The Howling Valley

“Yep.”

Three hours earlier, the vegetation around the river had become so dense as to be impassable, and they’d been forced to cut inland. The brush had stabbed and groped at them, trying to trip them up like an organic obstacle course, until it eventually gave way to another bamboo forest like that which they’d seen at the waterfall, though this one seemed much larger. Stalks that easily topped thirty feet rose above their heads, lording over their peasant forms like silent green kings of this lush domain.

The silence had been oppressive in that forest, Scotty looking in every direction for signs of movement. The bamboo somehow felt more sinister than the jungle; he swore he saw something duck behind a thicket more than once, but he had had no desire to investigate further. He had been sure that it was just his mind playing tricks on him...or so he’d hoped.

After a time, he’d seen the tall, dark shape of a rocky outcropping just ahead of them, a stone island in a sea of bamboo. As they approached it and began to make to make their way around it, Scotty saw the opening in the rock first. He made a hissing sound, and both Thanh and Vinh halted. They both stared at him as he prodded his M-16 toward the gap. He looked at Thanh, and nodded to her hip, where her pistol was nestled in under her belt. With some slight slight difficulty, she had removed it and held it in the ready position he’d taught her when they’d woken up that morning.

Scotty had ducked in first, but had been greeted only by a dark, empty span approximately six feet across. Upon looking to the floor, however, the grim reminder of its’ former inhabitant had made itself known.

“What the hell was he doing here? Alone, no less?”

“I assume that he found his way here accidentally, like we did,” Thanh said, “It seems that he was not so fortunate in his escape attempt.”

“Clearly.” Scotty nudged the torso with his rifle muzzle, observing the tattered remains of the uniform, the bones creaking and clattering as he shifted them. He noticed that, on the ground behind the remains, lay the badly corroded remains of a very old bolt-action rifle, and what looked like a pack.

“Let’s take a break,” Scotty said, looking at his watch, “it’s almost four, and we’ve been at it since eight.”

Thanh translated for Vinh, who merely shrugged and, with some difficulty, sat down, shifting his bound arms behind him. He and Scotty exchanged glances, Vinh’s eyes radiating fear and intense hatred. Scotty only stared, until Vinh scowled and looked over at the entrance. Scotty and Thanh sat next to one another across from their hapless captive, Scotty next to the remains of their unnamed former Frenchman.

After passing Thanh his canteen (which he’d diligently kept filled at the river), he reached over the remains and carefully grasped the half-rotted pack. Even so, it partially fell apart as he lifted it, spilling its’ contents into the dirt. Among them, Scotty spotted a small, bound notebook with a pencil bound to its’ spine with a length of string. He leaned over the body and grabbed it, but it seemed to be made of sturdier stuff and did not fall apart. He carefully pulled off the string that held it closed and the pencil attached (which did snap), and opened it up. He began to thumb through its’ pages.

“What is it?” Thanh asked him.

“I think it’s a journal,” he replied, “but it’s all in French. I can’t read any of it.”

She held out a hand. “May I? I’m fairly fluent; not an expert by any means, but I took quite a few French classes in school and earned very high marks. I could try.”

He shrugged and handed her the small leather-bound volume. She skipped to the last few pages that had been written in, and began to peruse them.

“You were correct, it is indeed a journal,” she said, “but his writing is not exactly neat, much less entirely legible. You’ll have to forgive me if I can’t understand everything.”

“Well, shit.”

“No, it’s fine, here’s his last entry. I wish he’d put down the dates when he wrote them, I would be fascinated to know when he had lived...all right, here: ‘Mama, I have been trapped in this place for a week, I long to be in Nice again with you and Genevieve, but now I am afraid that I will never see you again’...this is mostly lamenting and waxing poetic, it seems as if we had an aspiring writer on our hands...oh, here we are!”

“What is it?”

“Nothing good.”

“Well, let’s hear it anyway.” Scotty muttered.

“All right then. ‘I cannot tell where it lurks, it sounds as if it is all around me...I have been trapped in this accursed cave within this damned valley for over a day and yet it...persists...?’” Thanh screwed up her face in frustration, “like I said, his penmanship is less than stellar...ah! ‘This creature is monolithic; as tall as the bamboo that surrounds me, its’ arms long, powerful and bearing claws that could gut a whale’...I cannot read half of this shit, I swear...’”

