Jamie Reign

by P J Tierney

  Jamie looked past Mr Fan and towards the shadowy reef, half-expecting something to come bursting out of the water after him. He backed as far from the boat’s side as he could, stopping only when he felt the hard, cold steel of the cabin door on his back. His hands were trembling.

  Mr Fan asked him gently, ‘What was down there?’

  ‘It dragged me down,’ Jamie managed in a raw, husky voice.

  ‘What was it?’

  Jamie shrank back. He thought of the word ‘ghosts’, but couldn’t bring himself to say it.

  Mr Fan seemed to understand what Jamie wasn’t saying and something behind his eyes changed. He rushed to the side of the boat, held his palm out flat over the water, then walked the length of the deck and said, ‘Sai la!’ That crass word seemed completely wrong coming from Mr Fan and it made Jamie even more anxious.

  ‘What is it?’ he asked, wanting and not wanting to know at the same time.

  ‘There are some strong protections in place down there,’ Mr Fan said, looking at the water. He turned to Hector. ‘We need to go now.’

  Hector lowered his chin and raised his eyebrows, making it clear that’s not how you speak to a captain.

  Mr Fan pursed his lips and inhaled audibly. ‘You will be rewarded handsomely, Mr Reign, but please, we need to be getting back.’

  This seemed to satisfy Hector, who threw the deck equipment into the storage cage and hauled in the diving buoy.

  Jamie watched the old man. Mr Fan paced the deck, hurrying Hector to get underway. He was clearly flustered. Jamie wished his father would get the engines running; he wanted to be far away from this place. The reef could keep its gold and its secrets for all he cared.

  Mr Fan went back to the side of the boat and squinted at the water. Jamie wondered again what it was he’d wanted retrieved. It didn’t make sense to bring them here in the first place if he didn’t know what he wanted. Then Jamie remembered his frayed trace line. Perhaps it wasn’t an accident; perhaps someone had cut it. His eyes narrowed as he considered Mr Fan.

  Mr Fan must have felt the weight of Jamie’s stare because he turned to him with his palms open, answering the question that hadn’t been asked.

  ‘It’s okay, Jamie,’ Mr Fan said, his tone soothing. ‘There are things going on here that you will not understand.’ He crossed the deck and crouched beside Jamie. ‘But it is becoming apparent that you are part of all this.’

  Jamie pulled as far away from Mr Fan as the steel door allowed. He wanted nothing to do with any of it.

  Hector threw the lines and diving buoy into the hatch and slammed it shut, then headed towards the bridge. At last, Jamie thought.

  ‘I’m beginning to appreciate why we’re here,’ Mr Fan said with what looked like a sad smile.

  ‘Oh, good,’ Hector called, his voice prickling with sarcasm. ‘Hate to think you’d risk the boy’s life on a whim.’

  Jamie thought that was a bit rich considering the number of times Hector had done that very thing.

  Mr Fan bowed his head. ‘I am sorry, Jamie, I should never have let you go down there. Though,’ he added, his eyes a sea of compassion, ‘I’m very glad you did.’

  ‘Glad? You’re glad I nearly died?’

  Finally the engines started and Jamie felt the familiar vibration through the deck. Hector came back to check the anchor. The links of the chain clunked as he pulled them through the hatch.

  Mr Fan said, ‘There are no coincidences, Jamie, there is only meaning. Everything happens for a reason. I think the reason we are here on this reef is to find a great treasure.’

  Hector’s ears pricked up and he paused mid-step.

  Treasure? Jamie looked at his net bag, at the coins and small box he had brought up from the reef.

  ‘Not those,’ Mr Fan said. ‘Although I expect they are worth a lot of money. What this reef has shown us is someone with a connection to the Way.’ He smiled. ‘It has shown us you, Jamie. You are connected to the Way.’

  ‘Uh-huh,’ Jamie said. Then, ‘I’m not really sure what that means.’

  Hector crossed the deck towards the bridge, picking up the net bag and its contents as he passed.

  ‘The Way …’ Mr Fan seemed to search for the right words. ‘It is the formless, unfathomable source of all things. Think of it as the universal energy of life. And, for the small number of people who are connected to it, it can be a means of communication, of transport and of defence.’

  Jamie sat a little straighter. ‘Defence?’

  ‘What were you thinking about when you ran out of air down there?’ Mr Fan asked.

