City of Ghosts

by J. H. Moncrieff

  “I don’t have a problem with it, but do you think Harold will believe it?” Kate asked. “He knows I have a boyfriend at home.” The tension was thick between us with all the things we had to keep secret from the others, all the things we couldn’t say.

  “I’m sure you wouldn’t be the first person to hook up on one of these trips,” Matt said. “You know—what happens in China stays in China.”

  “True, but if Harold gets the military involved again, I don’t think they’re going to care that he’s sleeping with me.”

  “At least there’ll be a witness. You can wake the rest of us up and call the consulate,” Larry said. “I think you should try to stay awake tonight, both of you. And as for the rest of us—no sleeping pills. We need to be alert in case Harold tries something.”

  I still felt nauseous, but my apprehension about that night’s trip had lessened considerably. Telling everyone what was going on had been the right thing to do. Harold might be able to fuck me over, but he couldn’t fight all of us at once. What had happened at the market was a testament to that.

  “It wasn’t the military.” Martin spoke so softly I almost didn’t hear him.

  “What’s that?” I asked. “Everyone shut up. Martin’s trying to say something.”

  “I said, that wasn’t the military today. The uniforms were wrong.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  As Martin launched into a diatribe about the placement of the insignia and the different shades of green, I found it difficult to focus. I felt like throwing up again.

  “Holy crap,” Matt said, his face paler than the rice on his plate. “What the hell is going on?”

  “Hold on. I get that everyone loves conspiracy theories, but maybe these guys were a different rank, or wearing a different style of uniform. It doesn’t necessarily mean anything,” I said, wishing I could convince myself.

  “They were wearing cheap copies. I took some photos of the men who detained you, and I can definitively show in a point-by-point comparison that—”

  I held up a hand, cutting Martin off before he could reach for his camera. My head was spinning. “That’s okay. I believe you.”

  “If those guys weren’t from the People’s Liberation Army, who were they? And what would they have done with Jackson if the consul hadn’t shown up?” Larry asked.

  That’s exactly what I wanted to know.

  Unfortunately, even Martin didn’t have an answer.

  ~ Chapter Eighteen ~

  Just when I’d thought nothing could shock me, the unfathomable happened. Harold was late.

  We were beginning to think he wasn’t going to show when he burst into the lobby, his spiky hair disheveled and an anxious expression on his face.

  “Are we all here.” He said the words as a statement rather than a question. “Okay, good. Let’s go.”

  No apologies, no explanations. I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised, but I saw a few of my friends exchanging uneasy looks.

  Whether fake or legitimate, the military presence was nowhere in sight. I couldn’t get Martin’s words out of my head. But what did it mean? Had Harold asked some buddies to scare me, or was something more sinister going on? And what would have happened if my friends hadn’t been so proactive? What if they’d let me go without a fuss? Would I have joined the ranks of missing tourists?

  “How are you doing, man?” Erik fell in step beside me. The night was warm and humid, and as usual we were rushing to keep up with Harold. My pack felt like it had gained fifty pounds since my bout with the flu. Sweat trickled down my face. In comparison, my former roommate looked like he’d just returned from the dry cleaner and barber. Someday I’d have to ask him how he did it.

  “Not so good.” My legs ached like they used to in my days of playing high school football. It was as if we were wading through a swamp instead of walking on pavement.

  “Yeah, I don’t blame you. This whole scene is getting creepy. I never thought I’d say this, but I’ll be happy to go home.”

  “Hong Kong will be different.” It was the mantra that had been playing over and over again in my weary brain. I’d convinced myself that Harold wouldn’t dare touch me in Hong Kong, but what if I was wrong?

  “I hope you’re right. Take it easy, man.” Erik touched his knuckles to mine in a halfhearted fist bump.

  Soon enough we’d be on the train, and it would be me and Kate against whatever Harold had planned. As much as I’d ordinarily love to play house with the redhead, I had to admit I wasn’t excited about the journey.

  * * *

  Ever unpredictable, Harold fooled us once again. Once we were gathered in the congested station, our bags piled in a heap at our feet, he gave us our seating arrangements. I was last on the list.

