by Vann Chow
“I do not wish to further discuss this trivial issue with you. It was a routine execution and it was my deepest regret if Mr. Cowhead and Horseface have dropped you off a bit too early to spared you from witnessing the brutality that happens here every. I advise that the two of you to take some rest until your designated departure hour comes. Your attorney will introduce your rights to you. Please pardon me.” Then she turned to go about whatever business she needed to tend to.
“She’s a psychopath!” Ian said to Chad when their caretakers had helped them settled into the room of a rather unusual guesthouse standing on the highest spots of the terrain supported by a sturdy foundation made out of wooden planks, wet and molded with century-old watermarks. The house was elevated almost ten stories high above the ground.
“Maybe it was our minds that have gone haywire.”
“Shit. Maybe it is,” Ian said. He edged closer to the open window of the room to survey the landscape down under. What the woman had referred to as prisoners had scattered throughout the field and started to labor away. Some were herding the animals, some were plowing; some planting and some were reaping. One was pushing a cart piled high with animal feces into a hut while a few others were carrying big wooden barrels off carts, unmistakably fermentation devices containing wine, right next to them at the lake. At this altitude, Ian and Chad could see the lake laid before their eyes. Its level was low. Around it, there were visible furrows and open ditches through which a yellowish liquid was slowly seeping into the half-emptied lake.
“The whole lake was filled with rice wine!” Ian exclaimed. “The same one that I was almost drowned in.”
Doubtful and eager to prove him wrong, Chad stuck his noise closer to Ian’s wet shirt and sniffed. To his surprise, it was definitely some kind of alcoholic drink, mixed with the smell of sweats and that of earth.
“Yuck! You do smell like the food my grandma cooks. She liked to spice up dishes with rice wine."
“Chad, you know what that means? Someone has put a farm inside the bottle! Like the whole France buried inside a Merlot. How amazing!”
“I would be happier if I were sent to France for free. This is obviously a Chinese farm. Look at how ridiculous these people dress! I meant a Chinese prison farm…Gosh! Where the fuck are we?!” Chad said.
“A Chinese farm. That explains the waves!”
“How so?”
“Just think about it. Someone put a farm inside a bottle with forced labors to cultivate the land and operate the production so they would never run out of wine.” Ian said. “And they store it inside the lake.”
“…more like a reservoir of wine.”
“The ebb tide and flow tide we experienced then were nothing more than the simple action of tipping a wine bottle that causes the rice wine to pour out of the lake.”
“Gosh, that would make sense, or not, depending on how you look at it. It felt like earthquake inside the underground shelter. I was thrown onto the wall when the wave came. Regular flooding wouldn’t have done it,” Chad said. Luckily for him, the shelter was lined with thick mats — the designer of the farm had built the underground shelter that way intentionally, knowing that the waves would come. That’s also the reason why they built the main tower so high above the ground.
Ian danced around the room in excitement at the plausibility of their speculations. He might have even felt that an unexpectedly wave of good fortune had hit him such that he was able to witness such an extraordinary, straight-out-of-storybook spectacle. But he quickly changed his mind when someone walked in.
“Pardon me,” A man had entered the room. His expression was somber, extremely grave and serious, much like the heavy grey suit he was wearing. He cleared his throat twice in disgust to stop the joyful dancing in the room as if any happy emotions irritated his whole being. He placed a book on the center table with just a little too much force and they turned to look at the man. Unlike the others in the farm, his appearance was one much more polished and civilized — white shirt, grey tie, matching Haggar slacks and a pair of black penny loafers. Certainly a man from the same world Ian and Chad had come from.
“Ian Bennett, Chad Chan?” He called out their names in authority.
“Yes?” They replied.
“Good. You two must be wondering why you are here, aren’t you?” His hands idly inserted in his pants’ pockets, amused at their dismal expressions. “Well, there is nothing to worry about now. I’m here to help you. John Burke, Celestial Court attorney.” He extended his arm and shook their hands firmly.
“Finally someone sharp!” Chad said. “I don’t care what happened before, just get us out of here.”
“All in good time.” Mr. Burke said. “Let’s us settle the matter at hand first. Please take a seat.” He gestured them to sit around the table while he himself stayed standing. The other obliged. Mr. Burke then opened a large leather-bound book before them. As he leafed through the pages, Ian caught a few titles: Burglary, Embezzlement , Looting, Robbery, Mugging, Trespassing, Shoplifting, Intrusion, Fraud, Kidnapping, Murder— each of which a worse crime than the one before. Ian turned to look at Chad, he seemed to share the same apprehension towards whatever that was coming next. One thing they were sure of, however, was that they must have gotten themselves into some serious trouble. When the man finally stopped leafing, the book lying on the desk was opened to a chapter with the name of a crime none of them could figure out what it meant —Larceny.
“The two of you, Ian Bennett of 144 Kennedy Road and Chad Chan of 34th and Portland Street, are charged with different levels of larceny.” He began reading from his book: “Larceny is the wrongful taking and carrying away of personal property which is in the possession of another with the intent to convert it or permanently deprive the owner thereof — the thief need not intend to keep the property himself.” He read.
