Red Skies (The Tales of the Scavenger's Daughters) (13 page)

Max let himself into his apartment and stood in the doorway looking around. Already he missed being with Mari and listening to the musical sound of her voice as she did her best to be a thorough guide, reciting history and facts with the skill of a professional. He’d been sad to see her walk away and reminded himself he had no right to be—she was already taken. And he had no right to be craving the attention of anyone anyway.

He went to the kitchen counter and emptied his pockets. He was still ticked off about the memory card. But he’d bluffed on one thing—it was a new card, so all he’d lost were the photos of the tunnels. And it wasn’t the first time he’d been shut down since he’d come to China. Without Mari as a guide, he’d already figured out that to find any kind of story was almost impossible. Hell—getting any leads, including addresses or names, was like applying to be included in a state secret. It was just so hard to establish any kind of contacts or gain introductions to the people he’d like to interview. If he followed procedures, he’d wait days to get permission to interview anyone—even a sweeper on the street was too afraid to talk to him.

Old fears never died, he supposed. Back in the day, the people would most likely be punished for saying anything that could be twisted and construed to be against the government—even made to do self-criticisms, claiming themselves to be of bad character if discovered to be anything less than loyal to the communist party.

Max felt that, despite decades of struggles, not much had changed in China. He’d even been asked to leave the area last week when he’d come upon a skirmish between a policeman and a man peddling fruit. Max sensed there was some sort of power struggle, or even sidewalk blackmail going on. But just like with the underground tunnels, he’d been given a choice to either disappear or be detained. Once he’d understood what the official was saying, he’d gotten out of there quickly. More than one journalist had been detained or jailed and charged with illegal activity for simply interviewing everyday people. With all he had going on, he didn’t want to follow their footsteps. And really, he was here for more than a story—he was here to fulfill a personal journey. Doing so from a jail cell wouldn’t work.

So far he’d clicked along, trying to do what he thought it was
she
wanted. That enigmatic force that pushed him. But he still felt the heavy burden of guilt. Of failure. His shoulders sagged, and he shook off the façade of being confident and strong—glad Mari couldn’t see him now, see the excuse for a man he really was. His stomach growled, alerting him to the fact he hadn’t had dinner. He went to the small kitchen cove, opened the cabinet under the sink, and pulled out a bottle.

He held it up to his eyes and sighed in disgust when he saw the amber liquid was already half gone. When he’d drunk it, he had no idea. He turned to reach for a glass but then let his hand fall. Who was he kidding? He didn’t need a glass. He was a pro. Closing his eyes, he brought the bottle to his lips, and within seconds, it was empty.

But it wasn’t enough.

The flames licked at his memory, threatening to engulf him in visions he didn’t want to see. He reached for his wallet, wanting to see her face, then remembered he didn’t have it any longer. But he didn’t need it—she was still there, smiling at him. Haunting him. Begging him for something he couldn’t quite grasp. What did she want of him?

He slid down the cabinet until he was sitting on the floor, the stained linoleum squares of yellow beaming up at him in a garish reminder of his pathetic life. He was alone in a cheap room in a country where no one knew him or cared whether he lived or not. To be honest, even if he had been on his home turf, no one would care about his existence or even notice if he never emerged into the light of day. Once again, he struggled with the thought of ending it—craving the permanent blackness that beckoned to him when he was alone.

He leaned back until he could reach into his pocket, then pulled out the folded piece of paper. He opened it and scanned through to the bottom, reading the words until they blurred together. He couldn’t leave China yet. He still had a few things to do. And then maybe when he’d done it all, she would stop calling out to him. Beseeching him for something he couldn’t figure out. Or at the least, maybe she’d stop haunting his every thought, day and night.

But for now, he had a remedy. Short term, but it’d do the trick. On all fours, he crawled over to the opposite cabinets and opened the one that held the few pot and pans. Reaching toward the back, he pulled out another bottle he’d hidden from himself. He laughed—
as if he had any willpower
. Hiding it was a joke.

He sat back down and pried the cap off, then took a long drink of the Chinese
baijiu
. He coughed and his eyes filled with tears. It tasted like kerosene, but he knew only a small amount was needed to make him sleep, and hopefully he’d go down enough to outrun the dreams he knew awaited him. He’d refused to close his eyes the night before, holding out until he’d finally nodded off sitting up. Then she’d come. Like he knew she would.

The first cramp hit his stomach, and he thought again of food, but he discarded the warning. He didn’t deserve food. Or comfort. Or compassion.

Another drink, longer this time. Then a gasp for air. Outside, a flash of lightning lit the room, and then a roll of thunder followed. Perfect. A storm to accompany his misery.

