The Thong Also Rises Read Online Free Page B

unstable country.”
    â€œWell,” El said, “it’s not like we’re going to wander into the opium fields and start harvesting, if that’s what you mean.”
    Damn, there went all my plans.
    â€œOf course there’s that,” Louise said. “But that is a bit dramatic. What I mean is that we have posted a traveler’s advisory for Australian citizens on a few areas up north where there’s been some trouble. If you steer clear of them, you should be just fine.”
    â€œUp north?” El asked with a twinge of anxiety. “We were planning on going to Luang Prabang.”
    â€œI’d give that a miss if I were you,” Louise said. “The highway is too dangerous.”
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œThis actually hasn’t come out in the press yet, but in the last week, there’s been missile attacks on tourist buses by Hmong bandits.”
    â€œWhat happened?” we gasped.
    â€œWell, these rebels fire at the buses, y’know, blowing them up, and then come and raid what’s left for valuables.”
    Apart from our lives, El and I didn’t have anything of value with us. But how were these gun-crazy hill tribers supposed to know that? Strike bus travel. But we were still desperate to get out of Vientiane and into Luang Prabang.
    â€œHow about along the river?” El asked. “Can’t you take a boat up there?”
    â€œYou can,” Louise nodded. “But again, we’d advise against it.”
    â€œWhat now?” I whined.
    â€œFor a start, it’s the dry season and the river is incredibly shallow. The speedboats that travel up it wind up hitting mudbanks and crashing. There was an accident just a fortnight ago.”
    â€œWhat about a slow boat?”
    â€œI was getting to that. This is very much under wraps still, but there was an Australian citizen shot off the top of one of those slow boats only a few days ago.”
    Jesus. And there I was thinking the worst thing that could happen in Laos was being forced to drink black coffee.
    â€œThat’s a disgrace,” I said, shaking my head. “But hey, what about a plane?”
    El nodded at me and looked at Louise, who in turn was staring at us like we lunatics. “You guys really want to get up there, eh?” she said.
    â€œYeah, we really do,” I said. Five minutes ago, I hadn’t known where I wanted to go. But now, despite, or maybe even because of, the warnings against it, I was chomping at the bit to get to Luang Prabang.
    S ome say the glass is half empty, some say the glass is half full. I say, are you going to drink that?

    â€”Lisa Claymen
    â€œWell,” Louise continued, “let me give you some friendly advice. Don’t fly in this country. Don’t even go near an airport. Jesus,” she shook her head. “It’s totally off the record, but listen. Most of the planes in Laos are ancient Russian junk heaps. They’re supposedly maintained by the French but I wouldn’t go within a bloody mile of them.”
    We considered our options in silence. We could stay in Vientiane, bored senseless but safe, the able-bodied envy of every cripple in town. Or we could risk life and coveted limb on the airborne equivalent of the Lada for a chance to see the “real” Laos. Ennui versus a fiery death. It was a tough call, but my completely warped sense of logic kicked in and I had my decision. We’d fly to Luang Prabang. At least if we died in a plane crash, we wouldn’t be bored.
    â€œI say we do it,” I told El, whose smile told me she’d made the same decision. I hoped she’d used a different system of reckoning, though.
    â€œWell, I think you’re both nuts,” Louise tutted. “But it’s your choice. Just fill these in,” she handed us our identification papers, “and let’s hope we don’t need to use them.”
    â€œWhat melodrama,” I said to El as we