Read In the Shadow of the Banyan for Free Online

me.
    “Good morning!” I greeted. “You must be Dark One!” Of course I knew he wasn’t a tevoda, but I was determined not to be afraid.
    “ What? ” he asked, seeming more confused than I.
    “Dark One!” I rolled my eyes, drawing him into my game. For a tevoda, fake or real, he wasn’t very polite.
    “ What? ”
    He wasn’t very smart either.
    “I’ve been expecting you.”
    “Look,” he growled, half exasperated, half threatening. “I don’t have time for your stupid game.” He brought his face close to mine. “Where are your parents?”
    “Where’s Milk Mother?” To curb my fear and stall his intrusion, I pretended to look past the gate to see if she was hiding in a corner somewhere.
    “Go!” He pushed me. “Tell your parents to come out. Now!” He pushed me again and I nearly tumbled headlong into a flower bush. “Go!”
    “All right, all right.” I ran and skipped, calling out to everyone, “A tevoda is here!”
    •  •  •
    “He’s a Revolutionary soldier,” Papa said.
    What? He didn’t look like a soldier. Soldiers, I thought, were men who wore fancy uniforms decorated with stripes and medals and stars. This boy was wearing the plain black pajama-style shirt and pants that peasants wore for planting rice or working in the fields, and a pair of black sandals made from—of all things—a car tire! The only color in his entire ensemble was the red-and-white checkered kroma —the Cambodian traditional scarf—that belted his pistol to his waist.
    Tata came out and gasped, “ Le Khmer Rouge .”
    I was even more shocked. This is a Khmer Rouge? Where was the many-named larger-than-life deity I’d expected?
    “Stay here,” Papa said to all of us. “Let me talk.” He went over to greet the boy, his manner unusually respectful.
    “Pack your things and get out,” the soldier ordered.
    Papa was taken aback, stammering, “I-I d-don’t understand.”
    “What’s not to understand? Get out of the house—get out of the city.”
    “ What? ” Tata demanded, forgetting Papa’s warning as she marched toward them. “Look here, young man, you can’t just burst in—”
    Before she could finish her sentence, the soldier pointed his pistol at her. Tata stopped in her tracks, her lips parted, but no sound came out.
    “Comrade,” Papa said, touching the soldier’s arm. “ Please . There are just women and children here.”
    The boy looked around, his gaze moving from Papa to Mama, to Tata, then to me. I smiled. I wasn’t sure why, but I held the smile. He put down his gun.
    The air moved again, and I felt my heart beating once more. Still, for a moment there was only silence. Finally, Papa spoke. “Comrade, where are we supposed to go?”
    “Anywhere—just get out.”
    “For how long?”
    “Two, three days. Take only what you need.”
    “We’ll need a little time to pack—”
    “There’s no time. You must leave now. The Americans will bomb.”
    Papa appeared flustered now. “You must be mistaken. They’re gone. They won’t—”
    “If you stay, you’ll be shot! All of you! Understand?”
    Without further explanation, he turned and marched out the gate, the pistol now held high above his head as if to shoot the sky. “Long live the Revolution!”
    •  •  •
    We had to move fast. If the Revolutionary soldier came back, he would shoot us. We didn’t know when that would be, if he would come back in an hour or a day, or if it was all a bluff. But Papa said we couldn’t take any chances. We had to leave now. Tata argued, “I refuse to be chased out of my own house like a rat!” Papa gave us no choice. Mama broke into a sob. Radana, on the bed, hugging her beloved bolster pillow to her chest, began to howl at the sight of Mama’s tears. Mama rushed over to comfort her. “I don’t know what to take,” she whimpered, looking at the large armoire with all her clothes still on their hangers. “We take money and gold,” Papa said matter-of-factly.