Elephant Run: Part One

A thermite incendiary bomb had hit his apartment building. These were small bombs, eighteen inches long, weighing only a couple pounds, but the Luftwaffe dropped them in something called a breadbasket that carried seventy-two bombs at a time.

She was certainly pretty, with long legs and a regal bearing.

In addition to the letters, his father sent him books about forestry, elephant husbandry, Burmese culture, tropical medicine, and the religion of the country: Buddhism.

At first Nick was disappointed that his father hadn't been in Rangoon to meet him, but his disappointment passed quickly under Nang's cheerful banter.

Mya went into the forest with her machete, or dah, and cut piles of fodder, while Nang prepared their meal, which consisted of rice and whatever meat or fish they had picked up along the way.

A thorn in Nang's side, Magwe was always second-guessing the singoung's decisions and causing dissension among the other mahouts.

He hadn't shaved. His clothes were soiled and sweat-stained. During his visits to London he was always immaculately groomed.

Malaria was common in Burma, and his father had suffered many bouts of it over the years.

"I need to check out some things. Too many people tagging along could make it a little dicey. You understand."

Inside the box was a small diary with pale blue paper and a leather cover. Embossed on the cover in gold letters was his father's name.

He stepped out onto the veranda.

Some elephants wander as many as six miles during the night. If the behavior persists, we put fetters on their front ankles to slow them down.

The Freestones were brash, stubborn, and had bad tempers.

He was carrying a black, enameled alms bowl.

Aunt Kin-Kin, who had raised Mya after her mother had died, was no less strident in her objections to Mya's wish, but she used a completely different argument.

Every book he'd read about elephants warned against getting near one without a mahout present. He had not only violated this cardinal rule, he'd done it with a bull elephant wearing an iron bell.

He took off his shirt, looked in the mirror, and gingerly felt his chest and ribs, wincing in pain.

After Magwe left, most of the remaining mahouts dropped their surly attitudes.

"It comes from the bambwe tree. It protects the elephant's back from chafing and sores."

The bull had uprooted every bush and plant within reach and had plowed the ground around him into soft loam with his heavy tusks.

The tree Ba Shin was roped to did not look substantial enough to hold him.

Indaw's smile didn't falter, but his eyes lost some of their merriment at the sight of Magwe.

His father didn't seem bothered in the least by the elephant's awkward gait.

"Cobra. Bad dispositions. Stay clear of them. Make sure to check for snakes before you sit down or hang your hammock. If you get a full load of venom you won't last the night...."

Mya stood in the cool river up to her knees, scooping water up with a bucket and splashing it over the prone Miss Pretty.

"Traveling. Seeking enlightenment."

He's a conniving little weasel, but the truth is, I like him when he isn't trying to take over the plantation.

"Before you arrived in Rangoon, I had Nang try to find a way to get you to the States, or back to London, but everything was booked. People were leaving the country in droves; there wasn't a ship berth or airplane seat to be had. I only wish I'd figured this out before you left to come here. The only way out now is overland to India. Indaw will take you and Mya on Miss Pretty. From there you'll board a ship for Darwin."

"This Christmas tour was just a ruse to get you and Mya away without panicking the villagers," he said.

The iron bell's clang made Nick a little nervous, but the mysterious monk seemed to have the testy bull firmly in hand.

He was totally disheveled, his clothes sopping wet, his hair disarrayed with clinging sticks, leaves, and dirt.

Mya was not faring much better.

"When the annual rains come, the river will swell and become a rushing torrent. Nothing will be able to cross from the mainland, and the elephants will not be able to leave the island. When the rains stop, the elephants will be used to it here and will not want to leave."

He turned his head toward the sound and saw a dozen men run out of the forest, shouting, brandishing rifles with bayonets.

Slowly, he worked his way around to the back side and watched through the gnarled branches and swarming flies feeding on the rotting monkey.

Nick felt ridiculous with the iron bell clanging around his waist, but he didn't want to ask the sergeant to take it off because he was afraid that he might oblige him and throw it away.

The Colonel pulled his sword from the scabbard.

Nick had to get up in stages, waiting for the shooting pains to subside, before making his next move.

Sergeant Sonji turned the spindle, then pulled open the heavy door.

Nick's father gave him a stoic nod.