Fury Read online

  Entering the highway was beyond scary. Instead of the entrance ramps I was accustomed to, it was a free-for-all from what I could tell. I’d noticed incessant honking since we’d left the airport and it seemed even more outrageous in the cluster of vehicles trying to maneuver past one another. I sat up, white-knuckling the seat bar in front of me. When we got through, I looked around me and almost burst out laughing at all the slack Westerner jaws with their wide eyes.

  To me, the highways and regular city streets weren’t at all different. The speed limits seemed the same to me but then again, I couldn’t read the signs indicating the rate. Though we did share the Roman numeral system, it was hard to guess what meant what.

  We had reached the city proper in under an hour and the driver had explained in broken English that we would be stopping for a half hour break so they could refuel and we could eat something or shop. When I left the bus, I was amazed at the bustling life all around me. It was intimidating to say the least. Strangely, they carted around massive amounts of cargo on the back racks of their motorbikes. What looked like a giant sphere worth of wicker baskets came barreling through everyone, surprising me, and making me laugh. The woman driving the small motorbike looked on a mission. Cars, motorbikes, and bicycles alike shared the streets in a chaotic battle to further their efforts. Horns bombarded my ears like buzzing bees. Every inch of the Old Quarter seemed to hum, actually. Small alleyways were packed with people and street vendors.

  The street food alone, I could tell, was enough to warrant a visit to Vietnam. Each peddler seemed to specialize in their particular fare. Later I would discover just how in love with the food I would become. From the obvious but wonderful Phở bò with chili sauce to the Cơm tấm or broken rice to the Xôi or sticky rice. The popular Bánh mì or baguette and the gỏi bò which is a papaya salad you would die for. Vietnam is a type of food heaven.

  I jutted down a popular alleyway where I happened upon a drive-in ice cream parlor. People sat perched on their motorbikes or scattered around talking and eating. I was enthralled by it all.

  I passed a long stall full of eaters and came upon some sort of fresh food market. Loud voices carried through and around me as I sort of turned about and absorbed my surroundings. I hadn’t any clue how incredible the culture of Vietnam was, and I was mesmerized.

  I left the alleyway I was in and followed a main street past incredibly narrow shops chock full to the brim, even spilling onto the sidewalks, with merchandise to purchase. Many of the shops were so compact, I couldn’t even stand upright in them. It was a claustrophobic’s nightmare but also entertaining.

  Amid the shops sat small sections of tables and stools between street vendor setups that sat so low to the ground I thought they were there for children until I saw full-grown adults perched on the stools, chopsticks in hand, laughing and eating.

  I paid a dollar and a half for a bowl of Phở that came with a fried spring roll that practically melted in my mouth. I stood beside the street vendor, holding my bowl and chopsticks, smiling like an imbecile unsure of where I was supposed to go or do once I’d received my food. She laughed at me and signaled toward a girl who looked like her daughter. The girl marched over to me, forcefully sat me in a shallow stool made for a four-year-old very near the curb and barked Vietnamese at me but smiled, so I assumed it wasn’t a death threat. Motorbikes zipped past me. It was scary and not relaxing in the least, but I wasn’t about to argue with the girl because I could tell everything I was experiencing was Vietnam.

  The girl left then returned with a bottle of chili sauce and a small bowl of cut limes. She took my chopsticks from me and I watched as she ran the limes up the length of each chopstick, handed them back to me, then ran off again.

  If you had told me a week before that I’d be sitting on the side of the road in Vietnam with a bowl of Phở on a stool made for a baby, I’d have had you committed. I wasn’t well versed with a pair of chopsticks but knew that practice made perfect, so I laughed at myself and dug in. I noticed that the locals didn’t let their mouths touch the sticks, which truly boggled my mind. I attempted it but was not that successful. I was a fumbling idiot at first but by the end of the meal, I had them down pretty well.

  Refreshed by the food and the people-watching, I headed back to the minibus right about the time everyone else was arriving. Once I stepped back on that bus, though, the tension began to build. Two hours until I see Finley.

