The Orphan Master's Son_ A Novel - Adam Johnson [164]
Comrade Buc cringed. “No, no, no,” he said. “You don’t tell anyone, ever. Don’t you know that? You never tell. Not your friends, not your family, especially not me. You could get everyone killed. If they interrogate me, they’ll know I knew. And that’s assuming you make it. Do you know the cushy promotion I’d get for turning you in?” Buc threw his hands up. “You don’t ever tell. Nobody tells. Never.”
Commander Ga stroked the ox’s black neck, then patted it twice, dust rising from its greasy coat. “That branding iron will probably kill it, you know. That wouldn’t impress the Americans.”
Comrade Buc began lining fishing poles up against a tree. His hands were shaky. When he had them all set, a line snagged, and the poles fell over again. He looked at Ga, as if it were his fault. “But you,” he said. “You’re the one who tells.” He shook his head. “That’s why you’re different. Somehow the rules are different for you, and that’s why you maybe have a shot at making it.”
“You believe that?”
“Is the plan simple?”
“I think so.”
“Don’t tell me anything more. I don’t want to know.” There was thunder, and Buc looked up, gauging whether rain was imminent. “Just answer this—are you in love with her?”
“Love,” that was a very big word.
“If something happened to her,” Buc asked, “would you want to go on without her?”
Such a simple question—how had he not asked himself this? He felt her steady hand on his tattoo from the other night, the way she let him quietly weep in bed beside her. She didn’t even turn down the lantern so she wouldn’t have to look upon his vulnerability. She’d just watched him, concern in her eyes, until sleep drew near.
Ga shook his head no.
Headlights appeared in the distance. Buc and Ga turned to see a black car navigating the muddy ruts on the road. It wasn’t the Dear Leader’s caravan. As it neared, they could see its wipers were still on, so it had come from the direction of the storm.
Buc turned to him, so they were close. He spoke with urgency. “I’ll tell you what I know about how this world works. If you and Sun Moon go together with the kids, maybe there’s a chance you’ll make it, maybe.” The first drops of rain fell. The ox lowered its head. “But if Sun Moon and the kids somehow get on that plane, yet you’re by the Dear Leader’s side, directing his focus, making excuses, diverting his attention, they’ll probably make it.” And here Comrade Buc let go of his permanent grin and laughing squint. When his face went slack, it was clear its natural state was seriousness. “It also means,” he said, “that you’ll absolutely be around to pay the price for this, rather than dutiful citizens like myself and my children.”
A lone figure was walking toward them. He was military, they could tell. As the rain thickened, he made no effort to shield himself, and they watched his uniform darken as he neared. Ga opened his spectacles and peered through them. For some reason, he could make out nothing of the man’s face, but the uniform was unmistakable: he was a commander.
Comrade Buc regarded the figure nearing them. “Fuck me,” he said, and turned to Ga. “You know what Dr. Song said about you? He said you had a gift, that you could say a lie while speaking the truth.”
“Why’d you tell me that?”
“Because Dr. Song never got the chance to tell you,” Buc said. “And here’s something I have to say to you. There’s probably no way you could pull this off without me. But if you stick around after this happens, if you stay and bear the burden, I’ll help you.”
“Why?”
“Because Commander Ga did the worst thing that’s ever been done to me. Then he went right on living next door. And I had to go on working on the same floor with him. I had to bend over and check his shoe size before I ordered his slippers from Japan. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw him coming at me. When I lay with my wife, I felt Ga’s weight atop me. But you, you came along and fixed him for me. When you arrived, he vanished.”
Comrade Buc stopped and turned. Ga turned, too.
Then