by Xu, Lei
I grabbed Wang Sichuan and stopped him from binding Yuan Xile. Though he might deny it, he was a religious man and therefore much more sensitive to this kind of talk. I feared that if he was unable to control his emotions, he might use too much force. Again I looked back at the silent hallway, split into sections of light and dark, and I felt myself hesitate. But we couldn't wait here forever, and who knew when the lights would go out again? Passively holing up had never been my style anyway. Not to mention that we'd been using flashlights to shine our way this entire time, and not once had we lit upon anything like a ghost.
"Engineer Wu," said Ma Zaihai, "why don't I go first? If something's not right I'll holler."
I shook my head. Yuan Xile was going to be a big hassle and we had only three people. With one person minding her, the other two would be barely enough to watch the front and rear. And with all the stuff we were now carrying it would be unwise to split up. Better to stick together, thinking and moving quickly as a team. By now I'd decided that rather than continue our search for the exit here, we should first return to the ventilation shaft in the main tunnel and then decide on our next move. If the lights were merely a benign stroke of luck, then there was nothing to fear.
And if there was? Well, then we had nowhere to hide. This was how I calmed myself. At this time we were driven by a kind of fatalistic passion. There were few cowards in our ranks, kind of like knowing that a tiger lurked in the mountains ahead, yet marching resolutely onwards. That was our principal, though such thinking must appear almost incomprehensible to some people. These were extraordinary times and dedication to heroism was often the only thing that got us through. At the very least, it kept us from backing down.
By now there was no longer any hope of placating Yuan Xile. Without waiting another moment, Wang Sichuan grabbed her, sealed her mouth, roped her up, and lifted her over his shoulder. Grabbing the iron club, I led the way out of the room. Wang Sichuan was a few steps behind me and Ma Zaihai brought up the rear. We climbed through the opening, waded through the stagnant water and soon enough were back on dry cement. Although the origins of life—and therefore of man—emerged from the primordial seas, one couldn't help but feel a much deeper affection for solid ground. After shaking the water from my boots, my mind felt much more at ease. Had it not been for Yuan Xile's ominous words, I would have felt only great happiness upon leaving that wretched chamber.
Up ahead was the first of the emergency lights. Amid all this darkness, there was something decidedly inauspicious about it, but without hesitating, I turned and beckoned everyone onward. Once we were all standing beneath the light, I took a closer look at it. It was encased in an iron shell and appeared entirely ordinary. I rapped the casement several times with the club. It sounded much too thick to be simply cracked open. Why had these lights been so heavily reinforced? My first thought upon being told to "Turn off the lights" was to do just that, but now I could see this wasn't going to be possible.
With Yuan Xile's words echoing in the back of my mind, I found myself watching my shadow in the lamplight. It was thinly stretched out across the blackened cement. We looked at one another, my shadow and I, and at first I noticed nothing amiss. Then I saw it—something wasn't right here at all. Cold beads of sweat dripped down my back. Something very strange had happened to my shadow.
CHAPTER
12
Strange Shadows
Everyone knows that even if one's shadow becomes elongated, it is still easily recognizable as one's own. But these shadows were not simply elongated. Something was wrong with them, but I found it very difficult to determine exactly what. If pressed, though, I would have said this: These shadows were not our own.
They clearly extended from our feet up onto the wall, but in no way did they resemble us. Each was bent-backed and severely stooped at the waist, as if they belonged to someone 60- or 70-years-old. My hair stood on end. Had Yuan Xile not spoken those words, I would surely have assumed my eyes were playing tricks on me, but now I couldn't ignore them. Ma Zaihai waved his hand. His crooked shadow did the same. Somehow they were ours.
"What the hell?" I said beneath my breath. I looked up at the light. "Maybe it's got something to do with the angle."
Ma Zaihai shook his head.
Wang Sichuan waved his hand, then made a complex series of movements. His shadow followed along, but there was something off and sluggish about the way it moved. A chill ran down my spine as I watched. Yuan Xile was right; there were ghosts in the goddamn shadows. This was bad. We all knew it. Was this what had caused the others to go mad? Such a reaction seemed more than a little extreme. Scary as these bent forms were, the shadows couldn't actually do anything to us. I knew the situation couldn't be so simple.
Yuan Xile and Chen Luohu had both gone crazy. Now they were each scared of the shadows and scared of the lights. I had no idea what was going on, but I was sure the mere sight of the shadows had not made them this way. I looked at Yuan Xile, slung over Wang Sichuan's shoulder. Her face was twisted away from the wall, absolutely unwilling to even look. She was so scared her entire body was shaking. A single thought stuck in my mind. We need to get out of here. Whatever was going on was already way past anything we could understand. There was no sense in sticking around trying to figure it out. We could rack our brains all we wanted once we were back in the main tunnel, but the sooner we got there the better. Giving Wang Sichuan and Ma Zaihai a forceful nudge, I told them not to worry about it, and we ran on.
