Fightback

by Steve Voake

  Prepare myself? Prepare myself for what?

  *

  ‘So what did he say?’ asked Saskia.

  Kier hung his arm out of the window as the truck gathered speed, feeling the breeze ripple through his fingers.

  ‘He told me about your parents,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry.’

  Saskia shrugged and kept her eyes on the road ahead.

  ‘It was a long time ago.’

  They passed an olive grove and Kier watched a few shabby goats wandering aimlessly across the blood-red earth. He looked at the trees in their neat, careful rows and wondered when some semblance of order would return to his own life.

  ‘Did he ask you if you wanted to join?’ said Saskia.

  ‘Yeah, kind of. He wants me to help find the people who killed my father.’

  ‘Ah.’ Saskia nodded. ‘That must be why he’s sending you to Chiang.’

  Up ahead, Kier saw the honey-coloured walls of an old monastery rising out of the dusty soil.

  ‘Chiang?’ he said. ‘Who the hell is Chiang?’

  EIGHT

  Kier stood alone in the afternoon heat, watching Saskia drive away along the rough dirt track. When the dust had settled and he could no longer see her, he turned and walked up the steps of the monastery.

  At the top of the steps was an archway which led through a cloistered area shaded by vines to an open courtyard. Kier could see a thin, sandy-coloured cat asleep in the shade of an old wheelbarrow and another lazily batting an olive stone around in the dust. At some time in the past, someone had taken the trouble to build several raised beds out of stone and, despite the dry heat, the beds were full of brightly coloured flowers. The only sound was the chirruping of cicadas in the olive groves.

  ‘Hello?’ he called. ‘Is anyone around?’

  The cat under the wheelbarrow raised its head, blinked and then went back to sleep again.

  Kier crossed the courtyard and climbed another set of steps built into the far wall. They led to a covered stone balcony which encircled the perimeter of the courtyard. On one side of the balcony was a waist-high wall overlooking the courtyard. On the other side were four wooden doors, their pale blue paint faded and blistered by the sun. Kier rapped gently on the first door and, when there was no reply, twisted the handle and pushed it open. The room was small with a simple wooden desk in one corner and a straw mattress on the floor. Through the open window, Kier could see the sea sparkling in the distance.

  Don’t worry, Saskia had told him before driving away. Everything will be fine.

  But everything wasn’t fine. He was hot, tired and thirsty. And whoever he was supposed to be staying with was obviously not here.

  ‘You are looking for someone, perhaps?’

  Kier turned to see a small, bald man dressed in what appeared to be cotton pyjama bottoms and a baggy white T-shirt. It was hard to say how old he was but the skin on his face was crinkled and the colour of old pine. Kier guessed he had to be at least seventy, maybe older. He had a thin, bony frame which gave the impression that a light breeze might just blow him away.

  ‘You scared me,’ said Kier, taking a step backwards. ‘I didn’t hear you coming.’

  ‘That is because you were not listening hard enough.’

  Kier frowned, puzzled by this strange response.

  ‘Look, Mr Jackson sent me over. I don’t know if anyone told you, but I’m supposed to be staying here for a few days. I think I’m meant to be meeting someone called … Chiang. Do you know him?’

  The man bowed his head slightly. ‘I am Chiang. And you are Kier, yes?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Kier, relieved. It wasn’t much, maybe, but it was a start.

  ‘You have had a long journey?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And you are hot, I expect. Tired and thirsty too, no doubt.’

  ‘As a matter of fact, I am.’

  ‘Good. That is very good.’

  Chiang motioned Kier forward with his hand. ‘Come. Follow me.’

  He turned and began to walk back towards the steps.

  Kier stared after him and shook his head. ‘Weird,’ he said under his breath. But he followed Chiang down the steps and across the courtyard. To Kier’s surprise, they left the monastery and began walking along a rough, dusty path.

  ‘Where are we going?’ asked Kier.

  ‘For a walk,’ said Chiang.

