“I know what you mean.”
We just stood there for a couple of minutes, looking like kids the first day in a new school — totally lost. “You want to walk around?” I wasn’t sure why I asked her that, and I figured she’d do the I better get back to my parents thing but she didn’t.
“Okay.”
“Okay.” We stood there for another little while. Then I decided, if we were going to walk around together, we should probably do some actual walking.
I started off around the outside of the room. Looked at the beds, the walls. The dirt ceiling with wooden beams holding things up.
“You never told me your name.”
“Oh sorry, you’re right. It’s Nathan … Nate.”
“Which one?”
“I like Nate better.”
“Me too. I’m Jen … Jen Dodsworth.”
Jen Wertz … Jen Dodsworth … sweet.
We walked around, not saying a lot. Making little comments about stuff we were looking at.
“How long have you been here?” I asked her.
“Eight days.” Sounded like she was keeping track. Wanting to get the hell home. “And we don’t go back for another whole week. You?”
“I’m not sure. This whole thing was my old man’s idea. He doesn’t tell me much. Another few days maybe.”
“I miss my dog.”
“Oh, yeah … uh … what’s its name?”
“Farnsworth.”
Farnsworth Dodsworth. Nice.
“What kind of dog is he?” She hadn’t said it was a he, but I figured nobody names a female dog Farnsworth. If the dog was a golden retriever, I decided I’d run out of the tunnels and throw myself into the bamboo pit.
“Dalmatian.”
Not a golden retriever. I didn’t like Dalmatians either, but then I didn’t like any kind of dog. I decided not to share that information with her.
There were quite a few places where the tunnels got narrow and small and we had to scootch down and duck walk to get through. Scootching down and getting close to Jen wasn’t all that bad, even in a tunnel.
We worked our way through a few more rooms — a kitchen, a weapons storage area, a printing shop, and then we came to another dormitory. Either that or a hospital. More beds. This time we were by ourselves in there.
“I wonder if they had sex down here.”
I looked over at her. I wondered if that was her way of being flirty or if she was showing me how adult she was or what. I shrugged. “The guide said there were women down here as well as men so I guess … maybe.”
I wasn’t sure where the conversation was going to go from there, but it didn’t go anywhere because that’s when her mom and dad showed up.
“Jennifer, where did you get …” her mom stopped in mid-sentence when she saw me. “Oh, hello.”
“Hi again,” I said.
“Where’s your father?” Mr. Dodsworth (or was it Farnsworth?) asked me.
“He stayed up top.”
“He didn’t come with you? Sent you down here by yourself?”
“He said he’s seen enough tunnels.”
“He was bloody rude to me, I’d have to say. All I did was ask a question. He didn’t have to swear … quite rude.”
“Yeah, well, my old man’s a rude son of a bitch.”
That seemed to be a conversation stopper. Mr. Dodsworth turned toward the exit and spoke over his shoulder. “We better be getting along, we seem to have lost our group. Jennifer?”
The three of them started off toward the doorway. Jennifer stopped and looked back at me. “Jendoll at westcom dot au. Will you remember?”
I nodded. “Jendoll at westcom dot au. I’ll remember. Oh, and I’ve thought about what you asked me … you know, about having sex down here in the tunnels. The answer’s a definite yes.”
Her face turned bright red, but she was laughing as her parents hurried her out the door. They weren’t laughing.
I’d seen enough of the tunnels, so I worked my way back to where we’d come in and went back outside. For a minute I stood there blinking, trying to get my eyes to work in the bright sunlight. I spotted the old man sitting on a bench drinking a coffee and reading a newspaper. I walked over to where he was sitting. The newspaper was in Vietnamese … definitely not English.
“Can you read that?”
He didn’t look up. “Not a word.”
I sat down on the bench. He put the paper down. “How was it?”
“The tour? Interesting.”
“That’s it … interesting?”
“You know how parents ask their kids how they liked something and the kids say interesting but what they really mean is that bored the crap out of me?”
“I’ve heard that happens,” he smiled.
“It happens. I said interesting, and I meant interesting.”
“Good. You hungry?”
“I’m hungry for a Big Mac.”
“How about a Big Spring Roll?”
“Terrific.” I looked around, praying for a set of golden arches to pop out of the ground like the guy in the Value Village army uniform.
“We’ll eat, then we best be heading back. Need our sleep tonight. Tomorrow it’s feet on the floor at oh six hundred hours.”
That’s what he actually said … oh six hundred hours. Military talk.
Sir. Yes, sir.
4
0600 hours was about oh three hours less sleep than I would have liked.
I knew about thirty seconds after I had my “feet on the floor” that today was a big deal. The old man was different. He wasn’t twirling his hair like he had at the border, but I knew something was going on inside him.
He was quiet, pointed to the bathroom and said, “I’m done, it’s yours.” When I came out, there was fruit and cereal and milk on the table. Since we didn’t have any of that stuff with us, I knew he must
