by P. J. Day
As I walked on the trail, I heard a loud thump behind me. I turned around and a figure of man began emerging from the darkness. He charged at me with his right hand in the air. He struck at me with a dagger and I quickly ducked out of the way. The man quickly turned around and lunged at me again. I instantly grabbed his forearm. We struggled until our stomachs connected, our faces came within an inch of each other.
“Ru. What are you doing?” I asked. I held his arm up with both of my hands. He punched me in the rib with his left hand. I staggered backward. He lunged at me again and I leaped straight up into the air. In the few milliseconds I remained in the air, Ming, the other Jiang-Shi, missiled straight into my midsection. We both violently landed on the ground, my back sweeping up mud and clay as it scraped the forest floor. I instinctively kneed Ming under his chin. His head rapidly whipped back and the dagger he had in his right hand flew and dropped to the forest floor. I briskly got back on my feet and pulled my dagger out. I ran down next to where Ming landed, my knees sinking into the mud, and I placed my dagger over his neck. “Cut this shit out or I’ll slice your throat,” I said. Ming smiled and my back felt the splintery wrath of a large, thick piece of tree as Ru broadsided me with an enormous branch. I lay on my back, clutching it with my right hand as I writhed in pain. Ru held the large branch over his head with both his arms as he readied to strike my head. As Ru struck downward, I rolled to the right, the branch impacted the ground so hard it remained stuck in the mud for a few seconds, allowing me to get up and gather myself.
A metallic shimmer caught the corner of my eye. I noticed Ming’s dagger a few feet away from where Ming was gingerly getting up and where Ru was struggling to pull the branch from the ground. I grabbed the dagger and faced Ming and Ru as they composed themselves. I brandished my double daggers at them.
“You step any closer and I will assure both of your hearts will cease pumping your old, rancid blood.”
Ru and Ming stood tall and I remained still, settling into a modest crouch, waiting patiently, watchfully, for their next sudden move. Ru dropped the large branch from his hand and in one motion, grabbed his dagger by its blade and spastically flicked his wrist, launching the slender blade at me through the air. I immediately heard and felt the trajectory of the dagger against the wind. I quickly moved my head to the side as the dagger whizzed right past my ear. Ming reacted to the missed throw by bellowing out a warrior’s yell and charging straight at me like a rabid dog. I swiftly grabbed his right arm and slung him toward a large tree that was behind me. His entire body violently wrapped around the trunk, his face planted deep into the wet bark. The dazed Ming tried to shake the impact away, I ran at him at full speed with one of my daggers aimed straight at the back of the hand that he was using to rest against the tree. Ming belted out a hellacious scream as I ran my dagger through his hand, impaling it on the trunk. Ru, seeing that I had stuck Ming against the tree, bolted toward me and aimed his fist squarely at my face. I quickly ducked and turned around, punching him in his lower back. Ru staggered and gathered himself quickly, turning around and swinging at me with his right hand. I managed to block his strike. My closed, tense fist slammed straight into the soft part of his stomach, pushing his flesh and innards all the way to his spine. Ru fell to his knees and I pulled my weapon. As I lifted my dagger into the air, ready to strike the nape of his neck, a loud booming voice resonated and echoed off the trunks of the trees, “Enough!”
My hand trembled as it held the dagger over Ru’s neck. My eyes scanned the forest trying to pinpoint the source of the deep, masculine voice.
“Put your weapon down,” said Milton’s voice from the shadows.
“No,” I said. “I’m tired of this bullshit. I don’t want to deal with your games anymore. I’m going down to Guilin City and our deal is off.”
“Jack, you have proven yourself. Sheathe your dagger,” said the thick, rich baritone voice in perfect English.
I continued standing over Ru as he remained on the ground kneeling in pain. I was still breathing rapidly, adrenaline coursing through my veins. Ming’s painful groans echoed over our voices.
“Who are you?” I asked. “Reveal yourself.”
