30 Red Dresses Read online

  A memory from long ago came to mind. He saw his own little daughters playing in the rain, splashing and laughing.

  He smiled, forgetting his pain and exhaustion for just a moment.

  CHAPTER 11:

  People cheered and danced on rooftops and in the streets as the rain fell from above. Even in the middle of such destruction, their happiness was contagious and Veata couldn’t help but join in their excitement—dancing and twirling as the cool drops of liquid fell.

  With the rain came thick gray clouds and a reprieve from the miserable afternoon heat. With the rain came a chance for Veata to wash away the mud that was caked across her from head to toe. But most important of all, with the rain came clean water to drink.

  Munny handed Veata a small orange bottle he’d scavenged from a pile of trash. She held it in the air to catch the rain, took a drink, and repeated the process over and over again. Staying close to James, she helped him take sips of water and was glad to see his colors grow stronger with each drink.

  I think he will be okay, she thought with relief.

  She’d been worried about her giant. His colors had faded so much she knew he was giving up and preparing for death. But he’d saved her from the flood and fought for her on the roof. She couldn’t let him give up. She had to help him.

  The rains continued for another hour and Veata was happy they were normal rains, soft and steady, not like the crazy weather from the day before.

  And though the rain cleaned the caked mud from her skin and gave her water to drink, her stomach twisted with hunger. She had not eaten since yesterday, and what little food had been in her stomach she threw up on the man who had tried to kiss her.

  “I need some food,” Veata heard a girl say. She was sitting in a small group off to the side and her colors were dim and weak.

  “Me too,” another moaned, her long eyelashes seeming to droop as her blue mascara smeared down her face from the rain. “I’m so hungry. I don’t know if I can keep walking. What I wouldn’t do for a small cup of rice?”

  “Or a big bowl of noodles,” another girl added, “with fish covered in green curry gravy.”

  The group sighed in agreement.

  “Even better,” said a tall girl with long scar on her shoulder, “How about a giant bowl of sweet jelly in shaved ice and coconut cream.”

  “Oh yeah,” the girls said, nodding.

  Veata held her stomach, imagining such delicious food. But thinking about it only made her hunger worse.

  “Shut up about food!” Shukira ordered. “We never ate that good back at the brothel. You’re only making it worse. Here. Take one of these.”

  Shukira pulled a handful of wrapped candies from her pocket and held them out to girls.

  Their eyes lit up with excitement.

  “Where did you get those?” one whispered.

  “How many more do you have?”

  “Give me one.”

  “Watch out! That one’s mine.”

  “Hey, what about me? I need one too.”

  “Stop it,” Veata cried as the small group of girls fought over the pieces of candy. “Don’t take those. They’re bad for you. They’ll make you sick!”

  But the girls ignored her, fumbling to unwrap the hard candies and shove them into their mouths.

  “STOP!” Veata screamed, trying to pull away the candy from the girl with the scar on her shoulder.

  The candy slipped free from the girls hand and fell into the mud. The tall girl shoved Veata away and fell to her hands and knees, searching for the candy. Desperately wading her fingers through the mud, she found grasped the hard candy in a fistful of mud, and quickly tossed it into her mouth.

  “What’s going on?” Chemsi asked, hurrying over. “Why the screaming and the fighting?”

  Chemsi helped Veata back to her feet and eyed the rest of the group.

  Shukira stood up and held out her hand. “I have one left. Do you want it?”

  Veata watched Chemsi’s colors flare emerald green. Her eyes went wide and she licked her lips.

  “Where did you get it?”

  Shukira shrugged. “I always keep a stash on me. I had one already. Do want it?”

  Chemsi reached out to take it, but Veata tugged on her dress. “Don’t,” Veata said. “It’s not good. It hurts your colors.”

  Veata watched the girls who’d taken the candy. All of their colors dimmed to a slate bluish-gray, including Shukira.

