Heaven to Wudang (27 page)

The
stone
. Something jolted within me, like a bolt of electricity, from my eyes straight down my spine to my toes, and then it was gone.

‘Are you all right?' the doctor said, peering at me.

I nodded. ‘I hope you can find my family. Was I with anybody at Lan Kwai Fong?'

‘No.'

‘I have amnesia,' I said. ‘I may get my memory back, or I may never remember. That was a hell of a clout on the head.' I touched the lump; it was exquisitely tender. ‘But there's something important I have to do.'

The doctor gave the bandage to one of the nurses and she wound it over my arm again.

‘That's probably remembering to take your flight home tomorrow,' the doctor said. ‘Don't worry about it. When we contact the Consulate, they will look after you.'

‘Okay,' I said, lying back and closing my eyes. I snapped them open again. ‘This has happened to me before. I woke up in hospital with a massive headache — but I had family …' I tried to remember. ‘There were people here with me!'

‘That's good,' the doctor said. ‘We'll find your family, and you'll be just fine.' He patted my foot under the cotton blanket. ‘Take it easy, and you'll be out of here in no time.'

‘Thanks,' I said. I caught his gaze. ‘I appreciate all of you looking after me like this.'

He smiled slightly and I realised he was good-looking and about the same age as me. He had some serious bone structure going on, and a strong chin, with kind eyes and flawless golden skin … He saw me looking at him and his smile widened, and that same lightning feeling smacked through me again. There was something extremely important that I needed to do; and I had family.

I studied my left hand again. It didn't look like an engagement ring. I slid it off my finger and the impression remained. Whatever it was, I had been wearing it for a very long time: it had worn a groove in my finger. I put it back on and slid my finger over it, feeling for the stone …

I looked up. The doctor had gone, and the nurse was finishing the bandage on my right arm.

‘We tried to take that ring off your hand,' she said. ‘But you wouldn't let us.'

She nodded to me and went out, leaving me alone to stare at the curtains around my bed.

 

I was woken early the next morning by a group of nurses and orderlies loudly discussing something in Cantonese. They gathered around my bed, all in surgical gowns, rubber gloves, masks and goggles. They slid the barriers up around my bed with loud clangs and wheeled me out of the room.

‘What's going on?' I said, clutching the side of the bed. ‘What happened? Where are you taking me?'

‘Move ward,' the nurse at the top of the bed said.

‘Why are you all done up like you're going to operate on me?'

She grimaced behind the mask. ‘Infection control.'

Panic shot through me. ‘I have something infectious? What's wrong with me?'

‘You filled in health form when you arrived, you should not have come into Hong Kong,' she said, her voice angry. She added something in Cantonese that I didn't understand and one of the other nurses hushed her.

They took me down three floors in a lift and to a single-occupant room at the very end of the building, in what was obviously the infection-control unit. They wheeled me into the room and one of the nurses stuck a sign onto the wall above me. I peered up to see it. It was a large biohazard sign with ‘HIV+' written in marker underneath it. The nurse added a few more signs, in both English and Chinese, giving specific directions on how to deal with me, then glared down at me and left.

‘That's not right, is it?' I said. ‘I don't have AIDS. I can't have AIDS.'

‘Test was positive,' one of the other nurses said. Her expression seemed to soften behind the mask. ‘Tested twice. Both times positive. Sorry.'

They went out, closing the door behind them, and I buried my head in the pillow and wept.

At lunchtime, just after they'd cleared away my untouched plates, the doctor came in with two people. One of them was a cranky-looking, middle-aged woman in a Hong Kong Immigration Department uniform; the other was an older Chinese man in an expensive bespoke suit. All three of them pulled on full infection-control coveralls at the doorway.

The man in the suit sat next to the bed. His voice was gentle and he had an Australian accent as strong as mine. ‘Miss Donahue, there is a possibility that you are in
serious trouble. Your passport isn't genuine, it's a forgery, an extremely good one. We wouldn't have picked it except that one of our staff was very meticulous and checked the microchip page in the middle.'

‘Why is that a problem?' I said. ‘It's supposed to have a microchip page in the middle.'

‘The microchip page has personal details for a woman called April Ho. The passport number matches up with this April Ho, whoever she is. It looks like someone made a fake passport, removed the microchip page out of a real one and put it into the fake. The air ticket wasn't a fake, but we can't find any records of you arriving in Hong Kong. I suggest that you tell us the whole story right now and we'll do our best to help you out. If you can prove your Australian citizenship, we can step in. Otherwise, we'll have to let the police and Immigration take over.'

