The Watcher In The Grass

 THE WATCHER IN THE GRASS

Graham Swanson

https://www.asiapress.org/rimjin-gang/2012/06/news/homeless-woman/

Metaphorical Journey. Vladimir Kush

Esty

Kim Jong Un Observes Flood Victims Entering Rescue Helicopter

Satchi Art

    Hana lost her home and family in the “Arduous March” during the reign of the all mighty and beloved leader. They lived far from the city of hope and longing where the honored few enjoyed privileges like refrigerators. Their home lay at the bottom of the flood basin. With the trees gone, nothing stopped the mud from flowing into the road and washing it away. Their house slowly sank into the bog the army had created in their attempt to open more land for agriculture. 

With her parents dead and her home destroyed, she ventured out to find food. People already ate the bugs, rats, dogs, and she didn’t trust them. The agents of the government taught their people that the homeless are undesirable because they hurt the stability of their great nation. The glorious banners depicted images of the peasants receiving everything they would ever need from the benevolent ruler. 

Hana woke up hungry. She grew into her early 20s affected by the constant fasting. Her eyes swelled up and her chest wasted away. Getting up required a powerful effort to lift her aching body from the ground. Small muscles wrapped around her arms and neck. She looked at the gash in her hand. It still hadn’t healed yet. She feared the hospitals because they took her childhood friends there and they never came back. 

The darkness of morning covered the land. If she could get to the field before the others she may beat them to the grass. If she got there before the sun rose, she’d collect as much as possible before the army patrols showed up. If she acted fast, she might catch a grasshopper, but she hungered most for meat. She thought of a rabbit leading her through the trail in the hills. 

Once Hana’s feet found the familiar divots in the ground the weariness gave way to dizziness. She shivered in the mist of the autumn morning. She woke up feeling cold. She went to bed feeling cold. Her father’s army jacket kept her warm. Its olive green camouflage hung past her narrow knee joints. She rolled up the sleeves up past her lanky arms. She found more of her hair on the shoulder crease. She ran her fingers through her mane of black hair. Her hairline ripped, and she tugged out a fistful of locks. 

Hana already saw it happen to her neighbors. She expected as much. She got good grades in school. Not the best, but enough to inspire hope that she may be assigned to marry a wealthy doctor someday. So far the government hadn’t assigned anything  helpful, and since she had no dowry to give, she’d see no wedding day. 

The easy part of her journey came to an end. When she arrived at the field she found a drove of hungry peasants stuffing bags full of grass. Most of the field was mud but some grass grew back. Hana couldn’t think about it. Her mind couldn’t focus on anything but the bones poking her stomach. 

With one hand she shielded the plastic bag, and in the other she dug into the earth. She tore the grass out by the root and dropped a fistful into her bag. She foraged until the sun rose, lugged the bag over her shoulder, and marched on towards the foggy hills. The scant tufts of grass felt thin. The color seemed to fade. Winter drew near. Then there’d be no grass to collect. 

With half a bag full, a whistle blast rose over the horizon followed by a cascade of whistles. A dozen men popped out of the ditches with bayonets on their weapons. Trucks barreled down the roads in clouds of dust. The peasants in their ragged cloaks turned to flee back to the hills only to find another row of netted helmets and camouflaged jackets charging at them. Gun smoke filled the air as a wave of fire pelted the sky. 

Heads hit the ground as hot metal pierced their garments. Bits of fabric floated into the air as the Happiness and Security brigade grabbed men and women and huddled them together. The trucks pulled up. Hana looked through the heavy fog drifting down the hillside. Someone told the police that they’d come here. Someone was rewarded a TV or a slab of meat. 

Hana dove down the slope. She slid down the rocks while the guards fired down the hill. Their shots hit rocks and tree trunks. She remembered what her father taught her about avoiding gunfire. Keep your head down and run in sharp angles. He told her stories about how the guerillas defeated their invaders by using the terrain. She hugged her bag of grass tight as she jumped into the river below. 

The commander, Jaki, hero of the Happiness and Security Brigade, ordered his men to cease fire. his soldiers loaded corpses into one truck They pushed the captive peasants onto another. Once the trucks left he ordered his soldiers to stand at attention and report if they saw anyone get away. 

Jaki wasn’t like the others in the party or the city. He hated the ideology and thought their resources would benefit the nation if they spent them fighting the enemy, not themselves. He didn’t want to be a soldier. He just wanted to feed his family. But he knew if the secretaries learned he let someone go he’d be punished when they came back to the field, and his family would go hungry again. 

“Follow me, comrades. We must find her.” 

They fell in line and followed him down to the river. The soldiers combed the shore and turned over rocks.. One soldier hollered as he discovered a trail, and the military men charged  down the path only to hear their commander call on them.

“HALT! HALT! YOU FOOLS!” He barked with all his chest. The soldiers returned confused and anxious. The commander pointed at a red string tied around a stick shoved into the sand. “See that? It's a marker. This is a false trail. Radio it in and mark it on our maps. She’s not far.”