  The drive to Hạ Long City was nothing short of surreal. The vegetation was so different from what I was accustomed to and it drew my eye. It was probably one of the greenest parts of the earth I had ever seen with tall, plush trees and grasses tucked against buildings and roads. It was as if life found every nook and cranny and shoved themselves inside.

  The buildings were scattered in clusters and stacked high with homes and shops. The land was incredibly well farmed. I don’t believe any of it went to waste. I could tell there were no bureaucratic restrictions on what could be grown and by whom. I believe the same applied to the street vendors in Hanoi.

  Close to Hạ Long City, I could just make out the outline of Hạ Long Bay and my gut clenched a little. I was close to Finley. When we entered the city there was a massive cable-stayed bridge connecting the two mainlands called Bãi Cháy Bridge according to the driver. To me it resembled a giant geometric spiderweb of daunting metal cables that reached high into the sky. I half expected a matching spider to come crawling along the bridge’s metal spindles.

  When we came to a stop outside a small street sign, I jumped out as quickly as I could, desperate to get my luggage and start my search. The driver started unloading bags and setting them in a line on the sidewalk. I was still searching for one of my bags when he drove away, leaving us all a little bewildered. When he did this, though, he cleared our view of the bay and it took my breath away.

  Jagged, gargantuan lime islands jutted up and out creating a cascading look across the surface of the clear, blue ocean. On the tops of each were thick layers of lush green vegetation and they seemed to follow a pattern of winding rows, as if a giant dragon was diving in and out of the water, only its back cresting the water. It was utterly breathtaking. I had no earthly clue just how important it was for me to see this part of the world, and I was so glad I’d followed my dad’s advice. Giant wood Asian cruise ships called junks peppered the water with their massive webbed sails made of bronze-colored canvas.The sights were a once-in-a-lifetime view, and I was altogether overwhelmed I’d had the opportunity to witness them.

  I drank it all in one more time, shook my head, then found my second bag. I had no idea where to start. I turned around and noticed a little tea shop on the corner. Deciding that was as good a place to start as any, I marched in, and up to the counter.

  “Excuse me, I’m sorry, but do you speak English?” I asked.

  The man shook his head but held up a finger to stay me. He escaped to the back, having retrieved a young woman about my age.

  She smiled at me and asked, “Can I help you?”

  “Hi, yes, I’m, uh, searching for a place called Slánaigh. Are you familiar with it?”

  When I mentioned Slánaigh, both their eyes widened and the old man started shouting at me so vehemently in Vietnamese, I nearly bolted for the door. The girl said something to him that made him silent, but he eyed me like he wanted to nail me to the floor and use me for target practice. He started to pull back toward the curtained area the girl had appeared from but before he fully disappeared, he looked back once, narrowing his eyes. I flinched.

  The girl looked at me. “I’m sorry, my father, he is… Anyway, why are you looking for Slánaigh?”

  “You’ve heard of it then?”

  She looked behind me, contemplating something, then turned back toward me. “I don’t know. Why are you looking for them?”

  The ol’ merry-go-round, eh? “I’m looking for a girl that works there. I need to get in contact with her.”

  The girl stared me down so
hard I felt like bolting again and starting fresh somewhere else. After a few agonizing seconds, she finally spoke.

  “Who do you work for?” she bit. Her eyes narrowed at me.

  “No one. I’m just looking for my friend.”

  “Did Khanh send you here?”

  “No,” I insisted.

  “How do you find us then? Why this shop?”

  “I swear, I didn’t know you were connected with them. I just flew in from the United States and took a minibus straight here from the airport. I was dropped off right there,” I said, pointing at where the bus had sat.

  The man came back from behind the curtain yelling again and my skin started to burn hot with the apparent accusations. I lifted my hands in surrender as the girl shoved the man back through the curtain. She turned back to me.

