The Call of the Thunder Dragon by Michael J Wormald Page A

sure
he wasn’t hurt or strained himself further, but four girls at once?
Just as the girls closed in to commence scrubbing, Zam clutched his
chin then pulled his head back.
    “Say ah!” She abruptly
commanded.
    The attendants started on his
feet. Involuntarily he said, “Ah!”
    Zam popped a toothbrush into his
mouth and started scrubbing. He daren’t struggle or move; he just
sat there. His ribs and muscles ached and his head throbbed. Zam
slowly scrubbed his molars while he felt his feet being picked up
and gripped between soapy thighs. They scrubbed and scraped his
toenails. His hands were similarly treated, grasped firmly under an
arm against the attendant’s breast while brushes were applied to
his nails.
    Zam smiled, looking into his
eyes, working the toothbrush around his teeth. He tried to bite the
brush. Zam just shook her head and looked away.
    Finally Zam relinquished him to
the attendants. Falstaff squeezed his eyes shut as they girls
scrubbed his face and hair. The oil and dirt was stubborn and only
washed away with the scrubbing brush. Soap went everywhere running
downs his legs. Next came the rinsing with bowls of cold water.
They were gentle, considering his broken ribs and poured the cold
water slowly over his back and then down his thighs and legs.
    Falstaff sat shivering with his
head in his hands as the girl’s wet feet padded away. They hadn’t
even offered him any rice wine? They had not even offered to stay
and sing a round of ‘the Merry-Go-Round Broke Down’? Not like his
dream at all 9 .
    “Tea?” Zam’s voice was close to
his ear bringing him round.
    He reached out with his hand and
slid it slowly up her wet legs and pulled her close. “Yes,
please!”
    The tea was brought, a draft of
his medicinal tea. Falstaff downed the foul tasting mixture,
wishing he’d held out for rice wine.
    Shortly the attendants returned,
now wearing short gowns. The teapot was tidied away; then he was
led to the hot bath. Zam sat in the deep water, relaxing.
    “Bring him to me,” she commanded,
with a hint of stifled mirth.
    With a girl either side to steady
him, he lowered himself into the piping hot water and finally
started to feel relaxed. The layers of pain dissolving and floating
away with the steam. He winced as the hot water rose to soak the
bandage and envelope his chest, but then he leaned back and
sighed.
    “I knew you what sort of man you
were when I saw you on the road this morning. I’d seen you crash.
Then the truck brought you up to the hill to me.” Zam wrapped her
arm around him and he sank deeper, resting his head on her
shoulder. “The first thing you asked me was where to find the hot
tub? Here we are seh lang?”
    Falstaff snored his head on her
shoulder, his eyes flickering beneath his eyelids.
    She gently kissed his forehead
then punched the water in frustration.
    “Poof!” She blew out her breath,
“Flower-flower prince di-di!”
     
     
    In the dim light Colonel
Haga-Jin adjusted his glasses again. He was frustrated; he was sure
Captain Soujiro had gotten them lost and was now ready to reprimand
him.
    Suddenly, the captain appeared
out of the darkness. The winter night had closed in fast. They
still had to find the aircraft or the main street of the town. They
had skirted around farmhouses for the last half hour; hiding like
rats ever since they scrambled across the main east west road.
Haga-Jin let his breath go slowly; determined not to let his anger
and impatience show.
    “The main street is at the bottom
of the path. The market place is there.” Captain Soujiro said
proudly indicating the direction and position on the map.
    “Good work Soujiro!” Haga-Jin
hissed, “Take your men. Go to the lake shore. Find the aircraft and
destroy it! We will meet you tomorrow on the western shore. I am
sure you and your men will be comfortable in the forest!”
    “Of course, Haga-Jin-Dono!”
Soujiro bowed before turning away.
    As the Captain led his men
silently away, even