Writers of the Future, Volume 28 (50 page)

“You’re a bit banged up, but your side doesn’t seem to be bleeding anymore.”

“No. It’s not bad.”

“That’s a pretty good bruise on your forehead.”

She felt her right temple. “I’ve had worse.” And then she felt the hard spot on her neck. “My implant seems to be okay.”

“Not on the plastic. It’s useless here.”

She sighed. “Other than that, I’m okay.”

“Very well. I’m on my way somewhere. You’ll have to come with me.”

“Have to
?
”

“Ah, do not leap to conclusions, my dear. I assure you, it is for your own good. You cannot survive in the wild Polys by yourself.”

“Where are you going
?
A research station
?
”

“You could call it that,” he said with a subdued grin. “But I’m late, now, so we’ll have to hurry. Just step where I step. Sorry, I don’t have an extra pair of snows. And don’t touch the plastics unless you have to. You don’t have a P-suit on, so you can cut yourself. For instance, don’t sit down like that. Those trousers won’t last the day.”

She got to her feet. He extended his hand in an offer to carry her backpack, and she reflexively clutched it to herself.

“Sorry,” she said, embarrassed by her obvious gesture. “It’s all I have left.”

He eyed the pack. “Your survival, now, will depend on others. You’ll have to give them something.”

Her grip tightened on the strap.

He spread his hands. “I’m just telling you so you won’t be caught by surprise. It would have been better if we had saved your boat. Still, Crab will expect presents.”

“Crab
?
”

“Come on.”

F
ollowing in Adam’s footsteps, she quickly adjusted to walking on the jumbled surface. Only once did her foot punch through, cutting the fabric of her trousers, but not her leg. They soon came to a compacted trail where the “ground” was smoother, if not flat. Adam took off the snowshoes and strapped them on his back. The surface here had the feel of something hollow. It was, she imagined, like walking on ice.

As the traveling eased, she considered the loss of her boat. It was a blow, yet she had successfully evaded capture. Better still, they thought she had drowned, and there would be no further pursuit.
And
she still had the chips. Having come ashore on what seemed like another planet, if she could just survive long enough to get those chips to a black market, her plan still seemed feasible.

The path wound through debris, skirting the highest outcroppings. Her guide seemed to be heading toward a smokestack-looking spire, plastic she assumed, that leaned at about forty-five degrees. Sure enough, a makeshift stairway, cut into the plastic, opened at its base.

“We call these ‘hatch caves.’” He started down the irregular, hard-packed steps. “Again, don’t touch the walls unless you have to. There are sharp particles embedded in the plastic.”

Sunlight sparkled through the plastic fragments and gave her the feeling of descending into a glacier. Yet the passageway soon narrowed, giving her a rush of claustrophobia. She hurried down the last few steps. At the bottom, the stairs opened into a big oval chamber with a flat wooden floor, and she gratefully stepped onto its smooth surface. They had, apparently, descended onto the deck of a boat.

Walls of debris hid the edges of the deck, even the ship’s railing. They crossed the wooden floor to a doorway, a metal oval beyond which a second pair of stairs led down into the ship’s interior. Adam wiped his feet on a large mat just inside the door, and Liyang did likewise. As they descended, she heard a voice below in English.

At the bottom of the stairs another oval doorway opened into a long room lighted by electricity. Men and women sat on tatami mats in rows on each side of a center aisle facing one another. She stepped inside, and the odor of unwashed bodies struck her with physical force. Everyone was naked, or near naked, wearing what appeared to be only underwear. Their clothes, suits like Adam wore, were folded next to them. They sat in the “perfect” posture, some in a full lotus.

In front of each person, or to one side, sat a plate with knife and fork and an empty wine glass. Some of the plates were still half full. They had just dined on fish—raw fish.

The scene confused her. While it had the look of an ashram meeting, the wine, even the raw fish, were not traditional Hindi.

“Om, Crab,” said Adam, placing the palms of his hands together and bowing to a wizened old man sitting at the far end of the room. His skin was a rich brown, but at first, Liyang couldn’t tell his ethnicity, perhaps Southeast Asian, perhaps Indian. His loincloth and turban definitely said Indian.

