Читать книгу SOULFUL JOURNEY - Sotheary Ortego - Страница 6

MOMENTS LATER

Many villages are burning. Docks on the shoreline are aflame. Dark fumes from petroleum products hang heavily in the air.

The explosion has thrown Savanna into the unknown depths of the river. After the lethal blast, she fights her way to the surface. Savanna swims, pulling at the water, propelling herself upward with all her might.

After a long struggle, she breaks the surface of the water, gasping and coughing. Through her stinging eyes, she finds herself surrounded by thick gray smog.

Savanna takes a little sniff. The air around her smells like fuel storage tanks are on fire. It is hard for her to breathe. Her lungs are screaming for air. Savanna takes a shallow breath. Almost immediately, she feels a sharp pain shooting through her chest. She panics and stops breathing. After a few seconds, she forces herself to breathe in and out, even though her lungs are hurting.

The smoky smell of fires from the nearby villages burns her eyes and hurts her nose. Savanna tries to breathe through her mouth. Her throat feels constricted as she sucks in air. Her lungs feel tight each time she exhales. She gets short of breath and starts to gasp for air. Panting and wheezing, she takes many small breaths and blows it out through her mouth, trying to slow down her breathing effort. After a few minutes, her breathing becomes a bit easier.

Savanna scans the water, desperately searching for Isan and her friends. Her vision is blurry from the smoke. She cannot see very far through the smog. She looks for landmarks in every direction, but thick black smoke blocks out her view of the landscape.

Savanna is disoriented. She has no idea where she is or how far she has drifted.

There are lacerations on her forehead, but she feels no pain. Frightened, she calls out for her husband, “Isan!”

There is no answer. Savanna swims around, looking for him left and right.

About twenty meters away, Isan is trying to haul himself onto a wooden raft that looks like a small platform. He has built it himself and is glad that he has brought an extra raft on board. Somehow, he has managed to hang on to it after the explosion. The raft is big enough to carry at least one adult.

There are many ways people can use this wooden board when the boat is anchored at the dock. They can bathe or wash their clothes on it. Some people would bring along a small outdoor fire pit and cook their food on this floating platform. They can also use it to step on and off the boat like a gangplank.

For a few minutes, Isan struggles in the water, trying to get back on the wooden board. After several attempts, he finally climbs onto it. With a groan, Isan rolls on his back, struggling for breath.

Panting and grimacing, he puts both hands on his abdominal wounds and bites his lower lip, trying to control the pain.

Bright red blood flows from his weakened body. Isan hears his wife’s voice calling his name. He is filled with relief, knowing that she is alive and able to call out for help. Wincing in pain, he rolls on his side and attempts to paddle toward the sound of her voice. As he moves, blood gushes from his wounds. At the same time, he can feel something warm dripping at the back of his throat. His nose and his mouth are bleeding. Isan is choking on his own blood. He coughs weakly.

Savanna has swum perhaps one hundred strokes when she hears someone coughing behind her. Savanna turns around swiftly, bumping into the flotsam and jetsam. She pushes debris out of her way and swims in the direction of the sound. “Isan?” she cries out. “Money, Molly, where are you?”

She receives no reply, nor does she see anyone in sight. A tobacco bushel floats by her. She holds on to it.

Somewhere in the distance, Savanna hears a splashing sound. She throws a quick glance around. “Isan, is that you?” she calls out louder.

Savanna gets no response. “I’m over here!” she cries out at the top of her lungs, scanning the water left and right for her husband. “Isan, follow my voice!”

An eerie silence greets her. Nothing emerges from the smog. Savanna strains her ears to listen. All she can hear is the sound of a dull explosion in the distance.

Savanna paddles a few more strokes and looks around. In the haze of smoke she catches a glimpse of somebody splashing through the flotsam. She paddles after the blurry shape, but the current keeps dragging her away. A few minutes later, she hears a loud splashing sound again from somewhere ahead. It grows louder and more desperate like someone is drowning. Savanna pushes off toward the sound, yelling at the top of her lungs, “Hold on. I’m coming!”

Less than twenty meters away, Isan wakes up and finds himself breaking the surface of the water, gasping for breath. He is grateful that the fog in his mind has cleared enough for him to realize that he is drowning.