  After a few minutes the path narrowed and they began to descend into a steep, rocky gorge. The sun was fierce and the sides of the gorge trapped the heat like an oven, so that Kier’s clothes were soon soaked in sweat. He had a raging thirst and his whole body felt as if it might shrivel in the heat. What he had imagined would be a short, gentle stroll had turned into a tortuous, hour-long descent into a blast furnace. But ahead of him, Chiang seemed completely unaffected, continuing to maintain a steady, even pace.

  Just when Kier was on the verge of giving up, the path twisted around to the left and he found himself standing in a sheltered cove. Sunlight reflected off white pebbles and he stared longingly at the blue water, desperate for something to cool his sunburnt skin.

  ‘It is beautiful, yes?’

  ‘Yes.’ Kier blinked and wiped sweat from his brow. ‘It is very beautiful.’

  He took off his shoes and socks, then began removing his jeans and T-shirt. Chiang said nothing, watching him in silence until Kier stood dressed in just a pair of white boxer shorts.

  ‘Come,’ he said. ‘We have some climbing to do.’

  Kier could hardly believe what he was hearing. Didn’t the guy ever get tired?

  ‘Listen,’ he suggested, trying to be reasonable. ‘How about we just swim and cool off for a bit first?’

  Chiang shook his head.

  ‘No swimming now. Swimming later, perhaps.’

  Kier was about to protest when he saw a look in Chiang’s eyes that made him think better of it. Wearily he followed him across the beach, listening to the cool waves lap softly against the stones. After a while, the heat became almost unbearable. But Kier remained silent, gritting his teeth and pulling himself up after Chiang as he scaled the steep cliff. After they had been climbing for several minutes, Chiang suddenly swung himself sideways and led Kier across to a flat rock that jutted out over the sea.

  ‘Come,’ he said. ‘Stand beside me.’

  Kier stood next to him and looked down at the blue water below.

  ‘Close your eyes,’ said Chiang.

  Kier did as he was told and felt the sun beating down on the top of his head.

  ‘Now tell me how you feel.’

  ‘Hot,’ said Kier. ‘Thirsty. Tired.’

  ‘This is how you felt before we left,’ said Chiang. ‘How do you feel now?’

  ‘Ten times worse,’ replied Kier.

  ‘Do you think it could get a hundred times worse?’

  Kier felt the blood throbbing in his temples and began to suspect that Chiang was completely mad. He rubbed sweat from his eyelids and opened them again.

  ‘If I stand here much longer, then yes.’

  ‘You are angry, I think.’

  Kier grunted.

  ‘Do you know why you are angry?’

  ‘Well, let’s see. Maybe it’s because I’m standing here in the sun, when all I want to do is go for a swim and sit in the shade with a cool drink.’

  ‘You want these things very much?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘What else do you want?’

  ‘I want to wash. I want to get some sleep.’

  ‘And?’

  This was crazy. Kier screwed up his eyes and tried to think of an answer that would shut the old man up. His whole body burned and, as his head swam in the heat, he thought of rain falling and the sound of gunshots …

  ‘I want to know who killed my father. I want to stop them from killing me. And I want my life to be normal again.’

  Chiang nodded.

  ‘These are good answers. Tell me. When you first followed me, did you believe I was going
to fetch you a drink?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And you were disappointed when I did not fetch you one?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You wanted a swim when we arrived at the beach. Were you angry when I did not allow it?’

  ‘I guess so.’

  ‘You wanted something, but you did not get it. You expected something to happen, but something else happened instead. This is what life does to us, I think.’

  ‘So why make it worse than it already is?’ asked Kier irritably. ‘Why bring me all the way out here just to tell me that?’

  ‘Because this way, you will remember.’

  ‘Remember what?’ Kier was angry now. ‘That I once went for a walk with a crazy man?’

  Chiang smiled. ‘Perhaps. But also that we should not let unexpected hardships remove us from the path. If we learn to be patient, to endure, then the things we seek will be sweeter in the end.’

  ‘Great,’ said Kier sarcastically. ‘Can I swim now?’

