Darkness Under Heaven (35 page)

No rioter would say that. “This is Commissioner Zhou of the Ministry. Open the door at once or I will fire gas inside the building.” He waved Inspector He and his men over.

The door opened slowly and revealed a sergeant 3rd grade attempting to button up his uniform blouse.

Commissioner Zhou stuck his credentials under the man's nose. “What is happening here?”

“Y-your pardon, Comrade Commissioner.”

He pushed his way in. Drunk. The man was stinking drunk. An officer 1st grade was asleep on the floor among empty alcohol bottles.

“Drunk!” Commissioner Zhou shouted. “And
hiding?
During an emergency? Who is in charge here?”

“Th-the inspector has gone, Comrade Commissioner.” The sergeant had developed a nasty stutter.

“What do you mean, gone? Where?”

“I—I do not know, Comrade Commissioner. He left.”

“You mean he deserted his post.” Commissioner Zhou turned to Inspector He. “Call the men in back and bring in the prisoner.” His attention shifted back to the sergeant. “Is there anyone else here?”

“N-no, Comrade Commissioner.”

“You have one patrol car in the back. Is it in operating condition?”

“A-as far as I know, Comrade Commissioner.”

“I will be taking it. And roadblock barriers, if you have the proper kit here. Now, are you able to fully understand me?”

“Y-yes, Comrade Commissioner.”

“I could have you dismissed and sentenced to ten years in a labor camp for this. But I will allow you to redeem yourself. Pull yourself together, sober up, clean and reopen this station, and perform your duty. Regain your courage and I will forget this. I will have your inspector and the other deserters shot. Brave police officers are fighting hard in the city. Do you understand?”

“Y-yes, Comrade Commissioner. Thank you, Comrade Commissioner.”

“Do not forget what I have said.”

They dragged the truck driver in.

“Lock him in a cell,” Commissioner Zhou ordered. And to the sergeant, “Charge this man with drunkenness, resisting arrest and assault on officers. Do you understand?”

“Y-yes, Comrade Commissioner.”

“Remember my words,” Commissioner Zhou warned. As he turned to leave he nearly stepped on the officer still snoring away on the floor. “And wake up this drunken fool!”

As they waited in front for the patrol car to be brought around, Commissioner Zhou heard one sergeant whisper to another, “Things are falling apart.”

The city and the store had not shaken them, but this had. Police cowering behind the locked doors of their station in fear of mobs. “Listen to me,” he said loudly. “It will not fall apart if we do not allow it to fall apart.”

T
he river seemed to come to an end up ahead. Avakian knew that meant a bend. He just didn't know if it was the one he wanted.

As they floated around it and continued downriver he did see something that pleased him. Highway guardrails. The bank was too high to see the highway, but the metal rails were enough. Still no stars or moon through the smoke overcast, but the sky was beginning to lighten near the horizon. It was time to get out of the river.

“Start kicking for the right bank,” he whispered to Judy.

“Are we there yet?” she whispered in a little-girl voice.

If she hadn't been there he knew for sure he wouldn't have felt like smiling at that point in the evening. “I honestly don't know.”

It took time to kick the raft out of the main channel and near the bank. Though the feel of finally standing on the solid rocks of the riverbed was incredible. They beached the raft just far enough inland to keep it from moving.

Avakian had his rifle pointed up at the bank, drawing the cocking handle back an inch to retract the bolt, breaking any suction in the chamber and allowing the water to drain from the barrel. Otherwise it might blow up if he pulled the trigger. Which would be awkward. “I have
to see if the coast is clear,” he whispered in her ear. “And you have to make sure the raft doesn't float away.”

That was absolutely the last thing Judy wanted to hear. The logic might be unassailable, but that wasn't her concern. Being abandoned again was. She shook her head violently.

He opened his hands as if to say: no choice.

She pointed at him: I'm warning you.

He blew her a kiss and disappeared.

She punched the raft in frustration. And the impact caused it to slide back into the water. And she had to grab it and drag it back. And then felt like punching something else.

Avakian glided up the bank, trying not to dislodge any rocks. He poked his head over the top and, as expected, there was a hard surface road. No signs in sight, though. Dammit. Across the road was one building with lights on in the midst of a darkened neighborhood. What could that be? He looked at it from the side, since the rods and cones of the peripheral vision were much more acute at night. Still too far to make out. Maybe he ought to cross the road for a better look.