The dry brush behind me began to snap and crackle. I turned around and Milton was standing next to a tall, older Caucasian man who was wearing a silk robe. His hands looked withered and rooted with green veins. His cheeks were sunken and his long, thick gray hair and beard ran down to his chest. His full and bristled eyebrows highlighted his intense stare.
He looked at me and calmly demanded, “I implore you to sheath your weapon; we mean you no harm.”
I looked at him with a seething, sarcastic look.
“Oh, you’re right. I’ll go ahead and just put this weapon down, so you can continue trying to kick my ass. I swear you all live in ‘opposite land’ around here.”
Milton slowly walked up to me and stuck out his hand, asking for the dagger. I pointed the dagger at his chest. He looked back at the old man.
“Jack, this was a test and nothing more.”
I turned to Ming, whose hand was impaled on the tree and calmly asked, “Were you guys just testing me?”
Ming responded by letting out a wail.
“I don’t know; that sounds like he had murder on his mind,” I said. I looked at Milton. “What? You want me to trust you again? You don’t do a good job of earning it, I’d say.”
The old man approached me, looking me deep in my eyes with an eerie and haunting gaze. As he got closer, I noticed his deep blue eyes contrasted the dark, recesses of his prominent brow, which added to his otherworldly appearance. He pushed Milton aside and offered me his hand, which had a slight jitter.
He said, “My name is Lucretius.”
“Well, nice to meet you, Lucretius. Now pardon me but, I don’t know if I want to continue playing on your playground. You vampires are an unpredictable lot.”
Lucretius lowered his hand and gave me a smile.
“Do you know how many vampires have come here, specifically looking for me?”
“No, I don’t, and why would anyone desire to come to this madhouse?”
Lucretius squinted his eyes.
“You don’t know anything about who you are, do you?”
“I told you,” Milton added.
Ru began to stand up and I looked down at him and pointed the dagger at his throat. I shook my head with a scowl. He looked up at me and decided to continue staying on the ground.
I eyed Lucretius. “I know what I am, isn’t that enough?”
“Many vampires, who remain in isolation around the world, hidden in the shadows, imprisoned, tortured, and abused, would trade in their longevity in order to be in the place you are right now. Do you know that?”
“Getting my ass kicked? Extorted? I don’t think so.”
“It’s very difficult to trust you, Jack,” said Milton. “Do you know Tonghua who commit to a life of mortals either quit, commit suicide, or disappear? Yet, you managed to stay alive all these years and even got a job with human beings?”
“Well, it obviously didn’t work out that well, now did it?” I said.
“You are a powerful entity, Jack, one who is resourceful and strong of mind. We would be more than willing to exchange information with you to make sure we all can survive,” said Lucretius.
“I gave you my word that I would stick with the deal, why wasn’t that enough?” I yelled. “Why must you continue to deceive me?”
“If you wish to be a Jiang-Shi, you cannot be a vampire in name only. We cannot withstand weakness within our clan. I hope you understand, Jack,” said Milton.
“Look, I’ll work with you, but no more surprises, okay?” I said.
Lucretius nodded his head.
“Can I keep this dagger?”
“You may,” Lucretius said.
Milton walked over to Ming and pulled the dagger from the tree. Ming curled to the floor as he favored his hand. I offered Ru my arm so he could get up
from the ground. I looked at Lucretius.
“I’ve proved myself enough. I’m assuming you are the instructor of the Jiang-Shi ways; will you teach me?”
“I can make many things happen, Mr. King,” Lucretius said, with a fatherly smile.
As Ru lifted himself up from the ground, the sound of helicopters began to grow louder. A large white light danced and splashed through the tree branches. Lucretius, Milton, Ru and Ming looked up into the canopy with their mouths agape.
“Sounds like a Zhi-10,” said Milton.
“A what?” I asked.
“Or a Zhi-9. I don’t know. For our sake, it better be a 9; those don’t have rockets,” said Milton.
“It could be the military,” Lucretius said. “We must head back to the compound through the back side of the mountain. The trail is dense and provides adequate cover.”