“Ohm shanti,” he responded. “You have a companion, Adam.”

“Yes, Crab. This is Liyang. She was pursued all the way to the cliffs. They got her boat.”

A general groan at this news. She noticed that everyone was thin and pale.

“They did not see you
?
”

“No, but there was no time to salvage. My regrets.”

“Take your place and introduce your guest,” said the old man with a wave. He spoke in a detached manner, as if her presence was unimportant, but, as she walked with Adam down the middle aisle, she felt the intense stares of the others.

One of the Chinese, a young man with a smooth round face and an unruly shock of straight black hair, smiled and shifted his position. The gesture was subtle, but Liyang read in it an invitation. She was suddenly aware that all the Chinese sat on one side of the room, and the rest, various ethnic groups, sat on the other. Torn for a moment, unsure whether to join the Chinese or follow Adam to the other side, she realized that her future in the group would be determined by her decision. After a pause, she placed her hands together and bowed, and followed Adam.

A plate of sliced raw fish sat at his place, a wedge of lime and a glass of white wine, about a third full. A few condiments that she didn’t recognize also rested on the plate. But instead of sitting down, Adam peeled off his plastic suit. Liyang looked at him and then at the others.

General laughter. “Don’t worry, dearie,” said a woman in Chinese. “You don’t have on a P-suit. You’ll want to strip naked after a day in one of those.” Liyang had not noticed her before; she was the only fat person in the room.

Adam was down to baggy underwear when he sat. His body was better proportioned than she thought, though she tried to show no interest.

“She’s just off a boat,” said Adam, “and hasn’t a clue what we’re about.”

Crab stroked a stringy goatee. He was quite thin, though not emaciated, and wore a white diaper-looking loincloth. His eyes remained half lidded as if falling asleep. “What has she brought us
?
” he asked, his gaze falling on the backpack.

“Ah, I haven’t had a chance to explain that to her.”

Liyang’s pulse quickened. Her gun, a necessary accoutrement of life in the tong, was in the bottom of her backpack and could not be quickly reached. How could she have walked into this situation unprepared
?
Had she grown up in the Old Buddha tong for nothing
?
Assessing the strengths of the individuals, particularly the Chinese, she remembered Adam’s warning. She would need help, perhaps the help of these very individuals, in order to survive.

“They blew up my boat. All I have is what’s in my pack.”

“You may present it to us.” No mistaking the old man’s command. He gestured to the spot in front of him, yet he did so with an indifference that quieted her alarm.

“Do you have any food
?
” asked the fat woman, this time in English.

“I’m sorry. Nothing but some energy bars.”

It seemed to her that everyone in the room leaned forward.

“We accept your energy bars and any other edibles you have.” He waved again to the spot on the floor in front of him.

“You are welcome to them, Crab, and I have some mints, too.” Reluctantly, she placed her pack on the floor where he indicated. Then she knelt on the other side of the pack, not wanting to get too far away from the chips.

Crab reached forward and dragged the bag into his lap where he released the catch and lifted the flap. One at a time, he removed the energy bars and lined them up in front of him.

“Oh, God, I hope they’ve got chocolate on them,” said a woman’s voice from farther down the room.

“Draw,” said one of the men.

“Divide,” cried several others in a sudden cacophony of English and Chinese.

“I will decide,” said Crab in a louder voice than before, bringing out two little plastic boxes of mints and placing those next to himself.

Next, he withdrew a notebook, which he placed on the floor by Liyang. Then he withdrew a battery pack. “One of our members no longer has batteries.”

“Thank you,” said a middle-aged woman sitting to Liyang’s right.

Crab continued to bring out the items of her pack, placing them next to himself or indicating to whom they would go, or placing them next to Liyang. Finally, only two items remained in the bottom of the bag: her box of computer chips and her revolver.

He lifted out the long box and held it in the air for a moment. His half-lidded eyes flickered as if in recognition.

“Honorable Crab,” she said, deferentially. “Those are my computer chips. They are the only way I have to start a new life.”