  ‘That I didn’t want to die.’

  ‘And what else?’

  Jamie thought, then said, ‘That I wanted to be back on deck.’

  ‘And you saw the deck?’

  He nodded.

  ‘You concentrated your own energy so much that your mind forced your body to respond. Your will manipulated the universal energy of life to carry your body to where you wanted it to be. That is called Riding the Way and it’s a very complex and difficult thing to do.’

  Jamie looked doubtful.

  ‘What a whole boatload of rubbish,’ Hector scoffed from the top of the stairs.

  Mr Fan looked up at Hector. ‘And it has got us into this dreadful predicament,’ he said.

  ‘What predicament?’ Jamie asked.

  ‘Riding the Way like that disrupts the universal energy of life. All of us connected to the Way can feel the interruption and where it occurred.’ Mr Fan paused for a second and swallowed. ‘You see, Jamie, I am not the only person looking for you. There are others who have chosen a much darker path. Someone like you would be a great prize for them. There is one person in particular who is searching for people just like you. His name is Zheng, and I suspect he has someone on their way to your village right now.’

  Jamie felt a shiver run through him.

  ‘Disrupting the Way is a bit like a GPS,’ Mr Fan said. ‘Now he knows where to find us.’

  Hector said, ‘Why are we heading back to Sai Chun then?’

  ‘Because Zheng will make the same mistake I did,’ Mr Fan said. ‘He will think that the one he is looking for is the Leung boy. His life is at risk right now and I have to protect him.’

  ‘Dad,’ said Jamie, sick with fear, ‘we’ve got to hurry.’

  Chapter 10

  ‘Never did like that kid,’ Hector said. Nevertheless, he started the engines and turned The Swift into the wind.

  Jamie scrambled to the bridge to hurry Hector along. He was desperate to get back to Sai Chun and Bohai as quickly as possible. He wasn’t even through the door before Hector was barking at him. ‘The crow bar! Hand me the crow bar!’

  Jamie pulled the crow bar from the bracket on the wall, where it was kept in case of pirates or worse, and passed it to his father. He saw that Hector was hunched over the box Jamie had brought up from the wreck. He’d wedged a small double-edged blade, usually used to pry oysters from the rocks, into the box’s seam.

  Hector leaned on the hilt of the oyster knife and prised the box’s lid up just enough to jiggle the crow bar in. When it was wedged in tight, Hector put his weight to the bar.

  A loud ‘No!’ rang in Jamie’s ears and Mr Fan lunged across the bridge.

  But it was too late: Hector’s weight had already pushed the lever down. The seal broke with a sharp crack. There was a fraction of a second of silent expectation, then an ear-splitting hiss, as if a high-pressure hose had been torn from its holding.

  ‘Look away!’ Mr Fan screamed, but Jamie’s gaze was fixed on the black swarm that burst from the box. It streamed upwards and clustered together into a dense airborne mass. It hovered momentarily and seemed to survey the area. Hector cowered below it.

  Mr Fan’s voice rang out again. ‘Look away!’ But Jamie couldn’t look away; he felt as if he was made of stone.

  The swarm compacted itself further, reared back and then charged.

  Mr Fan flung himself on Jamie, knock
ing him to the ground and crushing him under his weight. A strange and heavy warmth enveloped him. The gas-like roar faded and Jamie could hear a soft static, like a radio between frequencies. He prised his arm from where it was pinned over his face and saw that he and Mr Fan were surrounded by a brilliant white light. Jamie had to squint to see beyond the sheen, and what he saw struck him dumb. The black swarm was bearing down on them, but Mr Fan’s radiant dome deflected it. It bounced back and separated into its individual parts before reforming and circling again. The swarm compacted and reared and charged again, this time towards Hector.

  Hector scrambled for the door, but the swarm was too close. He yelled and swatted at the bugs, but there were so many of them. He cowered beneath his arms as they covered him with their black mass. He screamed, a long, piercing, agonising howl, as the bugs penetrated his skin. Hector convulsed and writhed on the floor. Crimson foam frothed at his mouth. And then the air was clear. Every last black bug was now under Hector’s skin.

  ‘What was that?’ Jamie screamed, clambering to his father’s side.

  Mr Fan was already there, reaching for a pulse, checking Hector’s airway, listening for a breath.

  ‘Get them out of him!’ Jamie screamed, clawing at his father. ‘Get them out!’

