When the Elephants Dance Read Free Page B

becomes like an old dog, obedient and timid. He nods at something that the soldiers have said and bows his head.
    “What will they do?” Roderick asks.
    “Let us not wait to find out. We must tell his mother.”
    “You know where to find her?”
    He is right. I would not know where to look. All the houses now belong to the Japanese.
    We turn to go, but more soldiers approach. They come in groups of three and four, pressing near, with angry faces, pushing other captives forward. Filipino men and boys are herded into a circle. A soldier motions for my brother and me to join.
    I shake my head. “We have done nothing. We are on our way home.”
    “No speak. Join others.” The soldier points.
    Roderick looks at me. I gesture with my chin. We move into their circle.
    A soldier announces in a loud voice, “Say who has committed crime, and all can go.”
    Roderick stares at my shirt with horror.
    “What?” I follow his gaze, and the breath is stolen from my chest. My hands and the edges of my shirt are stained with blood from my contact with Nesto. My body begins to tremble. I stuff my hands into my pockets and press myself close to the others.
    We are gathered and then separated into three large trucks used to transport the farm animals. These trucks, like most of the houses, have been commandeered from the citizens. Each bed carries ten people standing. There are tall wooden boards on each side and a short gate at the rear. Nesto is placed in a different one from ours. When our convoy starts, everyone speaks. I spit on my hands to clean the blood from my body. Roderick spits directly on my neck and rubs as hard as he can. We are like pigs headed for the market.
    “What is it? What is happening?” someone demands.
    “A murder, one of their officers,” a voice answers without emotion. “As always, they are looking for someone to blame. Hundreds of us dying at their hands. One of theirs is slain …” The voice laughs bitterly. “And suddenly it is murder.”
    I know that voice. I squint my eyes at the sound of it. Roderick cranes his neck. I curl my lip in warning, and he stares immediately at the ground. The wagon finds a hole and plunges to the left. We fly to one side, pressed against one another like canned fish. I look in the direction of the voice and catch a glimpse of Domingo Matapang.
    I have not seen him since he left our house four days ago. His wife, Ate Lorna, stayed behind with us. She has not been able to sleep. She calls out for him in her dreams at night. Domingo looks at me. There are purple rings under his eyes. He lifts his chin in greeting. The wagon rights itself, and his face disappears in the sea of filthy clothes and frightened faces. The wagon reeks of sweat and unwashed bodies. Already the day has warmed considerably. Roderick bares his teeth and crosses his eyes. His nose is pressed directly into a man’s armpit. I laugh so hard from fear that my teeth chatter.
    We are driven farther south to Fort McKinley, to the rear of the barracks where there is a field surrounded by trees. The heat is suffocating and the sky threatens rain. Gray cottonball clouds press together against the blue. Thesounds of shelling explode like distant thunder. The gates of the wagons are thrown open, and the soldiers wait at the end with rifles. They pull us down roughly. We look around in confusion.
    They place Domingo directly to my right, but he does not acknowledge me. We are made to stand side by side in three rows. There are fewer than thirty of us. Nesto is shoved in front of me. He glances at me, and in that short meeting his eyes are pleading. I look to see if Roderick has noticed Nesto. I look to my left, then forward to the other two rows. I count the bodies lined next to me. My heart begins to dance. I do not see my brother.
    “Stop that,” Domingo says from the corner of his mouth.
    I take a deep breath and force myself to look straight ahead.
    He speaks softly, so softly that I almost do not hear