Crab flipped the latch and raised the lid so that he looked down on the individual chips, each one in its own transparent case. “What kind are they
?
”

“Genji480s.”

Crab only stared at them.

“They could bring high price in Hong Kong or Okinawa City,” said a voice behind her in English. Liyang recognized the fat Chinese woman who had spoken before.

“Valuables are kept in my safe,” Crab said, placing the box next to himself. “They can be a source of conflict.”

Liyang felt a rush of heat to her face. Her hands twitched. He had taken her chips—or had he
?
Her eyes flashed at Adam. His brow was wrinkled, but otherwise she couldn’t read him. Did Crab know what the chips were
?
They had appeared on the Chinese market not two months ago. Perhaps he was faking.

He lifted the bag and placed it next to her. He had seen the gun at the bottom. She knew he had seen it, and yet he did not acknowledge it. That gave her hope that he was not confiscating the chips.

“Thank you, honorable Crab,” she said, bowing her head. She had studied yoga in a college class, but could not remember the proper phrase of obsequence.

She put the few items he had returned to her back in the pack. As she stood, a voice said in Chinese, “Your place is on this side.” She turned, but could not tell who had spoken. It was a man’s voice in the Shanghai Mandarin dialect. The words had been stated as fact, not as command, and no one moved to make room for her. Crab said nothing; she couldn’t even be sure that he heard, or that he understood Chinese. Acutely aware that all eyes were on her, she bowed in the traditional manner, her mind in turmoil, and then returned to the place on Adam’s mat.

When she sat, Adam smiled, his eyes sparkling, as if he were proud of her. It made her angry. Her whole future had just been plopped into the lap of an old man who probably didn’t know what computer chips were. Yet, she was also pleased, a bit, with his regard for her.

The Chinese across from her stared expressionlessly. The faces of the others, on her side of the room, she could not see. When she glanced back at Crab, he proceeded as if nothing had happened, placing the bars, their wrappers off, on a wooden slab. He brought out a knife.

“This will seem strange to you, Liyang,” he said without looking at her. “We have plenty to eat; it’s just that we do not have a great deal of variety. Certain highly refined food products, for instance, are extremely rare and highly prized.

“Drawing for them has produced too much conflict, and so my ruling is that we divide. Each bar will be divided into six pieces. There are nineteen of us, but Liyang will not get a piece. The mints will be distributed at our next meeting.”

At that, he cut the energy bars, carefully, not touching them with his hands. He leaned over them, his nostrils expanding, although how he could smell them over the odor of his body Liyang did not know.

“You may now approach. Come in your designated turn.”

Liyang watched in rapt fascination as the members of the group approached the old man, knelt to the floor, bowed their heads and held out a hand. Crab lifted each piece with the knife and deposited it into the waiting palm. He mumbled as he did it, although Liyang could not hear what he said. The ritual had the look of a Christian communion, a few of which she had seen before.

None ate their piece until they returned to their mats. There they nibbled, took small bites and closed their eyes. A woman wept. When Adam returned with his piece, he offered to share, but Liyang shook her head. Adam chuckled. “Take it. In a few days you’ll wish you had.”

“Honorable Crab,” said the Chinese woman again.

Crab nodded to acknowledge her.

“In another week, rotation of the gyre will be putting us out of range of Hong Kong. Perhaps one of our poor boats could be repaired enough to make one more run for . . . serious supplies.”

“What kind of supplies do you need
?
” The tone of Crab’s voice gave no indication of interest.

“We must think of the future. One day, gyre will bring us directly across from Kamwome Island. It could be easily taken, even with few boats. Most of the Marshall Islands have been abandoned since the Kiekie incident. People live in palm huts. They will be easily defeated. I have been there. It is my vision that our days of living on floating garbage will end.”

There were murmurs of agreement from the Chinese. Those on the opposite side sat silently. Crab appeared to be asleep. Liyang could not help but notice that the woman had said “one more” run to Hong Kong. Perhaps they weren’t as isolated as Adam said.

“Meantime,” Madam Woo said, “the Genji chips would give us enough yuan to buy necessary guns and ammunition, and many comfortable things. To sell them would be a benefit to all.”