The Mountains Sing(52)

“Where’re we going, Mama?” ??t asked.

“To Hà N?i.” I’d thought hard and long about this. In the capital city, I’d look for my childhood teacher. Master Th?nh and his family would surely help us. Maybe I could find a job.

“But that’s far away,” said Ng?c.

“Yes, three hundred kilometers.” I crunched the crab between my teeth, grinding it hard, forgetting to swallow.

“How are we going to get there?” ??t stopped chewing.

“We’ll follow the national highway.”

“But how exactly?” ??t’s eyebrows had become two question marks.

“We’ll walk.” It’d be too risky to hitchhike, and I had no money with me. All of it was gone, stolen by the mob. I’d watched them desperately as they carried my money trunk away. They were like wolves, fighting for it.

“Walk? Three hundred kilometers?” both children cried out in unison.

“Shhh. Let’s get further away, and we’ll see.”

“Will we find Brother Minh soon, Mama? What will happen if those evil people catch him?” ??t looked at me with tears in his eyes. He was so close to Minh. They’d shared the same bed, climbed the same trees, chased the same soccer ball.

“We’ll see him again, Son. He’s fast. Nobody can catch him.”

Ng?c gave me a wrinkled piece of paper. “Mr. H?i’s note. We found it next to our open window, wrapped around a small rock. I read it for Mrs. Tú.”

My fingers trembled.

Urgent! Di?u Lan, take the children, run away. C?ng was killed before my eyes. Minh escaped. You must go fast, don’t wait for him. They have a quota of how many people to execute. Please go. Hurry!

My tears fell onto the hurried words, smudging them. What had we ever done wrong? Why was I under a death sentence?

The sounds of distant drums and shouts startled us. The Land Reform was waking up from its night’s sleep.

Thu?n and H?nh sat right up when another round of drumbeats boomed. Holding on to each other, we scurried away.

At midday, we stopped under a tree, collapsing under its shade. It looked safe to take a break here. Behind us was a row of thick bushes that lined the bank of another stream.

Sáng lifted my blouse, looking for milk. Ng?c shared the rest of the banana stalk with ??t. Thu?n and H?nh fought for a bigger na fruit. We were hungry, yet more than half of the food was gone.

I explained to the children that we needed to flee far away, that we couldn’t go to our relatives because our villagers knew all of them well. Ng?c nodded, studying the black spots in my soles. Using a long thorn, she managed to take out the smaller thorns that had burrowed into my feet.

“Sister Ng?c will make a good doctor,” H?nh and Thu?n cheered.

“Wait, Mama.” ??t took the remaining food out of the cloth bag, then tore the bag into long pieces and wrapped them around my feet. Now I had shoes, made out of love.

Looking at the children, the desire not just to live, but to thrive, surged into my heart. If those evil people wanted me to surrender, they couldn’t be more wrong. As long as I was a mother, I would never, ever give up.

For hours we walked, soaked by the rain of a sudden storm, roasted by a blazing sun, hungry, tired, the children whimpering, until ??t said, “Look, Mama.”

A man. Standing in the paddy next to our path, he was bending, his face hidden under a nón lá, his body shielded by an áo t?i—a coat woven from dry t?i leaves and bamboo strings.

I stopped walking, as did the children.

“Should we hide?” whispered Ng?c.

The farmer straightened his back, tossing a chunk of weeds into the stream. As he swung his arm, I realized “he” was a woman.

Her eyes met mine.

“Stay quiet, children. Let Mama do the talking.” I struggled forward. “Hello, Sister.”

The woman nodded, tipping her hat backward. “Where did you come from?” She studied our clothes.

“We . . . we just paid a visit to our relatives over there.” I pointed in the direction of a village to our far right.

“Thiên S?n Village? I live there. Who did you visit?”

“Who? Oh . . . my uncle. He’s getting old and weak.”

“Is your uncle Mr. Tr??ng or Mr. Th?o?”

How stupid of me to pick the closest village. Now the woman would find out that we were running away.

I stayed rooted as she climbed onto our path, advancing toward us.

“It’s not a good time to be wandering around.” She took off her stiff coat, laying it down onto the grass. She proceeded to peel off her brown, long-sleeved outer shirt. I had always worn the same type of shirt in the fields, to protect myself from the sun.

“Your clothes and your children’s clothes . . .” The woman shook her head. “They look too expensive for you to be safe.” She glanced around us.

I dropped my gaze to my green blouse. Despite some small tears and splatters of mud, the silk sparkled. The woman was right, I didn’t look like a poor farmer.

“Wear this. It’s a crazy time.” The woman gave me her outer shirt and helped me put it on. “Make your kids look poor, too.” She sank her hands into a mud pocket and wiped them onto the children.

Thu?n and H?nh jerked back, but ??t and Ng?c calmed them.