“Wait a second. Are you calling us thieves?” Chad stood up angrily. He eyeballed Mr. Burke who in many years of his service had certainly dealt with this kind of situation before and so was not a bit perturbed by Chad’s displeased reactions.
“The prosecution was made by the prosecutors. I am merely reciting them to you.”
“Bullshit!” Chad said, lifting up the chair on his side an inch from the floor and angrily thumped it down. Usually being the calm one, Ian couldn’t help being agitated too himself in the face of being criminated with something he did not commit.
“By whose authority are we being charged? And for what? I felt that what had happened was more like a crime on us than by us. We were being abducted by some extraterrestrial beings in illegitimate ways and now you are charging us with these vague crimes? For what? For being caught holding something on your way to Lost & Found?” Ian said. “This is ridiculous!”
“I’m afraid this is the way how things are done in here.”
“In where? This is Hong Kong. I know our civil rights,” Ian retorted. “I can sue them for misconduct.”
“Who? Mr. Cowhead and Mr. Hourseface?” Mr. Burke snorted. “Forget about it. It’s time for you to wake up and face the truth. You two are in Hong Kong, yes, without a doubt,” he said solemnly, “but you are no longer in the world of the living. This world has its own sets of rules.” He paused. “Don’t argue with me. I know more about rules than you can image.”
They gasped. Although it was obvious even to the dimmest person that they could not have been in the same world that they were born into and spent twenty or so years in, it was rather hearing the truth said from the mouth of someone who sounded perfectly sane that had really made it hit home.
“You two were arrested for larceny against the deceased. Such kind of crime is seriously disrespectful and insulting. I personally detest it,” Mr. Burke said.
“Hold on…what deceased?” Ian asked.
“Yeah, who’s dead?” Chad too was curious to know. Mr. Burke simply sighed. Ian and Chad looked at each other and exclaimed together.
“That Girl!”
�
�Elise Chow. That’s the name of the possessor written in here — Chad Chan and Ian Bennett were found in possession of Chow’s property, a burgundy red 8” by 11” leather-bound notebook, stashed inside a black nylon backpack in the backseat of a sports car belonging to Bennett….They were found attempting to run away with stolen property and were arrested promptly at their rest stop.”
“You stupid prick! What the hell did you have to take MTR for today? What are you trying to prove? Stick to your little private Mercedes and be content with it already,” Chad said.
“I told you she left in on her seat!” Ian replied.
“So what?! Do you always have to stick your nose in everything? Do you always have to be so nice? Mr. Perfect?”
“Are you saying it’s all my fault? If you weren’t so fucking drunk you could have think twice before you tell them that the notebook is yours! Oh wait, you NEVER think!”
“You son of a bitch!”
And they started fighting. Snatching and grabbing and throwing mad punches at each other. Chad was much stronger than Ian and as they were wriggling each other’s neck on the floor, Ian regretted picking a fight with Chad for he knew what Chad could do, him being in the wrestling team and all throughout the last two years college.
The door of the guest room flung open suddenly. In walked the woman whom they had talked to earlier. With a natural abhorrence for disorder, she commanded the prisoner-servants to separate them from each other immediately.
“What’s going on? Mr. Burke, we do not allow any form of violence in here. I do not wish that any fight happen in my ground. It would provoke our inmates!” The woman said.
“I am very sorry, madam. I wasn’t able to stop them.” Mr. Burke was not going to anyway. He was too old to get involved in a fight but of course he didn’t say that he thought it a good idea to just let them get their frustration all out.
The servants had skirted around the two boys and tried to pry them away from each other but to no avail because not one of them was strong enough to pull Chad away from Ian. At that moment, another woman had stepped in. She was in a light blue Buddhist tricivara robes and was greeted with revere by the others in the room.
“You two should know better than to fight one’s own brother.” She said as soon as she saw Ian and Chad and struck them from across the room with an invisible sling in her hand with stones, one from each hand. The stones darted across the room and impelled on a muscle in their necks. Ian and Chad felt an immediate sharp pain and their limbs were weakened instantly. Chad who was straddling on top of Ian collapsed on to the floor with a thump and it was only by sheer luck that Ian was able to shift away from beneath him before he himself was completely paralyzed by the attack of the stone.
“Clear Sky! Thanks for helping.” The woman greeted the nun who was referred to as “Clear Sky”. The paralyzed bodies of Ian and Chad were being dragged apart by the servants to the opposite corners of the room so they could cool off.
“Don’t mention it.” Turning to Mr. Burke, she said. “I assume this should make your proceeding much easier.”
“Yes…thanks.” Mr. Burke said in reply. His voice hoarse from agitation, unsure himself whether he simply disliked the uncivilized way how she handled arguments by rendering people paralyzed or he was uncomfortable being next to a woman with power much greater than his. “I wouldn’t want to trouble you further. I can proceed on my own,” he said politely to Clear Sky and she took the cue. She then walked out of the room together with the other woman.
“Release us!” Chad yelled behind her but she was already gone. “Hey! Come back! Release us now!”
“There’s no use.” Ian said to Chad who was struggling to regain control of his body but realized that he couldn’t. Changing his facial expression was the most he could do. “Don’t waste your energy. Just let it wear off by itself.” Ian said, lying flat on his back.