  “Listen,” I said, “my friend only mentioned the name Slánaigh and that it was here, near the bay. I know the work she’s doing can be dangerous so I wanted to come help her, protect her.”

  The girl’s eyes narrowed at me. “Why didn’t you call her?”

  “She’s mad at me. I tried, trust me. She doesn’t even know I’m here.”

  She watched me again for a long time as if she was trying to decide something.

  “What’s your name?” she asked.

  “Ethan Moonsong.”

  “Stay right there,” she ordered, jabbing a finger my direction. “Don’t move. If you leave, I’ll know Khanh sent you.”

  I nodded wondering who this Khanh guy was.

  She parted the curtains to the back and I could hear her and the older man yelling back and forth. It got quiet for a moment then I heard her talk again but this time it sounded one-sided, like she was on the phone. I wished I spoke Vietnamese. I heard my name spoken once and then a pause, what sounded like agreeing, and finally I heard a receiver click.

  She returned to the counter. “Your friend will be here soon.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  I paced the sidewalk outside the tea shop, wondering if I’d made the right decision. No, you’re here for a reason. I repeatedly ran my hands through my hair then tucked my hands under my arms, fidgeting. The girl from the tea shop came out, carrying a steaming cup of green tea.

  “You need to calm down,” she told me, handing me the cup before heading back inside.

  I took one sip of the tea out of courtesy and set it on one of the tables outside the shop. I wrapped my hands around my triceps, hunching my shoulders, my head laid low, watching every step I took. Back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth. Back and—

  Finley’s shoes fell into view, stock-still, and I slid to a stop, lifting my head to see her face.

  I opened my mouth but her posture struck me silent. Her hands were planted on her hips, her eyes narrowed, lips thinned.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked with an eerie calm.

  My hands fell from my arms, dangling at my side. My hair blew with the wind across my chest and lifted off my shoulder, as if the fury she wore so clearly on her face affected the nature I stood in. I’m not gonna lie, I was scared of her. I was half a foot taller, probably had eighty pounds on her, and could lay out any man who crossed my path, but the girl who stood in front of me terrified me. Never had this happen.

  “Did I stutter, Moonsong?” she asked with fearsome eyes.

  I fought a small smile then shook my head to defeat it.

  “Listen,” I began and her eyes narrowed into fine slits. “I’m not here to bring you home.”

  She leaned back on her heels when I said this. I hadn’t realized she’d reached up on her toes. She looked like she was ready to sock me right in the mouth.

  “You’re not?” she asked, still seething.

  “No, I’m here to help you. Seriously. I figured if you wouldn’t come home, I’d come to you.”

  Her hands went to the top of her head which, from what I remembered in high school, was a bad sign. “Help me? What are you doing here, Ethan? There was a very real reason I didn’t tell you very many details. I didn’t want anyone interfering here. I made it clear multiple times with you in Kalispell and on the phone that I needed to do this alone. It’s none of your business!”

  My blood began to boil and my hands found my hips. I leaned over her and she had to strain her neck to look up into my eyes but she stayed stalwart much to my delight, though I wasn’t gonna tell her that.

  “Yeah, well, when you go traipsing off, doing extremely dangerous things, I make it my business, Fin! Now I’m not saying I’m gonna make you come home. I realize what a douche I was in asking that of you and I’m sorry for that, but you can’t expect me to stand by while you risk your life! I’m gonna stay whether you like it or not. Just as I can’t make you do what you don’t want, you can’t make me. If you want me gone, you’re gonna have to drag me out of here!”

  I lifted my arms, palms out, beckoning her to try it.

  Finley took a deep, scary breath then pushed me as hard as she could, shocking me, despite the fact that she didn’t even move me an inch. She crawled up my body with her legs and wrapped her arms around my neck trying as hard as she could to drag me down. I had no idea what she was trying to accomplish and thought it was hilarious so I started laughing which pissed her off even more and she worked doubly hard to bring me down.

  “Come on, you big bastard, why won’t you fall!” she said, making me laugh even harder.

