Sunspot Jungle

by Bill Campbell

  Simik cast a glance towards their supplies. They still had food left, he thought. They could go on a bit longer even in the cold, but if they did not find the mine within the next few days, they would have to turn back. He creased his forehead. Could the maps be wrong? After the great ice melted and never returned, he knew it had taken a while to map the land that appeared in its place, but he’d thought the maps would be accurate by now so many years later. After all, he thought bitterly, the people from the South had been so eager to exploit the new land. Their scientists had discovered new metals hidden deep underground where the ice had been. The Southern speculators had excavated mines all over the land and taken all the profits.

  He checked the explosives that filled the rucksack next to him. Still intact. He sighed with relief. It would have been horrible to find the mine after this long trek and then be unable to follow the orders to destroy it.

  An unfamiliar noise came from behind the rocks. Simik froze. He squinted, not able to see much in the meagre light from the fire. But something was moving in the shadows, no doubt about it, and scratching the frosty ground. Moving slowly, Simik took up his rifle and pointed the muzzle in the direction of the sounds, but he didn’t stand up. Not yet. The other soldiers lay in deep sleep.

  Two pointed ears popped up from behind one of the rocks, followed by a small, heart-shaped face. Yellow eyes studied him, curious.

  “What are you?” he whispered. It couldn’t be real. “Am I dreaming?”

  As if the creature had understood what he said, it trotted out from the rock and stopped in front of the fire. A small body covered in grey-brown fur with four long legs and a large bushy tail. It stood still, its body trembling a little, and watched the sleeping men, the fire, him. The eyes glinted golden in the firelight. Simik lowered his rifle slowly and put it on the ground.

  “I have seen pictures of you,” he murmured, not wanting to scare it or wake up the men. “You are what they used to call a fox.” He gazed at the animal in amazement. It was beautiful. He’d never seen an animal before, only a few guard dogs, but they had been made by humans. “You are not supposed to exist.”

  The fox seemed strangely comfortable around the soldiers and lay down, curling its thick tail around its small body and burying its nose in its fur. “You don’t seem to be afraid of us at all. It’s as if you are used to humans.” Simik narrowed his eyes. “Who made you? What laboratory hatched you? Have they sent you to spy on us?”

  He grabbed the rifle again, alert. The fox raised its head and looked at him. Then it burrowed its face once more in its tail as if to say: what a stupid human, let’s ignore it. The wind ruffled its fur. Simik gasped at the sight of it. His men were still deep in sleep. One of them murmured and tossed a bit but soon became quiet again. Simik relaxed. He couldn’t see any immediate threat, but he’d find out where the fox came from when it was daylight. Maybe it meant that the mine was nearby? He brightened up a bit at the thought.

  He woke up to someone kicking his boots. “I say. Some guard, eh. I feel so safe,” one of his men teased.

  “Sorry.” Simik rubbed his eyes and stood. The fire was reduced to a few glowing embers. At least they could boil a pot of soup before they started walking, he thought. The last warm thing they’d eat for a while. He looked around. “Where is it?”

  “What, boss?”

  “The fox. The animal that came last night.”

  His men looked at him, incredulous. Then one of them burst into laughter. “You almost got us there, boss. An animal, he says.”

  The other soldiers joined in, and their booming mirth echoed between the rocks, almost blocking out the roar of the wind. Simik laughed with them. Must have been a dream, he told himself. He surely needed sleep and some decent food soon.

  When they’d eaten breakfast and packed up their gear, the men looked at Simik expectantly. “So. Which way, boss?”

  He looked at them, thoughtful, but didn’t answer at once. They shifted their feet, restless and eager to start moving, to get the cold stiffness out of their bodies. That’s when Simik saw it again. The fox. That is, he saw its thick tail waving from behind some rocks in the distance. It appeared and disappeared in the spaces between the boulders as the fox trotted amongst them, heading towards a mountain on the other side of the plains. Simik pointed in the same direction.