  “And in compartment three: Tanya, Larry, Erik, Susan, Meghan and Jackson.”

  Larry lifted his shoulders in a nearly imperceptible shrug. As for me, I was so relieved that the exhaustion of the last few days hit me at once. I didn’t even care that I’d be sharing a compartment with Meghan.

  Harold must have given up. Maybe the consulate had found out about his little trick. Maybe he was soon to be out of a job.

  “Don’t worry,” Kate whispered. “I’m sure Susan won’t mind switching with me.”

  The minute Susan had heard Meghan’s name, her lips curled in disgust. While no one went out of their way to spend time with our group’s most unlikeable member, Susan was more outspoken than most. What had Harold been thinking when he put them together?

  “It’s okay. There will be enough people keeping an eye on me. Go ahead and have fun.” Kate had lucked out—she was in a compartment with Matt, Jennifer, Todd, Martin, and Praise. After everything she had been through, she deserved a Meghan-free evening.

  “Are you sure? Because I really don’t mind. I think I’d feel better if I was there.”

  I tried to smile, hoping it appeared genuine. “Yeah, I’m sure. I think you’d feel better if you had a night without Meghan.”

  “Well, that’s true.” Her smile was as weak as mine.

  “Seriously, don’t worry. I’ll be fine. And soon we’ll be in Hong Kong, where Google is our friend.”

  “Google is our friend,” she agreed.

  As Harold herded us into some semblance of a line, I noticed he seemed more distracted than usual. While it was his MO never to acknowledge us unless we asked a direct question, I’d never seen him quite this distant before. When we boarded the train, he gazed through us, as if afraid to meet our eyes.

  I stared at him as I passed, daring him to see me, and maybe he sensed it, because he lifted his head. His eyes narrowed as he met mine, and for a second an expression of extreme loathing crossed his face.

  “Hello, Harold.” I grinned as if I’d had the best possible day. “Lovely evening, isn’t it?”

  He turned away, refusing to rise to the challenge. I took his reticence as weakness, as a sign I’d won.

  How wrong I was.

  * * *

  Cows in slaughtering stalls have more room to move than passengers on Chinese trains. As we shoved and pushed through the crowded aisles, we had to walk sideways, unable to avoid hitting innocent bystanders with our packs along the way.

  “Sorry…sorry…sorry about that. Excuse me…sorry.” A chorus of apologies accompanied our passage, even though those who had been bonked on the head with a backpack had no idea what we were saying. Our politeness was an ingrained habit, impossible to break.

  Entering a compartment from an impossibly narrow aisle that didn’t allow for maneuvering was not a simple task, but since we’d done this three times already, we were pros. One of us would wedge his way in, throw his pack on the nearest bunk, and then take the bags from the rest of us. Once our luggage was rammed under beds and balanced precariously on the netting shelves above our heads, it was easier for everyone to squeeze inside.

  Without a word, Meghan climbed a ladder to the top bunk and lay down, turning her face
to the wall.

  “Well, all right then,” Larry said. The rest of us sat on the bottom two beds. We had an hour to kill before lights-out, and ordinarily I would have been disappointed to have so little time. The seventeen-hour train rides were like a slumber party for adults. We shared our craziest travel stories, along with gigantic bottles of watered-down Chinese beer, the ubiquitous instant noodles, and a variety of weird cookies and seaweed-flavored chips.

  But that night I was exhausted. Since Meghan had gone to bed early, that left Erik and me sitting on my bunk, with Tanya, Larry, and Susan on the other. I knew from experience that wouldn’t last long. Others would soon join us, jamming into the compartment. Expecting Kate to be one of them, I made sure to sit on the side closest to the aisle.

  The train shuddered as it pulled away from the station, slowly gathering speed while it creaked and groaned in protest.

