I guess somewhere in there she decided to kill him. For it was she who stood there, dripping, pale, and vacant-eyed, the night Stephen Brand went to take his own life. I can imagine her pulling the car to a stop not so far from where we marched off the bus. I can see her slipping through the rain-slick bush, see her pausing for only a moment as she saw the silhouette of her husband, an inky statue against the rich, festooned houses of Peppermint Grove across the river. There she administered not only the brute lead projectile that killed her husband, but the fatal echo of its shocking impact that, months later, would stun Nate’s heart to a stand still, and send him tumbling over the brink.
It was when the police came to recover Nate’s body that they found the horribly decomposed remains of Brand wedged into rock at the base of the cliffs.
I have no proof for my theory, none that would stand up in court at any rate. But on the strength of it I have spent my life. I am this day a detective with the West Australian Police Force, have gathered to myself considerable resources, and have spent every ounce of energy I could spare scouring Australia, and any land holding the faintest glimmer of hope, for a woman who the records hold guilty of one murder, which I know to be two.
I write this now at the end of my quest. Do not misunderstand me. I never did find Mrs Brand. She may be dead now for all I know. I retire from it. The badge given me all those years ago is pitted and lined like the face I see staring back at me in the mirror above the washbasin each morning. I’ve known for some time now this unending search has drained me, left me a wasted and weary man. Again, I wish I had known something sooner.
There is another verse in the bible that Barny shared with me before he died. Stroke at age thirty-nine. He must have sensed it coming. Caring to the end.
It says: “I desire mercy, not sacrifice.”
Mercy? I so took the image of that woman, her selfishness, that the only consolation she had for the hell her husband was going through was a bullet—and this for a man who I think did everything in this power to stem the flow of it outside himself—that it came to live and breathe. It began to walk beside me, and lay its burning hand on my shoulder, and yearn for a setting aright.
Barny knew this. Perhaps he felt the heat upon my shoulder when his own hand found its way there in his characteristically physical connection. He wondered in his still strangely stressed syllables if she had not suffered much already. Perhaps he had heard something in her voice all those years ago that spoke of her love for Stephen. A deep, true love, strained beyond bearing. “Who really knows all that is needed to pass judgment on her?” he had gently probed. At what cost to myself was I pursuing it to the bitter end? These words I endured and let pass in debt to our friendship.
Of all the witnesses pertinent to the case, the one not able to be summoned by any human court, Stephen Brand, perhaps has the most valuable testimony. It strikes me now he has given it. More than donating the memory of his senses to three boys who lacked them—a philanthropist to his final moments—he may also have given us the only testimony that could shed light on the inner dimension of this tragedy. That in doing so yet another life was lost only bears further evidence to the tangle of human motive and circumstance in this broken world.
Below me the river still sucks and slaps on the same rocks it did that night all those years ago, but this place no longer remembers Stephen Brand. Or Nate. We really are flowers of the field, here today and gone tomorrow, the dream that vanishes when the sleeper awakes.
I have wasted my time here on vengeance. The wind carries the cries of yachtsmen bustling to tack, and, faintly, I can hear cars thrumming around the riverside road on the far bank, straining to ‘do the view’ in under a minute. As I rake across the stations on my portable trannie and hear the spitfire of beat and talk—a thousand different voices speaking to millions more—and imagine that multiplied ten thousand-fold, I have the feeling the sky above, the one Stephen Brand showed me, is made of some material impervious to any technology we here possess.
Maybe earth itself is wrapped in Nate’s bubble-wrap for the soul. But if so, who will give us to feel?
* * *
About Brett Adams
Brett Adams is the author of two novels, Dark Matter and Strawman Made Steel. He has a PhD in Computer Science that taught him to love puzzles, and a family who taught him to love stories—or vice versa. He lives in Perth, Western Australia. Find Brett at http://dweomingwell.blogspot.com and Twitter: @dweomingwell
Moon Rabbit
Jo Wu
~ China ~
Every day, in every waking hour, and all through the evenings when earthlings are tucked away in deep slumber, I am forever chained to the stone mortar and pestle on the moon. You may know me as the Moon Rabbit, the “companion” to the moon goddess Chang’e. I trust you have heard of the tale of Chang’e and how she came to be the moon goddess. She was once a mortal, and her husband, the great archer Houyi, shot down nine of the ten suns that were burning earthlings to death. As a reward for his great deed, the Emperor gave him a pill of immortality. Houyi was hesitant to ingest the pill, unsure if he wanted to be immortal. He stored it away in a box, and warned his wife to never open it, without explaining to her what it contained. His warning backfired. As all young women are apt to do, Chang’e became curious and opened the box. Fearing her husband’s wrath upon discovering that she disobeyed him, she swallowed the pill, and due to the overdose, she began floating into the sky and eventually landed on the moon.
