Death Chants (9 page)

"Big lettuce
coming, massa," said Doctor Death. "Look like to me we done getting the head dude."

Howton snapped a
crisp salute, his face blanking, becoming an expressionless mask. Even Doctor Death stopped
smiling as General W. approached the craft.

The general spotted
me, smiled warily and gave a brisk salute. I did not return it. He did not seem surprised by my
lapse.

"You're Lieutenant
Lookspeaker? You know who I am. Let me make this perfectly clear. I have no part of this project
other than arranging its final implementation. I decidedly do not approve of your mission. Is
that understood, soldier?" The general's face was red, his voice clipped mean like overmown
grass.

"I understand,
General."

"I don't think you
do," snapped the general. "In any case, I am delivering for interrogation purposes, or rather for
what I assume is interrogation purposes, the highest-ranking VC pris­oner we've got. His name and
rank is—"

"I don't need to
know that."

"Will you need an
interpreter?" asked the general. "It wasn't mentioned but I have prepared for the
contingency."

"That won't be
necessary."

"You speak
Vietnamese then," said the general, looking sur­prised.

I shook my head no.
"I'll find out what I want to know from him anyway. It doesn't matter if I can't understand his
language. What's important is that I understand his dreams."

The general
contained his fury but it was an effort.

Through clenched
teeth, he said, "I have been instructed to make a chopper and crew available to you with
unrestricted flight plans. I have also been instructed to provide you with anything, in the way
of hardware, ordnance or men, to accom­plish your mission."

"I have what I
need. UnhandcufF the prisoner and we'll be off."

"Would it be out of
line to ask where the hell you intend to go?"

"Probably not, but
I don't know where we're going, so I can't tell you."

The general looked
troubled. "Is it true, the rumors, what they say about you?"

I smiled. "I don't
know what you're talking about, sir." I gave
him a sloppily executed salute, my hand coming off my nose like an inept karate
chop.

That seemed to be
the final straw for the general. He barked commands at the guards, who unhandcuffed the prisoner
and helped him up into the bay door of the chopper.

The general spun on
his heel and marched stiffly off like a man going to his own execution.

Howton shook his
head. "Bloody m. f-ing Christ! I don't know what you're up to, Chief, but anyone who can twist
the Old Man's mammaries in the wringer has sure got my vote."

Doctor Death
regarded the prisoner balefully. "Hey, do I got to baby-sit and protect our ass, too?"

Howton turned to
me. "He ought to be tied up. You can't trust the bastards any farther than you can . .
."

"No need." I smiled
at the prisoner. He seemed relaxed and cheerful. Undoubtedly, he already sensed that I would be
setting him free. I send a lot when I begin receiving.

"He'll be OK. Give
him a cigarette, if you have any," I said into the headset.

Doctor Death looked
disgusted at the idea of sharing with the prisoner. "Man, I got bullets extra I could spare, but
smokes, you must be funning!"

"Where to?" asked
Howton, cranking the chopper up for flight.

"North, I think.
For a while anyway. I'll tell you when to change direction as soon as I know."

"Are we heading for
some real deep stuff? I mean, give me some kind of idea what to expect. North to what, over
what?"

"Don't expect
anything," I said. "That's probably the best way. I'd like to fly slow and fairly low. We'll be
in the mountains mostly, is my best guess."

"Guess!" Howton
lifted us off. "It don't sound like you know what the hell you're doing! This ain't no place to
be guessing about anything! Just thinking about it makes my BVDs want to seize up!

"You copying this,
Doctor Death?" said Howton into the headset.

"Somebody better
tell this dude that low and slow is full of lead and dead! Lordy, massa, this fool Indian keep
pulling our
tail with this kind of
thing, I am going to frag his act right where it live."

"He ain't happy,"
said Howton as the chopper began flying over low-lying mountain ranges. "And I ain't getting
ready to write you no love poems either. You're beginning to sound like a raffle ticket for
buying the farm."

I pointed. "Go in
that direction. Toward the highest mountain peak."

Howton looked at me
like I was crazy. The chopper re­sponded to his touch on the controls, tilting to go in the
direc­tion I had pointed.

"I think that
mountain is where we're going," I said, not knowing it for sure until I had said it. Once spoken,
it sounded strangely right.

From somewhere to
the left of and a little behind the chopper, anti-aircraft guns began rattling at us.

Doctor Death leaned
out the door, at the ready. He turned and looked back at us. "Unfriendlies, a day late and a
dollar short."

In front of us, a
jet dropped down at us seemingly from out of nowhere.

Howton grabbed the
controls, ready to jerk us into an evasive pattern, expecting a missile launch.

"Relax," I said.
"The sun is in front of us and a little to the right. If this were noon, we might be in a lot of
trouble but it's late enough we . . ."

Howton knew then
that I was crazy. I could see it in his face.

The jet roared down
out of the sky, a missile was launched. It screamed by us, close but striking to the left and
behind us.

The jet flipped
over, pulling out of the dive, and put itself into a pattern for another pass.

"I'm going down,"
said Howton. "I haven't got enough go-juice to beat the . . ."

The next missile
was launched. It followed the same pattern as the last missile, exploding harmlessly against the
lower slopes of the mountain.

"They can only see
our shadow," I said, looking back at the rising mushroom of smoke from the missile. "Trust me.
They can't see us."

As if to further
prove my point, the jet returned on a strafing run. It streaked down beside us and laid a
perfectly executed fire pattern across our moving shadow.

