Darkness Under Heaven

by F. J. Chase

  “Let’s hold a good thought that this works so we don’t have to go past the doorman,” he said. He slid a key into the door lock. It didn’t turn.

  Judy Rose was leaning against the building wall, too tired to think positively. She wanted very badly to sit down on the concrete walk, but the thought of having to get up again was too much to bear.

  Avakian put the second key in the lock. “C’mon, baby,” he told it. The key turned and the door opened. “That’s what I’m talking about.” He held the door open with a flourish.

  She was still leaning against the wall, only able to manage a weak smile.

  Avakian held the door open with his foot, pressed the very heavy bundle into her hands, and swept her up into his arms.

  And he wasn’t even trying to look for an elevator. The door to a stairwell was right nearby, and he charged up without any hesitation.

  “This is so embarrassing,” she said. “I’ve run four marathons.”

  “But not under the present conditions,” Avakian replied.

  She couldn’t believe how strong he was. He went up seven flights without even pausing to catch his breath.

  And set her down in front of apartment 707. Brandishing the keys once again, he said, “Same good thought.”

  When the door opened the relief was so great Judy Rose felt like crying.

  The lights popped on to reveal a small studio apartment, simply furnished and neat. It was hot and smelled stale, like every place that had been shut up tight and not lived in for a while.

  He tucked his arm around her waist and guided her over to the couch. “Put your feet up. I’m going to have a look around.”

  He hadn’t needed to say that. The couch felt so good she did in fact shed a few tears. Then the air-conditioning came on and she started to feel cold again in her soaked clothes.

  But there was Avakian again. He thrust a plastic bottle of water into her hand. “Drink up.”

  She knew she had to replace fluids. But had a terrible time getting the bottle up to her mouth. God, she was in terrible shape. He put his hands over hers and helped her drink, and she felt humiliated all over again.

  “Now, unfortunately,” said Avakian, “you have to get up.”

  She was gripped by utter despair. “We’re not leaving….”

  “No, just a short walk.” He half dragged her down a hall into a small bathroom with the shower running. The room was already filling up with steam. He slid her sodden jacket off and dropped it with a plop onto the tile floor. Then sat her down on the edge of the tub. “Towels, bathrobe, soap, shampoo,” he recited, ticking the items off.

  She kicked off her shoes, reveling in the hot steamy air hitting her back.

  “Can you handle the shower yourself?” he asked.

  She looked up at him looming over her, and felt a cold jet of fear hit her stomach. “Yes.”

  “That’s the worst news of the night,” he said, smiling now. And then he was gone and the door clicked shut behind him.

  Judy Rose sat on the edge of the tub and laughed so hard she started crying again.

  She came out wearing the white terry-cloth robe, her hair wet and brushed back. He was sitting in a living room chair, wearing a T-shirt and shorts that were much too big for him. Eyes closed. Not asleep—deep in thought.

  The eyes opened and he said, “You look a lot better.”

  “I feel a lot better.” She sat back down on the couch with a little gasp of pleasure. The temperature in the apartment seemed to be just right now.

  She had a million questions, most of which she hoped she had sense enough not to start blurting out. Like how a smart, kind, and funny man, with manners impeccable enough to reduce her mother to tears if he ever came to dinner, could suddenly turn into a cold-blooded killer right before her eyes. It would be one thing if he’d just flown into a murderous rage, but it seemed to her that he’d quite rationally decided that the situation had escalated to the point where there was no alternative to taking the loaded gun away from the soldier and then methodically executing all three Chinese so there wouldn’t be any witnesses.

  She would have thought she’d be repelled, but she wasn’t. There had to be some biological basis for what she was feeling. Something to do with an evolutionary requirement to be predisposed toward a male’s ability to protect the family group. A few hours ago she would have told herself that we weren’t Peking Man anymore. Now she wasn’t so sure.

  “You’re quite the clinician,” she said. “This wasn’t your first experience with emotional shock.”

  “No,” was all he said.

  But she noticed his eyes drop down to her robe several times. “What are you looking at?”

  “What do you mean?” he said.

  “Tell me.”

  He let out a breath. “I’m seeing how even though your robe is tied tight you’re holding the front of it shut with one hand, without realizing you’re doing it. And I’m hoping I’m not making you feel unsafe.”

  She looked down at her hand, and let go of the robe as if it was on fire. “You’re not, I promise.” She made an angry noise. “I’ve never been so humiliated in my life.”

  “Why?” he demanded. “Because you’re a doctor?”

  “That’s a big part of it. I did everything tonight except throw up.”

  “Our reactions have everything to do with what we’re used to,” Avakian said calmly. “If you’d come across someone with a shattered femur sticking up out of their leg, you wouldn’t have batted an eye. This was something totally outside your experience.”

  “But not yours.”

  He let out another breath. “No. Even though I’ve run into more stuff this last week than in the last ten years.”

  “Would they have tried to rape me?”

  Avakian just raised his eyebrows.

  “Tell me that, too.”