Living on the moon for the rest of eternity would surely be mind-numbingly boring. That’s when I came in. The Dragon God moulded me, the Moon Rabbit, out of evening clouds and pieces of jade. He manufactured me into an adorable rabbit companion for the silly Chang’e. Of course I was physically endearing. How could I not be, with my soft, thick white fur, long floppy ears, and round little snout? Oh, I was a good little companion, alright. That is, if you take the word “companion” as a code word for “slave.” I wear heavy steel chains that shackle me to my stone mortar and pestle. Lilac fumes rise from my beatings and poundings as I produce the Elixir of Life, hour after hour, just so that Chang’e could survive on the moon. Does she enjoy her life on the moon, you ask me? Well, if you enjoy the pastime of weeping over a possessive ex-husband, admiring your ebony tresses and silk hanfus in a handheld mirror, and ordering me to pound my mortar faster and faster while you pet my fluffy fur, then sure, her life is considerably decent.
“Faster, faster!”
I pounded and ground powder, and poured water over the paste, creating a more viscous, fluid mixture.
Chang’e collapsed on her divan, which sat within a pagoda the Dragon God had built on the moon’s surface for her. “Oh, what a bore it is! Serves Houyi right that he had to be deprived of me as his wife! I stay eternally young and beautiful, while he grew old and crippled and is nothing but dust now! But oh, I adored him dearly. He was so handsome!”
I ladled spoonfuls of the finished elixir into a goblet and held it out. “For you, Mistress.”
As she guzzled down the beverage, I gazed down at planet Earth, a blue-green globe that looked like a jewelled marble from where I’m perched on the moon. How beautiful the Earth must be. Sometimes, when Chang’e chose to engage in more active conversations with me (after all, there was no one else to talk to on the moon), she would tell me about life on earth. She told me of the invention of paper and compasses, of the four seasons of the year, of valiant warriors who died for the love of their families and home countries, and of tragic love stories between concubines and emperors, among countless other topics.
“I wish I could travel to Earth!” I sighed. “How fascinating life there sounds!”
“Oh, Yue Tu, Earth is a dangerous, horrible place,” said Chang’e. “A rabbit like you would be devoured by giant beasts, or even shot by human arrows and put into a stew!”
In response, or lack thereof, I continued pounding away at the next batch of the elixir. I waited until Chang’e retired t
o her bedchamber before I relinquished my hold on my mortar, flopped onto my back on the moon’s surface, and sighed.
“If only I was a human on Earth!”
“Do you really wish that?”
Out of the blue, a golden glow appeared before me. It was a glowing ball, morphing and unfurling into a snaking line until a great dragon with scarlet scales that shimmered with gold undulated before me. He surveyed me with green eyes, as a mentor would do when measuring a student’s willingness to engage in education, and pulled on one of his long whiskers between two of his claws.
“So, Yue Tu, I heard that you wish to be a human?”
“Of course I do!”
“Why is that?”
“It’s terribly boring being a rabbit on the moon! And being Chang’e’s servant!” I wrinkled my nose, mimicking my mistress’s orders in a mocking tone. “‘Yue Tu, hurry up! Yue Tu, pound faster! Yue Tu, bring the elixir to my bed!’”
“Let me tell you,” replied the Dragon God, “many humans would love the life you have.”
I jumped with disbelief. “Why?”
“The human world is a disgrace, full of misery and cruelty. You live a life of comfort compared to them.”
“Well, I think it’s adventurous! Better than the boredom here!”
Dragon God began to glow again, the gold light engulfing him. “Think on what you are wishing for.” He disappeared into a shower of golden light and glimmers, leaving me alone in the cold starkness upon the moon.
§
My first sight of earthlings was when I saw a prince come travelling in a ship of gold while Chang’e was asleep. He soared through the sky, his ship in the shape of a great-winged firebird emitting flames from the engine at its tail. Through the glass window of his ship, I could see that he was young and handsome. He was dressed in blue robes, and had ambitious, dark eyes and long black hair. Many robots flanked him. Some of them accompanied him inside the ship and sat by him, while others flew along with him outside by the side of his ship. They beeped, they buzzed, and they emitted fuzzy transmissions of communication to one another, but I could make out one statement quite clearly: Find the Elixir of Life!
I leapt to my feet, pounding them against the moon’s surface. Perhaps, if I gave him the elixir, he would bring me back to Planet Earth with him.
I bounced up and down, leaping as high as only I, a rabbit, could do. My ears flopped over my head, undulating like great waving arms, trying to signal to the ship. It never came sailing my way—it only glided around and around the moon. Neither the Prince nor his army of automatons turned their heads to see me, to turn the ship and come in my direction. My heart sank.
“As mythological creatures, we cannot be seen by humans, by these mortals.”
Dragon God materialised by my side, unfurling from his golden ball of light.
“But, Dragon God, if I give him the Elixir of Life, perhaps he can take me to Earth with him in his ship!”
“Is that what you want?”
“Yes, Dragon God! If he could take me to Earth, I would gladly give him the Elixir of Life!”