She paused, then continued, “‘I hear it outside, moving through the bamboo, as it waits for me to step outside, but I will not let it...’ hmm, I can’t read this part, maybe that...all right, ‘I am certain to die here, Mama, and if I am ever found, my superiors must know about the terrible, terrible threat that lurks here. They must know to never go near it...who is to say what it is; possibly a demon, some lost creature of the pre...prehistoric era...?’” she stammered, “‘but it does not matter now...I will die soon...I have no water or rations left...please inform my superiors that I did not desert, that I am no coward...I want to see the Viet Minh crushed as they do’...more chicken scratch, hmm...all right, here’s the last of it: ‘please, Mama, know that I love you and Genevieve with all my heart, and that you both mean the world to me. Goodbye, and may you live long, full lives without me.’”

Thanh stared for a moment at this page, then slowly closed the volume, setting it on the ground in front of her. Scotty looked at her face, which had gone pale.

“Scotty...we need to get out of this valley as soon as possible.”

“I know,” he said quietly, “I have no idea-“

*SNAP*

All three of them jolted up as the sound reverberated throughout the cave. It had come from outside, but how close or far away the source was, Scotty could not say.

“What was that?”

As if to answer Thanh’s question, a loud, brief roar-only half a second in duration-split the air like an ax into timber. More snapping and popping, then the unmistakable sound of something absolutely massive twisting its’ way through the bamboo forest. There were the scraping sounds of a huge form pushing aside the heavy stalks like mere blades of grass, along with the low, soft thudding of colossal digits impacting the ground, slowly but very surely. Whatever was stalking through the bamboo was obviously unafraid of being heard; Scotty wondered briefly if it knew of their presence and was trying to intimidate them, if it wanted them to know that it could snatch them up at any time.

Well, he thought, if that had been this thing’s goal...mission accomplished. He was thoroughly intimidated, even more so than he had been at the sight of the deer or the tree that afternoon.

Then, the same scream-into-howl from the night before filled his ears, causing him to flinch and back up against the cave wall, trying to melt into it so that he might not be seen, should some huge, terrible eye peer into the opening. Thanh burrowed into his side, her breathing quick and harsh. Vinh, who had been sitting near the entrance of the small cave, had scuttled backwards on his legs and rear end, pushing himself as far back as he could from the sound and whatever was making it.

The cacophony continued unabated: the roars, the screaming, the snapping of bamboo shafts, the thunderous impacts of a monstrous set of limbs upon the forest floor...and the howling. The terrible, terrible howling that put even the biggest and toughest wolves alive to shame, that howling snaked its' way into the mind and planted that primordial fear of the unknown deep in the core of one’s being.

The trio in the small cave did not move a muscle or speak a word as their unseen antagonist tore its’ way through the growth outside. In truth, a fear of Scotty’s had been confirmed: it was not an exclusively nocturnal creature. He’d been hoping that it would be so that they could travel by day, when they could move more quickly-and, hopefully, stay ahead of it altogether. That hope had been dashed like a glass bottle against concrete. The danger had now doubled, and their chances of escaping unseen and unharmed had likely diminished significantly.

Thirty minutes later, much like the night before, the sounds of the unseen creature’s activity began to fade. It had decided to move on again, leaving them in a limbo comprised of terror and uncertainty. As the sounds of its’ departure faded away into the distance, Scotty sat up, Thanh shifting away from him. He then stood, and crept to the mouth of the cave, peering outside into the late afternoon light that poured through the bamboo. After a moment, he turned, and walked back to Vinh, whom he crouched down in front of, looking him directly in the eye.

“Thanh, I need you to do some more translating for me.”

“All right.”

“Ask him if he heard what just happened, and if he understands the danger that we are in.”

She spoke in Vietnamese to the soldier on the ground, who, after she was done speaking, looked back at Scotty with confusion and terror in his eyes. He gulped, and, without speaking, nodded slowly.

“Ask him if he understands that, if he were on his own, he would not stand a chance of getting out of this place alive, much like our French pal here.”

She repeated this in his native language, and again, he only looked back at Scotty and nodded slowly. Scotty, in reply, pulled his Ka-Bar from its’ sheathe and held it in front of Vinh’s face, the man’s eyes widening as he tried to wriggle away from its’ edge.

“Ask him if he understands that he needs us, that there’s strength in numbers.”

After Vinh confirmed that he did indeed understand this concept, Scotty followed it with, “and ask him if he realizes that either of us could kill him at any time if he tries anything.”