Isan thinks he might have swallowed a large amount of water because the inside of his nose burns, and his chest feels heavy and tight. He gurgles and thrashes in the water, clawing his way back up onto the wooden board. He does not remember how he has gotten himself into the water. The only explanation he can think of is that he must have fallen off the wooden board while he was sleeping.

Isan stays on his left side. It has taken so much of his energy to pull himself back on the wooden board. His muscles are on fire. His breathing comes out in rapid pants.

Isan feels lightheaded and cannot sit up. He wants to search for his wife, but he cannot spare the energy to propel the wooden board or call out for her. His only hope for survival is to stay on the wooden board until he gets rescued.

As Isan starts to doze off, he hears Savanna’s voice calling for him from a distance. With his energy almost gone, Isan cannot respond. He feels so weak that he can hardly breathe or move a muscle.

Isan drifts in and out of consciousness. For a moment, darkness almost overtakes him. He fights it with all his strength, but the forces of darkness are too strong for him. Within a few minutes, everything about him starts to slow down—his heart, his breathing, his thoughts.

Isan does not understand why his body keeps shutting down. He searches his mind for possible answers.

Maybe his body is telling him to go back to sleep so he won’t feel the pain. It makes a lot of sense. But if he falls asleep, he is likely to roll off the wooden board. If he does that one more time, he might as well make this river his grave for he knows he is too weak to swim and too tired to fight against the current. Then he will drown and never get another chance to see the sun again. As much as he wants to stay awake, he has no strength to fight it. Isan closes his eyes. Immediately, the world becomes silent and darkness comes over him.

Savanna kicks and pulls vigorously, propelling herself after the lone figure on the wooden board with all her strength. In a few moments, she manages to get near the wooden board.

A light breeze passes over the river. Now, the smog is getting thinner. Savanna can see and breathe much better. Right in front of her, about five meters away, Isan’s unmoving body drifts into her view. For a terrifying moment, she thinks her husband is dead or seriously injured. Savanna shrieks in horror, “Isan, hang on! I’m coming to get you!"

Isan jolts awake and spots the shape of Savanna’s head from the corner of his eye. He cries out to her, “Savanna!” and drifts swiftly downstream.

Savanna takes off after her husband, reaching out toward him. “Grab my hand!” she screams. “Come on!” She cries out, stretching her arm toward him. “Reach out for my hand!”

Isan is in severe pain. He closes his eyes and holds his breath. His wounds continue to bleed profusely. Now his body goes into shock and starts to shut down. Isan is not responding to her call. The swift current carries him rapidly away from her.

Savanna swims faster, trying to catch up with him. She kicks and pulls with all her strength, streamlining her position until she gets close enough to grab him. After a short struggle, she finally moves in right behind him and seizes the wooden board.

Isan turns his head to look at Savanna. His eyes gaze upward like he has already departed from this world. In despair she cries out, "God, please save him!”

Shallow breaths pump in and out through his mouth. He shuts his eyes, trying to block out the pain.

Savanna lays a hand on his cheek to console him. “Isan, come back," she begs. “Please, don’t give up.”

Isan mumbles, “I want to sleep," and passes out.

“Isan, you need to stay awake!" Savanna cries out, shaking his shoulders, tapping his face, beating his chest. “Isan, open your eyes and look at me. Come on, you must try.”

Isan tries his best to wake up, but his eyes simply refuse to stay open. He lies still like a dead man.

“Isan, please wake up,” Savanna pleads, slapping his face left and right. She keeps working on him until she sees his chest starting to rise and fall. With a grunt, Isan opens his eyes, grimacing in pain.

Savanna swims to the shore, paddling with one arm, pushing the wooden board ahead of her with the other.

Several minutes later, Isan starts to lose consciousness again. Savanna rocks the wooden board. “Isan, wake up!" she shouts, trying to bring him back to his senses. He looks at her, but no words come out of his colorless lips. She encourages him, “Keep breathing.” He breathes, but very weakly.

Fighting against the currents, Savanna manages to bring her wounded husband to the shoreline.

Savanna stops swimming and her feet touch the riverbed. Standing in waist-deep water, she pushes the wooden board onto the riverbank.

Isan looks almost lifeless as Savanna kneels beside him. She taps his cheeks left and right, working very hard to wake him. “Isan, can you hear me?" Savanna calls out, shaking his shoulder. “Talk to me. Say something. Anything, please.”