  She punched me in the shoulder in response, tugging at my clothing and attacking me with every means possible. Her nails dug into my shoulders a little and I winced but tried not to show it. She fell back to the ground, huffing and puffing from her effort, then kicked me in the foot, which earned her a gigantic smile. She fought a grin of her own.

  “Stop it, you jerk!” she yelled, swiping a bombshell wave from her face. That grin she fought was starting to crack through and she bit her bottom lip to keep it from slipping further.

  I started chuckling again which enraged her and she went for me again, shuffling her feet back and forth, pathetically throwing punches at me. I caught each one without any effort at all but after about ten I’d had enough. I grabbed both her hands, spun her back into me and pulled her arms around herself in a sort of restraint. Her hair draped in her face and with each breath, a strand would tumble away from her face gracefully.

  Laughing, I whispered in her ear, “Are you done?”

  She huffed. “No,” she stubbornly bit, making me smile.

  I looked over at the tea shop window and noticed the old man and young girl watching us. The old man didn’t look pleased, with his arms crossed in front of his chest but the girl looked at us with the slyest grin on her face. Finley noticed it too.

  “It’s not funny, An!”

  The girl laughed like that’s exactly what it was, which I agreed wholeheartedly. She led the older man away from the window, and I turned back to my prisoner.

  “I’m going to let you go, Fin. Are you going to hit me if I do?”

  “Yes,” she admitted with edge.

  “Fine,” I told her, gripping her arms tighter. Not enough to hurt her but enough to make her uncomfortable. I’ll admit it out loud, I liked the power I held over her. I’d never harm her but I did get a kick out of how much it bugged her. For some reason, I liked to get under her skin. Childishly, I wanted under hers the way she’d delved beneath mine. I wanted some sort of sign of agitation from her, anything that showed me I affected her. I’d take whatever, just to know I stirred her in any small way. “You can just stay in this position then.”

  She stamped her flip-flop clad foot on top of my boot, causing me to snort to which she whipped her head my way. Her eyes narrowed. “I’m no longer a fan of yours,” she told me.

  I don’t know why I did it but I leaned forward, resting my forehead against her temple. “Yes, you do,” I told her. “You’re putting up this fuss, but I know how scary this all is for you. I can see it in your eyes, Fin. You’re glad I’m here but you’re too
proud to admit it.”

  “Am not,” she maturely retorted.

  “Are so,” I played along.

  “Not.”

  “Are. Admit it and I’ll let you go,” I also maturely said.

  “Never. Not if we have to stand here all night,” she gritted.

  “Fine,” I said, unexpectedly spinning her out. She stumbled, but I caught her in my arms.

  She pursed her lips. “You’re a pain in my rear.”

  “Yeah, well same goes.”

  She straightened out her clothing and shoved her hair away from her face before looking me dead in the eye.

  “Ethan, I don’t like that you’re here.”

  “That may be, but I guarantee you’re still glad I’m around.”

  “That makes no sense.”

  “It makes perfect sense to me, Fin. You can dislike something yet still see the good it can do for you.”

  A muscle in her jaw ticked. “Get on the bike,” she ordered.

  I turned my head to find a small red motorbike on a stand near the curb. “You can’t be serious.”

  “Oh, I’m serious,” she said with a venomous smile.

  “I’m too tall for that. Too big for that.”

  “Welcome to Vietnam, idiot,” she said, making me smile inside. I felt relief she wasn’t demanding I left. I would have gone, despite what I’d told her, if she’d truly asked me. I was happy, beyond happy, she hadn’t insisted.

  She walked over to the bike, acknowledging me no further, and sat down, pulling a helmet over her head.

  I followed her with my bags and strapped them to the back of the bike’s rack. “Let me drive, Finley,” I said, fastening a bungee cord.

  “No,” she said, starting the bike.

  “You don’t understand, Fin. If I get on the back of this bike, I’ll displace the weight even worse than these bags already are and we could be driving in the middle of the road and fall backwards.”