The Ghost Shift (33 page)

“Thank you, no. I have just eaten.”

“I hope you don’t mind if I do. At this time of day, I try to relax and remember the day. It is a discipline. The things that I did right and I am proud of. The things of which I am ashamed.”

“I will remember that.”

“Let’s try now. What made you proud today?”

The psychologist poured water onto leaves and steam rose. The left sleeve of her coat dangled, making her look like a teenager.

“I was proud to learn new skills and not to be prevented from working by my foolish injury.”

“Ah, yes, your injury. Let me look.” Dr. He carried her cup to the desk and set it down, examining Mei’s hand.

“Such a terrible thing to happen, so soon after you arrived. Injuries are rare here. I was shocked when I heard. I hope we will analyze this incident and correct our failures.”

“It was my fault, Dr. He. I was being clumsy.”

“And today? Did anything make you ashamed?” The psychologist sipped tea, peering at Mei through her bangs.

“Sometimes I fell behind. I need to get faster.”

“Nothing more?”

“I am sure there are others for me to reflect upon.”

“Tell me about your parents, Mei.”

“My mother is very kind and has a great spirit. She was born in
Guangzhou and she trained as a nurse. She works in the Chang’an Hospital in Heyuan. But she looks after my father now. Sometimes, he says he is just a burden on her. It distresses her.”

Dr. He smiled and broke into a dialect that Mei didn’t understand.
“
.
”

Mei smiled uncertainly and shrugged.

“ ‘God does not produce useless men. The earth would not allow rootless grass to grow.’ I’m surprised you haven’t heard that, Jia. It is one of the first Hakka sayings that my father taught me.”

“My parents are from Guangzhou. They moved for work before I was born. I wasn’t taught Hakka, I’m afraid.”

“Not at all? It must have been tough when you were at school. Which one did you attend?”

“I went to Heyuan Number Three Elementary.”

“Do you still have friends from there?”

Mei shifted in her chair, trying to keep her eyes on Dr. He.

“Some, yes.”

“When did you arrive in Shenzhen?”

“After the New Year. I wanted a new life.”

“Were you in Heyuan for the earthquake?”

Mei froze. She’d been in Guangzhou, the only cadre with no family to visit for New Year. She had a split second to choose.

“No, I’d left. My parents felt it, but they weren’t hurt.”

“Mine too. It was bad around the Xinfengjiang Reservoir. I hope it isn’t worse next time.”

Mei couldn’t risk it any longer. She squeezed her left hand into a fist, crying out as her cuts opened.

“Oh no.” She held her hand out, showing blood seeping through the bandage. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened.”

“Jia, you need treatment. What a shame. I was enjoying our talk very much. It was enlightening.”

Dr. He led Mei to the medical center, where the nurse repaired her hand. She felt no pain as the bandage strips were snipped off and replaced—the sensation was drowned out by fear.

The next day, Mei was ready.

She didn’t return to the dormitory at the end of the afternoon shift in case Dr. He caught her. Instead, she walked in the field with Ling, taking another chance to scan the landscape. The heat was intense. It had built up all day as if it were still high summer, although the rainy season was coming to an end. She could feel the breeze starting to blow in gusts.

“How is your poor hand, Jia?”

“Better, thank you.”

“I was worried about you.”

Mei stopped and took Ling’s hand.

“Ling, they will let you leave. I’m sure of it.”

“I want to see my mother again.”

Mei gazed across the field at P-1, trying to gauge the distance from the building to the fence. It looked a long way, in blazing sunshine, with heat rising from the field. The flat fields shimmered like an oasis.

“Let’s go,” Ling said. “I can’t stand any more of this.” She was dripping with sweat and wiped her neck with a tissue.

At her station, Mei waited for the overtime shift to start and the last of the trays to be stacked on her cart so that she could make the round again. She had two and a half hours to go—seven complete circuits from the assembly line through to the other building and back again. She looked at her watch as she pushed the cart through the door for the first time, timing it.

At eight o’clock, she came to the end of the assembly line on the
other side of the wall for the sixth time, and pushed the tray—now emptied of parts—through the door in the wall to her starting point. She was ten minutes early. If she set off again, she’d be stuck with her cart in the other building when the klaxon sounded for the end of the shift. As she reached for the first tray to stack the cart, she clutched her hand and called to the supervisor.

“Can I sit for a minute? My hand hurts.”

“Yes, sit here. Shall I call the nurse?”

“No, I’ll be all right. I’ll use the restroom.”

Mei gazed into the bathroom mirror as she splashed water on her neck. Her hair was growing out at the neck, where it had been shaved close, and the contact lenses that made her eyes black felt gritty. She didn’t recognize herself. She had started to shake, and she pressed her hands by the side of the sink to stay calm. The pretense would soon be finished.

She stood and walked back to the line, smiling at the supervisor as she grabbed a cart and started to stack it with trays. It was the right time, and she didn’t want to be delayed. She put her shoulder to the frame and pushed, setting off on her circuit for the last time. The doors slid open and she was in the first walkway, out of sight of the worker in front, her sneakers squeaking on the floor. She looked through the panels above her head. Black clouds were massing in the sky, which had turned violet.