  We were an unusually subdued group that night. I think we could sense that something bad was coming, something rotten. Before five minutes had passed, Kate, Matt, and Martin squeezed their way into our compartment and we shifted ourselves accordingly. With our legs and shoulders pressed together, we tried to relax. Susan stretched out her legs behind everyone else until only her head was visible. It was one of the many perks of scoring a lower bunk. She propped herself on a pillow and smiled.

  “Ah, that feels better.”

  “Anyone know where Harold is sleeping?” Matt asked. Good question. Our intrepid guide always kept his distance—it was the only way he could get any peace, but after everything that had happened lately, I’d expected him to stay close, if not in the same compartment.

  “I heard he was at the other end of the train, with the staff,” Martin said.

  “That’s a good sign,” Larry said. “I guess we don’t have to worry.”

  But I couldn’t stop worrying. It wasn’t my nature and yet I couldn’t help it. Something was wrong. It was as clear to me as the smell of shit that wafted from the squat toilets.

  “Don’t have to worry about what?” A familiar voice asked from above our heads. Leaning out from the bunk, I craned my neck to see Meghan staring down at us. “What are you guys talking about?” she asked when she saw me, as if it were the most natural thing in the world for us to have a normal conversation. As if we were friends.

  “Aren’t you supposed to be asleep?” Susan asked before I could answer, the frost of a Minneapolis winter in her voice.

  “Like anyone can sleep with the racket you’re making.”

  “We’re allowed to talk until ten o’clock, Meghan.” Larry exhaled heavily, and I could tell from his tone that this extraordinarily patient man was close to losing his temper. “If you don’t like it, use your earplugs.”

  “I didn’t say I had a problem with it.” Meghan’s voice rose until she was nearly shrieking. Shifting my body until I was pressed against the wall, I had to slouch to keep from scraping my scalp on the bunk above. “Hey, I get that you guys don’t like me, but I’m a part of this group too. You can’t keep leaving me out of everything. It isn’t right.”

  Kate bumped her leg against mine. I nudged back. She no doubt wished she’d stayed in her own compartment.

  “You leave yourself out.” Susan spat the words, glowering at the top of her bunk in the direction of Meghan’s voice. “If you don’t fit in, it’s your own fault.”

  My breath caught in my throat. Uh-oh. Here we go.

  “Sure, go ahead and blame the victim. That’s typical. I guess I shouldn’t have expected anything more from you.”

  Meghan’s you left no doubt how she felt about Susan, who so far was the only one prepared to go into full-on battle with her.

  Susan didn’t waste a second before striking back. “You’re the one who’s called people terrible names. As a woman, you should be ashamed to use those derogatory words. How would you like it if someone called you a cunt or a whore?”

  Erik leapt from the bed like he’d been burned. “Well, time for pot noodles,” he said, grabbing his Styrofoam cup of chicken-flavored Mr. Noodles and scrambling to get out of the bunk.

  “I’ll join you,” Matt said.

  Tanya cast an anxious glance at her husband before getting up. “Me too.”

  Since my view of the aisle was clear again, I could see a steady stream of locals walking past and peeking their heads in. Once again, our group was the main attraction.

  “You’re such a hypocrite,” Meghan yelled at Susan. “Do you think I don’t know what you say about me?”

  “Ladies…let’s try to keep this civil,” Larry said.

  “Let it go, Susan. She’s not worth it.” I decided to direct my efforts to the more rational of the two, but as it turned out, I failed dismally. Susan turned on me, eyes flashing.

  She pointed an accusing finger in my direction. I’d never seen someone pull off being threatening while lying down before, but she nailed it. “See? That’s exactly why this happens.”

  “What are you talking about?” I was honestly confused. I’d thought Susan was one of the good ones, but now I wasn’t so sure. Why on earth was she baiting Meghan? Hadn’t we been through enough that day?

  “You. You and the rest of the guys. You keep letting her get away with this crap. You let her call Kate a whore, and now you’re telling me to shut up? Really?”

  Larry sighed. “No one told you to shut up, Susan.”

  “Why is he telling me to let it go? Why doesn’t anyone tell Meghan to shut her filthy hole?”

  “Fuck you,” came the charming reply from the upper bunk.