Lee, the oldest man in Jaki’s service, looked down at the ground while his commander spoke. While the rest chanted and roared for battle, he sat quietly and drank until he fell asleep. His apathy continued as he mumbled to Jaki. “She fell into the river. She’s dead. Let's go home.” 

“You’re slowing us down Lee! You’re a liability to the Happiness and Security brigade. If we don’t find that girl, they will liquidate us all.”

“They’ve killed our friends for less.” He remarked. He put his chest out like soldiers do. “What're you gonna do, report me? You know as well as I do…” 

The rain clouds in the distance rolled in. Jaki faced the coming storm and rubbed his eyes sockets. “She will avoid the rain. Search for caves. This ends today!” 

“We don’t have enough men to search every cave in the county. She’s gone.” 

“Maybe we don’t have to search the caves.” Lee pointed to the roof of a shack beyond the hills. 

When they arrived they found an old man smoking outside. They ignored him and entered the home. They turned everything over and ripped everything apart. They found no vagabond, no gold, most notably, no tobacco, and no cigarettes.

“Where did you get that smoke old man?” Jaki barked. 

“This is my last one. Sorry I can't spare another.” 

“Did you men find any tobacco tins inside?”

“No, no, no” they answered as they came out empty handed. 

“You saw someone coming this way. Where did she go?”

“I haven’t seen as much as a fox. Looks like the rain is coming. You can shelter here if you’d like.” 

The commander examined the cliffs over their heads. He saw a single root sticking out of the high rocks. Something had bent it. 

“She went up the cliff. Start climbing men!” 

“We don't have equipment to climb.” Lee protested. 

“You don't need equipment. Just grab and pull. Old man, you will give us a rope.” 

Smoke exhausted from the old man’s mouth. He pointed to the well. They took the rope from it and tossed the bucket away. They went up the cliff side single file following the rope. When one man got to the top he lowered the rope for the rest to climb only to panic when he felt the rain tap his forehead. 

The old man picked his bucket back up and sat down with it in his lap. The rain water splattered at the bottom. Thunder rolled and the wind blew hard. The men half way up the cliff hurried up the rope. At first the rain fell in careful threads but then once the wind picked up and the clouds darkened the falling waters collapsed onto them. It poured sideways in the wind, and cascaded from the top of the cliff. The rope became slick and they could no longer grip the rocks in the face of the cliff. One by one they dropped to their doom. The old man waited until his bucket was full, and then took it inside to boil.

Hana entered the rocky trail once more. One hand was black with mud. The other she made sure to keep clean. She intended to trade her grass in for rice at the black market in town. While she had a moment alone she bent down and imagined a hot bowl of rice cooked in vegetable broth. That’s when a mysterious man stepped out on the rocks.

She had never seen him before. He didn’t wear any military fashion or ragged clothes. He wore glasses and suspenders, he had gaps in his teeth and an open collar. He looked more like the people from the bootleg DVDs. He offered her a sparkling fruit which she took and consumed. 

“What have you got there?” he asked.

“I sell it.” 

“I'd stay away from the black market if I were you.” He told her. “The police are waiting.”

“Then my grass will wither and I will have nothing to eat today.” 

“I see. Better go to the Lieutenant today then and trade it for money. He needs the grass.”

“I don't want the money. I want rice.” 

“You will need money to bribe the guards.” 

 “I can’t leave yet.” Hana undressed and unburied her disguise. A simple workers outfit flowed over her frail malnourished body. Even with the buttons all the way up her collar bone poked out.

"I don't know anyone in the Land of Sparkling Fruits nor do I have family in the enemy zone. They shoot me if I leave, they shoot me if I stay. I won’t do anything to risk the others.” 

The rain storm fell across them, and they huddled under a gnoll until it passed. He held her and kept her warm. Her body was so light, he felt her heart pound against her ribs. She seemed to be asleep, but was wide awake holding the pit in her stomach. 

Hana walked on with her bag of grass to the next field. Harvest season usually meant that she’d find raw corn stamped into the dirt. Only she didn’t smell any corn, only smoke in the air. When she came into view she saw it in embers. They burned all the grass. Up in the hills stood ancient mining equipment once state of the art, now laying in disrepair, slowly sinking into the caverns. Laying in the field was the decomposed remains of a woman. Hana approached. The body had been rotting in the field for long enough for something to take her eyes, her tongue, even her brain. Hana put her hand on the jaw and opened her mouth. The teeth had been pulled out too. She opened her shirt to find bite marks up and down her flesh. A centipede crawled out of her eye socket and Hana clutched it with her soot covered hand and bit it in half. 