  But Hector lay motionless, his face a frozen portrait of terror. Jamie began to back away from his father’s rigid body. Mr Fan kept his hand on Hector’s neck, monitoring the fluttering, rapid beat of his heart.

  ‘What was that?’ Jamie asked again.

  ‘That is a gui,’ Mr Fan said. ‘A rogue spirit. It’s trying to take hold of your father.’

  Jamie watched the crawling movement under Hector’s skin. ‘What was it doing in that box?’ His voice was shrill and desperate.

  Mr Fan shook his head. ‘I suspect someone placed it there for a reason.’

  ‘You think?’ Jamie said. ‘Put it back then.’

  ‘I can’t, Jamie. Only Hector can do that now.’

  ‘Well, do something,’ he pleaded.

  Mr Fan placed his hand on Jamie’s shoulder. ‘Breathe, child,’ he said.

  Jamie fought the urge to slap the old man’s hand away, and soon he began to feel calmer and more in control. He looked at Hector. There was only a faint ripple beneath his skin now.

  Mr Fan saw it too.

  ‘He’s fighting it off,’ he said. ‘There is some battle of wills going on in there.’

  He tapped Jamie on the shoulder, startling him, and pointed at The Swift’s controls. ‘Bohai,’ he reminded him. ‘Can you get us back?’

  Jamie nodded. Feeling like he was in a trance, he skirted around Hector’s body and took the wheel. He checked The Swift was on course, but couldn’t stop himself from looking over his shoulder at his father every few seconds. Mr Fan kept his fingers on Hector’s pulse.

  Hector’s condition worsened, and Mr Fan told Jamie to call for help. Jamie radioed ahead to the Marine Police, who met them a few nautical miles east of Sai Chun’s harbour.

  ‘Some sort of fit,’ Mr Fan said to the officer as he checked Hector’s vital signs.

  ‘Can we just transfer him?’ Jamie asked, desperate to get to Bohai.

  The officer shot him a look, making Jamie aware of how insensitive he sounded.

  ‘He is keen for his father to get help as quickly as possible,’ Mr Fan said, which seemed to satisfy the officer.

  They struggled to get Hector’s rigid body first down from the bridge to the deck and then onto a stretcher. The Marine Police vessel and The Swift were held together with mooring lines, but an at-sea transfer was a very dangerous process. Jamie attached the stretcher to The Swift’s retrieval crane and swung Hector out over the water. He kept his eye on the swell and tried to keep the jib slightly forwards of the load to counteract most of the swing. He was only moderately successful and Hector swung precariously between the two boats.

  As soon as the stretcher was over the other vessel’s deck, Jamie lowered the hook. The officer on board raced to disconnect the stretcher, but he fumbled at the crucial moment. A wave rolled the vessels together and then, inevitably, apart. Hector’s stretcher was still connected to the crane on The Swift, so as the boats rolled apart, it was dragged across the deck and slammed against the side.

  ‘Disconnect!’ Jamie shouted, standing by to lift Hector if they didn’t respond.

  The police officer scrambled to get the shackle undone before Hector was pulled overboard. Only when the hook was released did Jamie draw breath.

  Before Jamie and Mr Fan could be on their way, there was paperwork to fill out. ‘Are you the next of kin?’ the officer shouted.

  Jamie looked at Mr Fan.

  ‘Are you his closest relative?’ the old man explained.

  Jamie nodded. ‘Yes. Jamie Reign,’ and the officer wrote it down.

  ‘Date of birth?’ the officer shouted.

  ‘February the fifth!’ Jamie shouted, and Mr Fan’s head snapped towards him.

  ‘February the fifth?’ he breathed, clearly surprised.

  ‘Year?’ the officer shouted.

  Jamie opened his mouth to answer, but Mr Fan got in first. ‘He’s thirteen!’ he shouted.

  ‘He doesn’t look thirteen!’ the officer shouted back.

  ‘He’s very small for his age.’ Mr Fan herded Jamie towards the bridge.

  Jamie furrowed his brow and started to speak, but was stopped by a ferocious glare from the old man.

  ‘That kid’s not thirteen!’ Jamie heard the officer shout. ‘I’m going to put down twelve.’

  ‘No, not twelve!’ Mr Fan cried, but the mooring lines had been released and the vessels were drifting apart. ‘He’s not twelve!’ Mr Fan yelled again, but the officer had lost interest and turned his back.

