Chen laughed hard. My gaze didn’t waver. Finally, he stopped laughing and looked at me, unsmiling as he used the muzzle of the gun to scratch his chin.
“Geez. I don’t know, I-Zack, you speak of cowards, but I seem to remember you shot my brother with a machine gun.”
“He was armed and in the middle of raping a girl ... like a coward.” Chen’s eyes flashed angrily. “He would have shot me too, if he’d had the chance.”
Chen paused to consider the situation.
“Alright, I-Zack,” he said after a few seconds. “Just the satisfaction I get beating you to a bloody pulp before I kill you will make it worthwhile.” He looked at his heavyset partner. “Zhou, if anyone makes a move while this is on, cut the girl’s throat and take out as many of them as you can.”
“Yes Boss.”
“Isaac, you don’t have to do this,” said Sonny, stepping between us and holding his hands up like a traffic cop. “Chen, I’ll fight you.”
Chen looked down at Sonny’s blood-soaked t-shirt, then back into his eyes.
“As much as I’d like to kick your ass for the trouble you’ve given me, it wouldn’t be a fair fight. But, if you really want a piece of me, I’m happy to give you a shot. You’ll just have to wait your turn.”
“It’s alright, Sonny, I know what I’m doing.”
Conflicted, Sonny looked at me for a few seconds then nodded, stepped up to me and lowered his head.
“Any means,” he whispered.
I nodded and Sonny went back over to the truck where the others watched on with apprehension. I looked at Indigo and was strangely pleased by the concern etched on her face.
When I looked back to Chen, he handed his gun to Zhou and pulled his t-shirt over his head. He was impressively muscled, not an overblown bodybuilder type, but the kind of ropey, hard muscle that comes from years of martial arts training and fighting. His abdomen looked like it was carved from stone, its only blemish a small scar that looked like it was the result of a knife wound.
A tiny seed of doubt sprouted in my mind but I quickly stomped it underfoot. My short time working with Sonny had revived my Kung Fu skills and his insistence on the any means principle made sense in this new, savage world. Basically, he had drilled into me the need to use any means fair or foul to disable an opponent. To disregard all sense of fair play. To kill or be killed. I knew this would be my first ... or last test.
I turned my back on Chen and walked away from the truck into the center of the big shed. Chen followed.
The garage was getting colder and our breath plumed in the air as we faced off. I took off my jacket but left my t-shirt on. Chen eyed me cockily, and I hoped his cockiness might work in my favor. That and the fact I might have the element of surprise on my side. He had no idea of my skill level and, in fact, probably assumed I had none at all.
I stood on the balls of my feet with my knees slightly bent and held up my fists. Chen snorted and stalked straight at me. I waited until the last possible second, then tilted backwards, eluding his flying fist, and stepped back lightly out of his reach.
His eyes widened slightly at my skillful evasion, but his face still told me he was overconfident. Stupidly, he tried the same move again, this time I ducked his fist and rabbit punched him in the side before quickly moving away again. He winced and rubbed his side. I hadn’t inflicted any real damage but now he was taking me seriously.
Chen sneered to show me it hadn’t hurt and then raised his fists before coming at me again, this time more carefully. I waited as he slowly closed the gap between us.
I wasn’t quick enough to evade his next punch but it only glanced off my chin. Too late I realized it was a feint and the second punch, the real one, got me in the stomach. Breath whooshed from my mouth and nostrils and I doubled over as he deftly moved out of my reach.
I heard gasps of despair from my group over my heartbeat throbbing in my ear.
His retreat was unnecessary as I was in no condition to counter. Instead of pressing his attack he took the opportunity to gloat, raising his arms and nodding like a victorious prize fighter. The audience was unappreciative but his strutting allowed me time to regain my breath. I didn’t need to, but I remained doubled over in an attempt to stoke his overconfidence.
It worked.
