by Chu, Wesley
Elena pushed away her dark thoughts. Her folks had to be alive, working with their neighbors to keep the community safe. They were probably worried sick about her just like she was about them. It was the not-knowing that was always the worst.
Someone appeared at the doorway to her pod and knocked on the metal walls. “Elena Anderson, may I speak with you please?”
Elena bit her lip. She recognized the voice immediately. “Yes, Windmaster?”
Hengyen walked inside. He looked exhausted up close. Not just tired but stressed in a way rest wouldn’t relieve. “Ming told me the good news. You found Wenzhu. You did a service to the Living Revolution. Your bravery will be remembered. Do you know where he is at this moment? I stopped by his pod, but he was not there. I have something I need to discuss with him.”
“Yes. He’s serving his penance now. He should be finishing up soon.”
Hengyen looked annoyed. “Penance? Ming can be hard. He fails to see past the numbers. That man is using an ax to shear grass.” A small smile sprang to his face. “Why don’t you and I be there to meet him when he completes his duty?”
Cold dread came over her. Not only were they headed into the greatest fight of their lives but Zhu would now be taken away from her for Hengyen’s wind team. Feeling totally drained by the last hour’s pronouncements, Elena barely managed to answer, “Of course, Windmaster.”
The two exited her pod and moved along the paths parallel to the south wall where Zhu was working the Fields, passing through the narrow maze of container tunnels along the outer edges of the Beacon. The engineers wisely realized that the containers made excellent choke points in the event of a breach. The problem was they made getting anywhere through the thick crowds difficult for the living as well. Fortunately, walking with the windmaster quickly resolved that problem. The crowds parted for him as if he were some sort of holy man, waving and bowing as they passed. Elena felt like a celebrity just walking next to him.
They made it to the gate right before sunset. Hengyen stepped away to speak with a few of the engineers while Elena waited at the entrance where the fieldworkers returned in a weary single-file line. Each looked as dead as the creatures they had been fighting. She recognized the incompetent woman who had been fighting next to Zhu earlier; Elena was mildly shocked she had survived. Zhu was not among this group, however. She waited as more people filed in. Her worry began to build. Had something happened? Was he hurt, lost, worse? She began asking questions, starting with the incompetent ponytailed lady. She was clueless even though she had fought alongside Zhu all day. The more people Elena asked, the more she began to panic. It wasn’t until she found the fieldmaster, literally the last person to come in from the Charred Fields, closing the gate behind him, that she learned what had happened.
The fieldmaster was barking orders to his subordinates when she approached him. He shrugged when she asked about Zhu. “You mean that windrunner? Ming told me to make sure that guy paid a little extra dues, so I put him on cleanup duty as well. He’s scouring the corpses for valuables as we speak, along with a couple of other criminals.”
Elena was apoplectic, “You did what?!”
The guy eyed her and smirked. “Isn’t that what you windrunners do best, picking through the dead? Besides, he’ll finally learn what it’s like to have an honest day’s work.” The relationship between guards and wind teams had always been tense.
Hengyen stepped into the conversation. “Is that how you run your detail, Wang?”
The fieldmaster stiffened, and he suddenly developed a stutter. “Win… Windmas… master. How can I help you?”
“Go find Wenzhu and have him brought to us immediately.”
Wang saluted and sprinted off into the field. Elena watched the fieldmaster speed off, actually worrying that he was running so quickly and carelessly through the Charred Fields that he might hurt himself. He returned a few minutes later with Zhu following close behind. Elena resisted the urge to throw her arms around him as they passed through the container walls.
Zhu gave her an appreciative look and then saluted Hengyen. “Windmaster.”
“Paying your penance, I see?” asked Hengyen.
“It was my privilege and honor to serve the Living Revolution.”
“Really, how was it?”
“It was terrible, Windmaster.”
Hengyen chuckled. “And a waste of your skills, Wenzhu. I have an offer for you, for you both actually. There is a new threat to the Beacon of Light. The secretary has ordered us to confront and defeat this threat at all costs. Not only do we need to continue scavenging, we must,” he paused as if searching for words, “recruit the vultures out there to assist in our cause. Our wind teams must work differently from this point on. The teams will have to be larger, more organized. The work will be more unpleasant, and so will require the most wise, competent captains. Zhu. I want to make you one of the leaders of these new teams.”
Hengyen’s Shanghainese accent was strong, and Elena didn’t quite register everything the windmaster had said. It was clear that Zhu was getting a promotion, but what was that about “recruiting” the vultures from outside the walls?
Zhu’s face was painted with uncertainty. He looked anything but ecstatic about the promotion. “It will not be easy convincing the vultures to help us. Many avoid the Beacon of Light for good reason.”
“There is never a good reason to avoid working with the Beacon of Light,” said Hengyen sternly. “We are the last hope for the Land Under Heaven, Zhu. Does the Living Revolution have your support?”
Zhu bowed deeply. “Of course, Windmaster. It is my honor to serve.”
“Good. Stop by my office later today. We’ll organize the teams and start the raids tomorrow.”
“Excuse me,” asked Zhu. “What happens if the vultures refuse to join us?”