  Shukira’s eyes started to glaze over and she moaned. “This is so much better than food.”

  Chemsi’s lip trembled and she hesitated, looking back at Veata.

  “Don’t,” Veata said, shaking her head, pleading for her to stop.

  “I…I can’t,” Chemsi whispered and she turned back to grab the candy, but it was gone. Another girl had joined the group and snatched it up.

  Veata held Chemsi’s hand and squeezed it gently, but Chemsi shook her off.

  “It’s time to walk!” Chemsi barked as she marched back to the front of the group. “The rain is stopping. We have a long way to go. So get up!”

  Veata watched Munny come to Chemsi’s side, a worried look in his eye. He asked her something, but she just turned her head and stormed away.

  Munny looked like he was about to go after her, but stopped and turned to the rest of the group.

  “Okay, you heard Chemsi. It’s time to go. Carry any water you can in your buckets and bottles. Save it for later and drink sparingly. It has to last all day. The roads are muddy so watch your step and stick together. Does everyone understand?”

  Most of girls nodded, while other sat lethargically on the ground. “We can do it,” Munny said. “We’ll get to the Mongoose House. We just have to keep moving. C’mon. Stand up. Let’s go.”

  After a little more coaxing, all of the girls stood and started walking.

  “We go now, James,” Munny called to Veata’s giant. James raised a hand and nodded, saying something in English.

  Munny seemed satisfied with the answer and hurried to the front of the group to catch up to Chemsi.

  But when Veata looked back at James, he remained sitting like a stone against the tree.

  “Come on. Get up,” she said in Khmer, but he didn’t respond. She knew he couldn’t understand Khmer so she motioned her hands upward, beckoning him to stand. He stayed rooted in place and shook his head, a sad look in his eyes.

  This was not a good sign. Veata placed her hands on her hips and huffed. She gave James a hard stare, trying to mimic the look she remembered her mother giving her whenever she was in trouble.

  James said something in English and quirked an eyebrow upward.

  But Veata didn’t relent. She kept staring and held his gaze.

  After a few more seconds, the corner of James mouth lifted into a smile and he mumbled something in English, shaking his head.

  Placing his large hands on the ground, he tried to push himself up from the base of the tree. After a series of grunts, he only moved a few inches before falling back to the ground.

  Breathing heavy from the exertion, his shoulders slumped forward and he looked back at Veata, defeated.

  “You must get up, Giant. I will get help.”

  Veata ran through the group of girls calling for help. “Stop. The giant needs our help. Stop. Please. Come help him. Please.”

  Though exhausted themselves, some of the girls stopped. Her call for help went up the line until it reached Chemsi and Munny at the front of the pack. Turning around, they came to the tree and surrounded James.

  Munny spoke to him in English, and Veata frowned as James shook his head and pointed to his knee and back.

  His face was covered in purple bruises, partly hidden by his white beard, and his nose and eye was still swollen from the fight.

  “He wants to stay and wait for help. He says we should go without him and get to safety, then come back for him,” Munny translated to the group.

  “NO!” Veata exclaimed defiantly. “He is my
giant. He comes with us. I will help him walk.”

  Munny smiled and spoke to James, who rolled his eyes and shook his head. But when he looked back at Veata his face softened until he finally nodded, and said, “Okay.”

  “Okay,” Veata repeated, not knowing exactly what the word meant. Soon everyone grabbed a hold of James and pulled. He grimaced as they helped lift his large body into a standing position and the full weight of his bulk pressed against his knees.

  Veata found a long, thick branch that had broken off a tree during the flood and dragged it over to James.

  “You can use it to walk,” she said in Khmer. “I’ll stay by your side and help.”

  James took the stick and leaned against it, testing its strength. After nodding his approval, he patted Veata on the head and said something in English.

  “Thank you.”

  Veata didn’t know what “thank you” meant either, but she repeated the newfound English words, letting their foreign sound roll off her tongue.