Increasing our pace, we hurried down the passageway. At the very first intersection we realized our mistake. We'd followed Yuan Xile here, stumbling through the darkness. Not once had we given any thought on to how to get back. Every route looked the same, all of them lined with identical boarded-up rooms and corridors. None of us had any idea what to do. We were all twitchy and shaken. The shadows never ceased in their pursuit. At each pool of light I would turn and look back and there they would be, misshapen as ever and floating along the wall just behind us. Proving his worth once more, Ma Zaihai managed to lead us back to the main tunnel, although by a different route. We kicked out the boards sealing the final doorway and stepped through into the wide tunnel. The lights were all on.
They were gas lamps, set high on the walls, and they bathed the entire tunnel in a pale yellow light. Everything was illuminated. Combined with the great width of the tunnel, this put me into an easier mood. We hurried out into the light. Here the light was too strong and coming from too many angles to create much of a shadow. As I looked down I couldn't tell whether mine had returned to normal. We all breathed a sigh of relief. Wang Sichuan turned to look for the ventilation shaft. Finding it would be no easy task, but it was still much preferable to searching the tortuous, half-light/half-dark corridors we'd been stuck in. This tunnel just ran in a long, straight line. It was only a matter of time.
We split up and began to search. Although I was still terribly uneasy, I told myself that even if there really were ghosts, this place was bright enough that we should be safe. As I thought this, I turned and looked back at the darkened corridor. Something was standing just beyond the entryway. Several somethings. They were bent-backed and curved at the waists, half their bodies hidden in the darkness. Squeezed into the narrow opening, they stood still as statues. I squinted into the dark. There were four. My body went cold. Had our shadows climbed off the walls of the passageway and followed us here?
CHAPTER
13
Last Breath
Wang Sichuan's eyes went wide. Whispering a prayer in Mongolian, he tightened his grip on the iron club. Looking down, though, I realized something wasn't right. I could still make out the faint outline of our shadows on the floor. They were still with us, not bent-backed and lurking in the dark entryway. If those weren't our shadows, then why were they nearly identical to how ours had bent in the half-lit corridor?
As long as they weren't ghosts we'd be fine, I thought. I'd encountered my share of savage beasts and seen some strang
e things while exploring China's wildest territories, but I'd never come across anything supernatural. We glanced at one another and started toward the waiting shadows. Wang Sichuan switched on his flashlight and shined it ahead. As soon as the light crossed the entryway, we froze. The space was empty. The shadows had vanished. Wang Sichuan moved the light away. Immediately the shadows reappeared. When he shined it back at the entryway, it was once more utterly empty. We exchanged a worried glance.
"They really are ghosts," said Ma Zaihai, his voice quaking.
Yuan Xile was still slung over Wang Sichuan's shoulder, her face twisted away from the shadows. She stared straight at the blinding lights overhead. Her whole body was shaking. Cold sweat dripped down my back. If it weren’t so bright, I would have already taken off running in the opposite direction.
I turned to Wang Sichuan. "Why don't you go take a look?" I said. "Tengri's protecting you."
"Yeah and Marx is protecting you,” he replied. "Tenggri and I haven't spoken in a while."
I looked at him. This wasn't good. I recalled my education in materialism, repeated several famous lines to bolster my courage, then turned back to Wang Sichuan. "Keep your flashlight on," I said. "I'm going to take a look." I hefted the club and walked straight for the entryway. I was convinced that the shadows weren't ghosts, but just what they were, I had no idea.
Wang Sichuan kept the entryway illuminated and it stayed empty. When I was standing just outside of it, I signaled to him and got ready. He moved the light away. Immediately the "shadows" reappeared, but now that I was close I could see they weren't shadows at all. Inside the dark entryway were slightly lighter and slightly darker patches of darkness. It was as if the light from the main tunnel became somehow distorted as it flowed through the entryway. This phenomenon was difficult to describe, but it didn't appear dangerous. I waved for Wang Sichuan and Ma Zaihai to come closer. Shining our flashlights into the entryway, we could see that this distortion happened all the way down the corridor.
"There's something in the air," I said. The wheels in my mind began to turn. I looked back at Wang Sichuan. "Do you remember much of physics class?" I asked.
"Which part?" he replied.
"Light refraction."
"Umm… When light rays pass through gases—or liquids or solids—of different densities, the amount of refraction differs. This means the light appears to change. Like a rainbow—that's just light passing through suspended water droplets. Are you talking about that?"
I nodded and shined my flashlight along the ceiling of the corridor. Sure enough, the level of refraction was even more severe. This explained our shadows' stooped appearances. There was a large difference in density as the air rose up in the passage, but what was causing it? Rather than ease them, my worries increased. Yuan Xile was a brilliant woman. Anything I could think of would already have occurred to her. The shadows would never have frightened her into madness.