He thought I was a prostitute with AIDS on a faked passport. I was in serious trouble. I glanced at the Immigration officer; no wonder she was scowling. She was waiting for me to confess so she could lock me up or deport me.

I checked the doctor. His eyes weren't kind any more.

I turned back to the Consular official and did what I always do: I told him the truth. That was what I always did, wasn't it?

‘I don't remember anything,' I said. ‘I hit my head. The last thing I remember is being dizzy and disoriented in Lan Kwai Fong. I wish I could remember before that, because I really have no idea who I am.'

The Consular officer glanced at the doctor, who nodded confirmation.

‘We're trying to track down who you really are,' the official said. ‘Is Emily Donahue your real name? Tell me if it isn't — it'll be three times easier on you to be deported back to Australia than it will be to stay here.'

‘I'm not sure, but it sounds right. It sounds like me.'

‘We'll check it then; track down the Emily Donahues who left Australia.'

‘Thanks.' I caught his eye. ‘I really have no idea who I am. I swear. Please find someone who knows me so I can go home.'

‘Forging passports is a serious offence, Miss Donahue,' he said. ‘Miss or Mrs?'

‘I have no idea.' I raised my left hand. ‘Looks like the diamond fell out, so a Miss on the way to a Mrs, I think.'

He glanced at the doctor again, then back to me. I'd just passed a test.

‘Forging a passport is a serious offence,' he said. ‘If you can point us in the direction of the people who are making the fake ones, it will make your life very much easier. You may even be able to go home without a custodial sentence.'

That hit hard. They were talking about prison for a crime I couldn't even remember committing.

‘I promise,' I said. ‘I have no idea — I really do have complete memory loss — but if I remember something I'll be sure to contact you. Can you leave your business card here?'

‘No need. The Immigration Department will post a guard on you,' the woman said. ‘Just call the officer in.'

I took the Consular official's hand and grasped it. ‘Please help me. Find out who I am. I'm sure I'm not a criminal. This all has to be some horrible mistake. Promise you'll help me!'

He squeezed my hand. ‘I'll do my best.'

I released his hand and leaned back on the bed. ‘Thank you.'

 

I wasn't really aware of time passing, but I was woken by a young female doctor carrying a kidney dish full of
surgical implements. She unwound the bandage on my arm without speaking to me, and raised my arm to inspect it.

‘Have you ever seen anything like this before?' I said.

She looked at me as if she was surprised I could speak. Then she pulled herself together. ‘It might be some type of allergic reaction.'

‘That's a no.'

She raised a hypodermic. ‘I'm taking a biopsy. That will help us find out what it is.'

I felt a jolt of panic as she moved the point of the needle next to my arm, and turned away so I couldn't see. There was no pain, so I turned back. She was holding the bent needle up and frowning at it. She left without a word. A minute later she returned with a new needle and a vial of local anaesthetic. She filled the hypo, then attempted to push it into my arm, but it slid off the surface.

‘Holy shit, I'm Superman,' I said.

She didn't appreciate the joke and tried to stab the needle into me. It slid off and she became irate and stabbed it particularly hard. The end of the needle broke off and hit the wall behind me with an audible ping.

She glared at me, gathered her equipment and went out.

She came back about twenty minutes later with an older male doctor and another kidney dish. She demonstrated my invulnerability and he tried himself, shaking his head with bemusement. They had a soft conversation in Cantonese, and he pulled a scalpel out of the kidney dish.

‘If this hurts, tell me and I'll stop,' he said.

He tried to slice my arm but the blade didn't do anything; he might as well have been trying to cut glass. They had another whispered conversation and went out.

They'd left my arm unwrapped and I prodded it with my other hand. I hadn't felt them trying to stab and cut
me, but, weirdly, I could feel the pressure of my fingers perfectly well. I wondered if the heat receptors were working.

How did I know about the existence of heat receptors?

I had no idea what my occupation was; I couldn't remember working at anything. The idea of being a prostitute made me physically ill, but it was possible that I felt ill because I was remembering what it was like. Wonderful.

I wondered if I had children somewhere. I was between thirty and forty by the doctors' reckoning, so it was even possible that I had grown-up children. Maybe they were out there somewhere, worried about me? I decided to ask the doctors if I'd had kids — they should be able to tell. The idea of children generated an aching emptiness inside me — so maybe they were out there. Or maybe the emptiness was because I'd never had any.

The curtains were ripped aside and the nurse who'd been rude about me earlier said something. A man with a camera stepped out from behind her and took a series of shots of me using the flash. I put my hand over my face and turned to find the nurse call button, but the flashes stopped and they closed the curtains again and disappeared.