  “Okay, thank you,” she replied.

  James let out a pained chuckle and tried to take a step forward. Veata watched his colors flare red and blue while his face contorted in pain. He paused, took a deep breath, and then another step.

  Veata went to his side and held his free hand in hers. “I’ll walk with you. We’ll go together.”

  Muddy step by muddy step, the group moved forward. Often they paused to let James and Veata catch up, refusing to leave them behind. They walked through the streets of Phnom Penh for another hour, passing destruction at every turn.

  At one point, Veata was caught off guard when James suddenly tried to cover her eyes with his large hands. But he’d been too slow. She’d seen the woman’s dead body on the side of the street, a man and his children kneeling beside her—weeping.

  After another hour, Veata’s water and that of the other girls, was nearly gone. She offered the final drink to James, but he refused, putting it back up to her lips and forcing her to drink.

  The clouds departed and the hot sun was blazing once more. Even worse were the bugs, which came out in full force after the rains. She was used to the mosquitoes, but it was clear her Giant was not. He twitched and slapped and tried to shoo the bugs away, but it was an impossible battle.

  They turned the corner at the next street and nearly plowed into the group of girls ahead of them, who’d come to an abrupt stop.

  “What’s wrong?” Veata asked, trying to get a better look.

  A wide-eyed Munny pushed himself back through the group toward herself and James.

  Walking beside him were two uniformed police officers that did not look happy.

  CHAPTER 12:

  James gritted his teeth when he saw Munny flanked by two officers.

  Though their blue uniforms were covered in mud, the batons in their belts and the helmets on their heads made it clear they were police.

  “No good,” Munny said to James in English. “We not know if they good police or bad.”

  Munny looked scared to death with the police standing on each side.

  “Relax, Munny. Just follow the story we rehearsed and we’ll be okay.”

  Munny nodded and took a deep breath, but he didn’t relax.

  They’d seen a handful of police officers in the city and worried they might get stopped at some point. It wasn’t every day you saw thirty girls in red dresses walking down the street with two men, especially when one of them was a six-foot-eight white guy.

  Both James and Munny worried about the police after their run-in with the officer on the roof. So James concocted a cover story that night on the rooftop and Munny helped spread the story among the girls.

  They were a girls’ choir and James was a foreign choir director visiting Cambodia. While on their way to a performance, the flood hit their bus and they narrowly escaped with their lives.

  “You’re definitely an author,” Munny had commented when James pitched the story.

  “It’s not my best work, but not too shabby if you ask me,” James replied.

  The officers looked James up and down, pausing on his face which he knew must be black and blue with the bruises.

  The larger of the two cops directed a question toward James, who in turn looked to Munny for a translation.

  “He asked if you are James Moore,” Munny said in a shaky voice. “I knew you shouldn’t have given them your name on the roof. Maybe one of the customers told on us already. Whatever you do, no telling them your real name. Keep secret.”

  James understood Munny’s concern, but something the second officer was doing caught his attention and he ignored Munny’s advice.

  “Yes, I am the author James Moore,” James said, trusting his instincts. “What can I do for you?”

  Munny stared at James in disbelief, his mouth wide open. But before he could translate, the officer’s grim faces lit into beaming smiles and they started bobbing their heads in excitement. The second officer pushed the first and gave him a look that said, “I told you so.”

  The big officer gave James a thumbs up and the other one high-fived his partner as they repeated a similar phrase multiple times.

  “They say they are huge fans, huge fans, huge fans,” Munny translated.

  “No kidding. I might have guessed that from the smiles and high fives. Can you ask them for their names?”

  The officers’ grinned ear-to-ear as they spoke with Munny.

  “Big guy on the right is Dith and skinny guy is Po,” Munny replied, pointing to each in turn. Both officers greeted James with firm handshake, before pulling him into an awkward hug.

  “Okay, boys. Simmer down. It’s nice to meet you as well, but I’m not much of a hugger.”

