Chained (19 page)

As Ne Min cleans and wraps the hook wound on Sharad’s leg, I swear I see him smile just a little.

“We should take you indoors,” says Ne Min. “Do you think you can stand, if we help you?”

Sharad sits up, then groans and holds his head.

“Slowly,” says Ne Min. “Do not try to get up too fast.”

Sharad hangs on to the fence with one hand and clutches his side with the other. Ne Min and I stand next to him to support him. He leans on the fence for a while after standing, then we each hold on to an arm to lead him to Timir’s office.

“Just wait until Timir hears about this,” Sharad says as we pass the arena. He nods toward Nandita, then turns to Ne Min. “You have a good recipe for elephant stew?” He laughs hard, then winces in pain.

Ne Min and I glance at each other across the doubled-over Sharad. I’m not sure what Ne Min is thinking, but I know I’d like to throw Sharad back to Nandita.

“Hastin, we should clean Sharad’s wounds again. Will you get the iodine bottle?” Ne Min smiles at me as we lay Sharad on the sofa in Timir’s office.

It is not until I am almost asleep in my hammock that night that I realize I had not asked Ne Min about the wooden bell that hangs outside his window.

*   *   *

After I feed Nandita in the morning I decide to keep her in the stable so Timir won’t see her when he arrives. Ne Min must be tired from having his sleep interrupted. It’s time to make breakfast, but again the cook shed is empty. While the water heats on the stove, I go to Timir’s office to check on Sharad.

Before I reach the office I hear his snoring. The bandage around his head slipped a little during the night. He does not stir from his sleep when I adjust it to cover his injury. I wonder what Timir’s reaction will be when he finds out what happened.

On my way out of the office, I stop in the doorway and turn around. My eyes go right to his front pocket—the pocket where he keeps his ring of keys. One of those keys would unlock the metal gate, and another would release Nandita’s shackles. I feel so stupid for not thinking of this last night, but in all the commotion it didn’t occur to me.

Without making a sound I step back to the sofa. I crouch down and move aside the blanket, then pause. Sharad’s snoring continues, so I slip my hand into his front pocket.

Nothing. I reach over to the other side and pat the left pocket, hoping to hear a jingle of keys. Still nothing.

Where could he have put them? I scan the floor around the couch, then return to the doorway and look toward the arena. Think. When we were helping him last night, I don’t remember hearing the keys or seeing the bulk of the key ring in his pocket. Maybe I just didn’t notice them, but maybe he left them somewhere else.

Outside, I wander behind the office while I think. I still don’t know why Sharad came back last night, but I remember hoping he was stopping by for a short time before leaving again.

So if it was a quick stop …

I run to the wooden gate behind the cook shed and throw it open, then hurry to Sharad’s truck. As soon as I open the passenger-side door I see it dangling from the ignition—Sharad’s key ring. Already I feel closer to home.

Timir will be here soon, and we don’t have time to get far enough away to escape. I’ll leave with Nandita early tomorrow morning, long before he arrives. After slipping the key ring into my pocket I push the truck door closed with a quiet
click.

On my way to the woodshed, the damaged fence post catches my eye. I haven’t thought about how to explain why pieces of it are chopped away. I still wonder if I did the right thing last night. One moment I know I did, and the next moment I want to bang my head on the fence for not escaping when I had the chance.

Then I remember the hook. It must still be there on the ground where Sharad dropped it. The keys jingle in my pocket as I run to the gate. There, lying in the dirt, is the hook. My hand shakes as I reach for it. The icy metal chills my palm when I grasp the handle. It is the first time I have ever held it.

And it will be the last time anyone ever holds it. I hurry through the trees, not stopping until I reach the spring.

With all my strength I throw the hook that has caused Nandita so much pain. It splashes into the water, where I hope it will lie there and turn to rust.

*   *   *

I have chopped all the fruit for breakfast, and Ne Min still isn’t here. The mangoes cook in a pot over the fire, and I pick up the spice jars one by one. So many of them look the same to me. Ne Min enters the cook shed as I’m trying to figure out which spices to use. He looks like he could use a few more hours of sleep.

“Thank you for starting breakfast again, Hastin. I am sorry I am late.”

