Remember. Barbara Taylor Bradford
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simply sat there listening to the record, motionless, unshakeable, proud in their resoluteness. The minute the record ended it was played again, and repeated several more times during the course of the next twenty minutes.
Nicky and Clee stayed together, conferring quietly from time to time, and talking to other journalists. Everyone expected the military attack to begin at any moment. Nicky and Clee steeled themselves for the confrontation between the students and the troops. But another half hour passed and nothing untoward occurred until, unexpectedly, an array of lights in front of the Great Hall of the People was turned on dramatically. They flooded that side of the square with the most powerful and brilliant illumination.
At the same time, the loudspeakers came alive once again, and several people spoke. Neither Nicky nor Clee could understand what was being said, but a British journalist standing next to them told them the gist of it. ‘The leaders were urging the students to quit the square. They’re all saying the same thing - get out before you’re killed.’
‘Ah, but will they? I doubt it,’ Clee said, swiftly answering his own question.
‘I agree with you,’ the British journalist murmured. Then he shrugged, wandered off.
Clee said, ‘Nicky, I gotta go. I want to get some shots of these guys on the loudspeakers, and of Chai Ling. This is one helluva moment.’
‘Go ahead, Clee. I must look for Yoyo and Mai. They have to be somewhere around here,’ she said as he hurried away.
Nicky spent the next ten minutes or so strolling in the area of the monument, her eyes scanning the crowds and the ledges hopefully. But there was no sign of Yoyo and Mai, and she began to wonder if they had finally heeded her earlier warnings and left the square. She fervently hoped that they had.
Someone else spoke to the students over the loudspeakers. There was a short silence, and then a second voice was heard echoing out, filling the warm air with words.
Nicky did not have the slightest idea what was being said, and she walked on, circling the monument one last time. Much to her surprise, a number of the kids were beginning to stand up. Slowly they climbed down off the ledges and walked away. She stood watching them go.
Many had tears streaming down their faces, and her heart went out to them. They had lost their peaceful fight for freedom and democracy. Military power had prevailed and many innocent people had been brutally slaughtered. But at least some lives will be saved now, she thought, and glanced around anxiously. Where the hell were Yoyo and Mai?
Dawn was breaking, streaking the sky with light, filling it with an eerie, incandescent glow. She peered at her watch. It was after five already, and she could not stay in the square much longer. Sighing under her breath, she left the monument and started to walk to Changan. It was time to return to the hotel to prepare her newscast and the film segment, shower, put on her makeup and change her clothes. Earlier, she and Arch had decided that she would do the filmed piece on the balcony of the hotel first, to be sent out by courier later that morning. At eight fifteen she would do her live phone narration for the seven o’clock nightly news.
Nicky had not walked very far when she suddenly remembered the small canvas travel bag Yoyo kept in his tent. He had once told her his most important possessions were in it. Was his passport in the bag? Had he gone back for it?
Making a swift decision, she spun around, dodged through the students who were now leaving, and sped towards the tent encampment. As she ran she saw to her dismay that an increasing number of soldiers were entering the square. It seemed to her that they were everywhere, and in the distance she heard the clatter and rumble of tanks and armoured personnel carriers moving forward across that vast rectangle of stone.
She paid no heed, but plunged ahead through the deserted encampment, shouting, ‘Yoyo! Mai!’
One or two faces peered out of tents, and she cried, ‘Leave! Tanks are coming!’ Realizing that they did not understand English, she made wild and urgent gestures with her arms, and cried, ‘Go! Go!’, hoping they would somehow get the message. Then she ran on, making for the centre of the encampment, still calling at the top of her voice, ‘Yoyo! Mai!’
They saw each other at exactly the same moment.
Yoyo and Mai were rounding the side of one tent when Nicky came out from behind another, and was instantly in their direct line of vision.
They had both put on jackets, and Yoyo was carrying the small canvas bag.
‘I’ve been looking for you all over!’ Nicky cried.
‘Forgot bag,’ Yoyo explained, holding it up. ‘Bag important. Passport in it.’
I’ll say it’s important, Nicky thought, but said, ‘Come on. Troops are here. Everyone’s leaving.’ She swung away from them, ready to return through the encampment.
‘This way! It quicker!’ Yoyo exclaimed.
He took the lead. The three of them ran down a narrow opening between the rows of tents, and came out into an open area of the square, just to the north of the Martyrs’ Monument.
Lines of troops were rapidly advancing in their direction, and behind them came the APCs and tanks intent on destroying everything that stood in their path.
Nicky swung to her right, called, ‘Follow me!’ and ran the opposite way, aiming for the monument and the entrance to Changan just beyond it.
Her heart sank as she heard the sound of rifle fire behind her. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw that Yoyo and Mai were keeping up, were close on her heels. And so she continued to race across the square, putting distance between herself and the encroaching army as fast as she could. The sound of the oncoming armoured vehicles and the blazing guns were ominous to her ears.
Drawing closer to the monument, she saw, out of the corner of her eye, that the last few students were retreating, trying to escape as they were.
‘Nicky! Nicky!’
Without slackening her pace she looked back. To her shock she saw that Mai was down. Yoyo was bending over her.
Nicky spun around and ran back to them. ‘What happened?’
Yoyo’s face was stricken. ‘Mai shot.’
Nicky dropped to her knees, examined the girl’s bleeding shoulder, touched her face gently. Mai opened her eyes, blinked, closed them. Nicky stood up, then, bending forward, she slipped her arms under Mai, trying to lift her. The girl moaned and, afraid to move her, Nicky swiftly laid her on the ground again.
Her hands felt wet and she looked down at them, saw they were covered with blood. Her heart tightened. Mai must have been shot in more than one place. She wiped her hands on her pants, straightened, and raised her eyes, looking straight ahead of her.
The tanks had increased their speed, were almost upon them. There was no time left. She said to Yoyo, ‘Quickly, take Mai’s legs, I’ll lift her under her arms. We’ll carry her behind the monument.’
These words were barely out of her mouth when she was bodily pulled away from Mai and pushed, almost flung, to one side. As she rolled over, she heard Clee shouting, ‘Move it, Nick! Move it, Yoyo! The tanks are closing in!’
People were scattering in panic around her, and screaming.
Struggling to her feet, she spotted Clee running out of the line of fire, carrying Mai in his arms. Yoyo was right behind him. Nicky half ran, half stumbled after them and they made it to safety just in time.
Tanks and APCs, their guns blazing, rolled over the spot where, a split second before, she and Yoyo had been crouching next to Mai. Several students had been less lucky. They lay dead or injured, crushed by the tanks. One boy had had his head smashed in, and there was a pool of his blood and brain on the stones.
With a convulsive shudder, Nicky averted her eyes, and went to take cover behind the Martyrs’ Monument, where Clee was placing Mai on the ground. This area seemed to be relatively safe, at least for the moment, and there were no troops