Firmly in the grip of every worst-case scenario her imagination could come up with, Judy was well on her way to panic. Sitting half out of the river and getting a full appreciation for how much she stank. Literally stank. And just waiting for the sound of gunfire. She wasn't sure if it was the anxiety or the stink that was making her sick to her stomach.

She nearly launched out of the river like a rocket when Pete suddenly appeared right next to her without having made a sound.

He grabbed the raft and pulled it back into the water. A
moment later they were continuing their journey down the river.

“A frigging police station,” he whispered. “Would you believe we came out of the water right across the street from a frigging police station?”

She was just glad he hadn't dealt with the frustration by going in there and shooting them all. And was so relieved to see him that the list of grievances she'd been preparing to address evaporated. “So what now?” As soon as those words came out of her mouth it occurred to her that it would be really embarrassing to know how many times those words had come out of her mouth that night.

“Keep going for another mile or so and try again.”

It was probably well under a mile. But he was impatient. “Be right back,” he whispered.

She pointed her finger at him again. And once again he shrugged and disappeared.

Judy decided to look at her watch this time. Because his last business trip had seemed like an hour and probably lasted ten minutes. Her watch was dead. So much for waterproof. Maybe all the pollution in the water had eaten it away.

Shit! There he was again. She wished he'd stop doing that. But he'd probably say something about not making noise or whatever. She didn't know how many more frights she could take, but was pretty sure there were a few more in store for her down the road.

“We're in business,” Avakian whispered. He dragged the raft all the way up onto the bank. With a few slashes of his knife he removed the rope and opened up the plastic, tossing it all back into the river. No guilt about polluting China. Their bags were a little damp but not soaked. Outstanding.

He went to grab his duffel bag and Judy grabbed his arm. She tilted his head back and flushed out his eyes with a bottle of water from her bag. “Blink,” she ordered.

That did feel a little better. He was ready to reciprocate but she took care of herself. She handed him another bottle and two energy bars, sternly pointing both at his mouth and not to touch the bars with his contaminated hands.

Avakian chugged the bottle down and, holding them by the foil wrapping, rammed both bars into his mouth in about twenty seconds. He brushed his hands off on his pants as Judy shook her head.

While she ate, much more slowly, he whispered, “There's a park just a little way down and across the road. Full of trucks. Maybe a hundred. I think they're waiting out whatever's going on. Looks like they had a bonfire and tied one on last night, and a lot of them are sleeping on the grass instead of in their cabs. I found one truck that's ready to be borrowed. Whenever you finish nibbling on that thing.”

“Okay, okay,” she whispered back.

He got his duffel bag ready to go. Thirty years and trying to get the troops to saddle up and move out hadn't changed one bit. It had taken those two trips up and down the bank to make him realize just how worn out he was.

Though the park was packed with trucks, most of them run up onto the grass, a few latecomers had only been able to find space on the road. Not wanting to miss the party, they'd locked up and left their rides. Something Chinese truck drivers didn't ordinarily do.

Avakian had taken a little extra time to choose his mark because, although Judy had been fantastic so far, he wasn't sure if she was ready for advanced sneaking and peeking.

It was a FAW—all the commercial trucks on the roads
were Chinese brands. A six-ton freight carrier, about midsize between an American tractor trailer and a large delivery truck. Wood slats up the sides of the cargo bed and an open top covered by a plastic tarp. It was loaded with scrap steel. The driver must have tried to get into Zhangjiakou and turned back because it was parked facing west and halfway down a gently sloping downgrade.

The sun hadn't appeared yet but it was getting much too bright for Avakian's taste. “Just walk regular,” he whispered. “Less suspicious.”

So they walked right across the road like regular pedestrians. Loud snoring was coming from some of the other trucks. Avakian jumped up on the running board to check the cab once more. This was not the time for any surprises.

The auto theft kit was still in the duffel bag with his rifle, more by oversight than anything else. The door was easy. The locks were those long up and down latches with the mushroom heads just like in the good old days.

He opened the door gingerly and ushered Judy in. She bounced across into the passenger seat, sighing at the incredible luxury. It was just a dirty fabric-covered foam seat, but luxury was all a matter of perspective.

Avakian placed his pistol on the dash. If you were going to fight from a phone booth a pistol was a lot better than a rifle. “Things might start happening real fast,” he warned her.

The dent puller went into the ignition, but to his utter frustration took five bangs on the side hammer before the lock cylinder came out. Shit. Someone had to have heard that.

