Under the Red Flag by Ha Jin Page B

curtain,” Jia told his wife when she laid the sleeping boy on the bed. Behind Lei’s ear they had found a red blotch, probably a mosquito bite.
    “Don’t you see I’m doing it?” She placed a pillow to hold down the opening of the curtain, then bent down and kissed the boy’s cheek. “Little devil, you get better tomorrow,” she said.
    Jia turned off the light. It was sultry, so he took off his undershirt and underpants and lay down and closed his eyes. Lei’s stuffy nose was whistling away softly in the dark. Soon Jia went to sleep.
    At about one o’clock Ning’s voice woke him up. “My old man, turn on the light. Lei’s burning hot.”
    Jia pulled the lamp cord and sat up to have a look at the boy. He was terrified to find Lei’s face covered with red spots. “My God, he has a rash!”
    Ning climbed out of bed and went to the desk. She found an old thermometer in a drawer and brought it over. After shaking it down, she inserted it into the boy’s armpit. “Lei, tell me where it hurts,” she begged, tears coming to her eyes.
    The boy moaned without answering. His lips were so parched they looked chafed. His jaw moved slightly as if chewing something. “Get some water for him,” Ning told her husband.
    Jia went into the kitchen and brought back a bowl of water, a spoon, and a wet towel. “Here, here you are,” he said, and sat down by the child. “Lei, open your eyes. Can you see your uncle?” he asked.
    The boy didn’t respond. Ning took out the thermometer and raised it to the bulb. “Heavens! It reached the end!”
    Jia grabbed the thermometer and read it. The mercury column passed 41 Centigrade. He jumped to his feet and took his undershirt, telling his wife, “You take care of him. I’m going to the clinic to get a doctor.” He rushed out into the night.
    He was running to the Commune Clinic, which was not far, just at the corner of Safe Street. A dog in a yard was roused by Jia’s footsteps and started barking at him. He didn’t bother to give it a look, and kept running and murmuring to himself, “Must save him. Must save him.” The road of white gravel spread under his feet like a band of cloud in the moonlight. He didn’t feel anything, as though flying to the street corner.
    Within five minutes he arrived at the clinic and set about pounding the boards that covered the door and the windows, shouting, “Doctor, wake up and save life!”
    He pounded and yelled for a while, but no response came from inside. He was wondering whether there was anyone on duty at all. Then it dawned on him to try the army’s clinic. He turned around and dashed down Main Street.
    The lights in the clinic were still on. Jia went directly to a screened window and saw a doctor and two nurses inside sterilizing something in a large boiling pot on an electric stove. He knocked at the windowsill. One of the women raised her head with a start. “What do you want in the middle of the night?” she asked. They all turned to gaze at the old man, who looked very pale and distracted.
    “Help, doctor,” Jia moaned. “My boy’s dying.”
    “Why don’t you go to the Commune Clinic?” the other nurse asked.
    “Nobody’s there. The boy is not mine. His father is an officer in your army. We look after the boy for him. Come and save his life, please!” Jia was choked with emotion, his deep-set eyes tearful. He wiped the sweat off his gray brows.
    “All right, we’re coming,” the doctor said. He turned to one of the nurses, saying, “You stay here. Liang Fen and I are going with him.”
    They put on white robes, picked up a medical box and two flashlights, and went out. Jia rushed to the entrance to meet them.
    The moment their shadows appeared at the front door, Jia ran up to them and with both hands he held the doctor’s arm. “Thank you, young man. You’ve saved my old life. You’re a good man. My wife and I—”
    He stopped because Nurse Liang turned around, tittering.
    “Look at yourself,” the