Hana carried her bag of grass to the outskirts of town down a winding dirt path. The market seemed vibrant with uniformed men sleeping in the grass, children picking pieces of seeds out of the mud under the trampling feet of the merchants, and a crowd sat in the mud facing a stage. The police in their clean olive green uniforms and gold shoulder badges blindfolded a man and shot him in the head in front of everyone. 

“Whoever turns in these foreign infiltrators will be rewarded.” The captain explained wiping the blood from his cheek. “Anyone who is caught taking food, films, USBs or other contraband will face the same fate. Those who know about these politically unreliable agents and do nothing will be sent to re-education camps.” 

The executed man died for the unforgivable sin of passing out fliers to people at the market.When he refused to give away the members of his secret group they gave him the death sentence. The shadowy camp they spoke of existed on the other side of the county. Those condemned to serve in it mined coal from sun up to sun down for the remainder of their lives. Black smog rolled from the hills into the sky and turned the clouds brown. 

A work site sat not too far from the market. The job was never finished and the scaffolding remained staggering in the wind. Graffiti covered the crumbling project. It demanded the removal of party secretaries. The police covered it up with their own banner, a big red symbol meaning “CANNON FIRE’. 

The man who bought the grass wore a loose army uniform. He looked as thin and worn out as the others. His rabbits fed the men who served under him. Unlike some he really did believe in the ideology, and hated buying grass from the homeless, but how else was he going to feed his men? He paid her less than last time.

“I need more money.” she whimpered, almost too exhausted to muster the strength to argue. 

“If you have a problem, take it up with the party.” 

Hana unbuttoned her shirt, leaned over his desk, and kissed his neck. He took her by the shoulders and slobbered all over her face and breasts. He grazed her bony hips, and sucked on her dry white lips. He undid his belt and guided her land to his loins. I won’t go into any more detail, but at the end he not only gave her the full amount, he also shared a shot of vodka with her. 

“This stuff is better. It comes from the palaces of Everwinter. I can help you out you know. I can tell you how to get onto a base. I can tell you where the patrols will search next. I know where they hide the Leader’s cow meat.” She took a few pulls. The strength of the liquor dulled her senses, and induced a slight euphoria. She blushed and tried to hide the collar rushing from her face. He laughed at her. “Silly girl. Go on back to your forest hovel. Consider my offer. You know they’ll catch you eventually.” 

Hana left the market with her arms crossed, head down, face hidden beneath her mop of hair. The man of the Sparkling Fruit offered to help her enter a new world. One of relative ease and possible freedoms, but she knew nothing of the world outside the borders. If she instead entered the world of the party, she may be liberated from the constant chase for food.  She looked up to the early evening stars for guidance. 

The autumn night brought darkness and bitter cold. The wind blew the storm away but also saturated the air with frigid elements. Hana crept into an abandoned building. Cracks went up the foundation, and some floors had collapsed. The wind blew right through the windows and gaps in the wall. 

Hana fell asleep without a blanket and shuddered all night long, then felt a warming pleasure, as her father’s army jacket fell over her shoulders. She gripped onto it tight, and never learned where it came from or who put it back over her. She awoke in the night after a brief rest. She remembered a trip to the city she took with her father on one special holiday long ago. 

The Immaculate Leader himself stood over the balcony of Victory Square and announced that his ingenious scientists had converted hair to noodles. Never again would his beloved people starve. How wild the crowd applauded with approval. They chanted LONG LIVE until their voices gave out. Then the great leader announced their latest victory, a hyper sonic missile capable of destroying any capitol in the world. In his own words, “Now the enemies of our nation will know why they fear the cleansing might of  nuclear fire.” 

People jumped and waved their hands desperate to capture the light radiating off his countenance. Men, women, old, young, rich, poor. Every decision in their lives led to this moment. At that time she saw only the bright colorful towers and glorious crimson flags unfurled for the world to adore. The choreographed dance routines and glimmering monuments to the great achievements of the regime went on and on and on forever.

Hana thought maybe the man from the Land of Sparkling Fruit put the jacket over her, or maybe even her father, but as she shifted in the darkness she saw a fire burning between her and a stranger. She peered nearer, rubbed her eyes, and fell back in silence, pressed herself against the wall and gasped in disbelief. The Great Leader himself had joined her on the floor of the abandoned building. 

The Great Leader watched the fire, his shoulders slumped with a heavy burden. Shadows hung over his face. He looked fat, but not strong and god-like, rather crushed by the weight of his own power, fully aware of the anger and fragility behind the illusion of immortality. The ruins around them consumed him, full of the echoes of hidden orphans, amid banners torn asunder, a rallying cry rang out. In the remains of the building, he began to shiver. 

Hana almost reached over to him, but she felt eyes watching her from the walls, the alleys, the hills, the grassy fields. She dreamed of a future full of great banquets and fat happy babies planting seeds in fertile soil. She refused to cow to the Great Leader, but she discovered the recognition and respect of basic humanity. Her journey was far from over, and in the faces of those who drew power from her, a determination was planted. One month later, she starved to death in a field.