The Making of a Heartbroken Boy | ✔️

CHAPTER 7

1948, PERAK, Malaya.

He swirled the dirty water with his stick. Finding nothing, he pulled it out and dropped the metal plate on the end back in, farther away. Lugging it towards him he found nothing again.

And again.

An inefficacious process, but nonetheless, he swished the dirt around once more.

The water splashed onto his soaked trousers.

Just finish the day, he thought to himself. Pulling his hat down against the heat of the sun, he dragged the topsoil closer with his tool. He drew it back out of the water, prepared to throw it back in, but paused, letting it drop into the water. A trifling sparkle of tin ore caught his eye.

But as he was bending down to reach for it, he stopped, squatting next to it rather than taking it from the shallow water. His bad leg jutted out, straight to the side.

If he turned it in, they would know that he didn't belong here. His blue eyes would set him apart in an instant.

If he dropped it, it would be a waste of precious metal. He needed as much as anyone to get back home, and with this, he just might be able to bribe a native for a phone.

He looked around beneath the brim of his hat at the other workers.

Seeing that no one was looking, he took the shiny metal and tucked it into the pocket of his trousers.

As he stood, lifting himself shakily on his good leg, he pretended to throw his find back into the water, hoping it would feign innocence.

He gripped his tool and dropped the metal end into the muddy liquid at his feet. He scraped it along the soil beneath the thin layer of water, eyes searching. Maybe there'd be more.

Splashing and ripples distorted his view beneath the surface as a young Chinese boy raced towards the engine shed, where the guardpost sat.

"Calm, Ivan," he whispered under his breath. "Just finish the day."

***

"Are you ready, Ali?" Amadi asked. It had taken them 16 days to finally reach Perak, hiding from everyone. Because they had rounded around Malaysia and bordered Thailand, avoiding all major cities, the trip was 1021 kilometers of trekking, hiding, scavenging and running. But finally, they had arrived at their base and after years of staying under the radar and planning, they found themselves in an alleyway.

"Just once more, repeat it to me."

"Simple: I go and distract the guards with my men - a raiding party," Amadi explained. "You take the matches and the tinder and light the engine shed."

"Which one is that again?"
"It should be wood, around 10 feet tall, with railways leading to it."

"So exactly what it sounds like." Ali groaned. Amadi crowed.

"Exactly," he confirmed. "And we meet back here no later than dusk. Don't let them catch your trail, 'li."

Ali rolled his eyes at the nickname and moved away from the brick wall and its shadows.

Amadi noticed a poster and reached up to tear it down, but Ali grabbed his wrist.

Then he took his knife and pricked his finger, deep enough for blood to flow freely.

"What on earth are you doing, Ali?"

He raised his hand to the poster and began to draw 5 lines to form a messy, hardly identifiable red star. Finally, he stepped back and licked his finger.