Without warning, he stopped his prancing and took two steps before launching a vicious roundhouse kick at my head. I rolled under the kick, not quite fast enough to evade it completely. His heel grazed my cheek, right on the crusted over wound, but didn’t halt my momentum. My roll continued and I punched him hard in the groin as I rolled under him. He fell to the floor swearing and holding his jewels.
Dazed from the blow to my cheekbone, I climbed to my hands and knees as warm blood flowed down my face. I watched Chen warily as he also struggled to rise. Score, one each, I told myself.
I made it to my feet as he struggled to his knees. I waited.
“Attack him, Isaac!” yelled Sonny.
Even though it felt wrong, I knew Sonny was right. I had to take advantage of him while he was down. Hadn’t he done the same to me? I thought of him putting the gun against Indigo’s forehead and channeled the rage. I rushed forward and aimed a kick at his head.
Perhaps not quite as incapacitated as I thought, he grabbed my foot mid-air and twisted it viciously. I groaned in pain but allowed myself to fall the way he twisted, avoiding injury.
Unfortunately, I fell hard and the side of my head smacked against the cold concrete of the garage floor. I know it sounds cliché, but I saw stars. I struggled again to rise and, to my horror, saw Chen had now made it to his feet. Worse, his eyes screamed murder.
I was in pain, the agony of my cheek cutting through the concussed fog in my brain. He waited again, seeming to enjoy my drunken struggle to get to my feet. He knew he had me now. As soon as I made it upright, he danced around me, just out of my reach. He bounced on the balls of his feet, and pushed his head forward as though daring me to hit him. I jabbed at him.
My attempted blow was sluggish; I knew the second I launched it that it wouldn’t strike him and the spry, smirking gangster, apparently recovered from the blow to his groin, ducked under it easily and rabbit punched my ribs.
His strike sent fresh ripples of pain through me and I teetered a little. Once again, he had skipped out of my reach without pressing his advantage. I didn’t fall; I knew if I did, it was over.
He came for me again and I knew this was it. The steely look in his eyes made it clear he was ready to finish things now. I just managed to dodge the first punch, and when the follow up to my ribs came, I sidestepped it and trapped his arm under my own. He tried to disengage, but I had him pinned. Chen rained blows on the top of my head with his free hand.
Luckily, I have a hard head and I was able to weather the blows. Sonny’s words echoed in my mind.
Any means.
While he was trapped against me, distracted, trying to bash my brains in, I grabbed his jewels through his jeans and twisted them savagely. I know it was a low blow, but this was a fight for my life, literally. He was not going to stop until I was dead. He’d already proved he wouldn’t show me any mercy; if I was to prevail, I couldn’t show him any.
Chen screamed and while he was preoccupied with the agony of his abused nether regions, I encircled his neck with my arm, pulling him into a classic headlock before deliberately falling backwards, letting my weight pull us down. We hit the floor hard, with me taking the brunt of the impact. Winded again, I held on, squeezing my arm tighter around his neck, holding on for dear life, as they say. My dear life.
He was on top of me, his back against me as he tried to roll us over so he could break away and resume pummeling me. I quickly used my other hand to lock my right arm in place and squeezed harder. He stopped trying to roll and, spluttering for air, began to elbow me in the ribs, frantically trying to make me loosen my grip. He got a few good blows in. I gasped in pain, but I held on, pulling my headlock tighter and tighter, sl
owly squeezing the fight – and life – out of him.
It’s not like in the movies. It took forever for him to stop struggling and, even when he did, I wasn’t game to let go. It wasn’t until Sonny came over and patted my head and told me I could let go now that I slowly relaxed my hold.
Luke was there too and helped me out from under Chen’s body. I couldn’t look at him. While I had won, I didn’t feel victorious. In fact, I felt sick. I took two steps to the wall and unloaded the contents of my stomach. We heard a clatter as the doors to the garage were jerked open. We turned in time to see Zhou running into the night as Samara fell to her knees in relief. The discarded knife, so recently against her throat, was on the floor by her shaking hands.
11
Sonny patted my shoulder.