  “We’re going that way,” he said and set out, his men trailing behind him, not uttering a word. He knew they would follow his orders without questions. They probably trusted him more than he trusted himself, he thought. He wondered what they’d say if they knew that he was following an animal, that he was following some strange instinct.

  All day, the soldiers walked over the plain, struggling against the strong wind. The rocks slowed them down, forcing them to pay close attention to where they put their feet. Simik had more than once wished they were allowed to use their four-wheeled sail rovers. With their solid tyres and advanced sail technology, the rovers were so useful in high winds and on rough terrain like this.

  But their commander had forbidden it. It will raise suspicions, he’d said. Better to be able to hide quickly if they come flying in their planes. Better to arrive unseen, strike before they know what happens. Simik agreed. It was wiser that they were on foot, but it would have been a huge help to have the sails take advantage of the winds. Faster, too. But then again, they’d probably not be that much of a help amongst all these rocks. He sighed.

  The sun hung over them, but it was not warm. Simik kept his eyes on the fox. It stopped now and then and turned towards them. He couldn’t see it clearly, but it seemed to wait for them to catch up. When they had to rest, he clearly saw it lay down on the ground in the distance. His men seemed not to see it. Not even when he pointed in its direction and they followed his gaze to see what he pointed at. How odd. Maybe he was indeed starting to hallucinate, he reflected.

  “Our third eye,” he murmured.

  “What, boss?” asked one of his men.

  “The lost bond,” he answered, gazing at the fox. He smiled. “Sorry, I guess I’m tired.” The soldiers returned the smile, but he saw them glancing at each other.

  They reached the mountain late in the afternoon. The sun still lingered on the horizon, but at this time of the year, it would soon be gone. Simik studied the mountain. It was not as steep as it had looked from a distance, but it would be difficult to climb. He frowned. He had a feeling that there was something he wasn’t seeing. Was this where the mine lay?

  His men stood awaiting his orders. They look tired, Simik thought. Tired of the fighting, the sabotages, of hiding, being hungry, and never getting enough sleep. They called themselves the freedom fighters. A few of them were from the old people, like him. Their dark eyes twinkled in the afternoon sun. The others were from the South but descended from the old families who had settled on this land first. But it didn’t matter where they came from, Simik reminded himself. They were privileged but born in this land and looked at themselves as natives. They were all angry.

  “We will go around this mountain,” Simik said. “The entrance to the mine must be on the other side. We’ll rest when we get closer.”

  The men groaned but picked up their gear and followed him. Simik suddenly saw the fox again, ahead of them. He wondered where it came from and why his men couldn’t see it. The fox seemed so certain about where it was heading. Like it was going home to its den, Simik thought. And maybe it was leading them home. Maybe this was a trap. He couldn’t help but be suspicious. He looked around, but there was nothing to be seen in the vast landscape. Only his men and the animal.

  It took less time than he expected to walk around the mountain, but it was dark when they reached the other side. They set up camp behind some large rocks. One of his men offered to take guard duty. Simik fell asleep quickly, despite the cold. He was exhausted. The last thing he saw before he closed his eyes was the fox, lying between two rocks.

  In the grey morning light, they saw the gap in the mount
ain side. The entrance to the mine. It appeared to be empty. Though they saw no one, the soldiers didn’t take any risks. They crawled closer, wary, gripping their rifles. When they were close to the opening, Simik raised a hand, silent, ordering his men to be still. He studied the opening. Still no sign of anyone. But he saw the fox run in. He glanced at his men, but it seemed they hadn’t seen it. Still silent, he made some hand signals, and the soldiers nodded. They’d done this before. A few of them remained outside, hiding amongst the rocks, keeping guard while Simik and the others jogged into the mine. Inside, they separated and moved swiftly in different directions. Huge bulbs hanging from the ceiling gave off a yellow glare. Spotting several doors at the end of the passageway, Simik and his men moved towards them quickly to investigate.

