not dared to all these years? If I hadn’t let my fear control me, would those men have lived, or were they marked for death no matter what? Would the plantation manager have figured out their plan, too? Would he have killed them in the same vicious manner? Would the police, if I’d reported it to them? Or would they have sent them to a political prison where they would have met the same fate, or worse? I thought of the way Victor was with Lucie, the loving, doting father. How could that be the same man?
I gulped in the fresh air until I felt I was choking, sure that I could smell the scent of dying men. Ly Duc Khai was still with me, all of them were, and I was suddenly quite sure they’d never leave. I already knew the way nightmares became trapped inside a person. I was sure it was happening to me again.
I leaned forward toward the sunshine. I was not a large person. I could easily fall right off the small platform between the train cars. I looked at my right hand clutching the metal handle. My ringless hand. I let my fingers start slipping off, one by one, and when I let the final one go, my body lurched forward, I felt my face hit the metal door, then my torso, and then I felt a hand grab me.
“Attention!” I heard a man scream. He pulled me back with such force that we both hit the door I had just exited, on the other side of the small metal walkway.
“Madame! You nearly fell down!” he exclaimed. I turned and looked at him. It was one of the conductors, an Annamite man, perhaps in his forties, in a navy-blue uniform. “You could have fallen from the train. Are you all right? You must be careful here. It can be very dangerous,” he said, leading me inside the next train car.
“Yes, thank you, I’m okay,” I said, trying to collect myself. I stood upright, stepping back from him. I had nearly fallen out of the train.
“I’m very sorry,” I mumbled. “I just had a bit too much to drink at lunch. I’m very embarrassed.” I reached into my bag for some money.
“There’s no need for that,” he said, holding up his hands. “I’m glad I arrived in time.”
“Please,” I said, taking money out anyway. “I insist. You were so kind to help me. I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t been there.”
He looked at me a moment. We both knew exactly what would have happened.
The conductor shook his head again and pointed to my bag. “Please, you can put it back. I’m just happy I reached you. I’m glad you’re still here with us.”
If only he knew how little I deserved to be still there.
I slept for the rest of the journey to Nha Trang, and when I reached the station, the same chauffeur picked me up. This time, I was very glad for his silence.
“I need to make a stop before we get to the hotel,” I said, the speed of my voice matching my racing heart. “I had a very arduous journey, and I need to calm my nerves. I need some help in doing so. I need to take something. I need to rest, I need help…”
“Opium will help, madame,” he said, kindly interrupting my frantic talk so I didn’t have to say it. “I know a local place near Qui Nhon that is very good. Everyone there will leave you in peace. And the opium they have is quite strong. It will help you rest awhile. I can see from your eyes that you need it.”
I nodded, sure that my eyes were red and swollen. “That’s just what I need, thank you for suggesting it,” I said, rolling down the window, trying to lose myself in the country I’d been so desperate to come to.
The chauffeur was right. Everyone left me alone at the den in Qui Nhon. This time, I didn’t hesitate at all when the girl brought the opium pipe to my lips. I inhaled and didn’t stop breathing in deeply and exhaling out slowly until I felt my body drift away. When I woke up, I was in the hotel. I didn’t remember getting there, but I was very happy that I was.
I stood up, took a bath, and then looked at my naked body in the mirror. Even that didn’t look like mine. I