  ‘Of course,’ said Chiang, ‘and when you have finished, there will be a cool drink waiting for you.’

  Kier stood at the end of the rock and stared down at the blue water below. He paused, savouring the moments between desire and fulfilment. Then, stretching up his arms, he leapt into a graceful swallow dive, feeling the shock of cold water as he plunged beneath the surface and swam down to the smooth rocks at the bottom. Following the trail of silver bubbles to the surface, he looked up and saw that the rock above was empty.

  Chiang was nowhere to be seen.

  Kier floated on his back and wondered if his life could get any stranger. Staring up at the sky, he tasted salt water on his lips and thought about the cold drink Chiang had promised. But when he got back to the beach there was still no sign of the old man, so he lay on the hot stones and hoped he wouldn’t be too long.

  After five minutes, Kier was completely dry.

  After ten minutes of getting hotter and thirstier, it occurred to him that Chiang wasn’t coming back.

  Angrily pulling on his clothes, he set off into the sweltering gorge again, passing the time by calling Chiang every rude name he could think of.

  When he arrived back at the monastery it was silent and empty, just as before. But Kier was still angry, determined to find Chiang and ask him why he had not kept his promise.

  Striding across the courtyard, he searched for signs of the old man. Finding none, he climbed the steps, only to discover that the door he had opened previously was now closed once more. He turned the handle and pushed it open, half-expecting to find Chiang seated at the desk or lying on the small mattress. But the room was empty and just as it had always been.

  Except that, in the very centre of the stone floor, was a glass of cold water.

  Kier smiled.

  Chiang was crazy, no doubt about it.

  All that strange talk about life and its hardships.

  But as Kier slowly lifted the glass to his lips, he knew the old man had been right about one thing.

  The water tasted sweeter than any he had ever tasted before.

  NINE

  He awoke to find the room in darkness. At first he was confused, until he remembered how he had lain on the mattress, thinking he would just close his eyes for a moment or two. Tiredness had obviously got the better of him and he had fallen asleep.

  He felt rested, but he was still hot and his throat was dry. As he sat up, he noticed a fresh bottle of water had been placed next to his bed and, unscrewing the top, he drank from it greedily. A T-shirt and a pair of white cotton trousers had been left on the desk and Kier was glad to remove his jeans and replace them with the cooler, loose-fitting trousers. He pulled on the T-shirt, opened the door and wandered out on to the balcony.

  In the courtyard below, Chiang was sitting cross-legged in the dust. Kier watched him for several minutes to see what he would do. But he remained perfectly still, his eyes closed and his hands resting in his lap like two sleeping birds.

  Weird as ever, thought Kier. But the old man intrigued him. Kier guessed that if he hung around a while longer he’d probably find out more about what Jackson had planned for him. And if that meant wearing pyjamas for a few days and listening to Life According to Chiang, then he supposed he’d just have to put up with it.

  Padding down the steps, he crossed the courtyard cautiously, not wanting to give the old man a heart attack. He had just decided to skirt around by the wall and approach from the front when, without moving from his position, Chiang said quietly, ‘Are you rested?’

  ‘Yes,’ Kier replied, surprised to find Chiang aware of his presence. ‘I slept very well.’

  In one smooth, fluid movement, Chiang rose from the ground, turned and gestured towards an olive tree.

  ‘Come then. Let us eat.’

  Kier frowned. It had to be about three in the morning.

  Beneath the olive tree, a small table had been set with wooden plates and bowls. In the centre was some bread and three small bowls filled with olives, honey and yoghurt. It felt strange to be sitting down for a meal at a time when he would normally be sleeping, but there was something oddly exciting about it too. The moon was bright, the sky was full of stars and although the sun was on the other side of the world, its warmth still rose silently from the stones.

  Kier watched Chiang put yoghurt and honey into his bowl and then did the same, pouring the honey in neat circles before finally spooning the mixture into his mouth.

  ‘It is good?’ asked Chiang.

