The Kingdom of Four Rivers

by Guy Salvidge

  Jetow was trying to get him up; her tone was insistent, and he stumbled to his feet. All right, he thought, all right. The whole city—gone. Where were the millions who had lived here? Dimly he perceived that he was being spoken to. Scab injures, they were saying. Scavengers. He understood. The six of them were crowded around a crumbled wall that had once been part of a building. Propped up against the wall was a dead man, his face slumped in his chest. His throat had been cut. This must have happened recently for the blood on the ground looked fresh. The dead man was wearing a denim jacket.

  “Was he your friend?” Kai Sen asked.

  They did not understand his question, but Lang was clearly trying to explain the situation to him. He drew his hand across his neck in a gesture of cutting one's throat. Kai Sen understood that part. But they did not seem upset about this man's death. Perhaps it wasn't a friend of theirs. Now they were prowling around again, perhaps searching for more corpses. Kai Sen sat down next to the dead man, in the grass. Flies were crawling through the blood.

  Memories flooded in. Faces. His mother, not grey haired as she had been toward the end but still blonde, when they had both been younger. His father as an old man, his face heavily creased. His fiancée on the day he broke up with her, her make-up running with tears. He had told her that he was dying, that he was going to put all his savings into the Institute of Cryonics. He had enough for twenty years, and he had been hopeful that that might be long enough for a cure for his condition to be found. And then he started to recall a torrent of faces. Workmates, friends, colleagues, strangers. A woman at a conference he had attended. Assorted recollections of the dead.

  Kai Sen realised then that there were some things he wanted to know. He tried to organise these thoughts in his mind, ordering them and shuffling their importance. What year was it? What had happened to the city? What was left of the world now? Who were the people who had found him, and who had the dead man been? And lastly, why had he been woken?

  “Soban,” he said, turning to her. She looked at him. “What year is it? What year?”

  “Yir?” she said, not understanding. Then she said something else that he could not comprehend. Communication between them seemed impossible. He got up and went over to the dead man, searching through his pockets for pen and paper. The dead man's pockets were empty. Kai Sen surveyed the ground for a patch of soil in which to write the character for time, but there was no such space nearby. Soban must have thought his behaviour to be bizarre. She did not appear to have any idea what he was trying to do.

  “Write,” he said, pretending to draw on his hand. “I want to write something.”

  Soban shook her head and called out to the others. She doesn't understand, Kai Sen realised. Not at all. Jetow was coming over. The two women started talking. Soban's voice was stringent, Jetow's softer and more melodic. Jetow indicated for him to follow. She seemed to be in the process of taking responsibility for him. “Thank you,” he said to her, and she nodded. They were heading back toward the office tower, which was more than fifty storeys high. Kai Sen saw that all the windows were broken and that vines had conquered the building. There were several other skyscrapers in what had been Shulao's central business district, many of which were on the verge of collapse. Kai Sen looked at the scene open-mouthed. It wasn't sinking in. Not yet. Lang was leading the way around the side of the tower, toward the great square in the city centre. Last time Kai Sen had been here, the square had teemed with thousands of office workers going to and fro, but now it had reverted to a grassy plain. The plain was ringed with skyscrapers, some much higher than the tower where the Institute of Cryonics was located. Kai Sen's chest pounded from the exertion and he had to stop. He rested in the shadow of the tower. Jetow gave him a flask of water and he drank from it.

  There was some kind of commotion ahead. Kai Sen heard someone, probably Lang, running across the plain and shouting. The others were talking. They had seen something. Kai Sen forced himself to move on so that he might see what they were looking at.

  “Cheng,” Jetow said.

  A caravan was moving through the grass, being led by a team of animals that Kai Sen did not recognise. The beasts were shaggy and brutish. It was like a scene from a forgotten age. The caravan was covered in a white canopy, and a man was driving the animals using long reins. He was calling out to Lang and the others triumphantly, hoisting a rifle over his head in his free hand. Lang ran over toward the caravan and climbed up. Jetow smiled at Kai Sen. Whoever this man was, they were happy to see him.

  It slowly became clear to Kai Sen that Cheng and the others had been part of some kind of travelling group. The incident with the scavengers had caused Cheng to be split up from the rest, but apparently the danger had now passed. The scavengers had either been killed or driven off. Jetow explained to him by way of gesture that they had had three caravans previously, of which two had been stolen or otherwise lost. Kai Sen could not quite grasp the whole story, but the scavengers were clearly involved in the loss. Everyone started making their way back to the front of the office tower, and Kai Sen followed. How was he supposed to keep up with these people, who were apparently accustomed to life on the move?

  Much of the morning was spent loading the remaining caravan with as much as could be salvaged from the Stores sub-level. They were especially interested in the clothes and camping equipment, although they did find an old atmosphere suit. Torches and compasses were especially prized too. They did not appear to be interested in the vast array of electrical equipment, not to mention the scores of computers and laptops strewn throughout the office tower. Kai Sen was not treated like a prisoner; he found that he was permitted to wander around by himself as long as he did not stray too far. In fact he was starting to get the idea that these people were not especially interested in him at all. Only Jetow bothered to try to talk to him, although their progress along these lines was minimal. Kai Sen took the opportunity to look for a pen and something to write on. Finally, he found a box of journals in a dusty corner, and some pens too. These he carried over to the caravan, to the apparent surprise of Soban and Karryan.