That was it; I had to get out. I jumped out of bed and checked the tiny locker for my clothes; they weren't there. I went out of the room, looking left and right for the exit, and someone took my arm. I turned to see an Immigration official in full uniform.

‘Back inside,' he said, and pushed me back into the room. He stood at the end of the bed while I crawled back into it.

‘Someone just took my photo,' I said. ‘They didn't have my permission. If it was a journalist, you were supposed to stop them.'

‘I didn't see anyone,' the Immigration officer said and went out, closing the door behind him.

 

The Consulate official visited again later that day. He sat beside the bed and crossed his legs.

‘They can't hold you here any more, Miss Donahue,' he said. ‘Apart from the amnesia you still claim to have, you've completely recovered. If you don't give us some information soon, you'll be moved to Stanley Prison.'

‘I really do have amnesia,' I said. ‘I don't remember anything. You have to help me.'

He sat back in the chair. ‘No, I don't. You don't have any official confirmation that you're Australian, so this is out of my hands. Unless you give us some information, like your real name and contact details back in Australia, I can't do anything. If you were to provide the Hong Kong police with information on the passport-forging ring, you could be on your way home.'

I put my head in my hands. ‘I really don't know anything.'

He rose. ‘Then I'm afraid I can't help you, and they'll probably move you to prison for a committal hearing tomorrow morning.'

T
he next morning the police provided me with prisoner's white T-shirt and shorts, handcuffed me, and led me out of the hospital. As I was about to be put into the car to be taken to prison, a Chinese man in a suit ran up and stopped in front of me.

‘It is you,' he said. ‘Why didn't you tell anyone?'

My heart leaped and I grabbed his arm with my handcuffed hands. ‘Do you know who I am?'

‘Of course I do,' he said. ‘Just a minute.'

He turned to the policemen and barked some orders in Cantonese. There was some argument, but he seemed to overrule them, showing them a card and some documents.

They unlocked my handcuffs and he gestured to me. ‘Come with me. The people in the Agency will be able to fix this up.'

‘Who are you? Who am I?'

That stopped him. ‘Don't you know?'

‘I was hit on the head. I don't remember anything.'

‘You're Emma Donahoe, a top agent for the … I won't say more here. Come with me, the Brigadier will sort this out.'

I hesitated. ‘How do I know you're the real thing?'

He stared at me for a moment, thinking, then obviously came to a decision. ‘Wei!' he shouted to the
other policemen, then yelled something in Cantonese. One of the police officers came over to us.

‘Tell her who I am,' he said to the officer.

‘This is Lieutenant Cheung, Special Branch,' the policeman said. ‘Is there a problem?'

‘Show me your ID,' I said to Cheung.

He gave me an ID card that looked legitimate. I glanced at the other policeman and he nodded.

I handed the ID back. ‘All right. I hope I'm making the right decision.'

He led me to an unmarked car and opened the passenger door. ‘I'll take you to the Agency and we'll sort this out for you.' He closed the door behind me and took the driver's seat. ‘You really don't remember anything, Miss Donahoe?'

‘It's Donahue, isn't it? And no,' I said.

‘Donahoe, Emma Donahoe. You work for the PLA as an undercover agent. I thought you were a criminal for a long time until you finally dragged me in to see Brigadier Tian.' He smiled with satisfaction. ‘I work for the Brigadier as well now. I should thank you for giving me the opportunity; it means a great deal to me to be able to serve the Motherland like this.'

‘I'm a spy? For China?'

His smile widened.

I leaned back in the car seat. Now things were getting seriously weird; but at least I wasn't a prostitute or working in a passport-forgery ring.

‘Do I have a family?' I said. ‘Husband? Children?'

‘You have a fiancé, and an adopted daughter: John Chen, and Simone Chen. You liaise with an American agent stationed here by the name of Leo Alexander …'

His words smacked me between the eyes, and again the shock ran through me. ‘I remember those names. Those names mean a lot to me.'

His phone rang and he picked it up on the car's audio system. I understood about a quarter of the Putonghua conversation: he reported that he had me and was bringing me in. I sincerely hoped that he was what he appeared to be and I wasn't making a huge mistake. The police had handed me over without complaint, so he was probably legitimate. The spy angle would also explain why I knew martial arts.

‘Why am I HIV-positive?' I said.

He frowned. ‘That I don't know. That may be a mistake, or you may have been infected in the line of duty. The Brigadier will know.'

‘I can't wait to meet this Brigadier person.'

As we drove down the hill towards Central, I spotted a thick glossy gossip magazine on the floor next to my feet. I bent to pick it up and stared at the cover, horrified.

