The Time Keepers

Chapter 22

CHAPTER 22

I N THE COMMON ROOM OF THE MOTHERHOUSE, B ?O ADJUSTS himself into the contours of a roomy chair, his eyes glued to the television screen. His fingernails are still raw from hours earlier, when he tried to pry off the rear plate without the tools his father used on his radio back home.

He misses his father. He remembers his nimble hands, how he would unscrew the metal backing of his radio and adjust the miniature tubes like a surgeon who knew the intricate workings of anatomy. B?o marveled as the sounds ultimately emerged. First the uncomfortable whirl of static, and then voices that were so crystal clear, he thought that small people must be trapped inside. Now the television offers a similar reprieve; B?o slips into the magical world of superheroes and battles. His mind welcomes the distraction. He does not want to remember his mother counting the gold in the fisherman’s hut. He does not want to think about the girl in the yellow cotton dress skipping through the reeds. And most of all, he does not want to recollect the boat keeling over and him and his parents slipping into the cold, dark sea. He still imagines there is a way to bring his parents back to life. To resurrect them out from the water. He believes if he studies these sorcerer-like warriors on the television, he will learn their secrets and can then retrieve his mother and father from the other world.

The characters in the television echo the mythical champions from the stories his mother loved to tell him back home. His favorite was the one about the old woman who was pregnant for three years and finally gave birth to a little boy she named Giong, who, instead of waking and playing like all the other children in the village, slept for fifteen years. It was only when danger fell upon the country that Giong suddenly awakened and rose up to accept the challenges that faced him. He requested an iron sword and an iron horse that breathed fire, both of which he used with great skill to defeat the enemy.

B?o believes the story of Giong to be true. After all, his mother told him that the village of Sóc S?n still had a bamboo grove where the stalks were not green like the rest of the country but rather orange from where Giong’s horse had breathed fire onto them.

“There are certain boys who are born with magical gifts,” she had told him before kissing him good night. B?o now hears her voice whispering those words in his head. He has managed to use them to replace their cries from the boat that night.

It was Anh who had pulled B?o up from the water after Chung struggled to bring him over to the boat. Her fingers were the ones that fiercely grasped his and hauled him back on board after Chung had bitten him to release the boy’s grip.

She went back over to the edge, hoping to pull Chung and Linh out too. She screamed their names while urging the others still on board to do the same. But Anh’s desperate pleas fell upon deaf ears. The captain was focusing all his attention on trying to save his boat from sinking, demanding all the passengers to use whatever they could find to bail the water that had flooded the deck.

B?o lay in her arms, soaking wet. Long red ribbons of blood snaked down his arm from where he was bitten, and the wound was starting to swell. Someone had brought some betel leaves with them, which had antibacterial properties, so Anh placed one of the leaves on the wound before wrapping his arm in some cloth she tore from her shirt. Dressed in layers, she peeled off her dark cotton top and replaced B?o’s wet clothes with her dryer ones. Those who remained on the boat were crying while others were yelling at the captain, who hissed that they would all be captured and killed if they didn’t stop their wailing.

For the rest of the evening, the boat motor chugged deeper into the South China Sea. Two people lighter than when they began, those on board whispered of a curse. Anh held B?o tightly in her arms as he drifted in and out of consciousness. Not knowing what to do, she prayed to her ancestors for help and made promises to Chung and Linh of her devotion.

When B?o finally awoke, he asked repeatedly where his parents were.

“They are in heaven with our ancestors,” she said, using the same words Linh had once used to comfort her.

He began to sob, large, violent cries that caused his whole body to shake.

“My arm …” He looked down at his forearm that was now bandaged with a piece of Anh’s undershirt. He was still unsure if the flashes of his father’s last moments were real or not.

Anh remained silent. She had neither the heart nor the words to tell him.