Hengyen gave him a hard look. “Then we enlist them into the Living Revolution by force.”
16 RAID
Zhu took in a deep breath as he intentionally strolled casually across the empty field toward the formerly abandoned grain silo. The vegetation around it, approximately fifty meters in radius, had been burned away. His first thought as he approached the squat building next to the silos was that the vultures should have burned three times the area surrounding the silo to establish a better perimeter. The second was that there should have been someone sitting atop the building to keep watch since silos didn’t have windows. What was the point of even establishing a perimeter if it wasn’t guarded?
The third was that none of it mattered, because Zhu was going to be a backstabbing asshole. He waved.
A rail-thin young man, missing an arm below the elbow, was chopping firewood in front of the squat building. He squinted and was about to reach for a rifle leaning against a stack of cords when he stopped. A smile broke on his face. He waved back. “Good morning, Chen-shūshu.”
It was the Smoker leader’s son. Zhu couldn’t remember the boy’s name. The Smokers were a small settlement of refugees from several of the northern villages. They had banded together during the outbreak and made a home in these large abandoned grain silos. They had used the massive warehouses to smoke meats, dry fruits, and store other foodstuffs from the surrounding communities, usually taking a very fair fee. Many people—including the Beacon—not only used their services but also stored a fair amount of their preserved food here. These people were harmless, well regarded, and even considered essential by many in the region.
Unfortunately, the Smokers were also vultures.
“Is your mother here?” Zhu asked.
“Of course. I’ll fetch her right away.”
Zhu watched the boy run back inside the main building. He was a good kid: polite, respectful, and earnest. A movement off to the side caught his attention, but Zhu kept his eyes focused on the doorway.
Jiafeng emerged at the doorway a moment later. She was a squat, middle-aged woman with her hair pulled tightly back. There was a fair amount of gray in her hair, an
d her skin was a deep sunburnt brown. She was wearing an apron. From a distance, Zhu could almost mistake Jiafeng for his mother.
“Hello, Wenzhu.” She smiled. “Where have you been? How are things in your big city?” The Beacon of Light was anything but a big city, but to many from the tiny villages it was probably still the biggest population center they’d ever seen.
He forced a cheerful smile onto his face. “We’re still breathing.”
“Well, come on in. A couple of hunters brought in five deer three days ago. Paid for the work with the fawn. We’ll clear a plate.”
Zhu squeezed his eyes shut. He really hated himself right now. “I’m actually here on official Beacon business.”
He quickly spouted off the secretary’s orders regarding vultures, laying out the threat of the typhoon and the need for bodies to help with the defenses. Jiafeng’s smile slowly turned the other way as he rambled on. Finally, she cut him off.
“What if we refuse?”
“That’s not an option,” he replied miserably.
“I just made it one.” Jiafeng tried to retreat back into the building, but before she could, Zhu’s team of ten windrunners appeared from around the corner. One of them blocked her escape and kept the door open while the others rushed inside.
Zhu walked up to her. “I’m sorry.” Jiafeng, hands on her hips, just glared at him. He couldn’t help feel like a chastised schoolboy.
Zhu studied the ground intently as the rest of the Smokers were marched out of the grain silo single-file. He probably should have been paying attention in case one of them tried to make a break for it, but he was having trouble meeting their gazes.
Next to him, Taijian, a young windrunner who was recently promoted from the guards’ ranks, continued to count aloud as they passed by: “Twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three…”
He should have been happy. The raid on the Smokers’ settlement was thankfully brief and nonviolent. The Smokers just dropped what they were doing and surrendered. They were simple farmers and tradesmen, not fighters or predators. The wind team didn’t even need to draw their weapons.
The windmaster had initially agreed to leave these people alone, but he was overruled by both Secretary Guo and Defensemaster Wangfa. They needed as many people as possible to build up the Beacon’s defenses and man the walls. The two made it very clear that there could no longer be any exception. All survivors needed to throw their shoulder behind the Living Revolution.
Zhu was aghast when he first received the wind teams’ new directives. Vultures were now considered high-value scavenge. Fighting the dead was one thing; fighting other living people felt like doing the jiāngshī’s job for them. To have to capture people and bring them back to the Beacon of Light for forced labor was beyond the pale. This was not what he had signed up for when he joined the Living Revolution as a windrunner.
Several Smokers who recognized him called out and pleaded with him, asking for or demanding an explanation. Zhu, face crimson, bit his lip and continued to stare intently at the ground. This felt deeply like a betrayal, regardless of the technicality that they existed illegally outside of the Living Revolution.
“Zhu,” Taijian reported. “Thirty-two total.”
“How about their stores?” he asked, thankful to have something else to look at. More important than the individuals themselves were their extensive food stores.
The young windrunner gestured toward the six carts of smoked meats being loaded. “It’s a great scavenge, even with the new quota rules. We scored big today.”
Jiafeng began to yell when she saw that the wind team was confiscating the food. “You can’t take that.” She broke free from the windrunner trying to bind her hands and rushed to Zhu, leveling an accusing finger. “Wenzhu, you know all this food belongs to the hunters and farmers who brought it to us. They’re paying to have it preserved. If you steal it, hundreds will starve.”
