A dead body.

[**The following is an excerpt from Loung Ung’s amazing memoir about her experiences as a young girl who survived the Khmer Rouge atrocities in Cambodia during the late 70s. Here, the family is fleeing the capital city of Phnom Penh after the Khmer Rouge takes control of it and forces the residents to evacuate to the countryside. It’s worth noting that the Khmer Rouge soldiers at this time had set up check points along the roads and forced anyone who was affiliated with the overthrown government of Lon Nol to turn themselves in and “register for work.”**] >I wake up the next morning to the voices of my brothers and father whispering to each other about what went on in the night. >”Pa,” Meng says in a frightened voice, “a man told me the noise last night was the Khmer Rouge soldiers opening fire on all the people who registered for work. They killed every one of them.” Their words push at my temples, making my head throb with fear. >”Don’t say anything. If the soldiers hear us we will be in danger.” >Hearing this makes me afraid and I walk over to Pa. “We’ve been walking and walking for five days now. When can we go home?” >”Don’t talk anymore,” he whispers and hands me over to Keav. Keav takes my hand and leads me to the woods so I can go to the bathroom. We have only taken a few steps when Khouy stops us. >”Turn and walk back! Don’t go any further!” He yells. >”She has to go.” >”There’s a dead body in the tall grass only a few feet from where you are. That’s why this spot was left empty last night.” >I grip Keav’s hand tighter and suddenly notice the smell that hits my nostrils. It is not the smell of rotten grass or my own body odor but a smell so putrid that my stomach coils. A smell similar to that of rotten chicken innards left out of the hot sun for too many days. Everything surrounding me becomes blurry and I do not hear Keav telling me to move my legs. I hear only the buzzing of flies feasting on the human corpse. I feel keav’s hand pull at me, and my feet automatically move in her direction. With my hand in hers, we catch up with the rest of the family and begin our sixth day of marching. _________________________ **Source:** Ung, Loung. “Seven-Day Walk, April 1975.” *First They Killed My Father: A Daughter of Cambodia Remembers*. Harper Perennial, 2017. 33-4. Print.