The Destroyed by Brett Battles Read Free Book Online

looked back into the classroom, his eyes fixed on Nate. After a few seconds, he shifted his gaze to Daeng. “Get him something to eat. I’ll be back in a few hours.”
    He resumed walking away.
    “We should talk now,” Nate insisted.
    “Relax, buddy,” Daeng said. “Be happy he’s not kicking you out. He’ll be back. You can talk to him then.”
    Beyond the doorway, Quinn veered off to the right and out of sight.
    As much as Nate hated to admit it, Daeng was right. At least now he knew Quinn would listen.
    Daeng smiled, and slapped Nate on the shoulder. “You hungry?”
    __________
     
    D AENG TOOK NATE to another building, where they found a kitchen manned by two older women and a girl who was probably no more than ten. The two men were each served a plate with rice and stir-fried vegetables.
    Nate had been sure he’d have only a few bites, but quickly realized he was hungrier than he thought, and finished his meal before Daeng was even halfway done with his.
    “You want more?” the man asked.
    “No. This was fine.”
    For several seconds, the only sound was that of Daeng’s spoon scraping across his plate.
    “Where did he go?” Nate asked.
    At first it seemed as if Daeng hadn’t heard him, then the monk finished off the last of his vegetables and looked over. “You want to see?”
    “Please.”
    __________
     
    T HEY WALKED DOWN a road that led away from the river and into a countryside dotted with small fields. Though evening was approaching, in several of the fields families tended their crops. There were no big farm machines here. It was mostly bent backs and handheld tools and the occasional ox pulling heavier equipment. Scattered among the fields, some close to the road and others much farther away, were small houses where the farmers lived and kept whatever livestock they might have.
    After the two men had walked for about ten minutes, Daeng moved to the side of the road and stopped.
    “There,” he said, pointing across the fields to the right.
    For a few seconds, Nate wasn’t sure what he was supposed to be looking at. The fields were no different than those they’d passed. Then he saw two figures standing together a couple hundred yards away. Nate couldn’t make out any faces, but one looked to be a teenage boy, his brown skin darkened by his time spent under the sun. The other’s face Nate didn’t need to see. The hair, the clothes, the posture—Quinn.
    Nate wasn’t sure what they were doing, but it had something to do with working the field.
    “Two weeks ago, the man who owns that farm broke his leg in two places and injured his back in a motorcycle accident,” Daeng said. “The people here aren’t rich. He couldn’t afford to hire anyone to take care of his crops, not if he wanted to feed his family, too. So it fell to his son, but the boy is fourteen and can only do so much. Every day for the last week, as soon as your friend finishes teaching his English lessons at the temple, he comes out here and gives the boy a hand.”
    They watched Quinn and the boy work.
    “We should go back,” Daeng said. “Better if he doesn’t notice that we’re here.”
    Nate nodded, though he was sure there was little chance Quinn hadn’t already seen them. Nate was an expert at picking up small details, but he was nowhere near as good as his mentor.
    As they walked back to the temple, Nate asked, “Why isn’t your head shaved? Aren’t all monks supposed to do that?”
    “I’m not a monk,” Daeng said.
    Nate looked at him, confused.
    Daeng smiled. “I was , but that was a long time ago. The other monks here allow me this honor when I visit.”
    “So you’re kind of a pseudo monk.”
    “I guess you could call it that.”
    They walked quietly for a moment, the temple coming into view just ahead.
    Nate said, “I’m guessing you’ve spent some time in the States.”
    “Have I?”
    “Your English. You speak it like a native, and your accent is Middle America.”
    “Californian,