Then the fire in his belly reassured him that the pain he’d feel later still wouldn’t be penance enough. And thinking about it, he welcomed the darkness once more and lifted the bottle again.

Chapter Twelve

I
t wasn’t worse than the throbbing of her leg, but An Ni’s back was hurting. If she could just turn to sleep on her side, maybe it would stop. She tried to roll over, and a groan of pain woke her, making her eyes open wide. It was dark. And windy. And really, really cold. But who was groaning? It sounded like some kind of wild animal. She turned her head, slowly because it was stiff, and she saw Mei squatting beside her, rocking back and forth. Her eyes were closed as if she was praying, but her mouth wasn’t moving.

“Mei?” An Ni called out weakly.

The little girl rushed to her side. “An Ni, you’re awake finally! I was so scared.”

The relief in her voice made An Ni use her elbows to prop herself up to look around. Her entire body hurt, worse than she ever remembered in her life. Beside her she saw her homemade crutches, neatly stacked and appearing to still be in good shape. The sight of them made her remember that she’d been up on them—briefly. Through her pain, she felt a flash of pride that she’d made something that had worked. It fled quickly and was replaced with more confusion. “Where are we, and what was that making all those awful noises?”

She could see the glint of one of Mei’s eyes staring down at her, the moonlight causing a shadow to fall across her face.

“That was you, An Ni.”

An Ni moved again, and an involuntary groan escaped her. So it
was
her. Her leg throbbed and felt hot all the way from her toes to her hip. It was getting worse. She pushed herself to a sitting position and reached down to run her hands down her pant leg. When she didn’t feel any protruding bones, she let out a long breath of relief. She was sure her leg was broken, but maybe it was only a small break.

“Where are we?” When she looked around, it looked the same but different than where they’d been before she’d fallen asleep. But now that she was waking up, she didn’t think she’d purposely fallen asleep.

“We’re just a little way from where we were. You fell and went to sleep when you tried to walk.” Her voice wavered. “I think a storm is coming, An Ni.”

She must have fainted. An Ni could see she’d really caused Mei to be afraid, and she swore under her breath. Then she remembered that only the bad boys used words like that, and she felt ashamed of herself. Mei needed her to be mature. She didn’t need another hot-tempered bully around. They’d left those behind—hopefully for good. But she needed to get Mei out of the woods, especially before the rain started.

“Mei, we’ve got to get to that shelter. Let’s try it again. Come on and help me.”

Mei stood. “
Hao le
, I’ve already moved our food there. I hope the rats don’t eat it.”

“What else is in there?” An Ni moved slightly. She knew she was stalling, but she was afraid to put any weight on her leg. She also felt pressure in her bladder. She needed to pee.

“I barely looked because it’s scary in there, but I saw I some old papers and rags. Some kind of little stove—a really short one that sits on three legs. A stool to sit on. No bed.”

“Well, at least it’s got a roof and a door. Did it have a lock on the inside?”

In the dim light, she could barely see Mei shrug her shoulders, but it didn’t matter. They wouldn’t stay there long anyway. Just long enough to get out of the brisk night air and figure out what to do. The wind picked up, howling around her ears, spurring her to move.

She took several deep breaths, then reached for one of her crutches. “Come here, Mei. First you have to help me use the bathroom.”

“What bathroom?”

“You know what I mean. If I can get up, and you can help me with my buttons and getting these pants down, I’ll just lean back a little and pee standing up, and hope it doesn’t get all over me. There’s no way I can squat.”

Mei picked up the other crutch and came closer. An Ni draped an arm around her shoulders. Then, using the crutch on the other side, An Ni stood and kept her bad leg outstretched and away from the ground.
Do not fade out; do not fade out,
she coached herself as a wave of nausea hit her.

“You did it, An Ni, you’re standing,” Mei said encouragingly, wobbling under An Ni’s weight. “Here, take this one.”

An Ni ignored the sudden swirling brown and green of the trees and focused only on the other homemade crutch. She grabbed it and put it under her other arm, letting Mei ease out. She felt unsteady, and she wasn’t sure the branches would hold, but at least from a standing position she could see the shelter. Mei was right, it wasn’t that far away. She could make it. She just had to be tough.

“Come on, Mei. Let’s do this,” she said under her breath. Mei leaned over and helped her with her buttons, then helped her ease her pants down just enough. An Ni leaned back in a sort of standing up squat, then let it go.

Her pee was hot coming out—so very hot that it surprised An Ni, and she jumped a little. She wondered if that meant she had a fever. A fever was one thing Tianbing was always afraid of, because he didn’t want the entire gang of kids sick at one time. Fevers were feared. She cringed when some of her pee came back on her and ran down the inside of her pant leg, but it couldn’t be helped. Finally, she was done, and Mei helped her put everything back together and buttoned her up.