Isan does not move or talk. He lies on his back with his eyes closed.

Savanna squeezes his hand. “I know you’re still in there,” she says. “You’re a strong person. You can fight this. Come back. Talk to me!”

Isan is in so much pain that he cannot speak or move. His abdomen feels like it has been ripped apart and turned inside out. His brain cannot process what she is saying. Whenever he tries to open his eyes, something heavy keeps pressing against them. Whenever he tries to think, a powerful force keeps dragging him into the darkness. Whenever he tries to talk, his tongue cannot move. It is difficult for him to form words. The only thing that seems normal is his hearing.

“Isan, come back!” Savanna screams at him, slapping him hard in the face, crying at the same time, hating herself for hurting him. She does not want to hit him so hard, but she can’t think of any other options to help him. “Fight your way back!” Savanna begs him, but Isan is not processing her command. “You can do it!” she cries out louder and slaps him again.

All that slapping starts to work. Isan gasps and takes a breath. With all his will, he forces himself to open his eyes. As soon as he wakes up, he feels a sharp pain searing through him.

He could normally endure a lot of pain. But this pain is different. His wounds burn and throb as if someone has just poured acid on his skin. It hurts so badly that it makes him want to curl up and die. Part of his brain knows that he needs to stay awake to figure out what he could do to stop the bleeding—the other part of his brain tells him that he should sleep until the pain gets better. A nap right now is the right thing to do, he says to himself.

Isan starts to doze off, except that someone keeps slapping him.“Isan! Don’t go to sleep. Look at me!” Savanna’s voice shrieks right next to his ear, almost blasting his eardrum.

Isan’s eyes pop open. He gasps and coughs harshly. The fires burning in the villages combined with the sweltering heat of the tropical sun nearly suffocate him.

After Isan has taken several shallow breaths, he finally murmurs, “I need tobacco.”

“Tobacco?” Savanna echoes, shooting him a questioning look. Isan nods slightly. The pain inside him makes him wince.

Savanna does not understand why Isan is asking for tobacco at a time like this. He does not smoke nor chew tobacco.

Isan tosses his head restlessly. He tries to tell her something, but his voice falters. Suddenly, a memory of her father flashes in the back of her mind. She remembers seeing him put moist tobacco directly on his wounds and cuts. At the same time, she also recalls an old shaman in her village using tobacco in many healing rituals. Savanna has never asked them how tobacco works on wounds. Whatever healing power it has, she hopes it will help stop the bleeding. Savanna fumbles through his shirt, searching for tobacco. “Where is it?” she asks her husband.

“In my pocket,” Isan manages to tell her.

Savanna unbuttons his shirt pocket. She takes out a handful of shredded tobacco and packs his wounds to stop the flow of blood, but the terrible wounds continue to bleed.

Isan grits his teeth and bears the pain, grunting and panting. “It hurts,” he mutters under his breath and passes out again.

Savanna shakes him. “Isan! Look at me!” she shouts. “Come on, open your eyes.”

The man doesn’t stir. Perhaps he has gone too far this time. She must do her very best to bring him back.

Savanna pumps his chest with her palms. “Come back!" she cries out, desperately. “Please come back!” she pleads louder.

Savanna’s voice seems very far away. Isan cannot respond to her calling. His mind keeps drifting in and out of consciousness.

“Isan, hold on!” he hears Savanna shouting in a frightened voice. “Don’t give up on me and the baby!”

Isan hears the word “baby” ringing in his ears. It makes his heart pump wildly. Isan tries to collect his senses. With a superhuman effort, he strives to bring his foggy mind back to the conscious state.

A moment later, his eyes flutter open. He says something so softly that she can’t hear.

Savanna leans against his lips to listen and encourages him to speak up, “Isan, come on, talk louder."

“I love you,” he repeats.

She kisses him. “I love you too. Please try to be strong.”

Isan feels himself drifting, floating away into trackless space. He closes his eyes and goes limp.

Frightened, she cries out in terror, “No, don’t leave us! Come back and stay with me!”

Isan makes no sound. He looks so still. Savanna cannot tell if he is still breathing. She leans closer and presses her ear to his chest. At first she hears nothing. It seems like something is sucking the life out of him.

A few seconds later, she catches a faint beating sound of his heart. When she looks at his chest, she sees him taking a shallow breath. Savanna straightens and sighs with great relief. “He’s only asleep,” she almost hears herself saying out loud.