  Jamie put the engines in gear and pulled down on the throttle. Mr Fan looked troubled. ‘You were never going to pass for thirteen,’ he said. ‘I should have said you were eleven.’

  ‘But I’m not either.’

  Mr Fan’s mouth was set firm, his gaze fixed on the waterline. ‘Tell me, Jamie, do you know any kung fu?’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because when that paperwork is submitted, it is going to open up a whole world of trouble.’

  Mr Fan’s words hung in the air while Jamie steered The Swift towards the Gate.

  ‘What do you think will happen to Dad?’ Jamie asked after some time.

  ‘I think that depends on how stubborn your father is.’

  Jamie thought they had a shot then, because there was no-one more stubborn than Hector.

  ‘You said it was a rogue spirit?’ he prompted.

  When Mr Fan answered, Jamie could tell he was being selective with his words. ‘Do you know what a spirit is, Jamie?’

  He shrugged. ‘Sort of like a ghost?’

  ‘No, not like a ghost,’ Mr Fan said. ‘Nothing like a ghost. A ghost is merely someone left behind after death. A ghost couldn’t do that.’ He pointed at Jamie’s ankle, where the wetsuit material had been compressed flat. ‘A ghost can’t take hold of anything. It is merely a shadow of its former self; it has no form and no power.’

  Jamie felt uncomfortable at the way Mr Fan spoke so casually about things most people denied existed.

  ‘A spirit,’ Mr Fan continued, ‘is the essence of a person. The part that returns in whatever form our body takes.’ He sighed and came to stand beside Jamie. ‘I’m not explaining this well.’ He looked towards the horizon and seemed to be searching for the right words.

  ‘When your body dies, Jamie, your spirit doesn’t. It comes back over and over again, and each time it accumulates knowledge. So if someone calls you an “old soul”, it usually means you have experience beyond your years. Does that make sense?’

  Jamie nodded cautiously.

  ‘So the spirit goes on, even if the body doesn’t,’ Mr Fan repeated. ‘And it should only ever be in one of two places: inside a person,’ he tapped Jamie’s chest, ‘or up there.’ He pointed towards the h
eavens.

  ‘So what was that one doing in a box?’ Jamie asked.

  ‘I would think,’ Mr Fan said, ‘that someone put it there because they didn’t want it returning to the world. If it is entrapped, its cycle stops and it is unable to come back in a new form.’

  A chill ran through Jamie as he looked at the empty box on the floor. ‘Or maybe,’ he said, ‘someone had put it there to use later.’ Neither of them spoke for a while.

  ‘Mr Fan,’ Jamie said eventually, biting on his bottom lip. ‘What happens if the spirit beats my father?’

  ‘He will become entirely evil.’

  ‘He wasn’t that great to begin with,’ Jamie muttered.

  Chapter 11

  The Swift approached the Gate at Sai Chun and Mr Fan offered to stand at the bow. Jamie shook his head. ‘I think I’ll be okay.’ Mr Fan watched as Jamie channelled his thoughts to view the submerged rocks and negotiated the boat through the maze.

  The village seemed calm and Jamie was beginning to relax, but then Mr Fan pointed to the escarpment. There was a narrow and partially sealed road that approached from the south, which the villagers often forgot about as no-one had a car to use it. But this morning, a gleaming white Mercedes was blocking the path.

  ‘Do you know whose car that is?’ Mr Fan asked.

  Jamie shook his head and altered course to get a closer look.

  ‘No,’ said Mr Fan, leaning over and resetting the wheel. ‘Just act normally, as if there is nothing unusual.’

  Jamie thought that was easy for him to say. There hadn’t been anything usual about Jamie’s day.

  He motored parallel to the shore, keeping his eyes on the dock at the far end of the bay. Mr Fan leaned casually on the handrail of the bridge, looking like he was doing nothing more than enjoying the breeze on his face.

  ‘There they are,’ he said, his lips barely moving.

  Jamie saw them too: four of the biggest men he had ever seen in his life. They all wore black fitted T-shirts that showed off their bulging biceps, each with the same logo on the back, and walked with the top-heavy swagger of men who spent far too much time in the gym. What worried Jamie the most was that three out of the four were carrying baseball bats. One of the men swung his arm around in a full circle, like he was next up to bat.