‘That's how I found you,' he said. ‘I saw the name and thought that it couldn't be that much of a coincidence. I checked with the Brigadier and he confirmed you were missing.'

The cover showed a photograph of me in my hospital bed — fortunately my face was pixelated, but my name was clear enough, as was the word ‘AIDS', written in English in big letters and three exclamation marks sideways next to my head. The Chinese characters on the cover were red and urgent-looking.

‘Does it say “Health warning — foreign prostitutes bringing in deadly disease”?' I said.

‘That's it exactly.'

I dropped the magazine in my lap and sighed. ‘Wonderful.'

‘Particularly funny since the beauty salons just over the border are full of the virus,' he said. He added something in Putonghua.

‘I'm sorry, my Putonghua isn't that good,' I said. ‘What did you say?'

‘Your Putonghua was perfect before,' he said, concerned. ‘You've forgotten that too. I said that the police over the border used to warn us which salons not to go to because the girls were infected with all sorts of stuff, but bribed the officials to give them a health certificate anyway.'

‘That was generous of them,' I said.

‘Extremely. They never asked for anything in return.'

He drove me straight into the PLA barracks in Wan Chai, and the woman at the front door watched with amusement as he led me past her in my prisoner's uniform. We went up to the top floor and he guided me to Brigadier Tian's office. It was a corner office, with floor-to-ceiling windows on one side, facing inland towards the high rises of Admiralty and the Mid-Levels.

The Brigadier was tall, well-built and cheerful. He held his hand out for me to shake. ‘Miss Donahoe. So glad Cheung found you. I've contacted Mr Chen and he'll be around shortly to collect you.'

‘I don't remember anything,' I said.

The Brigadier's smile disappeared. ‘Amnesia?'

‘Complete.'

‘That should heal quickly once we have you home.' He nodded to Cheung. ‘Thank you for fetching her, Cheung. You can leave her with me now and we'll wait for her family.'

‘Say hello to Agent Alexander for me,' Cheung said, then he shook my hand and went out.

‘Now for the real explaining,' the Brigadier said, gesturing for me to sit across from his desk. ‘It will take another five minutes for the Dark Lord to arrive —'

I let my breath out in a long gasp; I felt like I'd been hit in the stomach.

‘Ah, that struck a chord,' Tian said. ‘Good. Look into my eyes.' He leaned over the desk and gazed into my
eyes. ‘Xuan Tian Shang Di, Dark Lord of the Northern Heavens, Lord Xuan Wu.' Images flicked over my vision: the Dark Lord, kind eyes, fierce warrior … ‘Wudang Mountain, home of all martial arts. Princess Simone Chen of the Northern Heavens …' It was like a slide show in fast forward: a child, a young woman, honey-coloured hair and hazel eyes, full of determination.

‘And you, Miss Emma Donahoe, Dark Lady, promised of the Dark Lord, Regent of the Northern Heavens, Acting —'

‘Stop!' I said, clutching my head. I took deep breaths and centred my chi.

He remained silent and I sat with my eyes closed for a moment, trying to calm my spiralling thoughts.

‘Some memories are returning, I hope?'

‘I feel like my brain was just put through a blender,' I said. ‘It's all a jumble.' I tried to put the thoughts in order. ‘Fortunately I didn't need to use energy calming when Kitty took me …' I looked up at him. ‘It's starting to come back. Thank God.'

John, Simone and Leo appeared on the other side of the room. I jumped up so quickly that I knocked my chair over and ran to them. I smothered Simone in a huge hug, nearly lifting her off the floor, then grabbed John and kissed him hard. I turned to Leo, threw my arms around him until he gasped for mercy, then turned back to John and kissed him again.

I stepped back and wiped my eyes. ‘I know who you are. I know who you all are.'

John took both my hands and gazed into my eyes. ‘What happened?'

‘They planned to fill me with demon essence again and use me for breeding experiments, but because I have AIDS the infusion didn't work. So Kitty and the Death Mother broke my head, filled the IV with alcohol, and dropped me in Lan Kwai Fong. They put a fake
passport on me; the police and Immigration were ready to imprison me for forging identity documents.'

‘Broke her head?' Simone said.

‘Let me look inside,' John said. ‘Can I look inside?'

‘Be my guest,' I said.

He put his hands on either side of my face and trod carefully through my mind, restraining his cold consciousness so it was a gentle brush of snowflakes. He stopped and looked around, prodding at parts of my brain.

He shook his head. ‘This feels wrong. I'd prefer never to do this again, Emma. I have too much respect for you to be this invasive to your privacy.'