“How’d the fuck do you know anything about witchcraft?” Chad asked sarcastically.
“Don’t you ever read?” He said. “Anyone who read Louis Cha will know.” Louis Cha is one of the most influential Chinese martial art novelists in history. His fourteen novels were centered on ancient stories of heroes and heroines that possess superior fighting prowess and techniques.
“Shut up, nerd.”
Mr. Burke could not help but laughed at the dynamics between them. “Ian, I am aware that you are a very intelligent person. And you too, one with great physical strength. The Celestial Court will have use for the two of you.” Mr. Burke said. “If we can highlight these characters appropriately before the judge, we would be able to negotiate something with the prosecutor for the two of you based on the prospect of what you could contribute to their organization. But as of this moment, I strongly advice you two to remain level-headed and learn everything you can about the charges against you and your right in court before the trial, which is no more than three days away.”
“Shit!” Chad said. “Who do we have to see again?” He had given up struggling within himself because nothing worked.
“The Celestial Court of Hong Kong, alternatively called the The Chamber of Life and Nutrition. It is the highest judicial body in this realm. It is equivalent to the Supreme Court for the living. I suppose that would give you an idea of the severity of the matter at hand.”
“Jesus Christ!” Chad said.
“I suggest that you refrain from using that kind of language from now on. Some people are very sensitive about the words that come out of one’s mouth. They may consider it profanity to hear anyone say any religious figure’s name in vain, regardless of whether it’s an Eastern or Western religion, or even some rather neutral reference to nature or the heaven, which is what we represent.”
In respond to that, Chad only made a disgruntle noise.
“Please tell us what our charges are?” Ian asked bitterly. “And what would happen to us if we were found guilty.”
Mr. Burke pulled out a piece of papers from his pocket and read the words on it dryly, “Chad Chan, two counts of 5th Degree Larceny—In Possession of Other’s Property and Asportation. Ian Bennett, one count of 5th Degree Larceny—Asportation. Each count could put you in a correctional facility like this one for a very long time.”
“There’s a mistake. Why do I have more charges than you?” Chad asked. “I wasn’t the one who took it in the first place.”
“You were seen in possessed with the property in question obviously when Mr. Cowhead and Mr. Horseface arrested you.”
Ian sneered at Chad’s misfortune.
“Just wait until I can move.” Chad warned Ian.
“Oh, I am so scared!” Ian joked from across the room. He was indeed scared, however. Not of Chad but of his unknown future.
Drunken
“Hey, what do you think will happen to us?” Chad asked as he pranced around the guestroom poking at odd decorations he had never seen before here and there after the numbness had worn off.
“We are locked up some fifty feet off the ground in a prison inside a bottle of Maotai,” Ian said blandly. “If you know what will happen next let me know. The only thing I know for sure is we are safer in this pagoda than out.”
“That is if we let them do what they want to us.” Chad mind was rattling with stupefying images of convicted criminals being executed in the old fashion ways back in the days in Chinese villages. A chill ran down his spine. He had no intention of being burnt to death on a pole or die drowning in a wine flask.
“The guys said we have three days till the trial. Say if the tides are really semidiurnal as she said…” Ian said thoughtfully.
“Damn, we will have six chances to sneak away when everybody is hiding underground when the waves come. We can climb down this thing easily. Then only thing we need to worry about was the tsunami.”
“From this height, we could probably land on top of the water when it was about to recede. I’m sure we can find something to stay afloat.”
“And we will just let it c
arry us away from this freaking farm.”
“Yeah, but what happened next? We might be able to get away from this farm but how are we going to climb outside the flask. And once we are outside of the flask, we will be meeting Cowhead and Horseface head on.”
“Well, in that case we’ll just have to deal with them the old fashion way.” Chad swung his fist in the air with his teeth clenched.
“Make sure you don’t drink any rice wine on the way out this time.”
“Those bastards don’t know who they were messing with. Let them feast on the authentic Drunken Fist.” Drunken Fist attack was a fictional Kung Fu move Jackie Chan used in a popular martial art movie called the Drunken Master.
“Ha!” Ian made a cold dismissive laugh and turned towards the barren landscape outside the pagoda again.
“I am not saying I would mind if we have some real weapons. If we have a gun, I would have shot those bastards into shreds a long time ago.”
“This is not really a beat ‘em up, hack and slash kinda game. There is no cue and no prompt, no herbs to recharge and merchants to buy medicine from. If we want to get out of here we need to avoid head-on contact with our enemies as much as possible. This is the kind of game we are playing, I think,” Ian said. “The good thing is if we are in the world of the death, we already got that dying part of the way. On the other hand, what we will be facing must be worse than death.”
“Jesus Christ, why are you always so grim?”
“May be you should watch your language.” Ian said, referring to Chad’s blasphemous use of the Christ’s name as the lawyer had warned them not to. “I don’t want to get in deeper shit because of something stupid you said.”
“Tsk! C’mon man. We are engineers. Our brains alone are enough to beat them twice.”
“We are engineers... that sing,” Ian said.