“I don’t mind, Ne Min. You needed the rest. If you would like to sleep more, I could—”

He takes the jar I am holding and smiles. “Looks like I arrived just in time to save breakfast. Not good with fruit, this one.” He sets the jar on the counter and picks up two others. “But I trust you with the sugar. Pour a handful into the pot.”

We both turn quiet when we hear the approach of Timir’s truck. It might be better to tell him myself what happened, but I cannot move. He’ll have to discover for himself that Sharad is sleeping in his office with a bandaged head.

Ne Min touches my shoulder, then grabs two spice jars in one hand.

“These,” he says, “good for fruit.” He sets them down and picks up a jar filled with tiny black seeds. “Best for seasoning vegetables.” Next he points to a dark brown spice. “That one will set your tongue on fire, so use only a little.”

We continue cooking in silence. I suspect that like me, Ne Min is trying to understand the shouted words from Timir’s office.

Breakfast waits on the table, and Ne Min and I sit down to eat by ourselves. I wish I could enjoy the peaceful meal but I’m too nervous. My stomach bunches into a knot when I hear the
click-step
of Timir’s approach. He stomps into the cook shed. His cane slaps the table. If I look up I imagine I will see his face redder than ever and about to explode.

“I remember when we first caught that elephant,” he says. “Sharad warned me that she had a temper. It seems he was right. Now we have to start again with a new one, after we dispose of that failure. And you”—he slides his cane back, then presses the end of it to my chest—“you will stay here and continue to be the elephant caretaker. I expect you to do a better job controlling the next one. I cannot have my trainer getting killed because of your incompetence.” He shoves me with his cane and turns to leave.

“But, Timir,” I say, “it was not the elephant’s fault. She—”

He stops and turns to me. “Yes, you are right. It’s your fault, so consider yourself her murderer.”

“That’s enough!” snaps Ne Min. He rushes toward Timir. “He did nothing wrong—”

Without taking his eyes off me, Timir reaches out and shoves Ne Min aside. Ne Min’s body slams against the stove. He slumps to the floor, clutching his side.

“Ne Min!” I jump up from the table and run to him.

“Oh, one more thing.” Timir speaks as if nothing has happened, like my first day here when he killed the mouse with his cane. “The keys.”

I ignore him. “Ne Min, are you all right? Don’t try to stand yet.”

Timir smacks me in the head with his cane. “The keys!”

I look up at him. “What?”

“Sharad’s key ring is missing. He said it was in his truck, but it’s gone. Give it to me.”

This is what he cares about now, when Ne Min so obviously needs help.

Timir swings his cane toward me again. Before it hits me, I grab it. I stand up and hold each end, then raise my knee to snap the cane in two against my leg.

I fling aside the broken pieces of cane, then take the keys from my pocket. With all the anger and all the hate I feel for Timir, I throw the key ring across the room. It clatters against the wall and drops to the floor. I’m glad Amma is not around to hear what I call Timir.

“I’m going to town to hire some new workmen—and someone who owns an elephant gun,” he says. “When I come back tomorrow, you will help them dig a trap.” He picks up the keys and walks out.

I kneel next to Ne Min. “Let me see your side.”

He moves his hand away so I can lift his shirt to see where he hit the stove. Already some of the skin is turning purple. He winces when I touch the area. Hopefully he didn’t break a rib.

“You should go home and lie down,” I say. “Can you stand if I help you?”

“Yes, I think so,” he says. He grabs on to the stove with one hand while I support his other side, then I walk him to his house.

*   *   *

That evening Sharad insists he is ready to go home, but I wish he would stay one more night. He sleeps so soundly, I think I could sneak into the office and take the keys again. Somehow I must get Nandita out of here before Timir returns tomorrow.

“Looks like I won’t have much work here for a while,” Sharad says when I take a plate of dinner to him, “until we have a new elephant to train. But I’ll come back tomorrow to help with the new trap.”

I remember the ax. Since I cannot get the keys back, I will try again to chop away at the fence post. But before Sharad goes to his truck, he limps to the woodshed to retrieve the ax. I know I will not be left alone with it again.