  He definitely didn’t want to answer, but she kept staring at him until he did. “I don’t know,” he said finally. “Maybe not, but that’s really not the point.”

  “What’s the point?”

  “How far they were going to go.”

  That was one theory confirmed. “So if I hadn’t been there you would have handled it differently?”

  “That’s definitely not the point. If you weren’t there it would have been easier for me to wait and see what was going to happen. I’m being honest with you, now.”

  “I appreciate that.”

  “But that’s all irrelevant. You were there. And by the time I knew how far they were going to go it would have been too late.”

  “That feels like my fault.”

  “You’re the only one whose fault it wasn’t. It was their fault. And my fault. The bottom line is that I didn’t feel like sitting in a Chinese prison cell until this war is over. You do not want to be a prisoner of the Chinese under the best of circumstances, which this most definitely is not. With my luck this would be the next Thirty Years War.”

  “Are you saying that to make me feel better?”

  “It’s the truth. If you feel better, all the better.” He passed her another bottle. “More water.”

  “Doctor’s orders?”

  “Doctor’s orders.”

  She uncapped it and took a sip. At least her hands were working again. “I went right by the book, didn’t I? Traumatic shock followed by physiological response to stress—you bet. Disorientation in time, place, and person—all of the above. Another extreme physiological response when the central nervous system discharged from being over-stressed—oh, yeah. Followed by exhaustion. What’s next, doctor?”

  He was watching her with that focus that could be a little unnerving. “You may feel agitated and easily irritated. You may feel fearful and depressed. You may have trouble sleeping, and nightmares when you do. Whatever you do feel, it’s normal and it will pass.”

  “Good advice.”

  “You may also experience dry mouth, increased sweating, skin rash, abdominal pain, sensitivity to light, un
controlled diarrhea, or liver failure.”

  “Thanks, I’ll keep an eye out for those symptoms.”

  “That was probably in poor taste.”

  “In my experience, something’s in bad taste only when it’s not funny.”

  “And the verdict is…?”

  “Oh, it was funny. Not as funny as it would have been if I hadn’t just walked for miles across downtown Beijing in the pouring rain in a state of emotional shock. But funny nonetheless.”

  “Good point. I’ll remember that next time.”

  “The worst part was knowing that it was all happening to me and not being able to stop it.”

  “When you get that far out on the edge, you sometimes become the prisoner of your body.”

  “Do you have any formal training?”

  “School of life.”

  She took another swig of water. “A lot different from the one I attended.” Then it just slipped out of her mouth. “They were so young.” Both panicked and embarrassed, she straightened up off the couch. “I did not mean it that way! You were totally justified in how you acted.”

  But Avakian was just smiling at her. “Relax. I know what you meant.”

  “It was a terrible thing to say. I know he was going to hurt me, and you saved my life.”

  He held up a hand to stop her.

  She had to give it to him. It took a lot to get him upset. Just how much she’d seen. But the embarrassment still burned. “My God, what a cliché. Bad movie dialogue if I ever heard it.”

  Avakian was still unperturbed. “Ironically, if they’d been a couple of older soldiers we wouldn’t have had that kind of trouble. Teenagers with guns and uniforms and power. And, most important, nobody watching them. Bad things happen then.”

  “Are all Chinese soldiers like that?”

  He got up, walked across the room, and sat down on the couch beside her. “Judy, all armies have soldiers like that. You think what happened to us didn’t happen somewhere in Iraq every week?”

  She knew she was staring at him again, but she had no idea how to respond to that. Not for the first time that night. But he just matter-of-factly came out and said what other people were usually careful to only think about.

  He continued along those lines by saying, “And no, at the risk of freaking you out, it didn’t bother me. And it doesn’t now.”

  She wanted to, but she couldn’t hold his gaze. “Okay, I was going to ask you that.”

  “It’s the question no one can ever resist. It makes people feel better to hear that the men you killed torment your soul. But they don’t.”

  “I’m going to change the subject now.”

  “Well, that’s up to you,” Avakian said.

  “Is this your apartment?”

  “No. The government pays…or should I say they paid for my room at the St. Regis.”

  “I remember you told me that.”

  “This belongs to a friend of mine. Works for the World Bank—they pay his rent. He makes sure he’s out of Beijing in the summertime. He gave me his keys, and I stuck them in my wallet and forgot all about them until now. Good thing he didn’t want me to feed his goldfish. I’d never involve anyone I know in something like this, but I have a feeling he won’t be back in China for a good long time. If ever.”

  “Nice robe,” she said.

  Avakian grinned. “We’ve got multiple robes and a whole drawer of toothbrushes. Clearly, my boy is a player.”

  Okay, Judy, she told herself. Time for the big question. “What do we do now?”

  “Lay low tonight, let the city calm down. Then tomorrow I get you back to your hotel like nothing happened. You went out to dinner, got caught up in all the ruckus, and we waited it out in a bar or something. There’ll be world opinion and propaganda points to make. Eventually the Chinese will let all the gymnastics teams fly home. Even the American.”

  “What about you?”

