"You hurt me." She kneaded her shoulders where Remo's hard fingers had dug into the soft flesh.
"Sorry," Remo said in a quieter voice. "I just can't make sense of it."
Lan looked away. "Not my fault."
"The war is over?"
"Yes. "
"You're sure of that?"
"Yes." Her eyes were sullen.
"I looked at myself in the rice paddy. I look older."
"Of course."
"But not that much older. Not twenty years older." Lan said nothing.
"I can't have been wandering the jungle for twenty years without growing older or being captured."
"You show up at reeducation camp. Not know where you come from. You rescue Lan. Rescue Lan's friends too. Friends very grateful. You leave us, but Lan not want to leave you. Lan like you. Lan sneak back on bus. You drive away. Then bus hit mine. You wake up. Lan wake up. Rest you know. Lan stand guard now?"
"Later," Remo said. "Listen, I think I believe you. But there are things I can't explain. Except one way."
Lan tossed her long hair back. "Yes?"
"When the bus hit the mine, it was pretty torn up."
"Yes. Cut in two."
"Don't you think it's strange that we both survived? The thing was riddled with steel pellets."
Lan shrugged. "You in front. Lan hiding in back. Bus hit mine, break in middle. Not strange. Lucky."
"What if we only think we're alive?"
Lan looked at Remo uncomprehendingly. "What if we're dead?" Remo said flatly.
"No!" Lan cried, scrambling to her feet. Her face shook with anger. "Lan not dead. No! You dead, maybe. Not Lan!" She backed away from Remo in fear.
"Look," Remo said, getting to his feet. "I don't want to believe it either. But it fits. It even explains Captain Spook. We're the walking wounded, dead but still fighting on."
"No, not fit."
"You said it first, remember? Maybe I'm a ghost. I can't remember anything but the war. I must have been killed driving that bus."
"No. Lan not killed in war. Lan born during war, grow up after. Mother teacher, taken away when Lan young. Lan live on street. Later, Lan taken to reeducation camp. Lan not die in war. Lan not die ever!"
Lan broke down sobbing. She fell to her knees and buried her face in the cool grass.
"Lan not die ever!" she repeated brokenly.
Remo knelt beside her. He brushed her long black hair away from her face.
"Maybe you're right," he said quietly. "I just can't figure it out."
"Remo think too much. Should be like Lan. Not think. Feel. Feel with heart."
"Yeah? What do you feel?"
Lan gathered her legs under her. She sat up. Her eyes were red around the edges.
"Lan feel sad. Feel ache. Lan think it love."
"Me?"
"Since Lan child, Lan's mother told her about American father. His name Bob. Bob come back someday, Lan's mother say. Come back and take us to America. But Bob not come. No American come. Then Lan's mother say Bob dead. Lan not believe. Bad things happen to Lan. Then you come. Lan like you because you American. Now Lan like you because you Remo."
"I like you too. But you're just a kid." Remo's face froze. "Funny. "
"Lan not funny."
"No, I didn't mean it like that. The last I remember, I was nineteen. You look about that. But somehow I think of you as a kid. Like somewhere in my head I know I'm older."
"Not understand."
"Me neither. And what was that old Oriental's problem? He knew my name. He said he was my father. I never knew my father, but there's no way my father was Vietnamese-or whatever he was."
"He very strong," Lan said.
"Yeah, but so am I." He looked at his fist. "I killed two guys with single punches. I don't ever remember being that strong."
"Lan tired of thinking."
Remo grinned suddenly. "Me too."
Lan smiled shyly. She touched his arm tentatively. "Remo like Lan?" she asked softly.
"Yeah, sure I do."
"Love Lan now?"
"What?"
"Love. Love Lan now?"