“You did what you had to do, Isaac. As you said, it was him or you.”
I didn’t say anything; I walked back to the truck, past the others, even shaking off Indigo’s hand when she reached out to me. Ignoring the hurt in her eyes, I continued to the cab and climbed in before sitting with my head in my hands. I ached all over, but nothing hurt like what I was feeling. Killing a man with my bare hands was a million times worse than the feeling I had experienced when I had to shoot one. More real somehow; more raw.
In shock, I only vaguely remember everyone saying their final goodbyes to Samara, John and Mark as I sat in the truck. Indigo told me later that Samara had bounced back quickly from her ordeal and had told her to thank me.
As wrapped up in my own little ball of misery as I was, I barely registered the others getting into the cargo hold of the truck. Finally, Sonny climbed into the driver’s seat and handed me my pistol and parka. I put on the parka mechanically and slipped the revolver into my pocket as Indigo, true to her word, climbed in and settled next to me.
She didn’t say anything, just handed me a rag for my cheek and then put her hands in her lap. Looking in the one remaining mirror on the passenger side of the cab, she said to Sonny,
“You should be able to go straight back.”
“Okay,” he said, putting the truck in reverse and gently pressing down on the gas pedal. He made it on the first try and turned the truck around in the gas station’s lot, stopping at the exit before glancing at me.
“The freeway is to the right?” I knew he was trying to distract me and I was grateful.
“Yep. Left would take us back to the bridge, and we don’t want to go there,” I said. “Beyond that, I’m going to be fairly useless. Luke and his atlas are what I relied upon for navigation.”
“It’s a good thing he left this up here then,” Indigo said, holding up the battered road atlas Luke had taken from Walmart, on the day that seemed so long ago.
God, has it really only been two weeks since we left Fort Carter? I asked myself. It seemed like a year.
“Excellent,” Sonny said, and pulled the truck to a stop. He quickly perused the atlas before heading off.
We reached the on-ramp in quick time but to my surprise, Sonny passed it and turned under the freeway at the next cross street, then kept barreling up highway 140 as fast as he dared push the truck through the icy night.
The truck cab was cold given the lack of side windows. I had been prepared for this, of course, having driven like that during the day, but at night it was accentuated by the plunging temperatures. I zipped up the bottom part of my parka hood to cover my lower face and found myself wishing that I had some ski goggles to help keep the wind off my eyes.
“This road will lead back to the freeway and allow us to avoid a big semi-circular loop up by Fitchburg and Leominster,” Sonny said. “We’ll get on the 2 just past Leominster, and take it to 202, which will take us up to Concord, New Hampshire. From there we can take I-93 north to where we are headed.”
“Looks like you don’t need a navigator after all. I was thinking we should dump the truck sometime before we get too close to Drake Mountain,” I said. “We don’t want to make it too easy for the Chinese to track us when they find the truck.”
“Good thinking,” he replied. “There’s a town I remember being about 10 miles before Lincoln, where we turn off to head for the ski lodge, Compton or Campton, something like that. We can find a place to hide the truck there.”
“Campton,” Indigo said, shining a light on the atlas in her hand and looking at the interstate 93 corridor through New Hampshire. “How long do you think it’ll take us to get there?”
“If my memory is right, and we don’t run into any more trouble, I think we should get to Campton inside of four hours.”
“I’m not sure how realistic an expectation of not running into trouble is,” I said. “Concord is a decent-sized town, so we should probably plan on there being a Chinese military presence based there. That means they could be in the area.”
“You’re probably right. We probably shouldn’t count on getting to Campton until well after daybreak. Damn, it’s cold riding up here,” he said after a few minutes of silence. “I should have told you I was still too weak to drive.”
“It’s colder now than it was this morning,” I acknowledged. “But at least you have gloves. I drove without them today and my fingers are still feel freezer burned.”
“They aren't turning black or anything are they?” Indigo asked with real concern in her voice. “My Uncle Joe got frostbite in his foot a few years back and they had to cut off three of his toes.”