“Ready?” Mei asked.

An Ni took a deep breath and took one step, awkwardly gripping the crutch branches with her armpits as she concentrated on keeping her leg from touching the ground. When she didn’t fall, she took another tiny step. She looked up and could tell they were getting closer. Not much, but just a little.

Mei walked just behind her, keeping her tiny hands on the small of An Ni’s back, as though she’d be able to help her if she fell again. An Ni thought for a second how lucky she was the girl hadn’t run off with the boys but instead had stayed with her. If she’d been alone, she would’ve lain next to the tracks forever, or at least until she’d died.

A gust of wind threatened to make her fall, but she steadied herself, then took another step. Through her jacket, she felt the roughness of the branches she used as crutches and thought they’d slice her armpit open. But she breathed out, then breathed in, and took another. Her foot throbbed. Or maybe it was her knee. Or somewhere between. She really couldn’t tell now.

“I have to sit, Mei. Help me.” She couldn’t go on.

“No, An Ni. If you sit, you’ll go back to sleep. Come on,” Mei scolded.

An Ni was taken aback. She’d never heard the meek little girl use such a stern voice. Mei pushed her slightly on her back, encouraging her to take another step.

So she did.

Then slowly, one step at a time, they spent the next hour traversing what would have normally taken them five minutes or so. Finally though, they were right outside the small shack. Mei pushed open the door, and An Ni wrinkled her nose at the stale smell that wafted out. The shack obviously hadn’t been used in ages. That was good, in a way—but who knew what could be hiding in it?

“We’ve got two steps, and then we’ll be in,” Mei said.

An Ni looked at those two steps and thought they might as well be mountains. She couldn’t possibly get up them while standing. Without saying a word, she threw her crutches down and, with her leg extended, used the door frame of the shack to lower herself to the step.

“What are you doing, An Ni?”

An Ni turned until she could plant both palms on the dirty floor, then she turned her body so that one knee bent on the floor supported her weight. Letting her bad leg flop behind her, she used her other three appendages to drag herself into the shack.

Once in, Mei shut the door, muffling the sound of the winds. Then she sank to the floor, sighing loudly. “I’m tired.”

An Ni couldn’t answer. She didn’t have enough breath to respond. She panted, sounding like a stray dog, until she could finally relax against the wall she’d crawled to. She looked down at her feet, and her eyes widened at what she saw.

The sneaker on her right side looked as if it were trying to split open at the seams. Her foot was swelling—and swelling really bad. “I think I should try to get my shoe off, Mei.”

Mei crawled over and looked at it, and the moonlight that shone through the small window illuminated her grimace. “Eww, An Ni. I can’t do it.”

An Ni tried to reach the shoe, but the effort made the dizziness return. She stopped. Still, the pain remained. “I’m trying to remember when Guo broke his leg, if Tianbing took his shoe off,” An Ni said, thinking hard.

“Who is Guo?”

“Just a boy who used to be in our gang. He fell, and Tianbing wouldn’t take him to the hospital. I saw them make up the homemade crutches—that’s how I knew how to do it.” She decided she’d keep the shoe on. Anything to keep from touching her leg again.

“Where’s Guo now?”

An Ni shrugged. She didn’t know. Where were all the kids who’d come and gone since she’d been with Tianbing? It was a mystery. Traded? Dead? Could be either one.

“Did Guo remember his family?” Mei asked.

“If he did, he never spoke of them,” An Ni answered. She felt sorry for Mei and knew the girl thought about her own parents all the time. Her abduction was still fresh, but An Ni also knew the memories would fade with time until Mei wouldn’t even remember their faces. “Listen, Mei, let’s try to take stock of what we have.”

An Ni looked around. The room was small. A metal slab attached to the wall under the window looked as though it was supposed to be a desk. Under it, a three-legged wooden stool. To the right of the window was a row of built-in cabinets.

“Did you look in there?” she asked, leaning toward the lowest handle. With the effort came the blackness, and the last thing An Ni saw was Mei’s stricken face.

An Ni awoke again. This time the peeled and stained ceiling immediately told her where she was. It was cold, but she couldn’t feel the wind howling around her ears any longer. She reached down to feel a heavy, coarse piece of material draped over her. She didn’t know how long she’d been out, but it only felt like seconds. She slowly eased herself up until she was sitting. Her leg still ached, reminding her of their predicament.
Their
predicament—at least she wasn’t alone, even if it was only a seven-year-old with her. But where was Mei? It felt like her heart went to her throat until she spotted a rumpled bundle on top of the desk.

“Mei,” she croaked out.

The little girl sat up and rubbed at her eyes.