  One massive door revealed a dark tunnel. The mine. They couldn’t see the end of it. It probably went deep into the mountain. The other doors were either locked or opened to empty rooms. The whole place seemed abandoned. Simik frowned. How odd. In one of the rooms they found an instrument panel. Hurrying, they stuck some of the explosives under it and scattered several more around the place but mostly around the door to the mine.

  Simik looked at his men. They all shook their heads. They had not found any people. Simik didn’t mind. He didn’t like to threaten or kill people. But he thought it was strange that they’d left the mine unguarded. Especially when the freedom fighters had destroyed so many mines in the last few months.

  In the far end of a corridor, he saw the fox. It stood still, its muscles trembling, watching him. As soon as he looked at it, it trotted through a door. He followed and peeked into the room. A laboratory, he thought. The room was crammed with work benches, several large boxes against a wall, and cages on the floor. The cages were all empty except for one. Simik bent down and froze. On the floor inside the cage, he saw a fox. It lay on its side, not moving, its yellow eyes open and blank. Dead.

  “Was this you?” he whispered. “Was this what you wanted me to see?” His hands shook. He saw no sign of the fox that he’d been following for several days now.

  He took up the last of the explosives. In the distance he heard shouting and shots. Alarmed, he ran out to the corridors. A few of his soldiers came running towards him.

  “What do we do, boss?” they shouted. “It was an ambush.” Simik saw the smoke billowing from the entrance and a wall of government soldiers.

  “What about the others?” he shouted back, but he knew before they answered: they were dead. He searched the area with his eyes. There had to be an escape, an emergency exit, somewhere they could run out. We can’t possibly fight back. Not enough of us left for that now. And we haven’t even lit the explosives yet. Simik sighed. I mustn’t fail my orders. He dipped his head.

  From the corner of his eye, he saw movement; the fox again. It entered the tunnel, heading into the mine. Without thinking, Simik yelled to the others: “Run down to the mine. There will be an emergency exit somewhere down there. I will stay behind to light the explosives.” They stared at him, but when he shouted “go, go, go!” they obeyed. Simik hurried to light all the fuses. The government soldiers came running towards him as he lit the ones at the entrance to the dark tunnel. Not looking back, he ran down into the mine. He heard the explosions echoing strangely inside the mountain and the tunnel. Then all became silent.

  “Boss?” Something nudged him in his side. “Boss, are you okay?” A sudden glare blinded him.

  Simik groaned, pushed the torch away, and stood, feeling bruised and stiff. “Yes, I’m fine. Is everyone okay?”

  “Yes, we are all here.” Then after a while: “The four of us who made it into the tunnel are still here.”

  Simik nodded in the dark. “Give me the torch,” he said.

  The tunnel stretched into the distance, and he could see that more passageways branched off it at several points. The people from the South had been busy, he thought. He scanned the area around them, searching for the fox. Had it vanished during the explosions? There! Two bright eyes stared back at him from far down the tunnel, shining in the beam from his light. Simik sighed in relief. He had a strange gut feeling that he should follow the animal. Or was it a spirit or a ghost? He wasn’t sure what it was. But somehow he trusted it to help them.

  “Follow me,” he said. “I believe we will find an exit in this direction.”

  They walked in the dark for what seemed like ages. Simik lost track of the time. No one talked. The only sounds were their heavy breathing and shuffling feet. Simik felt encapsulated in darkness and fought to keep the panic away. He’d never been fond of being underground or locked up in narrow places. He craved a view of vast open plains and the sting of cold wind filling his lungs. Concentrating on his breathing, he kept his torch pointed in the direction of the fox. It stopped now and then to wait for them. Simik felt confused. They’d turned many times into numerous different passageways. Sometimes, the ceiling was so low they had to crawl. These tunnels must be very old, he reflected. Maybe not even made by humans.