  Munny just grinned in amazement and continued to translate. “Dith and Po knew you in town for book signing, but they on duty and couldn’t come. They really look forward to the next movie. Say it best story and movie they seen in long time.”

  Officer Po produced a pen and a small pad of paper and practically begged for an autograph. Munny and the girls just stared in disbelief.

  “No offense, James, but this happen often? It kind of weird. And how you know they not bad police and arrest us when they walk up?”

  “It was a lucky guess,” James said while signing the autographs. “I noticed that Officer Po looked a little nervous, fidgeting with a pad of paper and his pen. After signing enough autographs, you start to recognize the fans wanting to ask for one. I took a chance. You’re right, though—this is a little weirder than usual, but maybe they can help us out.”

  After the autographs, the officers seemed to settle down and examined the group of girls with James. In much more controlled, police-like tones, they turned to Munny and started asking questions.

  With a fake smile, Munny turned to James to translate. “They want to know if we need any help and why all of these girls are with us. What should I tell them? You no be a choir director now?”

  “Just relax Munny. We can essentially stick to the same story. Tell them we were walking the streets after the book signing when the flood hit. We saw a bus full of girls stranded and we helped them escape. We are trying to get them back to their neighborhood north of the city and could use a lift.”

  Munny raised an eyebrow. “Okay, that not half-bad,” he said hesitantly, “but we probably not mention you-know-who’s house. They might be in love with you James, but the lady who runs this place has a lot of enemies in city, including police.”

  James nodded. “Fine. We keep it secret and give them vague directions.”

  Munny did not look convinced, but he shared the story with Po and Dith. The two listened stoically, looking impressed when Munny finished.

  “They say we heroes…like Jerical in your books,” Munny translated.

  Po and Dith nodded their heads in agreement and repeated the words, “You heroes,” in English. They told Munny a friend of theirs owned a small grocery store a few blocks away and had a delivery truck. If it wasn’t da
maged from the flood, they would try to borrow it and take them where they needed to go.

  “That would be wonderful,” James said. He wasn’t sure how much longer his leg would hold out before he collapsed for good.

  The group followed the officers a few blocks east until they arrived at a small store. Leaning on only two wheels against the exterior brick wall of the store, was a beat-up Datsun delivery truck. The truck was pale blue under the coating of mud and it was pinned in place by a small mound of tree limbs, a couch, some shelves, loads of trash, and some poor kid’s pink bicycle.

  “Well, I don’t think we’ll be driving anywhere today,” James grumbled upon seeing in the wreck.

  But officers Po and Dith appeared undeterred by the sight. They spoke in Khmer and Munny translated.

  “They think it still run,” Munny said. “They go check with owner.”

  “No way,” James scoffed. “If that truck runs then I’m Mary Poppins.”

  Through the broken glass of the shop, James saw a woman and her teenage son shoveling loads of mud out of the store and back into the street. Po and Dith spoke with the woman and within a minute she and her son were hurrying out the door to meet them. The woman owner ran up to James, shook his hand and spouted off a string of sentences in Khmer. Then, she and her son eagerly worked to clear the debris from around the truck.

  “What was that all about?” James asked.

  Munny chuckled. “I think owner didn’t want to help, but Po and Dith tell her who you are. They promise her you rich American and will help pay for her to fix store if truck works and we can use it.”

  “What?” James exclaimed, caught off guard.

  Po gave James a wink and a thumbs up before calling the girls and Munny over to help clear a path to the truck.

  James stood there, still surprised by the bargain the officers had struck with the shop owner, but no less convinced the truck would ever run. His injuries prevented him from being much help, but James watched in amazement as their ragtag crew cleared a path to the truck and helped resettle it so it stood on flat, albeit muddy, ground.

  The owner produced a small key ring from her pocket and was about to climb into the driver’s seat to try and start it, when James hobbled over to stop her.