  When the caravan was full, everyone gathered out the front of the building for lunch, which consisted of stale bread and dry meat. Kai Sen found that he did not have much of an appetite. While the others were still eating, he went over to the back of the caravan and got out a pen and journal. He felt their eyes looking at him, heard their questions to each other regarding his conduct. Coming back to the side of the caravan, he sat on the ground and wrote, “Can you understand this?” His hand was shaky and the characters came out messed up, so he ripped out the page and tried again. Satisfied, he handed the journal to Lang, who was sitting beside him. Lang looked at the characters and shrugged his shoulders. He passed the journal around to Twan, who put down his bread and considered what Kai Sen had written. Twan nodded slowly, and held out his hand to Kai Sen for the pen. He passed it to the old man. Twan held his hand over the page, as if considering his words carefully, and wrote a few characters. The journal was passed back around to Kai Sen. Beneath the question was written, “I understand. What would you like to know?”

  Kai Sen nodded to the group to indicate that he could read Twan's writing. People were talking and pointing. Yi Min stood behind Kai Sen, looking at the characters on the page. Kai Sen wrote on a fresh page, “What is the year? What happened to the city?” The journal was passed back to Twan reverently. For the benefit of the others, who did not appear to be able to read, Twan read out Kai Sen's questions. Then he passed the journal across to Jetow without having written a response. To Kai Sen's surprise, Jetow began writing on the page, although she took a long time to construct a few simple characters. The answer read, “It is the two hundred and forty-sixth year of Everlasting Peace. Shulao was destroyed by invaders from the east in the years before the Everlasting Peace began.”

  Kai Sen looked at the page for a long time. Had he misunderstood? Surely she did not mean that two hundred and forty-six years
had passed since he had gone under? No, it must be even longer than that, as there had been no war with the east in Kai Sen's time. How long had it been? Three hundred years? Kai Sen's mind rejected the concept. It could not be. The freezers were not designed for so long a hibernation. But the lights on the other freezers had been red. Most of the other sleepers had perished. Only some stroke of fortune had enabled him to survive. He felt numb. He did not want to mention at this moment that he was dying of an incurable disease, that he had been put into cryogenesis in the hope that future generations of doctors would be able to cure his condition. That was all gone now. He wrote, “What has become of the Middle Kingdom?”

  Jetow replied, “The Middle Kingdom is gone. Now we are part of the Kingdom of Four Rivers.” Kai Sen shook his head. He did not think he could take any more revelations at this time, and declined to ask further questions. The others were quiet, perhaps sensing his despair. Who were these people anyway? Why had they chosen him? Twan called for the journal and began to write something. Kai Sen was barely aware; he looked down at his boots instead. The journal was thrust in his face. Twan's characters, more cultivated than Jetow's, read, “We will be returning to the city of Baitang, via Luihang. You are welcome to join us if you wish.”

  Kai Sen considered this. He knew of Baitang, a town to the south-east, along the Wu River. So not everything had been destroyed. Would they be able to help him in Baitang? It did not seem likely. But the alternative was death. Would he be better off going back into cryogenesis? No. He wanted to live, even if only for a short while. Despite everything, there was a part of him that wanted to go on living. Kai Sen was amazed to find this within himself. He wrote: “I will come with you to Baitang, but what of the other sleepers?”

  Twan's answer read, “Most of the other sleepers are dead. Once we get back to Baitang, I will arrange a second expedition with more caravans to bring back anyone who can be revived.”

  Kai Sen's mind felt curiously empty. You're in shock, he told himself. The remorse would come, but for the present time there were no thoughts in his head. Time was passing, small events were occurring, but they did not seem to have any effect on him. He saw a herd of antelope walk past.

  Over the eastern district, the great shield was shattered, and almost all of the apartment buildings had been destroyed. Walking along what had once been a major concourse, Kai Sen began to feel ill again. The sun was merciless. Heat rose around him and he began to lag behind the others. It was not long before Jetow arranged for him to sit up on the seat with herself and Twan, who drove the animals.

  Jetow had written a question for him, which read, “Did your family live in the city?” He nodded at her. Jetow's eyes were dark, her face smooth and fair. She seemed to take pity on him.

  “Everyone I knew is dead,” he wrote. “My family, my friends, everyone.”

  As the caravan wound its way east, Jetow began to tell him about her own family. In this way, Kai Sen discovered that her name was not Jetow but Ji Tao. He wrote his own name for her, and although her pronunciation was still not perfect, she did attempt to say it properly. This was obscurely important to Kai Sen. His name was all he had left. Kai Sen learned that everyone in the expedition was a member of the Chen family, and they lived in Baitang. They were traders, and they had come to Shulao with a man called Bao Min from another small town, Luihang. Bao Min had disappeared, though; Ji Tao seemed unsure as to where. She began to pester him to tell her about his own life, so he wrote:

  “My name is Kai Sen. I was born in the north and came to Shulao with my parents when I was young. When I had grown up, I worked as a technician for a firm in the city. I did not have a wife or children, but I had been engaged to be married. I lived in a small apartment in the east district with some friends. If we continue in this direction, we will pass near where my parents lived.”

