Dreams of Joy - Lisa See [150]
But before we can pull out of the station, uniformed guards enter the car and demand to see everyone’s papers. In truth, it’s not hard to pick out those who shouldn’t be on the train. We’re the ones dressed in rags, our bodies artificially bloated or our arms, legs, and faces just skin over bones. Still, the guards follow a process, going from person to person, checking documents and identification cards. I look around. Is there a place to hide? No. Is there anything I can do to prevent myself from being kicked off the train? Maybe offer a bribe, but the risk is great. I could be arrested.
The oldest of the guards approaches.
“Please,” I say, folding back the blanket to reveal Samantha’s face.
“You’re a runaway. You have to get off the train,” the guard says, not without sympathy. “You have to go back to your village.”
I pull out a hundred-dollar bill, hoping he’s old enough to recognize American money. He looks around to see how close the other guards are.
“Put that away before they see you,” he whispers. “Besides, it won’t do any good. The authorities don’t want anyone to know how bad things are in the countryside, so even if I let you stay on the train, you’ll be turned back later. And those guards might not be so understanding.”
I start to cry as he lifts me up by the elbow and guides me to the exit. After he helps me down to the platform, he opens a satchel slung over his shoulder, pulls out two wheat buns, and tucks them in the blanket between the baby and me.
“Go home,” he says. “That’s the best thing.”
I’ve never felt such despair. I walk out of the station, sit on the steps, and eat half a bun. The taste is amazing and I’m very hungry, but I have to be careful. After being on a starvation diet, my stomach has shrunk. Plus all the food substitutes I’ve eaten have ruined my digestion. I’m unsure how much food my stomach will hold or my intestines can handle, but this little bit of sustenance gives me more energy—physical and mental—than I’ve had in weeks. I walk down alleys, looking for a safe place to sleep.
The next morning, I fill Sam’s bottles at a hot water store, feed her, and eat the other half of my first bun, making sure I catch every crumb. I consider whether I have the strength to walk to Shanghai. Impossible. I still have money, but it’s hard to spend. I don’t have the necessary coupons, and I’m turned away at store after store, café after café. Finally, I’m able to buy some dried sweet potato flour. When I get back to Green Dragon, I’ll make a batter with water and grill small cakes. If I share them with my husband and his family, we may live a few more days.
ON MY WAY back to Green Dragon, I sleep again by the side of the road. Only three nights have passed, but there are more bodies, including those of the man and woman who were trying to sell their dead baby as rabbit meat. I enter Green Dragon in a state of utter defeat. Every time I think things can get no lower, something worse happens. I walk into the house and discover Tao sitting alone almost as I left him four days ago. The house is eerily quiet. The children are gone. Tao’s mother is gone.
“You shouldn’t have come back,” he says.
“I have nowhere to go.” I sit on the floor, hold Samantha to my shoulder, and pat her back. “Where is everyone?”
“After you left, I went to work in the fields.” He squeezes his eyes shut. “When I came home, Brigade Leader Lai’s men were burying …” He opens his eyes and stares at me.
My stomach, which for the first time in weeks is not rumbling and crying out with hunger, sinks in fear and apprehension. “What happened?”
“They dug a pit. They put my mother and the little children in it. Then they threw dirt on top of them. They buried them alive.”
This is dreadful, sickening news, but I think, maybe they’re the lucky ones. They’re out of their suffering