‘You were supposed to let me have a good look at you,' I said. ‘I'll take you up on that one day.'

‘After we put this back together, you can be my guest.'

‘How is she, Daddy?' Simone said.

‘Someone took a sledgehammer to the sheet of glass that is her mind. The damage may be irreparable. Great swathes of your memory will be missing, Emma.' I felt his remorse inside my head. ‘All of this has happened because of me.'

‘When did you get AIDS, Emma?' Simone said, her voice small. ‘How did you get it? Did you and Leo …' Her voice trailed off in disbelief. ‘Do I want to know what happened?'

‘No, but I do,' I said. ‘I have no idea how it happened.'

‘I will explain later,' John said.

‘Was it from me?' Leo said.

‘I will explain when we're home,' John said.

‘Avoiding the question. That means yes.'

‘Later, Leo. Now is not the time. Let's take Emma home.'

‘Were they the real boys?' I said.

‘No, they were copies. You threw yourself away for nothing.'

I clutched John harder. ‘Damn. Go ahead and tell me how stupid I am.'

John pulled me tighter. ‘I would have done the same thing.'

‘You're Immortal.'

‘That is true. I change my mind. You are very stupid.'

‘I know.'

John released me and stepped back. ‘Thank you, Tian Guai. You have done well. Reward the human; he has done us a great favour.'

‘I will, my Lord,' Tian said.

‘Emma.' John dropped his head to see me closely. ‘I am going to teleport you about a thousand feet up, and land you on a cloud. Pull your mind together; even this short distance of teleport will strain you. Are you ready?'

I took deep breaths and cleared my mind, filling it full of serenity. I nodded.

Something smacked me between the eyes and I staggered. Strong arms held me up and I didn't fall.

‘We're on the cloud. Are you all right?' John said.

I nodded through the nausea. All he needed was me throwing up on his cloud.

‘If you have to do it, you have to do it,' he said. ‘Remember I can summon water at any time and clean it up. Deep breaths, Emma.'

I nodded again, then straightened and opened my eyes. All of Hong Kong stretched out before me, shimmering against the faded blue-gold of the polluted late-autumn sky.

‘I will take you the slow way back to the Mountain,' he said. ‘I am changing to Celestial Form to do this; I'm still weak and need to take some time away from my duties. The last two days have been … hard.'

‘Did you have any idea where I was?' I said as he grew to two metres tall with a thin beard and long hair held in a topknot in a spike. His Mountain uniform changed to his black armour over a black silk robe. I eyed him appreciatively. ‘You have to take this form more often.'

He pulled me so that my back was against his chest and held both my hands. ‘No. I thought I'd lost you. I clung to the knowledge of my oath and the love of my daughter; I think without those two things I would have gone insane.' He wrapped his arms around me and the cloud gently drifted higher. ‘Now I have found you, I must Raise you as soon as I can. It is a dreadful feeling to be so terrified at the loss of a mortal I love. Again.'

‘John.' I pulled his arms around me. ‘I don't remember my family. I know you, and Simone, and Leo. I know there were two boys and I swapped myself for them. Apart from that, I have no idea.'

‘Your father is Brendan Donahoe. Your mother is Barbara. You have two sisters: Amanda and Jennifer. Each of them has two sons; and one each of the boys was kidnapped by Kitty and it looks like they're dead.'

‘And it's my fault.'

‘If it's anyone's fault, it's mine,' he said. ‘My stupid oath. My ridiculous inability to restrain myself from falling for you. And my weakness in being unable to defend you and your family.'

‘All right, both our faults. Laying blame at this late stage is a complete waste of time anyway.'

He raised my left hand. ‘What happened to your stone?'

I looked at the ring. ‘I don't know.'

‘That's unusual; it should have checked in by now. I wonder where it is.'

‘Is it important?'

He chuckled, his chest moving against my back. ‘I will have to tell it you said that when it returns.'

‘So it's sentient then.'

‘Your memory may be gone, but you are still definitely you. It is good to have you back, love.'

‘Another hour and I would have been in Stanley Prison waiting for a preliminary hearing,' I said. ‘And now everybody knows I have AIDS. How will they react?'

He hesitated for a moment, then said, ‘I don't know. For the Celestial, it should make no difference.' He ran his hand over the bandage on my right arm. ‘What happened to your arm?'

I unwrapped it and showed it to him, and the cloud stopped. He turned me around, took my arm in his hands and studied it from all angles.

‘Have you seen anything like this before?' I said.

‘Yes, but not on a live human.' He glanced up at me. ‘When we pass through the Gates, I will take it very, very slowly. If the arm begins to burn — even in the slightest — tell me immediately.'