  It was impossible to find the right place. The landscape had changed so much that he could not even be sure he had found the right precinct. Kai Sen tried to imagine the scene of destruction. He tried to picture his family sitting at the table as the earth shook around them. Kai Sen's world had been ground to dust. Each mound of earth was much like another, so he chose one at random, declaring that this was where his parents had lived. He did not even know whether they had still been alive when all of this had come crashing down. His only clue was that they had said it would take decades to complete the great shield. When he had gone under, they had only been working on it for two years.

  The caravan stopped and he got down. The Chens were silent. He sat there thinking of his parents, trying to draw up some emotion, but none was forthcoming. It was as though they had never existed. Kai Sen wondered if he was really alive, because this did not seem like living. The only connection he had with living was his discomfort. His neck and back were aching. This posture was uncomfortable. His mind kept coming back to the same things. It was not long before he considered getting up again and going back to the caravan, where it would be cooler.

  Then Kai Sen did feel sadness, but it was not for the world that had gone, but for the world that existed today. What kind of life did these people live? Who was Ji Tao and who were the Chens? This was all he had left to wonder about now. Kai Sen considered telling them of his illness, but something stopped him. Flies were buzzing around and ants were crawling toward where his hand was resting. Kai Sen got up. Well, that was it. He was going out into the unknown now. He never wanted to come back to Shulao.

  Getting back up onto the seat, he wrote: “Let us go now. I cannot bear to think about what has happened here. It is too much for me at the moment.”

  What were the Chens thinking, what were they talking about? He would have to learn to speak the way they did. It would be a challenge for him, something to put his mind to. It was something outside of himself, something external. Kai Sen would have to learn to live in externals or he would be swallowed up in grief. He could feel it building up within him. This was not the 21st century but the 24th, perhaps even the 25th. What did it matter? It was, as Ji Tao had written, the two hundred and forty-sixth year of Everlasting Peace. That was the year now. The world he had known had vanished and a new one had risen up in its place. Such was the nature of transformation. Shulao was no longer a human city; now it belonged to wolves and weeds. He would go out into the world and find someone to cure him, or if that was not possible, then he would live out his time peacefully.

  The caravan had come to the edge of the great shield. Now they would climb into the eastern hills, toward the towns and cities beyond. There's a whole world out there, Kai Sen told himself. You only need to allow yourself to see it. First he would need to open his eyes.

  Chapter Seven

  When Kai Sen woke up, he wondered where he was. For a few moments he lay there, quite content, listening to the sound of the gentle breeze through the tent. Birds were singing and he was alone. But as he lay, memories began to intrude upon the brief solace he had found. What his brain was telling him did not seem possible. After all, here he was—two arms and two legs, a beating heart. What could be wrong? But a great many things were wrong. Now he heard people moving outside, speaking in a dialect he could not yet fully understand. Were the Chens his friends? They had treated him kindly thus far, but what purpose did they imagine he might fulfil?

  But now it was necessary for him to get up, eat some breakfast and face the hill path once more. Kai Sen fumbled with the flap and shuffled out, then went over to where the family was eating breakfast. Liang greeted him and passed him a bowl of noodles with some meat in it. The noodles were greasy and Kai Sen struggled to swallow them. He asked for a glass of water.

  The Chens were discussing something, so he set his mind on trying to interpret their words. Tuan was leading the discussion, turning to each of them individually for their opinion. It had to do with which direction they would take. Tuan was suggesting that they turn to the south-east. Cheng did not approve of this. The issue revolved around a river crossing. Apparently it w
ould be necessary to cross the Wu at some point, which Kai Sen could see must be difficult with the caravan. On the way to Shulao, they had crossed east of here, but Tuan was suggesting that the crossing might be easier further south. Cheng was still in firm disagreement, and now Liang was bringing up a point about savages. Were these savages the same as the scavengers of Shulao, or not? Liang was not convinced that the south-eastern path was safe, as it crossed through the jungle. Jungle? Had he heard right? But yes, Sovann repeated the word. What had happened to the world to make these lands a jungle? It was decided, despite Cheng's objections, that they would cross the Wu further south.

  There was a pass through the hills, leading south. In previous times this valley would have been teeming with human life, but there was no sign of it now. Nature had wiped the slate clean. Kai Sen felt stronger today, and was able to walk for what seemed like forever but was probably only thirty minutes. As he began to lag behind, Tuan sent the message back that he could sit in the back of the caravan if he wanted. This seemed like a demotion, but his feet were sore. He had been fit before, but now he wheezed like an asthmatic. He cleared a place to sit. The back of the caravan smelled mouldy, but it was better than walking.