The boy at the entrance smiled when he saw her and gave her a wink as he bent to scan the trays. She did her best to respond, before pushing the cart on toward the mezzanine. At the far end, she glanced at her watch as she waited for a new one. It was 8:26. The beauty of Long Tan was its predictability. There was no slacking as the end of the shift approached, no winding down or drifting away. The line worked at full speed until the moment the klaxon sounded and then it stopped, abruptly and completely.

Mei watched the girl ahead of her push through the door onto the return walkway. It was 8:27. As she took her cart, she stepped discreetly on the brake of the next one to delay the worker behind. She pushed it toward the exit as fast as she could—she needed to get through the door.

Looking ahead, she saw trouble. The smiling boy had switched places and was holding his scanner as if saluting her. She gave a grimace, as if complaining about the weight, as she reached him.

It was 8:28.

“What’s your name?” he said, bending to scan the trays.

“Jiang Jia.” Mei found herself whispering. Her voice had cracked and she could not speak.

“What do you do in the evenings?”

“I read. I watch television.”

He stood with his hand on her cart. “I’d like to see you.”

8:29.

She smiled. “I’ll think about it.”

The cart felt like a dead weight. She grunted with effort, edging the wheels onto the pad in front of the door. It slid back and she wheeled past his hopeful smile. As the door shut behind her, she let the cart slip forward and pushed with all her might, leaning at a forty-five degree angle to thrust her weight against it, her left hand throbbing in protest. She heard the splash of raindrops from the dark sky above her as she galloped along the hallway, the cart weaving from side to side with speed, almost hitting the wall.

8:30.

The klaxon sounded, echoing along the bend from both ends.

Mei kept running until she reached the apex, where she’d stopped the previous day. The lines in the hangar would have halted, and her friends would be drifting off to relax. The protocol was to push the cart to the end of the walkway and into the assembly plant when the klaxon sounded, but nobody could see her. With luck, she’d have a few minutes before they noticed that she hadn’t emerged. She was more worried about the scanner boy. What if he followed her?

Mei couldn’t do anything about it now—she’d cast her lot. She reached into the trays and felt for the slots in which the logic boards had been placed. Extracting one, she stuffed it into her pocket, brushing her finger past the warm chip. Then she took another, pulling a tool from her pocket and levering the chip from the board. Reaching into one pocket, she removed a foil packet and twisted it open. When she was finished, she looked above her head, seeing fat raindrops
starting to splash on the glass panel, and pulled the cart against one wall. She reached up and thrust her left hand over the top tray. She was past caring about the pain as she gripped the metal and, raising her knee, wedged one sneaker into the gap above the third tray and heaved herself up.

The cart tipped, its front wheels lifting from the ground, and she placed her foot on the fifth tray, shifting her weight across the top of the cart. The maneuver trapped her left hand and she felt the skin rip but she ignored the pain, reaching out to grasp the top rail and pull herself forward.

She crouched, ten feet above the ground, and reached into one pocket for the assembly tool again. Then she stood gingerly, feeling the trays buckle under her but hold, and touched the window. Rain was starting to spatter loudly on the glass. She leaned across, wedging her useless left hand against the frame and putting her weight on it. Taking the tool, she slotted it into the first of four latch screws and twisted. It was stiff, but she laced her whole body behind it and felt it turn—she’d had plenty of practice. The second came out and then the third, dropping to the floor with tinkling sounds. The fourth was the hardest but she willed it free.

Banging the frame, she pushed upward, but she couldn’t force it free from her angle. She hooked the cart away from the wall with her feet, so that it was directly under the panel, and tried again. It creaked loudly and lifted to a thirty-degree angle, where two folding struts locked it. That was as far as she could force it. She placed her hands on the edge of the frame, by the open end. Pushing up, she squeezed her shoulders through the gap and onto the roof. Her left hand felt dead as she clawed the smooth surface, trying to get a hold.

Inch by inch, she pulled forward, feeling the rain flood down her neck. There was more light than she’d imagined—it glowed from the hallway onto the open window. Her shoulders wedged in the gap between frame and window, but she kept tugging, feeling her uniform tunic catch on the metal and pull down her body. Finally, she scrambled out, blood pouring from her hand and a fresh cut on her neck. She looked at the angry sky, seeing the first crack of lighting unleash a torrent of rain, and laughed, letting the water run into her mouth.
The clouds had opened and she could hardly see, which meant she was hardly visible.

The drop was twelve feet, but she didn’t have time to worry. Lowering herself over the edge, she gripped the ledge with her good hand and, swinging awkwardly, fell to the ground. Spilling backward, she banged her shoulders and scrambled to her feet. She was more than a thousand feet from her target—an open sewer that crossed the field, draining water on nights like this. Seeing it as she walked with Ling, she had realized how Lizzie had escaped this prison.

Pointing herself toward it, she ran.