She had spoken two sentences to us, but only one of them was a command. It was explicit: "Turn off the lights." I remembered that when we traveled down the tunnel she hadn't once looked at the shadows, but rather stared at the lights the whole time. By now I was back inside the corridor. The first of the lamps was just ahead. I walked quickly over, my crooked shadow following closely behind. The light here was heavily distorted. When I waved my hand the air seemed to ripple, as if from desert heat. The closer I got to the lamp, the more pronounced the phenomenon became. I felt the wall. It was burning hot. The heat from the lamp must have begun to melt the wall, releasing some substance into the air and causing this distortion. I thought of the black streaks that had formed along the corridor walls and of Yuan Xile and Chen Luohu cowering madly in the darkness. At once I covered my mouth. A wave of dizziness rushed over me. Telling myself it was all in my head, I took several deep breaths, but this made me feel even worse. With my heart pounding in my chest, I turned and sprinted back out of the passageway. Only once I reached Wang Sichuan did I dare take another breath.
"It’s the air!" I yelled at them, pointing at the lamps overhead. "The air here is toxic!" As I looked up, the words caught in my throat. The air wavered overhead. The light twisted and bowed.
Wang Sichuan's eyes went wide. "What the hell is that?" he asked.
Shaking my head, I looked over at Yuan Xile. She was still staring at the lights and shaking worse than ever. I swept my hand through the air. It must already be full of the toxin. My skull felt like it was cracking open. Ma Zaihai began to grab at his throat.
"What the hell is this place," yelled Wang Sichuan, "a goddamn gas chamber?" His hand was over his mouth, but he didn't seem to be affected yet.
"What do we do now?" I asked. I thought of Chen Luohu. I didn't want to turn into that. "This stuff does something to your brain," I continued. "If we stay here too long we'll all go crazy or just die on the spot."
We all looked at Yuan Xile. She was staring down the black corridor from which we'd come.
"The safe room!" yelled Wang Sichuan. "This is why she hid out there—why she refused to leave. We'll be safe inside."
At once he set her down, untied her ropes and took a step back. In the blink of an eye she was sprinting for the mouth of the corridor. Yuan Xile knew this place well. She was sure to lead us back to the safe room via the fastest route possible. Without a second thought, we took off after her.
CHAPTER
14
Dead Man's Walk
Some of the corridor lights were on, but most weren't. We were running like mad and, even with our flashlights shining the way, it was difficult to see. We tried our best to follow Yuan Xile, but the path kept branching and she kept turning. Eventually we were just following the sound of her footsteps. After taking several turns, I realized Yuan Xile's route was far from the most direct. Instead, it was the darkest, the one with the fewest lamps. She was trying to keep from inhaling any more of the poison than she had to. This was obviously a fixed route, one she or someone else had figured out long ago. Unfortunately, this made it impossible for anyone who didn't know the way to keep up. Soon Wang Sichuan, Ma Zaihai and I had all taken separate turns. I could no longer see them. Footsteps echoed all around me and I couldn't tell one pair from the next. The lightest and nearest had to be Yuan Xile's. They never stopped moving.
I quickly reached a long, pitch-black corridor, at least 500 feet from the nearest lamp. Someone was stumbling blindly about inside. I'd found her. She had slowed greatly. Something was in her way. Watching her stagger along in the dark, I knew it wouldn't be any easier for me. If I could catch up to her now, I'd be saved, but if I was too slow getting through this stretch, she'd leave me in the dust the moment she was out. Unlike her, though, I had a flashlight. With the beam cutting through the darkness, I took off down the corridor. Not 10 steps later I toppled to my knees. I looked to see why I'd fallen. The floor was covered with bodies.
They all lay crosswise down the length of the corridor, each man dressed in the uniform of the Chinese engineering corps. I recognized several faces—these were Old Tang's men. Crouching beside one soldier, I felt his pulse. Then I tried the next man, and the next. They were all dead. I stood and shined my flashlight across the bodies. The dim beam revealed face after familiar face. I couldn't determine how they had died. My mind went blank. In a place like this there was safety in numbers and I had never lost hope that we would soon run into the other groups. Now, as I took in the scene before me, this hope was finally dashed.
Then I saw Old Tang. He was stretched out on the floor, same as the rest of the men. His nose and mouth were covered in dried blood and mucus. My heart pounded as I knelt down and felt his pulse. He'd been dead a long time. I didn't know Old Tang well, but over the last few days we'd often spoke. His death hit me hard. Cursing under my breath, I was about to continue after Yuan Xile when I saw something in Old Cat’s hand. It was a small bag. Remembering the map Old Tang had carried, I tried to pull the bag from his clenched fingers. It wouldn't budge. His corpse was
locked in rigor mortis. His hand was tight as a steel vise. One by one, I peeled his fingers back and pulled the bag free. Then I remembered his gun. I checked his hip holster. It was empty. I searched the rest of the men. Their guns and grenades were all gone. There was no time to think about it. I looked up. Yuan Xile was nearing the end of the passageway. I had to get moving.
I hurried along, stepping over the sprawled corpses. They soon thinned out. Most were packed in the middle of the corridor. Had they come here to escape the poison, then fallen victim to someone's plot? The more I thought about it, the more convinced I became that this was no accident. Their bodies had been searched, their weapons removed. My heart filled with fear. It had to be the spy. He was sure to know all about this place, about the lights and the poison and the winding, pitch-black corridors. And that the ventilation shaft in the projection room ran straight here. Had it all been a ploy? Had he smoked out the projection room only to lead us here?
