“Open your eyes,” Daniel said gently.
In the end, he had talked her into taking the seat by the window, and now she gawked beyond it. Buildings and cars rushed beneath them, becoming tinier with every second.
“How fast are we going?” she asked in a whisper.
“For takeoff, I think it’s around two fifty or three hundred miles per hour. Up here, cruising speed is double that.”
For a full minute, she stared out the window. The minuscule city and the surrounding farms shrank away gradually then were gone all at oncewhen the plane entered the clouds. She felt a jump, as if the plane had gone over a hurdle, then a drop that left her breathless, and she wondered if she might get sick. Or if she was about to die.
“Air currents,” Daniel explained. “They come and go. If the weather gets bad, the pilot will probably reroute. This is just a light cloud cover, I think.”
She took some long, deep breaths, letting her body sink into the seat cushion, then she became aware that Daniel was humming softly to himself. When she turned toward him, he was leaning back, facing the ceiling, his eye closed.
“Who sings that?” she asked, admiring his profile.
“The Box Tops. I think it’s called ‘The Letter.’ Heard of them?”
She hadn’t, but she’d heard the song. “You have a smile on your face, Daniel.”
“Do I?” He kept his eye shut. “I’m on a high like you wouldn’t believe, Doc.”
This was the first time she’d seen him truly relaxed. Ever since she’d asked him to go with her, he’d been a different man. Cool, efficient, and resolute, reminding her that he was, in every sense but nationality, a marine. He was driven, focused on details, and paying close attention to whatever she said. Everything to do with the journey was now his priority, and he took that very seriously.
It had all happened so quickly. Due to the nature of their travel, her passport and their two visas had been expedited by External Affairs, and she carried a letter of introduction from the External Aid Office of the government of Canada, certifying that they were going to Vietnam as Canadian Red Cross medical specialists. The letter was formally embossed by the national commissioner. To make today worse, Marion still suffered aftereffects of the vaccines and immunizations she’d taken against yellow fever and cholera, two deep muscle injections of immune gamma globulin, and pills for antimalarials, including quinine. Daniel was sympathetic. He was spared the shots, since he’d already gone through them a couple of years before.
He didn’t have much in the way of clothes, so they went to the military surplus store to outfit them both. She had been issued a light blue gown anda white apron with a red cross on the front, but Daniel shook his head at that.
“Makes you a target,” he said. “You can wear it for these folks here, but we’re going to get you something more practical for real life.”
When she first saw him in olive camouflage, his black lace boots shining, wearing a flat-brimmed hat he called a “boonie,” he seemed larger. He was definitely more confident, as if he’d slipped back into his skin. He’d insisted she dress similarly. She felt silly pulling on trousers made for a small man then tucking in the tail of an olive shirt, but he approved, and that was good enough for her. He found her a boonie as well, then he opened her eyes to yet another threat of their destination when he attached a suffocating mosquito netting to the hat.
The next day he brought her to a shooting range outside of the city and produced a pistol. She snorted, uncomfortable with even looking at the cold, black metal weapon.
“What am I supposed to do with that?”
“That’s what I’m gonna show you. Vietnam’s not Disneyland, Marion. You need to know how to take care of yourself if anything unexpected happens.”
“Like what? You’re going to be with me.” She wrinkled her nose. “I really don’t want to touch that.”
“I’m sure there’s a psychiatrist word for what you’re doing now. Delusion?” He offered that slow, one-shouldered shrug. “This isn’t up for discussion. You have, for whatever reason, decided to go to a highly charged war zone. Time to face reality. This is a Colt M1911. It’s what I used over there. Pretty standard, but there are some things you need to understand about it.”
“Really? Can’t you just—”
His lip pulled up like a snarl. “Enough, Marion. Now watch. The grip goes right here, between my thumb and first finger. When I do that, this hammer pulls back, but even if I pull the trigger, it’s not gonna fire. See that? I haven’t loaded it, and I haven’t unlocked the safety. Here. Hold that. It’s perfectly safe.”
He slid it into her hand, and she wrapped her fingers around the grip like he said.
“Think of the barrel of that gun as your pointer finger, okay? It’s gotta be straight, lining up with your arm, or it won’t hit anything. Got it? Good,now keep a tight grip and lock your elbow, then raise your arm straight up to your eye level. Use your left hand to steady it, flat under the butt so it’s supporting your right hand. That’s it. That’s the basic setup. Look straight down the barrel and line up that dot between the two sights. Can you see those? Yeah. And your target is lined up with the dot. Now you’re ready to shoot. Your finger is on the trigger, but the safety is still on. Try it.”
Something about holding the weapon gave Marion an unexpected rush of adrenaline. She was almost disappointed that nothing happened when she pulled the trigger.
“Next is the complicated but necessary part. You gotta load the weapon if it’s going to do anything.”
She rolled her eyes. “I’m not stupid.”
“I would never say that about you. I’m just talking you through this so you will see it step by step if you ever need to use it. So to get started, put your hand over the top of the slide. It’s called that because you push this button on the side so you can slide it back until it clicks. See how that leaves a hole here? That’s the ‘magazine well.’ Look through it and you’ll see it’s empty, right?”
She was glad he told her what to expect, because she had no idea what she was supposed to look for.