“No, nothing like that,” I said, smiling.
Their small talk had managed to put what had just happened with Chen to the back of my mind and I thanked fate, or karma, or whatever the hell had helped me to find these people.
“This weather should give us an advantage though, right?” Indigo asked. “Being cold and all, China is a warm place, right? So these Chinese soldiers won’t be used to the cold.”
“Not really,” Sonny told her. “China is a big country, and it has all of the same climate bands that the United States does. While soldiers from South China might not be acclimatized to the cold, those coming from Manchuria will find that the weather is very similar to home at this time of year.”
“Oh,” Indigo said, her teeth chattering.
I shuffled closer to her for warmth, unable to work up the courage to put my arm around her.
“Sonny, I was sure glad to see your girlfriend today.”
“Huian hasn’t been my girlfriend for a long time now,” Sonny replied. “I wasn’t all that happy to see her because it meant that she was putting herself at risk for us.”
“If she hadn’t showed up when she did, we would have been screwed,” I said.
“We still might be screwed. When that decimated patrol is located, the search for us will heat up big time. It was foolish of her to come to our rescue, if what she says about her and her group...”
“The Shadow Cloaked Seven,” I said, making my voice as ominous as possible.
“Yes, them,” he said, apparently missing the joke. “If what she says about them and what they are trying to do is true, then, as much as I hate to say it, they are much more important than we are in the scheme of things.”
We rode on in silence as the headlights, miraculously still working after all the punishment the truck had received, illuminated the tiny snowflakes that began drifting down from the night sky.
12
I have to admit, I don’t remember much of the drive until we hit the freeway just outside of Leominster. I remember talking to both Sonny and Indigo, but the specifics of our conversations are not as clear as many of my other memories from that period.
I was probably in a state of shock. Probably? I was definitely in a state of shock. I vaguely remember Indigo pulling a first aid kit out of the glove box and cleaning the wound on my cheek. Even the sting of the alcohol she used did not seem to cut through the fog in my brain.
One thing that did rattle around my brain was the knowledge I had just killed another person with my bare hands and, although I know there had been no choice, it
was still something that weighed heavily on me.
If things went to plan we would reach our destination, but it was hard to care when I couldn’t get the sounds of Chen choking to death out of my head. My hands shook for a long time afterwards. It was definitely not like the movies, where the hero would by now be cuddled up with the girl of his dreams. Well, the girl of my dreams was beside me, and we were kind of cuddled up, but more through the need to keep warm than anything else.
After a while, the shock began to wear off and I even got a couple of hours of fitful sleep. When I awoke again, Indigo was drowsing and I found my thoughts drifting hopefully toward the future. The prospect of getting to the safe haven and settling down into some sort of normalcy was exciting for me, and I began to fantasize about how it might go down and what it might be like there.
Of course, things could never go back to normal. Normal was gone; hell on earth was normal now. I guess I had one advantage over the others. My normal had already changed forever before the Chinese released the Pyongyang Flu virus. By the time the adults started dying, I had already become accustomed to adapting to new situations.
Despite the fact the heater was blazing, the lack of windows made certain the cab of the truck was like a refrigerator. As much as I wanted to keep Indigo snuggled against me, by the time we got to the freeway, I was leaning forward in the passenger seat, my hands cupped around the heating vent on my side. The snow was falling heavier the further north we travelled, and I began fearing it would make us easy to track from the air.
It’s funny how the same fears which had plagued me while we were walking through the woods after losing Sarah would return to unsettle me as we drove north nearly two weeks later. I thought of Sarah, who’d made sure we all had fun during her last night on earth. Such a waste.
From her, my mind drifted to the others we had lost, Arthur and Karen, and those we had left behind, John, Samara, and Mark. The last three were still alive when we left them, and I hoped they were still okay, but regret at leaving them still ate at me even though, before the confrontation with Chen, I thought I had come to grips with that choice. A fresh wave of anger at the Chinese washed over me.
On The Run Page 8
