure hope they did all right. Hope Maggie remarried too.” Landis passed his hand over his face.
Hollis had a strangely empty feeling in his stomach. He said, “Look, Tim, I think my presence is a little upsetting, so we’ll—”
“No, no. Hey, I won’t ask any more of those kinds of questions. You two are probably a little disoriented yourselves. Come on in and meet Jane. That’s my wife. She’s Russian but likes the name Jane.”
“No, thanks—”
“Come on. You’ll like her. She’s a political. Real anti-Red. She got thirty years, but that’s like a death sentence in the camps. She did two years and then got offered the job here because she had some school English. I’d like you to meet her.”
Lisa and Hollis exchanged glances, and Lisa said, “We’d like to meet her.”
“Great.” They walked around to the front of the house, and Landis went on, “She got here about, let’s see… fifteen years ago. She dated around for about two years — we all did then. Wild time. Then most of us sort of paired off over the years.”
Landis opened the front door of the house and called in, “Honey, we got company.”
A voice called out in accented English, “Oh… Tim, the house is a mess.”
Hollis and Lisa looked at each other and didn’t know whether to laugh or leave.
Landis indicated the way toward the kitchen. Hollis noticed that the living room furniture was rather shabby and not particularly American-looking. It was blondewood, sort of 1950s, and may have been Scandinavian. The floor was Russian parquet, larch not oak, and the rug was an Oriental from one of the Soviet near-Eastern republics. Hollis saw a modern Sony TV with VCR and an audio system in a stack unit.
They entered the kitchen, and Hollis felt that here indeed was little America. It was a well-equipped and fairly modern kitchen, with breakfast nook. The only thing that seemed to be lacking was a dishwasher. A General Electric coffeepot was perking on the white plastic counter. Mrs. Landis was scrubbing beets at the sink.
Landis said, “Jane, these are our new neighbors, Lisa Rhodes, and an old comrade-in-arms, Captain — no, Colonel Sam Hollis.”
Jane Landis wiped her hands on her apron and looked at both of them, then took Lisa’s hand. “Hello.”
Hollis thought she was about forty. She was rather attractive and well-kept with grey-streaked black hair, cut in a pageboy style. She wore a turtleneck sweater, plaid skirt, and penny loafers. Hollis momentarily pictured a late fall day, somewhere in the Northeast. It was a Saturday afternoon, and the man of the house was stacking firewood, and his wife, still rather preppy despite her years, was brewing coffee. Through the bay window of the breakfast nook, their son could be seen playing among the pine trees. Illusions.
Jane Landis took his hand and said, “So the bastards kidnapped you both?”
Hollis smiled at her. For a moment he felt like hugging her. “Yes, the bastards kidnapped us.”
“What for? Ah, they don’t need a fucking reason. Sit down. Have some coffee.” She banged four mugs on the table that extended into the bay window area and busied herself with sugar and cream. “So, what does your presence bode for us? Are we saved, or are we doomed?”