While cleaning up after dinner I think about what to do about Nandita. I must find a way to let her go, but I don’t see how it is possible. Maybe Ne Min will have an idea.

*   *   *

Ne Min is sound asleep on his cot. I light the lamp and see that some of the color has returned to his face. When he wakes up for a moment I offer to stay.

“Of course not,” he says. “Where would you sleep?”

“The chair,” I answer, “or the floor. I don’t mind.”

“It is late. Go back to Nandita and your hammock,” he says. “I will see you in the morning.”

I do lie in my hammock that night, but I do not sleep.

*   *   *

While breakfast simmers on the stove I decide to visit Ne Min again. Sharad parks his truck just as I am leaving the cook shed.

“Where are you going?” he asks me.

“To check on Ne Min.”

“Never mind that, I’ll go. You get breakfast ready.”

“But—” I want to go myself, and talk to Ne Min about Nandita.

Sharad starts down the path to Ne Min’s house.

I wish I could grab both Nandita and Ne Min and run away from here and keep running until I was home with Amma and Chanda.

When Sharad returns to the cook shed, he is out of breath and clutching his side.

“I’ll finish up here,” he says. Sharad has never offered to work in the cook shed before. “Quickly, before Timir gets here,” he says when I don’t move. “Ne Min wants to see you.”

27

You cannot leave the elephants behind, no matter how far you go. You are a part of them and they are a part of you. Keep this book to help you care for them, for one day they will return to you.

—Written on the inside front cover of
Care of Jungle Elephants
by Tin San Bo to his son, Ne Min

The trees around me are a blur as I race to Ne Min’s house. Without knocking I run inside and sit on the edge of the cot. Ne Min looks like he is sleeping. I take his hand in mine. His other hand clutches something that looks like a square of paper. By its worn edge, I slip it out of his hand.

The photograph is faded with age, but I recognize the face that looks out at me as a much younger Ne Min. He stands next to an elephant. One hand is on her trunk, as if he’d been petting her before he turned to the camera. What I notice most about the picture is that Ne Min looks happy. This picture was taken before his eyes were sad.

When Ne Min finally speaks, he does not open his eyes.

“I thought I heard her,” he says. “The bell.”

“No, I came by myself. Nandita’s in the stable,” I say.

“No, not her. Another one.”

He quiets again. It seems like he is still sleeping. Maybe he does not even realize he spoke.

“Her name was Myit Ko Naing. She saved my life.” Ne Min opens his eyes and looks right at me. “You want to know why I know so much and say so little. She meant the world to me but I could not save her.”

I want to ask him who he is talking about, but I wait for him.

“We were born on the same night. An elephant cow that belonged to my family gave birth to her calf while my mother gave birth to me. The calf was a good elephant, and often walked by my side.” Ne Min stops and takes a deep, raspy breath.

“If someone new approached, she would flare out her ears and step in front of me. When we were young she was called Khin Ma Ye—‘She Who Is Friendly and Brave.’ The connection we shared was strong, like the bond that ties you to Nandita.

“When I was three years old, I wandered too close to the river that ran through the teak forest where we lived. I fell in, and villagers ran to the river when they heard my screams. On the riverbank, they tried to outrun the water that carried me away. But the rains that year were plenty, so the river was high and the current strong.”

Ne Min stops to catch his breath, as if telling the story wears him out.

“Then, higher on the bank,” he continues, “Khin Ma Ye ran past everyone and into the river ahead of me. Like a huge boulder she stood, then reached out her trunk and grabbed me when I floated by. She lifted me out of the water and placed me safely on the riverbank. That night my father chose her new name, Myit Ko Naing.”

“Why?” I stop to clear my throat so I can speak in more than a whisper. “What does that mean?”

“It means ‘The One Who Conquered the River.’”

Ne Min is quiet for so long I think he must have fallen asleep again. When he coughs, I set the picture aside and help him sit up—just a little because it hurts his side. I give him a drink of water from a metal cup on his bedside table. He lies back down and takes time to catch his breath again.

“When I was ten years old I carved her a bell. She liked to wander, but I always found her. Soon I learned to find her bell among all the others. Our village had many elephants, but the noise of the bells I did not carve sounded too high, or too low, or too hollow.”