"Who is this woman?" the captain demanded, pointing an accusing finger at the young Vietnamese girl.
"Her name's Bic Thieu," Lieutenant Mercer said amiably. "She's Belton's girlfriend, from Saigon. She wanted to come along, she's got family on north of here--"
"I won't have this sort of thing," the captain cut in. "She might be a Cong agent. You never know."
Belton stepped forward; Martinson laughed. "Well, sure, captain," he said. "But Thieu, she isn't--"
"You never know." The captain turned cold eyes on Belton. "We can't take the risk. Private, you go with Lieutenant Mercer. Take this woman outside the firebase and kill her." As if dismissing the matter, he then looked back down at the papers on his desk.
There was a stunned silence, one that seemed to drag on and on. Finally the captain raised his head again. "Well?" he said. "I believe I gave you men an order, didn't I?"
"No," Thieu breathed. "No, no, please, I not--"
"Captain, that'd be simple murder!" Mercer hissed, leaning over the desk. "Look, I told Belton it'd be okay if he brought his girlfriend along! Christ, man! He plans to marry her, he plans to take her back to the States!"
The captain's blue eyes were utterly cold, almost fishlike. "Not now he won't," he said. He flicked a look of contempt at Belton. "Americans," he went on, "shouldn't be marrying these gooks. You can't trust any of them, you know." He pointed with a pencil, holding it like it was a miniature sword. "Now you take this one outside and you kill her, you understand me? Oh, and don't use your guns. Bullets cost the taxpayers money, remember."
"Captain, please!" Belton cried, almost lunging forward. "I've known Theiu for--"
Mercer caught his surge with an outstretched arm. "Look, Captain, you have to listen to me," he said in a low, urgent tone. "Things up here, they aren't like they are down in--"
"Lieutenant, I gave you an order!" the captain yelled suddenly, jumping up to his feet. "Now you do it! I mean now, soldier!" He went to the flap of his tent, knocked it aside, and shouted at a group of soldiers he saw standing there, issuing orders that the three of them be conducted, under guard, to the perimeter and that they be watched as they went out--and that they all three be shot if they attempted to come back with the girl in tow. The men, confused, moved to follow his command. The captain ignored all further attempts at protests and questions.
"Bring me some evidence," he called as they walked away, "that you've done what I said!" As they were led across the base, Belton could see the man, standing in the doorway of his tent, watching them go.
At the perimeter, their makeshift guard left them; with slow steps, Belton, Mercer, and Thieu walked through the high grass away from the base. When they'd reached a distance of about two hundred yards--near the treeline--Mercer stopped them. "Far enough," he said, his voice sounding old and tired. He kept looking nervously toward the trees; the possibility of enemy troops out here was very real.
Her eyes still full of tears and her face bathed by the light of an almost-full moon, Thieu looked up at Belton. She seemed incredibly young, incredibly fragile. "What you do now, Mark?" she asked, pleading with her eyes.
He gestured toward the jungle. "I can't," he muttered. "I can't. Just go, run away. I'll tell the captain you managed to escape." He glanced at Mercer; the lieutenant nodded.
Her body shook. "That means I die, Mark!" she sobbed. She looked out through the trees. "There are snakes, there are rats! And this is what they say is a free-fire zone--it too far--!"
He looked up at the night sky. "There's nothing else I can do..."
Without warning, she flung herself on him. "No make me go," she wept, "please. Maybe you just kill me, kill me now, like your captain say...!"
He pushed her away. "I can't! I just can't!"
She grabbed at her top with her hand, ripping it down in one stroke, exposing her delicate young breasts. Shrugging the garment off, she let it fall to the ground. When he still did nothing she pushed her pants down and stepped out of them, leaving herself totally naked, as if she believed that would encourage him. "Please," she begged, thrusting her bare chest at him. "Out there--out there I die--I die slow--real slow--"
Belton, his own eyes filling with tears, stood as if paralyzed. Theiu put her forehead against his lips and reached to his side. Before he knew what she was doing she'd drawn his K-bar. Holding it by the blackened blade, she stuffed it into his hand.
She kissed him, then searched his eyes with her own. "Kill me," she said softly. "Please, Mark...!" He sobbed, but he put his arm around her shoulders, pulling her upper body against his; she laid her head on his chest.
Mercer touched Belton's shoulder. "She's right, Mark," he said softly. "Do her; it's the best way..."
"Oh, man, I can't! Shit!"
"Please, Mark, please!" Theiu begged again.
"Man, you gotta," Mercer insisted. Just do it, just do her, don't stand there thinking about it!"
Belton sighed deeply, stroked her hair, looked up at the sky again. Then, after taking a very deep breath, he drove the survival knife into her body, up under her breast on the left.
She made a squeaking little cry and clutched at him as her blood spurted out, soaking Belton's uniform. Holding her tightly, he slowly pulled the knife back. When it was almost out he drove it home again, at a different angle this time. Raising her head, she looked up at him as he pulled the knife free. She started to sag in his arms.
"I never... forget you, Mark..." she moaned as she slipped down toward the ground. "Never... always be... with you..." Her face contorted with pain; her hand, sliding from his shoulder, closed on his lapel.
"No, it's that I'll never forget you, Theiu," he whispered back, his voice cracking with sobs. The tip of his survival knife was by then resting against her abdomen, just to the right of her navel; without moving it he pierced her again, burying the blade. She gave a little moaning cry. He worked the knife around inside her, sliding the blade in and out several times before slipping it free. Blood gushing, her hand relaxed and she started to fall. He went with her, helping her to lie back gently.
He touched her face and then began stabbing her, violently and repeatedly, through and around her left breast. Blood squirted out; her body was trembling, her wide-open eyes were glazing rapidly. Still crying, he held her until she became still.
He still didn't want to leave her; Mercer had to pull him almost forcibly to his feet, had to unwind his fingers from the girl's. It took quite a while for him to convince his friend that burying her was, considering their circumstance, hardly a wise idea--and it took even longer to convince him to take the trophy the captain had demanded.
But, when they returned to camp, they carried one of her severed breasts with them...