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“Athy!” a woman’s voice whispers. “I’ve brought you rice crust.”

“Ra?” My voice cracks louder than I intended.

Ra hisses at me. Hastily, she tells me she’ll come back tomorrow, then she disappears—here, then gone. In the dark I hold the rice crust, still paralyzed by Ra’s sudden appearance. How did she know where to find me?

My stomach growls and my mouth waters as I inhale the brown-burned smell of the rice crust. Piece by piece, I eat it, savoring the chewy coffeelike flavor. With each bite, hope. I look forward to tomorrow—something I haven’t felt in a long time.

The day is overcast, still early. Children’s and mobile brigades have gone to work. Ra comes as promised. Scurrying into my shack, she issues stern instructions, “Hurry, go to Zone 3.” She grabs my hand and guides me, or rather pulls me, out of the shack. I let her tug at me, every part of my body tensing, increasing speed.

“Hurry, walk faster,” Ra commands, her voice anxious.

I trail behind her, watch her legs shuffle along. I want to stride as fast as she does, but my step covers one third the distance of hers. The bottom of her faded black pants slaps at her legs. Her old cotton shirt with the sleeves rolled up reveals a light golden flash of her youthful hands and arms. Their smooth beauty shocks me, delights me. Her arms swing fast, back and forth as if she is rowing herself forward. Hard labor hasn’t robbed her of her fine “city” features. Even in the tattered remnants of a faded uniform, Ra looks healthy, somehow vibrant. She’s more energetic than I. She’s like a rabbit and I’m like a turtle. I can’t keep up.

“Ra, why are we going to Zone 3?”

“To ask for food. Walk faster!” she barks. “Dar muy, muy [Walk slowly], the chhlops might see us now! Make big steps, hurry!”

Ra looks down at her own legs, as if showing me how to walk faster. I try, stretching my legs stiffly forward. I can’t make long strides. Ra steals glances behind us, worried. She commands me to walk faster again, her voice sharp with irritation.

“But I’m smaller than you, Ra, and I’m weak!” I’m angry at her. With Chea, it would have been different. My mind orders me to hurry. I give Ra everything, but she doesn’t seem to notice, moving ahead of me.

The sun is now shining. Beads of sweat stream from my scalp. Lagging behind Ra, I run, I walk. Tears well up and burn. I feel as if we are being watched by invisible eyes. Soon, I imagine, a forceful voice will command us to stop. The thought of it drives my legs. Suddenly a long, open depression emerges just ahead. The landscape changes. I hold my breath. Ra slows down, and I pant. A green bridge is on the far left.

A river! I marvel. A great liquid ribbon with shimmering ripples. Alone in our discovery, it is as if the river is ours. I feel free, standing on the riverbank. Tall shaded trees and shrubs are on the other side of the river. All green. They thrive far better there than on the side we’re standing on—which is barren, only dry grass and rocky ground. Peaking in the distance between clusters of tall tree branches are palm and coconut leaves. This vegetation looks pretty, yet there’s a sense of danger lurking in the comfort of this natural beauty.

“Athy, why are you standing there? Climb down. Yeeh [Gee], look at you standing there looking,” Ra says, her voice raw with disbelief.

Her scolding tugs me back to reality. For a moment I forget why we’re here. A shower of small rocks and dirt tumble down the steep bank as I climb down behind Ra. My hands hold the earth, my feet hesitate, I’m afraid of falling.

“Ra, there’s a bridge over there,” I say, motioning my face toward it. “Why don’t we cross it?” I tense my body.

“Are you crazy? Chhlops!” She glares.

“Wait for me, Ra. I’m scared!” I sit still, my hand reaching out to her.

She climbs back up and steadies my hand as I crawl down. I wish I’d never come, trapped in this journey in search of food.

Be brave, I urge myself. If we go back, I reason, we might get punished and starved by the Khmer Rouge at our zone.