The windrunner caught up to her and pulled her into a headlock, dragging her back to the line. “If you care so much for their well-being, tell us where they are and we’ll make sure they have food in their bellies and roofs over their heads.” Several others laughed.
Zhu did his best to ignore her screams. “Finish up. I want to be back at the Beacon before nightfall. Make sure all the silo doors are closed and secured.” He was about to walk away when he hesitated, and then turned to Jiafeng. “Hopefully you’ll soon return to find these silos just the way you left them.” That was probably a lie, although Zhu desperately wanted to believe that after the threat of the typhoon had passed, they could send everyone home.
Jiafeng spat on the ground. “You’re worse than the jiāngshī, Wenzhu. They’re monsters, but you, you’re the devil. You have a choice.”
The windrunner cuffed her across the side of the head and knocked her to the floor. “Watch your mouth, vulture.”
“Hey,” Zhu snapped. “She is now a sister of the Living Revolution. Treat her like one. Else you will have me to answer to.”
While they were all distracted, Jiafeng’s son, the polite, skinny young man missing an arm, head-butted the windrunner holding him. Blood exploded from the broken nose, and the windrunner collapsed into a heap. The young man took off, pushing another windrunner down and sprinting for the trees.
“Run, son!” screamed Jiafeng as she was dragged down to the ground.
The young man bumped and startled Elena as she walked out of the silo. She hesitated and then raised her bow. Zhu could tell this was a little Bobby situation all over again as the arrow sailed wide left. She found this work just as distasteful as he did.
Taijian stepped up next to him, raising a hunting rifle. Before he could shoot, Zhu pulled his arm down. “Our job is to recruit for the Living Revolution,” he snapped. “Not add to the enemy’s ranks. I’ll take care of it.”
He nodded, pivoting his aim to the remaining vultures. “Be careful.”
Zhu took off after the young man, crashing haphazardly through the thickets. Thorns and branches whipped his face as he just managed to keep the escapee in sight. Plowing blindly through the trees like this was foolish and extremely dangerous. It was a sure way to fall into a gust of jiāngshī. Zhu wasn’t doing this for his own benefit though, and certainly not for the Beacon’s quota. What mattered to him was saving the young man from his panicked and rash decision. If Zhu didn’t get to him first, the jiāngshī inevitably would.
Soon, the boy’s pace slowed. Zhu was a mere ten meters away when a jiāngshī, likely attracted by the noise, stepped into the boy’s path. He panicked and tried to change course, and ended up clotheslining himself on a low branch. He landed heavily on the ground, writhing and clutching his neck, hacking and spitting. The jiāngshī lumbered toward him.
Zhu wasn’t going to get to the boy before the jiāngshī took a bite. He did the next best thing, drawing his machete and lobbing it with all his might. The machete sailed lazily through the air, its handle bouncing off the jiāngshī’s head. The impact was enough to knock the jiāngshī off balance, buying the boy a few seconds to roll away, still grabbing at his throat with his remaining arm.
Then Zhu was there. He soccer-kicked the staggering jiāngshī in the face hard; the thing’s neck snapped back with a satisfying crack. Zhu picked up his machete, walked over to the gray, twitching mass, and plunged the blade through its empty eye socket.
He let the blade sit in the skull for a few seconds and then yanked it out. The boy recovered his wits just in time to see Zhu approach with his machete in hand. He crab-crawled backward, kicking at Zhu with both legs, and then opened his mouth, presumably to scream.
Zhu quickly covered the boy’s mouth and pinned him down, hissing in his ear. “Here are your choices. If you stay here, the jiāngshī will get you. I won’t let that happen, which means I’ll have to kill you. You can accept that, or you can come with me. You’ll have to serve the Beacon, but at least you’ll be alive. More importantly, you’ll be with your family and the other Smokers. You can
still help them if you stay with them. Do you understand?”
The boy nodded and mumbled something. Zhu slowly pulled his hand away from his mouth, ready to slap it back on. The boy spoke. “Why can’t you just leave us alone? We never did anything to you.” That was the truth. Perhaps that was the problem.
“A typhoon is coming. The dead will wash over this province unless we stop them,” Zhu replied. “The only way we can do that is if we all work together.” He softened his tone. “Come, let me take you back to your mother. She will need you now more than ever.”
His words seemed to get through to the boy, and they returned to the silos without incident. Jiafeng looked simultaneously appalled and relieved when they emerged from the forest. Zhu handed the young man off to a windrunner with explicit instructions to treat him well.
He wandered to the edge of the clearing and sat down on a boulder, burying his face in his hands. “This is for the Beacon’s survival, for all of our survival,” he muttered over and over again. No matter how many times he repeated it, it didn’t feel any more true.
Someone patted his shoulder. He knew instantly from the soft touch who it was. “Are you all right?”
He clutched her hand tightly. It made him feel better, a little less alone, less like a terrible person. “I’ll be fine,” he replied. “I’m just drained. This is our third raid in as many days.” He had barely slept at all. In his dreams, the faces of the vultures were now mixing with the faces of the dead, except now he was running into these people in their captivity at the Beacon.