  Whether it was something about the hour, or the things that had happened to him over the past couple of days, Kier couldn’t say, but as the sweetness dissolved on his tongue it was as if he had broken through a hidden wall to touch and taste the world for the very first time.

  ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘It’s really good.’

  Chiang tore off a hunk of bread and placed it on Kier’s plate.

  ‘Eat more. You will need your strength today, I think.’

  Uh-oh, thought Kier, wondering what else Chiang had planned. But as the first rays of sunlight began to edge above the mountains, he realised that he was actually looking forward to finding out.

  *

  ‘Mr Jackson tells me you are a trained fighter,’ said Chiang, leading Kier into a room overlooking the sea.

  ‘Not really,’ said Kier. ‘I’ve done a bit.’

  There was a vase of flowers on the window ledge, sharing the space with a shallow bowl and a water jug. In the centre of the room was a patterned carpet, its once bright colours faded over the years. Chiang walked into the middle and turned to face him.

  ‘Tell me,’ he said, ‘about your last fight.’

  Kier thought for a moment. ‘Well, there was the fight on the train. But Saskia took care of that.’

  ‘Then that was not your last fight.’

  ‘OK. Well, before that, I got attacked by a man with a knife.’

  Chiang’s face brightened.

  ‘Very good.’

  Very good? thought Kier. What was good about it?

  ‘And what happened?’

  ‘I got rid of the knife. Then I ran away.’

  ‘Show me.’

  ‘How I got rid of the knife?’

  ‘Yes.’ Chiang raised his hand as if it held an imaginary weapon. ‘Show me.’

  Kier tensed his stomach muscles, trying not to laugh. He didn’t want to appear rude, but it was ridiculous, this old man pretending to attack him.

  ‘He didn’t hold it like that.’

  ‘Like this, perhaps?’ Chiang lowered his hand and moved it forward in a stabbing motion.

  ‘Yeah. Something like that.’

  ‘And what did you do?’

  Kier stepped forward and twisted slowly, moving his arm up until it touched Chiang’s.

  ‘No. Show me properly.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘You move like a snail in treacle. Show me how it really was.’

  ‘Well, OK. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.’<
br />
  As Chiang moved his arm forward once more, Kier twisted quickly and made a grab for his wrist, intending to lower him gently on to the carpet. But suddenly the space where Chiang’s arm had been was empty and, before he knew what was happening, Kier hit the floor with a force that knocked all the wind out of him.

  ‘Thank you for warning me,’ said Chiang, bowing politely. ‘But I think I am all right.’

  Kier rested his head on his knees, waiting for his breath to come back.

  ‘Perhaps you would like to show me again?’ asked Chiang.

  Kier raised his head and looked at the old man. He was standing in exactly the same spot, arms hanging loosely by his sides. He could have been waiting in line to collect his pension.

  But appearances, it seemed, were deceptive.

  Kier got to his feet and regarded Chiang warily. The guy was obviously tougher than he looked. This time, Kier decided, he wouldn’t mess about. This time, he would show him what he could really do.

  ‘OK,’ he said. ‘Ready when you are.’

  He waited for Chiang to step forward, to move his arm within range. Then – as the arm reached its full extension – he ducked beneath it and thrust his fist upwards, aiming for the soft flesh and the cluster of nerve endings on the underside of the wrist. It was a move he had practised many times; he knew from experience that it would hurt and unbalance his opponent, opening up the body enough for him to step in and take his pick of targets. But instead of his fist hitting the old man’s wrist as expected, it continued on its upward path through empty air. Then something brushed against the side of his head, his temple stung with a strange heat and suddenly the world exploded and went black.

  *

  Kier opened his eyes to find himself staring at the ceiling, trying to remember what his name was. Then an old man in a baggy T-shirt leaned over him and the memories began swimming back through a thick grey fog. Slowly, he sat up and touched his head, which felt numb, as if it was encased in concrete.

  The old man crouched in front of him and placed his hands on either side of Kier’s head. Then, with one quick movement, he flicked his thumbs across Kier’s temples and the numbness melted away like snow in springtime.