The five of us ran into the heart of the forest under the cover of night. The helicopters that swept the tops of the trees were an ominous sign that something very powerful suspected our possible presence within the area. I had a funny feeling that there was history with the Jiang-Shi and its native government.
Chapter Nine
Cold winds battered the cliffside trail which led out of the forest and up the mountain.
The south face was flat like an iron, due to the erosive effects of heavy, violent gusts. The foreboding sounds of helicopter blades slashing through the sky grew louder, like a metronome of thunderous claps as they still hovered above our heads. Their spotlights darted through the thick brush that covered the trail, looking for signs of life.
I hastily followed the group up the steep cliff. There was not a hint of panic in the Jiang-Shi’s eyes, as this seemed like something they expected or had already gone through before.
“Is this normal?” I yelled over the helicopters.
“Yes, but not this close to the mountain,” said Lucretius.
“We must hurry up the cliffside. The helicopters won’t fly that high... dangerous winds,” Milton said loudly.
We sprinted up the trail. Small pebbles and mud kept getting kicked in my face as I was the last one in the group. The higher we went up into the mountain, the louder and stronger the winds grew. The higher we went, the further down the mountain the helicopters maintained their search.
Lucretius, old and winded, abruptly motioned us to quit our ascent.
“We can’t stop,” I yelled.
Lucretius bent down, hands over his knees. He pointed toward the cliff edge. Sure enough, I saw two helicopters circling the forest below. None brave enough to venture higher than a few hundred feet up the limestone cliffside.
“They have their limits,” added Milton.
I looked out toward the distance beyond the forest and down by the Li River, Guilin City sparkled in the darkness of the early morning. I turned my attention toward the west and a gentle glow began to blanket the horizon.
“Are we stuck up here?” I asked. “We’re going to get scorched.”
“The temple is just a few meters ahead,” said Milton. “There is also a small cave system up ahead and left of the fork that opens to the east face of the mountain. From there, we can descend to the compound.”
“A temple?” I asked. “May I see it?”
Milton looked at Lucretius for approval.
Lucretius nodded.
“Yes, of course, but you need to tell me where we can find the Zeo,” said Milton.
“I will tell you, but first let me speak with Lucretius.”
Lucretius seemed a bit wiser than Milton and the rest of the Jiang-Shi. Of course, the old man’s looks had something to do with that particular prejudice. I was curious as to his age. Also, he wasn’t Chinese. What business does a Lucretius have in the middle of Southern China?
Lucretius looked at Milton.
“Descend with Ru and Ming. Let them heal their wounds. We need them at full strength. I don’t trust the aerial surveillance. I need you to send scouts and find out if there is more activity in the surrounding area.”
Milton gave Lucretius a subordinate nod. He, Ru, and Ming turned left at the fork on the cliffside trail toward the cave system. I continued to follow Lucretius up a rocky path. The trail—which was carved out from the limestone—ended abruptly at the edge of a precipitous drop. Old wooden interconnecting planks attached to a large jutting stone on the face of the mountain; it was the only way to continue to the temple. Old rusty chains were hung on the rock’s face, so hikers had something to grasp as they traversed around the mountain bend.
I looked down and noticed a straight 500-foot drop.
I gave Lucretius a salty look and said, “Are you kidding me?”
Lucretius was already holding onto the rusty chains, carefully watching his step.
“You may go down with the others if you wish. If you desire to remain ignorant on the nature of things, you have my permission to retreat.”
“Wish to remain ignorant?” I asked, slightly vexed. “See, I was right about you, old man. You know some crazy stuff, don’t you?”
“Knowing does not make one wise, if that is what you imply.”
Lucretius carefully shifted his right foot to the right, followed by his left foot, connecting them together in rhythm, as his stomach hugged the rock. He stopped, closed his eyes, and tilted his head downward as a heavy gust of wind attempted to blow the old man off the mountain. I took a deep breath and gripped the rusty chain as tight as I could. I kept my eyes focused on Lucretius, mimicking his every step.