Howton muttered
something under his breath and made the sign of the cross. "I don't understand it. I must be
stoned on my f-ing ass."

"There!" I said,
pointing at the horizon. "You'll have to go up a couple thousand feet. Where we're going is just
beyond that mountain peak. There should be a valley there."

"I don't see any
mountain!" Howton had a haunted look on his face. "What goddamn mountain? All I see is jungle!
God­damn jungle!"

I spoke into the
headset. "You see the mountain, Doctor Death?"

"You order me to
see a mountain, I'll see a frigging mountain, but you ask me, I see only ugly goddamn jungle, is
all." The big black had a firm grip on his machine gun, as if its proximity gave him security of
some kind.

"Take my word for
it, there's a mountain there. If your pris­oner could speak English, he could tell you he sees
it, too. He saw it first actually."

I didn't tell them
that I saw only jungle, too, when I looked out the window of the cockpit. The eyes can lie, in a
world of shad­ows.

When I looked into
the Vietnamese prisoner's dreams, I saw the mountain. No jungle, just a single great mountain
shining in the sun. I knew what I had come to find was on the mountain I could not
see.

We gained altitude
until I felt we must be well clear of the highest reach of the mountain peaks.

We spiraled in for
a landing.

"Better slow your
descent," I said. "And go a little to the left. I here's a flat place where we can land just a
little beyond the ridge."

"I don't know what
you're smoking, Tonto," snapped How-ion. "I don't see a ridge. I don't see anything except
jungle."

I had my eyes
closed, my eyes going inward. I could see the mountain as clear as I could see my
hands.

"Just humor me," I
said. "Make a descent slow and gradual. Just kind of drift down. I'll tell you when we're on the
ground."

Howton complied
with murder in his heart.

There was a soft
thump and our descent halted.

"Hey, what was
that?" said Howton. "We've stopped mov­ing."

"I know it looks
like the ground is still a long way down but we've actually landed. Turn the engine off. Once you
step out­side, everything should be all right."

Doctor Death leaned
out the bay door, looking down. "Hey, Hownow, my underwear is seizing up on me back here! Tell me
you ain't going to shut the engine off!"

I opened the door
and jumped out of the chopper. Doctor Death shrieked. "Howton! The man done killed
himself!"

As I stepped out, I
saw only the ground thousands of feet below me, but once my feet hit, I saw the
mountain.

Howton stared at
me, his face showing a considerable strain.

"I'm standing on
the mountain," I shouted over the roar of the blades. "Shut the engine off."

Howton shut it
down.

Doctor Death stared
down at the ground, a look of absolute terror on his face.

"Everybody out," I
said as the whine of the blades subsided. "You can only see the mountain when you're on
it."

The Vietnamese
general smiled and walked calmly past Doc­tor Death. The black pivoted, brought his gun up to
cover him. With a smile, the general stepped out of the bay door and dropped down.

He fell a few feet
and stopped.

Doctor Death shook
his head, rubbed his jaw once as if trying to erase the whole crazy thing, then said, "Ah, what
the hell, you only live once."

He jumped out of
the chopper.

He nearly dropped
his weapon. "Christ on crutches! I'm on a goddamn mountain!"

Howton climbed out
slowly, hesitated a second or two before putting his foot down on what seemed like air. He, too,
saw the mountain. "I don't understand it. There's no mountain here! It's not on any of my maps!
There's not supposed to be anything
here but jungle and swamp! Where the hell are we?" said How­ton. "If this mountain has
never been mapped, somebody has really screwed the pooch! It doesn't make sense to me; some­body
has to have seen it before! It's too big to damn well miss!"

"No American has
ever been here before. We are the first and maybe the last," I said, reaching through the back
door and dragging out the eagle cage.

"But what is this?
How come we couldn't see it until we stepped out on it?" asked Howton.

"Vietnam is a land
of shadows. America is fighting a war against something it cannot feel, cannot see or
sense."

"What we doing
here, Chief?" said Doctor Death. "This place gives me the shrieking freakings."

"I have been sent
to find out if America can win this war. Now that I've found this mountain, I think I'll soon
know the an­swer."

"That where the
eagle comes in?" asked Doctor Death. "Ev­erything is so messed up here, the craziest answer got
to be the most logical one."

"Yes. That's why
the eagle is here. That's why we're all here. We've come all this way just to play the ancient
game of Cat and Eagle."

The VC general
turned and spoke to me. I nodded and pointed up the slope of the mountain, then smiled at
him.

"What did he say?"
asked Howton. "I thought you didn't understand his lingo?"

"I don't know the
words, but I understand the sense of it. We've got some climbing to do. The general has
graciously agreed to lead the way."

"He'll lead us
right into an ambush," snarled Doctor Death. "No way I'm going to follow him. I want him walking
ahead of me but just so I can keep my gun aimed at his goddamm—"

"He is free to go
at any time," I said. "And he knows that."

"Are you authorized
to let him go?" asked Howton. "Or shouldn't I be asking?"

"I have no choice.
This is a strange place we are in. You'll see what I mean. For one thing, I don't think your
weapons will work here."

"Say what?" said
Doctor Death. "What kind of craziness are you talking about, boy? If I aim at something, it's
dead!"

"Not here. Hand me
your weapon. I'll demonstrate."

"You find yourself
your own weapon, boy. This one is done occupied."

Howton reached into
his flak jacket and started to pull out a .45 pistol.

I waved the pistol
away. "OK, if you don't believe me, try to shoot me."

Doctor Death looked
at Howton. Howton shrugged.