Dragon God sighed. Smoke and flickering flames, like multiple serpent tongues, seeped from between his fangs as he did so. “It just seems as though you will never be satisfied until you have a taste of human life, I presume?”
“I want to be human!”
Dragon God shook his head. “I have warned you, Yue Tu. The human world is a messy tragedy.”
“It is certainly better than a banal existence on the moon!”
“Is that what you really think?” Dragon God sighed again. “Then, I shall grant your wish.”
“You will?” I began bouncing up and down upon my great, strong feet, as if I was a human child jumping for joy, trying to snatch a present. “You really will, Dragon God?”
“But not for free!” Dragon God pointed up one claw, as if to lecture me. “I will grant your wish if you give me your fur coat.”
“My fur?”
“Yes. I will skin you, but during the transaction process, I will transform you into a human. Do you know how to concoct an anaesthesia?”
I nodded. “The Elixir of Life is not the only recipe I know!”
“Very well. Start concocting. Once you drink it, I will begin to grant your wish.”
After imbibing the turquoise-coloured liquid I brewed, which tasted of tart ginger, I lay on my back.
With his knife-like claws, Dragon God skinned me, stripping me of my fur so that I was nothing more than muscle, bones, and running rivulets of blood. Drawing circles in the air with the very same claws, Dragon God conjured white light that swirled all around me. In a haze of stars and glowing warmth, the swirling energy levitated me into the air. My spine twitched and jerked with a sensation of poking needles, and my paws scratched for mere air, flailing at the spurts of slight pain that shot through me, for the anaesthesia was not able to deprive me of all of my senses.
Ebony hair sprouted out of my scalp like skeins of silk. My neck elongated as smooth skin stretched over my muscles. My whiskers shrank into a pointed nose, and my paws morphed into long-fingered hands and delicate feet. A silk hanfu the colour of peonies with a sash like the sky fluttered over my bare skin. As I was slowly lowered to the ground, Dragon God snatched a mirror from the sleeping Chang’e’s boudoir. I gasped at my appearance: I was certainly human, with skin as white as my fur had been, sleek black hair that grew to my slender hips, large eyes that glimmered like simmering black tea, and soft lips like lotus petals. The only characteristic I retained from my rabbit form was my long ears. They grew from over both of my human ears and dangled down to my shoulders.
“Dragon God, I’m pleased with this transaction, but…” I stroked my ears, relishing the new sensation of long fingers against my soft fur. “Why do I still have my rabbit ears?”
“It is because that is your true nature. I am able to change your appearance in accordance with all of your heart’s whims, but in the end, you cannot run away from the fact that you are a rabbit. That is your identity.” Dragon God grinned, exposing all of his dagger-sharp fangs. “Do not fear. I have given you the guise of a ravishing young woman. He cannot resist you.”
I smiled. But then, Dragon God quickly added, “One more thing. Because you are a mythological creature, you are unable to communicate with him by speaking. It will be as if you are mute.”
Before I could shout another question to him, and just as he dissolved into light again, I saw the firebird ship return, with all the giant automatons travelling by the ship like a swarm of butterflies. They descended from the sky, blowing back the skirt of my dress and my long hair as they landed before me.
“A beautiful lady!” The Prince called from his window as an immense robot who towered over my mistress’s pagoda came walking towards me. “Do you know where the elixir is?”
I opened my mouth to try to speak. However, my tongue froze when I tried. I opened my mouth again, but it was as if my tongue was paralysed when I tried to speak to him. I turned to glance up at the giant robot. He held out a giant metal hand, his open palm as large and wide as a comfortable bed. When I nervously placed a stoppered bottle filled with the elixir upon his palm, the robot straightened his back and marched back to the Prince. The Prince opened the bottle and took a sip. He smiled. I knew that the elixir was taking effect on him. He kept on smiling, feeling the tingling sensation that the sweet liquid gave him.
“How did you make this, my Lady?”
I pointed to my stone mortar and pestle. Dragon God had broken the chains that attached me to it during my transformation.
The Prince grinned at me. His ship sprouted wheels, and he came rolling towards me.
He parked by me, and kept smiling as his dark eyes met mine. “May I take you back home to my palace to be my princess? You may bring your mortar and pestle with you. I want you to make the elixir for me every day.”
Here it was, my chance to go to Earth! Gathering my mortar and pestle in my arms
, which felt refreshingly long compared to my rabbit legs, I took his hand, and climbed into his ship.
We flew through the stars, through the galaxy and cosmos. Again and again, I tried to speak to the Prince. Every time I opened my mouth, words lodged in my throat like pebbles. I gave the Prince a forlorn glance after my last attempt.
He stroked my thigh through my silk skirt. “Do not worry. You are beautiful. I don’t mind you being mute. You are a prized treasure I found from the moon.”
Amok: An Anthology of Asia-Pacific Speculative Fiction Page 3