Savanna fears if she lets him continue to sleep, he might not wake up again, and death will claim him. Savanna thinks if she can keep him talking, he might have a better chance of surviving, and so she shakes him. “Isan, say something, anything please," she cries out. "Come on, wake up!”

But Isan keeps drifting farther away and slips deeper into a coma.

Meanwhile, thunder rumbles. Savanna turns her gaze toward the open river. She scans in every direction, searching for her friends. She finds no sign of them.

In the far distance she sees dark purple clouds swirling and lightning flashing through the boiling sky. Thunder roars and shakes the earth. A sudden gust of wind from the south blows swiftly across the river. It grows stronger and stronger as time goes by, carrying some of the smog away into the sky.

Overwhelmed with grief she bows and recites a prayer that her father had taught her, “God of our first ancestors, the daughter of Great Moat Village asks for your protection; please have mercy on us and deliver us from this affliction."

Faintly from downstream in the southern direction, she hears the sound of a motorboat engine accelerating. She staggers to her feet. Her body is covered with Isan’s blood. She looks beyond the shoreline and spots a boat. She yells with all her strength, “We need help! Please come ashore!”

The people are not aware of her calling. The motorboat keeps moving northward at the same speed.

Savanna runs after the boat, waving frantically. “Over here!” she cries out. “Please help us!”

The motorboat keeps going northward. None of the people look in her direction.

“We need help!” Savanna shouts louder. At the same time, her legs pump faster, trying to catch up with the boat.

A figure in the back of the boat turns in her direction. Savanna breathes a sigh of relief. "Please stop the boat!” she shrieks at the top of her voice, waving to them desperately.

Suddenly, the motorboat decelerates and turns toward the riverbank. Within a few minutes, the boat comes up to the edge of the water where Savanna is waiting anxiously. She glances at the people in the boat and notices their stricken faces.

On board is a distraught woman holding an unconscious little boy. The young lady weeps uncontrollably.

As Savanna gets near the boat, her eyes well up with tears when she catches a glimpse of an injured toddler lying in a blood-soaked blanket. For a brief moment, she thinks he might be dead. A few moments later, she notices his chest rising and falling very weakly. Her heart sinks to see him struggling with every breath. Savanna looks at the toddler sympathetically for a long moment, then turns her gaze to the boatman. With her hands pressed in supplication she pleads, “Sir, my husband is injured. We need help. Please give us a ride to the hospital.”

The boatman kills the engine and gives her a dull sad look. “We have room for one more person,” he replies.

“A bomb crashed into our boat," Savanna says quickly. “My husband is badly wounded. Please, help us,” she implores.

The boatman sighs deeply. He looks at her silently for a long moment and his face saddens.

Savanna holds her breath and waits in suspense for him to respond.

After a long moment of consideration, the old man gives her a pensive look. “I’m sorry," he says at last. “The currents are too rough. The engine isn’t strong enough to carry all of us.”

Savanna gets down on her knees and begs, “I’ll stay behind. Please, take my husband to the hospital. I will repay you for your kindness.”

The boatman replies sadly, “There’s no hospital around here. The bombs burned it to the ground.”

Holding back the tears, he makes a hand gesture to his family. “All I have left are my daughter and my grandson. The rest of my family were killed in the bombing raid.”

The boatman glances at his daughter for a second, then turns his gaze back to Savanna. “She lost two little girls and her husband this morning during the bombing raid,” he goes on, “and her only son is dying. I’m taking them to the hospital in Phnom Penh, but I only have enough gas to go around the bend. I’m hoping to find my friend in Floating Village to help us.”

Savanna wets her lips and remains silent for a moment as many thoughts flash through her mind.

The little boy looks like he is dying. He needs medical treatment just as much as Isan needs it.

Savanna feels guilty delaying his care. She turns her gaze to the boatman and studies him quickly.

The old man looks very frail. The river is very rough. When the boat runs out of gas, he might have trouble rowing it against the current. If he takes Isan with him, the extra weight could endanger them all. It is too risky to send Isan off across the wide-open river with just one man maneuvering the boat. The nearest hospital is at least sixty five kilometers away. It could take two days to get there without the motor engine. Maybe it is safer to wait here for another motorboat.