  At last, just when he thought the panic was about to swallow him and he wanted to scream from fatigue, he heard one of his soldiers shouting, his voice echoing through the tunnels: “Look!” And in the distance, he saw light. Not sun, because the sun had to be down now, Simik thought, squinting. But it does look like daylight. Had they walked for that long? Eagerly, he moved faster. As they came closer, they saw that the light came from a hole in the ceiling. It took them a while to climb up, but finally they stood in the open, drawing in fresh air. Simik looked around. They stood in the middle of the plains. He could see the mountain, but it was far away. Wisps of smoke rose from it. Over them, northern lights swept the sky. So that’s why it was so bright. The soldiers marvelled at the display, their ash-smudged faces upturned.

  The fox stood quietly watching them. Its fur rippled in the wind. Beautiful, Simik thought in amazement. He felt a curious connection to the animal, a deep respect. Whatever the animal was, whether it was real or not, he felt grateful towards it.

  “Thank you.”

  He blinked. The fox was gone. Something told him that he would not see it again. His men shouted and slapped each other’s backs, hugging each other, tears in their eyes.

  Simik thought of the fox. His tears glistened as he gazed at the northern lights that danced green across the sky.

  “Uncle, you were wrong,” he whispered. “The bond is still here.”

  The Bones Shine through with Light

  Joyce Chng

  Children go to bed with the stories of the tiger demoness who eats knuckle bones like peanuts, huddling under our blankets while images of bones being crushed by huge fangs spin in our frightened minds.

  The tiger demoness prowls in the shadows, a feline shadow in pools of darkness. In her human form, she is an old lady, kindly, if you don’t really look too closely at her eyes. Her amber, cold eyes. She often offers her services as a nanny to tired farmer parents. Once the deal is done, the fate of the children is sealed. While the parents work tirelessly at the rice fields, the tiger lady comes and feasts on the soft plumb flesh of her charges. She keeps the knuckle bones, stores them up, and eats them later.

  Kerunch, kerunch, kerunch, the storyteller will always embellish the story with awful sounds. Kerunch. Because the tiger demoness relishes the taste, the texture. Kerunch.

  Word came about the appearance of a strange old lady. She just turned up along the edges of Wulong village, a long figure in rags. She found residence in an abandoned rice shack. People said that they could see smoke rising forth from a hidden fire. They said that they heard strange noises from the rice shack.

  Tiger demoness, they whispered in the tea houses. Tiger demoness, they whispered in the bustling marketplace where the dumplings steamed and candied hawthorn enticed little children.

  Parents shooed their children into the safety of their houses and bade them never to wander near the demoness’s rice shack.

  I find myself wandering too clos
ely to the tiger demoness’s hut, my feet crunching too loudly on the fallen mulberry leaves. Late in autumn, there is a chill in the air.

  I smell fire, the comforting aroma of burning wood. I also smell meat. Barbecued meat like Old Gao’s famous and mouth-watering roasted duck. I peer right through the rushes, feeling my stomach grumble with hunger. The weather turns cold, winter approaches, and I grow hungry often.

  Bones. A lot of bones. Hanging in clusters. Whole skeletons, all grotesque, like miniature gwei. Ghosts. The light piercing through the roof shines through the bones, making them glow. The sight is oddly beautiful.

  “The bones tell me I have a visitor!”

  The voice. Like a thunderclap, like a gentle grandmotherly caress.

  I cry out in terror and scramble for my life. My heart drums like a mad festival gong.

  The strange old lady was odd in her ways. She sang to bones, they said, secretly in their huts during the dark of night. She sang to bones, and they danced like puppets during Spring Festival shows.

  Ach! Afterwards, she eats them! Women muttered amongst themselves when they met at the local well. Tiger demoness! Eater of bones! Feh, feh, feh!

  I am creeping towards the old rice shack once more, thrilling and delicious danger coursing in my body. I want to know more about the old lady. I want to know about the bones alit with light. It is colder now, winter definitely closer. In the village they are selling hot spicy dumplings that warm the body when eaten hot. The rice is now harvested. Very soon, it will be Winter Solstice.

  Fire, and the smell-taste of barbecued meat in the air. There is singing like the lullaby Mother uses to rock my little brother to sleep. It sounds so sad, so poignant.

  I poke a tentative finger through the brittle rush.