Free Out of the Dragon's Mouth by Joyce Burns Zeiss Page B

closed lids. She watched his bare chest move up and down. He seemed to be sleeping, but how could he have slept with Sang’s ghost in the tent?
    â€œUncle Hiep, wake up. I’m frightened.”
    Hiep opened his eyes and looked up at her. The ghost had disappeared, but the odor of decay remained.
    â€œMmm. What’s the matter?”
    â€œI had a bad dream, except it wasn’t a dream. I was awake and Uncle Sang’s ghost came to me. Can’t you smell him?”
    Hiep reached up and touched her hand. “Don’t be afraid. Just a dream,” he murmured, half asleep.
    â€œUncle Hiep, listen to me. We’re in danger. He’s after us.” Mai grabbed Hiep’s arm and shook it. Hiep opened his eyes again in annoyance.
    â€œI can’t sleep,” she said. “Uncle Sang’s ghost was here. He threatened us. Didn’t you hear him?” Mai climbed down and crouched on the ground next to Hiep, who was stretched out in his hammock.
    â€œShh! You’ll wake the others.” Hiep rose, grasped Mai by the elbow, and guided her outside the tent, where a slight breeze sliced through the sultriness of the tropical night. “Mai, are you feeling all right? What did you eat today? Maybe it’s upset you.” He leaned close to Mai, and she could smell the odor of fish on his breath.
    â€œUncle, I’m not sick, and I’m not imagining this. Uncle Sang is out to get even with us. I think he blames you and me for his death.”
    â€œMai, don’t be foolish. Go back to sleep. We’ll talk about this in the morning. Maybe I should go see Small Auntie.” Hiep’s voice softened as he brushed a tear from Mai’s chin.
    â€œWhat good will that do? You know how Small Auntie feels.” Mai grabbed Hiep’s hands and wouldn’t let go.
    â€œYou don’t believe those stories. She can’t hurt us.” Hiep removed Mai’s hands from his and took a step away from her. “Sang is dead. Now come on and go back to sleep. I’m tired.”
    Mai knew she had made Hiep angry, but she was upset that he didn’t believe her. Perhaps he was right. So much had happened to them since they’d left Vietnam she didn’t know what she believed. She tiptoed back into the tent, careful not to disturb the others as she climbed back into her hammock, expecting to lie there sleepless until the morning light. She closed her eyes, afraid of the phantoms sleep might bring, and was relieved when the sun slipped into the tent and she heard Hiep call her name.
    â€œMai, I’m sorry about last night,” he said, but Mai was not ready to forgive him, and she turned her back to him and pretended to be sleeping.
    â€œMai, wake up. Let’s go see Small Auntie.”
    She peered at him through half-open eyelids but did not speak, knowing that her words would be useless.
    â€œAll right, I’ll go myself. You stay here.” Hiep strode out of the tent.
    The words don’t go stuck in her throat and a cold fear wrapped its icy tentacles around her.
    She had avoided Small Auntie’s boat yesterday as she’d lugged their tins of food back to the tent, cutting a wide swath around it. She’d seen a few curls of smoke from the cooking fire, a couple of holey T-shirts laid out to dry on some bushes, and a large oil can perched on a rock. Someone had propped Small Auntie’s ragged broom against the peeling hull of her boat. A child’s dép peeked through a mound of sand next to a tin can with a string threaded through a hole in its side. There’d been no sign of Small Auntie or the children. Mai was relieved not to see her, but she worried about the children. Where were they? Was Small Auntie too distraught to care for them?
    Mai knew how grief could affect a person. Her cousin Trang, a year younger than she, had drowned in the Mekong while swimming with her three older brothers. Mai had been playing with two of her