This he understood as well. Scotty placed one hand onto Vinh’s shoulder and pushed him to the ground, onto his stomach. Vinh began to protest, and Thanh looked like she was about to do the same, but both went silent as Scotty brought the knife down and cut the bonds on Vinh’s wrists. Scotty stood and stepped back, knife still in hand, as Vinh sat up and began to rub his reddened wrists. He looked up in disbelief at Scotty, who spoke again.

“Tell him to behave, or I will kill him without a second thought.”

Thanh repeated this to Vinh, and he looked back into Scotty’s eyes, nodding twice. Still watching him like a hawk, Scotty sheathed the knife and sat back down next to Thanh.

"We'll stay here 'til morning. It's not safe out there right now, who knows if it's still skulking around the area? We don't know what it's doing, whether or not it actually knows we're here-but I'm not willing to take that chance right now. I get the feeling that it's tracking us; to what end I don't know. Maybe it's still hungry after the deer, maybe it's trying to drive us out of its' territory, or maybe it wants a fucking autograph, I have no fucking clue. All I know is that it sounds really big, very mean and angrier than a caged tiger." He grabbed his rifle, which he'd leaned against the rock wall of the cave, and laid it across his lap. "I'm not willing to take the chance. We'll leave at first light and head south, the plan hasn't changed. Thanh, tell our friend Vinh here if he cooperates we'll let him go if we get out of here."

"Didn't you say that you would-"

"Yeah, I know what I said, and I've changed my mind. Look, if he's tied up the whole time it'll slow him-and us-down. He also might get an infection in one of his wrists, and that'll make things go even slower. If we have to run he won't be able to move as quickly, either."

"What if he betrays us?" She hissed, his eyes still on them, uncomprehending.

"We'll have to make sure that that doesn't happen. He stays in front the entire time, he never leaves your sight or mine, period. He runs or attacks, shoot him. No warning, no second chances. You remember the stuff I showed you this morning, how to grip and aim that gun?"

"I do."

"Good, very good. Now, fill him in, please. I'll split up some of my rations; we don't have much, so we might need to try hunting soon...if that thing's left us with any game animals, that is."

"Thank you, Scotty. I will."

*****
It was dark now. The rations had been split up, allowing a meager portion for each of the three travelers, and they had all eaten their fill, such as it was. A mild breeze had picked up outside, and it whispered through the peaks of the bamboo, providing a gentle and relaxing ambience that melded with the occasional calls of birds and other small mammals. Shit, Scotty thought to himself, it almost makes you forget that we're trapped and probably in mortal danger out here.

"Hey Thanh," Scotty said quietly.

"Yes?"

"Could you ask Vinh how he came to join the VC? I want to know what his deal is."

"Really? Why?"

"Maybe I caught some of your journalistic curiosity, I don't know."

She chuckled and looked across the dimly-lit cave at their companion, and spoke to him in soft Vietnamese. Scotty couldn't read the intricacies of his expression in this environment, but he assumed that it held a mixture of surprise, suspicion and curiosity. He replied to Thanh, who listened intently. When he was finished speaking, she turned to Scotty and relayed the newly-acquired information to him.

"He claims that he joined two years ago, in order to fight off the foreign invaders of his country much like his father had done while fighting the French with the Viet Minh. He even said that his father was present at Dien Bien Phu."

"That big fight back against the French back in '52?"

"1954, to be precise. He says that he desires only to see his country reunited and for his people to no longer be under the thumb of foreign oppressors."

Scotty pondered this for a moment. Before he could respond, Vinh spoke up without being directly addressed; one of the few times he'd done so since they'd tied him up. He seemed to be inquiring about something.

"He...he wants me to ask you several questions. He hopes that you might be able to provide him with answers."

"I...all right, I suppose so."

"His sister was in the same unit as he was, and he is worried because he did not see her after your platoon fell back during the ambush. He wants to know whether or not you saw a young woman with dark hair while you were fighting his comrades."

A vision of a surprised, wide-eyed young woman stumbling out of the bushes with a beat-up Russian bolt-action in her dirty hands seemed to swim before his eyes. Then the roar of his M-16 echoing in his ears, the woman's face caving in before she collapsed to the black, damp earth...

He couldn't not tell the man. He'd taken too long to answer; he had to tell Vinh the truth-or, most of it, anyway.

"I may have seen her," he said, "unless there was another woman fighting there alongside him."