Inserting his knife to unlock the steering column, he cut the wheel to the left, shifted into neutral, and released the brakes. Nothing. They were parked on a downhill slope
and the frigging truck refused to move. What the hell? Avakian checked to see if there was another brake he'd neglected to release. Goddammit. C'mon, c'mon, he was shouting his internal monologue. Haven't you ever heard of fucking gravity? Unbelievable. He imagined a mob of angry truckers closing in on them even then. He cycled the brakes and was even rocking back and forth in his seat in an effort to get it moving.

The truck moved an inch. Let's go, let's go, Avakian was screaming inside his head, still bouncing in the seat. The truck picked up a little steam and swung to the left, barely missing the bumper of the one parked in front.

“Clear on the right,” Judy said helpfully. Except she was still whispering out of habit.

He cut the wheel back over and they were heading down the road, picking up a little speed. The owner hadn't been his height and he couldn't see squat through the side mirrors—a little detail he'd overlooked. “Anyone running after us?” he asked.

Judy stuck her head out the window. “No. And no trucks starting up, either.”

“You don't have to whisper anymore.”

She was embarrassed. “Sorry.”

“Hard habit to break.” Deciding not to tempt fate by trying to pop the clutch, he stuck his knife back in the steering column and started the ignition. It roared to life. “How about that?”

Judy was emptying the ashtray out the window. “There are no nonsmoking vehicles in China.”

“But are you okay with the color?” he asked.

“I'm okay with the color.”

It was green. Which was a big color for Chinese trucks, for whatever reason.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

“A little better since I had some food and water.” She was examining her fingertips. “But I'm all pruned up.”

“I can't imagine why,” he said. “But you're still beautiful.”

Hair wet and matted down, clothes soaked, sneakers squishing, smelling like she'd swum through a vat of petrochemicals and then rinsed off in an open sewer. And her smile lit up that dingy truck cab. “What about you?”

“I'm definitely still beautiful.”

His droll tone cracked her up. “I mean how do you feel?”

“I've been better. That was the longest night of my life.”

“Always nice to know I'm not the only one who feels a certain way. You mean you never did anything like that before?”

He broke his cardinal driving rule by turning his head to stare at her.

She cracked up again, pounding on the dashboard. “Oh, I wish I had a picture of your face just then. But hey, a series of hairbreadth escapes from certain death count as new and interesting experiences, don't they?”

“I'm going to have to say yes on that.”

“And that's what's really important. And we're driving instead of floating down a polluted river.”

“You know I hate to be negative, but it's still not clear whether we're on the right highway. Or even going in the right direction.”

“Where else could we be?”

“In the absence of a road atlas, I'd have to say anywhere in China.”

“I forgive your negativity. But you're missing the crucial point here.”

“Which is?”

“We're not floating down a polluted river with people shooting at us.”

“I concede that point.”

Judy immediately started rummaging around the cab. Avakian was always amused by female curiosity. She found a plastic bag that she thought might contain clothing, opened it up and peered in. “Whoa!” she exclaimed, shutting it up and throwing it out the window.

“Do I even want to know?” said Avakian.

“Somebody's dirty clothes that smelled worse than what we have on.”

“That's pretty bad.”

“Cleared out my sinuses.”

But that didn't stop her. A second later she found a bottle under the seat. No label, clear liquid. She uncapped it and sniffed cautiously. “It's alcohol, all right. Must not have wanted to share.”

“As your spiritual advisor,” Avakian said. “I recommend you not try that home brew unless you want to risk blindness.”

“I appreciate your concern for my spiritual needs. But have no fear.”

“Don't throw it away, though. We might need to start a fire.”

“It's definitely volatile.” She tucked the bottle back under the seat.

Her only other discovery was four cartons of domestic cigarettes and a small bag containing an extra pair of shoes with a hole in one sole and a toilet kit with a grubby towel, an encrusted razor with a blade that looked like it was hosting tetanus, and a bar of soap that had originally been white before being smeared with black grease.

Two miles down the road a sign appeared. A highway marker with a 110 in the center. And in Chinese and English, as had been customary so far, it read:
Hohhot 270 km.

“Well?” Judy demanded.

Avakian shook his head. “Of all the crazy dead reckoning navigation I've ever pulled out of my ass, this has to win the prize.” The sense of relief was so profound it felt like every muscle in his body, which had been tensed up for so long he no longer noticed, relaxed all at once.