"Yes. "
"Did I say where they were?"
"No. I think you not know."
"Great. I don't know where I am, where I've been, or where I should be going."
"Not my fault."
"I know. I wish my head would clear. I feel like I've got all the answers swimming around in my head, but the thoughts won't stop long enough for me to get a clear look at them."
"I know one thing."
"What's that?"
"We need food."
"Yeah, maybe we can find a friendly village."
"Not here. Not anywhere."
"We'll come up with something," Remo said. But he had no idea what.
They hadn't driven much further when the sunlight streaming through the open hatch was suddenly blocked. Remo looked up first. Then Lan screamed. Remo braked and wriggled back into the tank's main body.
A face was looking down at them. A thin face pocked like a golf course, with thin, cruel black eyes. There was something vaguely familiar about that face, Remo thought, but his eyes were focused on the pointing barrel of the pistol that was aimed at his face.
"Dung lai!" the Vietnamese screamed.
"Sure thing, buddy," Remo said, putting his hands up. "Just don't get excited." To Lan he whispered, "Stay calm. I can handle this jerk."
The Vietnamese screamed at them. "What's he saying?" Remo asked Lan.
"He say get out of tank. Now."
"I'll go first," Remo said. He grabbed a pipelike handhold and climbed up. The Vietnamese-he was a captain, Remo realized-stepped back from the turret, and when Remo lifted his head out into the air, he suddenly felt his stomach go cold.
"No," he croaked. "Not you."
The Vietnamese screamed at him again.
"Yeah, sure, I'm coming," Remo said thickly as he got out of the tank. His legs felt rubbery. He held his hands at shoulder height, but they trembled.
"Captain Spook," Remo said dully. His eyes were sick.
Lan came out next.
The captain motioned for them to step to the rear of the tank.
"Lai dai! Lai dai, maulen!" he screamed. His face was a mask of pocked fury.
"Cai gi?" Remo asked. And received a slap in the face for his question. He had no idea what the man was screaming.
"He wants us to walk to back," Lan told him. "I think he plan kill us."
"Why not?" asked Remo, stepping toward the back. "He's dead. Why shouldn't we be too?"
"What you mean?"
"I know this guy. He's dead." Lan said nothing.
When Remo reached the rear deck of the tank, the captain motioned for them to turn around. Remo did as he was told. Lan stood beside him. She trembled.
The cocking of the pistol told them they were going to be unceremoniously executed.
Remo started to react. But Lan was already in motion. She screamed. Not in fear, but in a high, keening rage. The Vietnamese captain, not expecting the sound, was paralyzed with shock.
Lan fell on him, yanking at his pistol. Remo swept in from the opposite side. He knocked the captain over with a body block. The captain rolled off the tank and scrambled for cover under the tank chassis.
Lan had his pistol. She was sweeping the sides of the tank with its muzzle. She fired once, hitting nothing. Remo took the gun from her. "Forget it!"
"I will kill him!" Lan screamed.
"Not possible. You can't kill him. He's already dead!" Lan looked at Remo doubtfully.
"Come on," Remo said, shoving her into the turret. He climbed down after her and pulled the hatch shut, heat or no heat. He felt an almost supernatural chill course through his body.
"Why you afraid?" Lan asked as Remo started the tank moving again. "Why you not stay and kill him?"
"It's a long story."
"We have long ride."
"I already killed that guy."
"When?"
Remo considered in silence. Finally he said, "Good question. I don't know. Seems like two, maybe three months ago. Maybe longer."
"He not dead now."
"No, he's not. But I killed him during the war. You bien?"
"No. Not understand."
"I killed him during the war. In 1967. And he pops up again, not only alive, but not any older. Certainly not fifteen or twenty years older."