She asked him in Vietnamese. He confirmed in kind that there had not been. Shit.

"She...she was dead," Scotty said slowly, "I saw her body while we were trying to get across the trail."

Thanh hesitated before giving Vinh the answer that he most certainly dreaded receiving. Upon hearing it, Scotty could almost feel the man's face fall. Vinh took a deep breath, paused, and began to weep quietly. It was the kind of weeping that came from the very bottom of the heart, the kind that only the recently bereaved could possibly understand. It proved to be a deeply humanizing moment: Scotty had only ever seen these people as savage, remorseless killers who wanted to destroy the South, and kill Americans with impunity while they were at it. To witness his enemy mourn the loss of a loved one so openly, though, to see one of these crazy fuckers showing such genuine emotion...it was new, and in a way also deeply uncomfortable for him as a United States serviceman, to say the least. He'd always lived in the moment, just trying to keep himself and his squad mates alive, that he'd never really had the time-or the need-to sit back and look at the matter from a more human perspective, as opposed to that of a soldier's and a survivor's.

As Vinh wept so bitterly, Scotty considered that while he'd certainly felt disillusioned and lied to since he'd been in country, he'd never felt truly guilty for his actions or the actions of his country before-not really, anyway. Now, however, the feeling had dropped onto his shoulders like a one-ton sack of concrete. He'd taken this man's loved one from him-and worse, he'd omitted the fact that he had been directly responsible for her death. It was a necessary obfuscation, to be sure-Vinh would almost certainly try to kill him if he knew-but that didn't make him feel any better.

Thanh had been right: this war only served to take away the loved ones of all involved, whether they be locals or not. How many friends-people he cared about-would he end up having to weep for, like Vinh was at that very moment? How much loss would he be forced to endure before he took his walking papers, got shipped home and was dumped off like last week's trash? Would he even make it back alive to begin with? Nothing was certain, and this uncertainty troubled him very deeply.

The indifference of it all was enough to drive a man to madness. As Thanh took first watch and he laid down to rest a while, Scotty's mind simmered with rage and frustration, emotionally self-flagellating over his perceived lack of effort in changing how any of it had played out. He was no protector, he thought, only a killing tool no different than any rifle, bomb or blade. And he hated himself more than he’d ever hated Charlie in that moment.

*****

The morning light seeped into the cave the way blood seeps from a wound. As it began to leak through the holes in the canopy of the bamboo forest, the three figures that had slipped out of the cave in the outcropping moved quickly and quietly through the large green stalks, bearing south towards what would hopefully be a way out.

Vinh took point (or, rather, had been ‘encouraged’ to do so via the business end of the M-16), Thanh took the middle, and Scotty brought up the rear. As they moved, Scotty’s paranoia began to get the better of him, as the bamboo forest seemed particularly conducive to seeing things that weren’t there. The low light didn’t help either: every shadow danced and jumped in such a way that they all looked like enemies.

The silence, though, was still what he hated the most. Every footstep sounded as if were as loud as a tree being split in half, every breath seemed as if it could be heard fifty feet away. They had no idea if their unseen antagonist was lying in wat somewhere, hidden in some cluster or behind some rock. Was it purely an ambush predator? Did it prefer to stalk its’ prey, to observe it before striking from out of nowhere? Could it camouflage? What were its’ tactics? Did it hunt purely for food, or did it kill for sport? They knew almost nothing about this thing, and that worried all three of them. They didn’t even know if it had actually tracked them the night before, or if it had merely been close by when they’d heard it stalking around-it could have been a fluke, for all they knew.

The bamboo forest finally petered out after almost an hour of trekking, and they were back in the familiar embrace of the jungle. The massive trees and thick undergrowth impeded their every move as fronds, branches and leaves poking and prodding them at every step. The visibility was even poorer than it had been in the bamboo, the thick canopy occasionally rendering the jungle floor almost as dark as night. The danger that this condition posed culminated in Vinh nearly being attacked by an extremely large king cobra that had been curled up on the root of a large tree that they’d been about to jump over. He’d been spared only through Thanh’s quick wits-she’d seen it rear up and flare its’ hood, while Vinh had been checking his footing and hadn’t noticed it yet. She’d reached out and roughly pulled him back, causing him to fall on his ass. She’d spoken quickly in Vietnamese, pointing out the reptilian predator. He had scrambled away quickly, the cobra still making its’ threatening display. It had leered at them the whole time they had cut around it.