Naked Earth (43 page)

Not taking any chances that he might try to attack the questioners like other prisoners had, two guards held tight his arms and another guard hooked a hand inside his belt as they marched him to the chair facing the center table.

“Please sit down,” said the pleasant-looking, youngish man at the center. Liu saw that they had picked him for his looks and his amiability. The other two Communist representatives flanking him were a more familiar type to Liu, somber and grim.

Liu felt a bit breathless as he sat there. The third guard still kept his thick fingers hooked in the back of Liu’s belt. Several prisoners had tried to rise and hurl the chair at the interrogators.

The Indian officer at the end table made a short speech. His interpreter repeated each sentence in Chinese: “We are the representatives of the five neutral nations. You have refused to go back. These explainers from the Chinese People’s Volunteers wish to talk to you and ask you several questions. If you feel that you are being coerced, you can refuse to answer.”

The explainer in the middle began by stating gravely. “We represent the Chinese people who hold out their hand to welcome you back to the arms of the fatherland.” When Liu did not answer he went on to say, “We know you have suffered greatly. And you have made mistakes. But you are young. You ought to think of your future. The Chinese people know that you made those mistakes because the imperialists mistreated and tortured you. The Chinese people are ready to forgive you. Your future belongs in China.”

His voice droned on, repeating the old platitudes Liu’s ears had been free of the last few months. Liu mentally shut the voice out. What had the man said—“You’re young and your life lies before you.”

But my life is over, Liu thought, my chance to get the things I wanted from life is already gone. What would India be like, he wondered fleetingly. Chiao could become a real friend, the first he’d had for a long time. India might not be so bad. But it was too late for that.

And Taiwan? Most of the prisoners were ready to go there. Some of them told each other, “It’s the only way to go back home. Even if we have to fight our way back.”

But he was not a soldier, only a cadre who hadn’t made the grade. It would mean waiting—and he could never escape his thoughts of Su Nan. But there was one thing he could do.

“I want to go back,” he said abruptly.

The examiner stopped his droning speech. “You want to go back? he asked. For an instant he looked surprised and disappointed that his speech had been cut short, then quickly arranged his face in a broad smile.

“
Hao
, very good.” he said, “We welcome you back to the arms of the People.” Flanked by the two other cadres he rose ceremoniously and shook hands with Liu. The mask-like faces of other two did not change.

“Straight through the door to the north,” one of them said without expression. The guard holding his belt released him and he walked toward the swaying tent flap.

People say that when you are dying you can remember your whole life in a flash. Thoughts tumbled through his mind as he walked toward the exit. What was Chiao going to think when he returned to camp tonight and found that Liu was not coming back? That was the worst thing—to have Chiao think that he had been swayed by the eloquence of some explainer at the last moment. And all the time he had seemed so sure, urging Chiao to be firm. Chiao would despise him now.

Even if he did get a chance to see Chiao again, he could never find the words to explain why he was going back. What waited for him at the end of the truck ride through the truce zone and past the Communist lives, he wondered. It would undoubtedly be unpleasant. There would be interrogations and he’d have to write confessions and he’d be punished. One thing was lucky—he hadn’t had himself tattooed like Chiao.

But he would survive the punishment. And he would be able to march in the parades and shout the slogans again—he’d shout louder than anybody else. They’d never completely trust him again, of course, but he’d work hard at any job they gave him, study the books, join the campaigns, help to hunt down the saboteurs and counter-revolutionaries when they told him to.

And all the while he’d keep hidden the slow flame of hatred. He’d wait—he was in no hurry now. Ten years, twenty years; his chance would come. As long as one man like him remained alive and out of jail, the men who ruled China would never be safe. They’re afraid, too, he thought, afraid of the people they rule by fear.

There was the truck to take him back. There were two other prisoners waiting; they had changed their minds, too. For the same reason? He looked at them closely, and they gazed back without expression. The military guards watched them a bit nervously.

It was a pity about Chiao. But having lost so much had accustomed him to losses and made it easier to throw away what there was left, even the last friend he had.

Su Nan would not like what he was doing. But he was on his own now. And being a woman she would be happy about it in the end.

For the first time since her death she came to his mind without making him cringe with shame. He had felt so bad about it all, he had never let himself remember if he could help it.

It would be good to be able to think of her once in a while.