  “That’s a little different. I really don’t feel like being interned along with the rest of the U.S. diplomats. So I’ll see what happens, maybe try and make my way out of the country on my own.”

  “You’re going to try to get out of China? In the middle of all this? On your own?”

  Avakian shrugged.

  “That’s why you took the rifle and all their equipment, isn’t it?”

  “You’re a smart lady.”

  She was momentarily in awe that he’d been thinking that far in advance in the midst of everything last night. “I’m staying with you.”

  Avakian shook his head slowly. “Now that’s bad movie dialogue. And no, you’re not.”

  “If those two kids went to the police like their friend went to the soldiers they’re going to be looking for me as well as you. Especially with Kangmei dropping us off at the lake and never picking us up. It’s not going to be that hard to figure out it was us.”

  “The odds on that are better than hanging with me. With everything that must have gone on last night those soldiers and the kid could have been killed by anyone. If the cops do come for you, the three kids attacked us and you watched me break that one’s arm. But you don’t know anything about any soldiers getting shot. You never saw them. And now,” he said, picking a folded bed sheet up off the coffee table and snapping it open, “I’m evicting you from the couch. The bedroom is yours. I’m going to get some sleep.”

  He stacked the cushions up at one end and motioned her off. She got up grudgingly. “We’ll talk about this more in the morning.”

  “That remains to be seen,” he replied, tucking the sheet around his feet. “Please be good enough to turn the lights off on your way out of the room.”

  She stood before the couch, stubbornly unwilling to let it go, but just as unwilling to start an argument after all that had transpired. “Thank you for taking care of me tonight, Pete. Thank you for saving my life.”

  His voice was already drowsy. “Let’s hope I didn’t ruin it.”

  She opened her mouth to say something, but his breathing had already changed. He was actually asleep. Unbelievable.

  8

  Avakian woke to thin cracks of intense sunlight highlighting the edges of the window drapes. He could tell all those old instincts were coming back because he woke up instantly, alert and not wondering where he was. The only problem was that he thought he might be having a heart attack. Then he realized why he could barely move his left arm. He’d been carrying that bundle of rifle and equipment in it all night long.

  Judy Rose was sitting in front of the TV, watching it with the sound off. The light from it haloed her hair in the dark room. She was wearing a man’s dress shirt and too-big sweatpants. Avakian wondered if she’d gotten any sleep at all.

  He checked his watch. “Good morning.”

  She looked over her shoulder and smiled at him. “Good morning.”

  At least she was smiling. Avakian sat up and flexed his fist to try and work some blood back into that dead arm. “Any news?”

  “All the non-Chinese channels are black,” she reported. “No CNN.”

  “They don’t want anyone getting any unapproved news.”

  “They can just turn it off like that?”

  “The Chinese are the world’s experts at censorship. And all the Western companies who sold them their hardware and software built in everything they need to flip the switch. Anything for a buck. That is, if the Chinese haven’t jammed the satellites or even blown them out of orbit. Satellites are something they can live without. We can’t.”

  “The channels that are on have been showing nothing except people giving speeches, soldiers singing, and the same video of missiles being fired all morning.”

  Chinese news anchors came from a much geekier prep school than their Western counterparts. The reader was speaking rapid-fire Mandarin, much too rapid for Avakian to follow reliably. He could only catch a word here and there. “I’m going to take a shower.” He’d wanted to last night, but held off because he wanted to bring the debate to a close. And now, se
nsing another one in the offing, it was time to scamper away.

  He always did his best thinking in the shower. Not knowing exactly what was going on was really complicating the decision-making. And there was no place to call for the real scoop. The Chinese would definitely have an electronic monitoring blanket around the U.S. Embassy.

  He stepped under the water and reminded himself not to make assumptions. So what do you know for sure? Not much. The Chinese might be firing missiles at Taiwan’s cities while they prepared for an invasion, or they might be firing them onto military bases or unpopulated areas to pressure them into surrendering. A full-blown war, including the U.S., might be in progress right now. Or it might not.

  As he soaped himself down he felt the rough stubble on his head. Time to stop shaving the old grape and start changing the appearance. And the way he grew hair, facial at least, a couple of days max for a good start on a beard. Maybe just a goatee.

  He began mentally assembling a shopping list. Not a good idea to be walking around in the daytime. Everything would have to be done at night from now on. No cabs. Definitely no subway—every station had surveillance cameras. Which meant that if the Chinese happened to pick up on one of his movements some good old-fashioned detective shoe leather and pattern analysis would probably get them to within maybe a square mile of this apartment. Then they could flood the zone with manpower. He’d have to move every two days, max.

  As soon as he got her back to her hotel he could get started. The Chinese would probably take her in but at least she’d be alive. He’d tell her to give them anything they wanted to know. It was the only way. The two of them would never be able to make it out of Beijing. She might get roughed up a bit but they wouldn’t kill her. And if she stayed with him she was going to get killed. That was not something he wanted to deal with.

  He felt better then. His gut always told him when he’d made the right call. Get her out, and then he could start moving.