As we turned the corner, I could see Lucretius’ temple nestled inside an alcove surrounded by spiny, green thicket. It looked like it may have been carved from the rock, as the walls of the temple matched the colors of the rain-stained limestone: green with rust-colored lines. The roof had a typical Asian stylized curvature and it, too, was not made from a differing material, other than limestone from the mountain.
Every time I shifted my foot, I heard the boards splinter and crack. I was meticulously careful as I traversed the old wooden planks. I moved a lot slower than Lucretius as he seemed to know perfectly well where to step on each board. I was fearful that one would give way to my weight as I was slightly heavier than Lucretius.
I could have attempted to tread the south side of the rock like a mountain goat, but the old red running shoes I had on barely had any tread left. One slip and I would suffer the same result as if I were stabbed with a pure silver stake through the heart: death.
With surprising agility and deftness for an old vampire, Lucretius made to it to the top of the bedrock without incident. He looked at me with a wry smile.
“Whether you go slow or fast, if a plank must go, it will go.”
I picked up my pace, heeding Lucretius’ advice. I stopped before I stepped onto the final wooden plank. I bent my knees and jumped over it and made a perfect landing onto the bedrock where Lucretius stood waiting.
“Harrowing, right?” he said.
“How high is this place?”
“Highest point in all of Guilin,” Lucretius said, proudly. “Come.”
I followed him up the stony steps that led to the temple. Lining the walkway were old statues of dragons and of men in armor holding swords. Some of them were broken at the waist; others were barely recognizable due to wind erosion.
“Did you build this place?” I asked.
“This place was built under the Tang Dynasty. The foundation was laid by Buddhists and later taken over and built by Daoists.”
“How long ago was that?”
“Over a thousand years ago.”
“Shouldn’t this place be protected for historical significance?” I asked.
“The Chinese are very superstitious. No one comes up here because they think demonic peasants with a thirst for blood live up here. As you can see, they are partly correct.”
We passed by a statue of a man who had a dragon on his back. He pointed to the statue’s mouth, slightly brushing the limestone figure’s fangs.
“There is history here, Jack. Our history.”
The opening to the temple had no doors. There was only a five-foot-wide archway with silk drapes which fluttered in the wind. Unlit torches hung at each side of the entrance, as there was probably no electricity this high up in the mountain. I looked back before entering the temple, and the morning fog was beginning to fill the valley below like a rolling flurry of spilled cotton.
“Come in, Jack,” said Lucretius, motioning me with his hand. “The sun can get rather nasty up here on a clear day.”
The inside of the temple was an abnormal mixture of differing architectural styles. As soon as I walked in, a large open space greeted my presence with large, white Grecian-Roman pillars stemming from the floor to the ceiling. Swords, knives, and a set of sharp pole-arms adorned the walls. A set of armor with tightly woven leather plates and golden embroidery hung on a rusty metallic frame. A marble study desk with a primitive wooden chair made of rickety branches rested at the back of the large room. My nostrils were filled with the infusion of aromatic oils and incense; the scents of cassia, tea, and mastic lingered and drifted in the enclosed air.
It seemed that Lucretius wrote and read prolifically, as stacks of paper with writings in Chinese characters and Western phonetic lettering were spread throughout the main room, some in print, others scribed. Boxes of unused ink were strewn against the walls of the temple.
“Please, sit,” said Lucretius, pointing to a large silk pillow on the hard, stony ground. I sat down and crossed my legs. Lucretius slowly sat down on another pillow across from me, also crossing his legs. I was surprised at his elasticity.
“So, Jack, where can we get those pills?” he asked, quickly getting to the point.
“What is with you guys and these pills? You make it sound like it’s a cure for vampirism. Well, it’s not and distributing it recklessly might cause issues.”
“You still don’t know what is going on, do you?” Lucretius asked, shaking his head lightly at my reaction. “Do you know what makes you, you?”