As Savanna contemplates her options, the boatman shifts his weight and clears his throat as if he knows what she is thinking.

“We have a long journey ahead of us,” he says wearily. “My boat is too small for both of you. Maybe it is better for you to catch a ride with a bigger boat,” he suggests, “so you two can be together.”

Savanna draws a deep breath, feeling very uncertain about her decision. What if there is no other boat? But the boatman has a good point. Isan is gravely wounded. If she sends him off, who will care for him? What if something bad happens to Isan on the way to the hospital. She would rather be by his side when that happens. Staying together is a better option, she tries to convince herself.

Without further delay, Savanna bows to the boatman with respect. “I’m sorry for taking your time," she says earnestly. “Thank you for stopping. May safety be with you all.” Savanna walks away heavyhearted.

The old man seems to be worried. His sad eyes follow Savanna from behind. After a moment, he sighs deeply and calls out after her, “Young woman, come back here. There is one thing I can do for you.”

As soon as Savanna hears the old man’s voice she turns around and answers him promptly, “Yes, sir?”

The old man hands her a glass jar filled with yellow liquid. “It’s raw honey,” he says.

Savanna takes a quick look at the boatman’s storage chest, noticing a tattered blanket, an old mosquito net, and two tiny clay pots. The man has very few possessions, yet he is willing to give away his last jar of honey to help a stranger, she says to herself and looks at the old man with great respect. Savanna feels badly taking the honey from him, but she is desperate. At this moment she would take anything that the old man can spare to save Isan’s life.

“Take it!" The boatman’s voice breaks into her thoughts. "Your husband needs it more than we do.”

Savanna hesitates, trying to figure out how to repay him, but the old man insists. He extends his arm to her. “Go on. Take it. Use it on his wounds. It will help stop the bleeding.”

His last words make her change her mind. Savanna takes the raw honey from him with heartfelt gratitude. “Thank you, sir,” she says.

“I’m sorry that I couldn’t do more,” he replies. “Raise your hands and pray to God for us, my child.”

Savanna places her hands together, brings it up to her chin and bows solemnly to show him respect. She keeps her eyes downcast as she recites a prayer for them. “May God of our first ancestors bless you and your family," she says. “Please, be careful.”

“Good luck and be safe,” he responds. The old man rows the boat back into the deeper water.

Savanna turns her gaze to the lady. Without a word, the young mother lifts her head up for the first time. Locked in her own misery, the young mother gives Savanna a blank look.

As soon as the boat moves into the deeper water, the boatman cranks up the engine. It roars back to life and chugs away from the riverbank.

Savanna rushes back to the wooden board. Isan lies in his blood with his eyes closed. He is unconscious and barely breathes.

Savanna studies him for a moment. His face looks so peaceful. He seems to be in deep sleep. Savanna does not want to wake him up, but she knows his wounds need to be treated, otherwise he will bleed to dead.

Savanna kneels beside Isan. She opens his shirt. The shredded tobacco that she had used to cover his wounds thirty minutes ago is soaked in blood. She gently removes the blood-stained tobacco from his wounds and smears honey all over his abdomen.

Since ancient time, people in Great Moat Village have been using raw honey to treat open wounds, cuts, and burns. It had performed miracles in many cases. She hopes it would do the same for her husband.

“Isan,” Savanna calls his name tenderly. “Please, come back. You’ve got to fight. Don’t let yourself drift away.”

Isan does not respond. Savanna shakes his motionless form. “Isan, you must wake up!” she begs. “I know you can hear me. Listen to my voice and follow my words." Savanna leans closer and speaks right next to his ear, “Come back and fight for your life!”

As soon as she stops talking, she notices a small movement in his facial expression. Savanna watches him breathlessly for a long moment.

After thirty seconds or so, Isan’s eyelids start to flutter. He tosses and turns his head. His mouth moves in silent words, trying to tell her something. All that comes out is a weak cough.

Savanna brushes Isan's hair away from his face with her hand. “The bleeding is starting to slow down,” she says in a hopeful voice. “You will feel better soon. Just hang in there. You’re going to be okay.”

After a short struggle, Isan gasps for breath and opens his eyes, trying to talk. Wordlessly, she lifts his head into her arms and cradles him tenderly like a small sick child.

Isan mumbles something incoherently, which might have meant, “Thank you, or I love you,” and drifts into a deep coma again.