  “These bitches be crazy. I’m outta here,” Matt muttered, making his escape. Kate was one of the last remaining guests of Compartment Three. She rested her head against my shoulder briefly before returning to her own bunk. I couldn’t blame her. I wished I had somewhere else to go too, but I didn’t even have a cup of noodles.

  “I’m not afraid to come up there and beat your ass,” Susan said, in case our resemblance to the cast of some white-trash reality show wasn’t complete.

  “I’d like to see you try it. I’ll sue your ass!”

  Susan struggled to get her legs out from behind Larry, but the mild-mannered prison guard wasn’t having any of it. The more she fought to get free, the more he leaned against her.

  “No one is beating anyone’s ass,” he said.

  In response, the veterinarian let fly with a string of invectives that would have made a rapper blush.

  I cleared my throat. “Shall we see if there’s a bar on this train?”

  “Don’t have to ask me twice,” Larry said, narrowly escaping a kick from Susan’s flying feet.

  We left the women to their own devices, not returning until after lights-out.

  * * *

  There was no bar on the train, just a little dining car where people could sit and enjoy their pot noodles. The Chinese trains sold three different flavors of tasty dehydrated ramen—Hot, Hotter, and Flames Will Be Coming Out Yer Ass. The refugees from Compartment Three huddled around a wooden table, shell-shocked.

  They looked up warily when they heard us approach. Matt broke into applause.

  “Hey, you escaped. Welcome to the other side.”

  “What the hell was that about?” Erik asked, his eyes wide as a little kid’s.

  I shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine.”

  “Susan usually has more sense than that. I’m really surprised at her behavior,” Tanya said.

  “It’s not Susan; it’s Meghan. She does that to everyone,” said Kate. “I’ve almost lost it a few times with her. It’s like she thrives on pushing everyone’s buttons.”

  Excusing myself, I went to the cashier to buy some Hot-flavored noodles. Unfortunately, all she had left were Hotter and There Will Be Flames, so I had to take my chances with Hotter. Contrary to stereotype, I can’t handle hot food. Never could.

  I wasn’t that hungry; I was only buying the noodles because it gave me an excuse to leave the table. While I agreed
with Kate’s assessment of Meghan, if we were going to talk about Meghan and Susan, we might as well have stayed where we were. If they weren’t on to something else by the time I returned from the hot-water tap, I would have to change the subject.

  At ten o’clock on the dot, a security guard shooed us out of the dining car.

  “It’s pretty quiet,” Larry whispered as we pushed and shoved our way past the locals who insisted on spending the night on the little pullout chairs that lined the aisles.

  “Maybe they killed each other,” Matt said. Another time I probably would have laughed, but I couldn’t summon the energy. Emotional drama exhausted me.

  Figures that this was the night I was supposed to stay awake. I could already tell my chances of success with this plan weren’t so great.

  ~ Chapter Nineteen ~

  A terrible ripping sound made me shudder.

  Meghan let loose with the long, high cackle of the truly insane while Susan screamed.

  “Don’t stand there like a dummy,” Larry yelled. “Get Matt’s kit. Hurry. Can’t you see she’s bleeding?”

  That’s when I saw why Susan was screaming. A huge hunk of her hair was missing, scalp and all. The bloody patch on her skull gleamed like onyx in the moonlight.

  My eyes flew open.

  The train was dark and silent.

  Closing my eyes again, I took a few deep breaths to calm myself down.

  Only a dream…it was only a dream.

  “You have to get up.”

  The words were whispered in my ear.

  Startled, I opened my eyes. Yuèhai loomed over me, close enough that I could feel the cold radiating from her. I tried to cry out, but she pressed a hand over my mouth and shook her head. My lips burned as if from frostbite. Pulling her arm away, my addled brain struggled to make sense of her strength.

  She can’t be a ghost. She’s too…real.

  “You must go,” she said. “There is no time.”

  “Go where? What are you—?”

  And then I heard it. Footsteps coming down the aisle toward Compartment Three. She tugged at my shirt, lifting me into a sitting position with that surprising strength of hers.