by A. H. Wang
He scratches his head, then smiles at her cheerfully. “We have supplies for a whole week, Georgia. I am sure we will be able to find something.”
Mark knows he has been played.
To him, business is an art of war to be practised with finesse, but war cannot be won without loyal and capable servants. Decades of experience in the world of trade has endowed him with acute senses when it comes to subordinates, and right now he is convinced that he has grossly underestimated Georgia.
He is incensed. If she had done her job properly, he wouldn’t be here right now, playing stake-out with Hank at a private cabin on the outskirts of Taroko. Mark hardly has the time or the patience for this charade.
“Sir,” Hank says beside him, pointing to the red dot on the tablet screen. “I’ve tracked Professor Lee’s movements. She’s been hanging around this particular section of the valley for several days. It’s quite exposed. I can send our men in there right now—”
“No, I want to see how this plays out.”
“But sir,” Hank protests, frowning. “I don’t understand. Georgia has achieved her mission, she has found Hsu Fu and they are right there, within our grasp—”
Mark raises a finger for silence. He leans over the tablet, staring at the blinking red dot to ponder on what Georgia’s possible motives may be. Her behaviour makes no sense whatsoever. If Georgia doesn’t want to bring Hsu Fu in, why isn’t she on the plane right now, planning either to disappear or find the highest bidder for her discovery? Why hide here, in the middle of one of the most popular tourist destinations in Taiwan?
What could possibly be out there in the gorge?
She’s up to something, and Mark has no idea what that is. If there’s one thing he’s learnt in business, it’s to never make your move without knowing what your adversary may be planning.
A thought occurs to him, and he tells Hank, “Bring up a map of her movements over the past few days.”
His assistant takes over the tablet, tapping various commands on the screen before handing it back. Mark leans in, studying the organised, linear lines that trace Georgia’s path.
“She’s looking for something.” His revelation comes out at a whisper.
“But that makes no sense. What could she be searching for out there?”
Mark furrows his brows, considering this. Then it dawns on him. “The elixir. She must be searching for it with Hsu Fu. That’s why they’ve been out there all this time.”
Beside him, Hank inhales audibly.
Well, this is an interesting development. Instead of simply finding the immortal man in question, Georgia is aiming for something even better: the cure to mortality itself. Mark sits back in his chair, his mind roaming over the potential of this revelation.
“Sir,” Hank pipes up again. “Let me at least set up a surveillance team in the area to watch her movements. Just in case.”
“No,” Mark replies, his voice sharp. “I don’t want too many people involved. The fewer people know about this, the better. Send the men home.” He looks at his assistant pointedly. “I assume we can handle it ourselves.”
Hank purses his lips, giving him a silent nod.
It is quite clear now that Mark has misjudged the professor’s character, and that is something that rarely happens to him. He wonders what her true intentions are. Will she share the elixir with the rest of the world? Or will she sell it to whoever pays the highest sum?
No. Judging from her behaviour so far, he gets the feeling that Georgia wants to keep the elixir all to herself.
Mark works his jaw, feeling rage simmer in the depths of his stomach. That is simply unacceptable. He will make certain that she does not achieve her goal.
They are running low on supplies.
It has been five long days of searching, traversing back and forth from the riverbank in a methodical fashion, looking for any signs of an entrance. So far, they’ve found absolutely nothing.
Now, with the sun setting, they have returned to their camp by the river. Georgia examines their food supply and decides that if they don’t make any progress in the next two days, they may have to consider going back. Expeditions like this usually take months to plan, and she knows they have been ill-prepared for it.
During dinner, they discussed their options, debating at length over what to do. Both of them are loath to give up on the search, but there doesn’t seem to be any other alternative.
She glances over at Charlie, who is sitting on the tarp with his back against a rock. His eyes are closed, and she can tell that he is not asleep, but meditating. Once again, she’s struck by the calm and tranquillity he exudes. The sense of stillness about him is so palpable that it makes her also close her eyes, basking in quietude. Even the entire valley seems to descend into silence.
A tremor begins to hum in the valley, building quickly into a shudder as the ground shakes beneath her. Then, as quickly as it started, it is gone. Georgia’s eyes fly open, looking about her with momentary confusion. All of a sudden the birds in the trees explode into cacophony, flying into the pink sky. In the distance, bats surge high above the gorge. She realises at that moment why the animals went quiet only seconds before.
“Earthquake,” she says.
“Yes.” Charlie nods.
Taiwan is one of the most tectonically active regions in the world. Tremors like these happen almost daily, the majority of them originating just off the east coast. Most of the time the quakes are harmless: minor shudders that are barely detected by those who live on the island. Every few decades, though, a severe earthquake hits, causing widespread destruction and death.
Georgia stills as an idea crosses her mind. She reaches for the little laptop next to her, her fingers flying across the keyboard.
“Georgia?” Charlie watches her, moving closer to see what she is doing.
She studies the two topography maps that she downloaded from NASA’s archives before making this trip. Zooming in, she finds what she’s looking for.
“Of course,” she whispers.
“What is it?”
She tilts the computer towards Charlie to show him the images. “We’ve been looking in the wrong place all this time.”
“We have?”
“These are the topography data of our location right now,” Georgia explains as she points to the maps. “This one was taken before 1999, and this one was taken after.”
Charlie squints at the images. After a few moments, he sees what she is getting at. “The river bed has moved.”
“Yes!”
“What happened in 1999?”
“A major earthquake,” she explains. “It was dubbed ‘Quake of the Century’ by the local media. Over two thousand people died, and tens of thousands more injured. There were billions of dollars of damage to all the buildings and infrastructure. Hundreds of landslides happened during the main quake and the aftershocks, altering much of Taiwan’s landscape.”
“The 921 Earthquake.” Charlie nods, aware of the incident she is referring to.
“Yeah,” she says, typing on the keyboard again to overlap the two images. Looking around them, it takes her a few moments to translate their exact location. She points to the distance when she’s sure she’s got the right spot.
“We should be looking over that ridge instead.”
62
MacGyver was full of shit.
Sarah glares at the piece of wire in her hand with disbelief. It’s too damn big for the hole.
Unwilling to give up, she turns to look around the basement again. She really needs a hammer, but knows for sure there’s no such thing in here. Her eyes fall on the desk across the room.
Striding down the stairs towards the table, Sarah examines its sturdy metal legs, and crouches down to lift one as she places the wire underneath. Then, with as much force as she can muster, she bashes the weight of the table down. She misses a few times, but with patience she repeats this awkward action again and again, then studies her results.
&nbs
p; Perfect.
After doing the same for the other piece of the filament, Sarah walks back up the steps to the door. This time, the filaments fit exactly into the hole.
She bends both wires at the end, and inserts them into the lock at varying angles. It’s been a while since she’s had to do this, but revisiting the skill is like riding a bike for her. Feeling around the keyhole with one of the wires, she guesses there are at least five or six pins in the locking mechanism. It’s a matter of locating the pins and pushing them up one by one.
Sarah fiddles with the wires for some time. Their size is not exactly ideal for this job, even after they’ve been flattened somewhat. She distinctly recalls it only took MacGyver under a minute to perform this trick on TV. But it’s TV after all, and she’s just happy to have gotten this far.
It takes her at least half an hour at the door, but when the faint, undeniable click issues from inside the lock, she feels on the verge of weeping with relief. Sweat beads at her brows, and she wipes her clammy hands on her dirty clothes, taking a few breaths before putting gentle pressure on the other wire to twist it to the right, praying it’s in the correct direction.
The lock turns without resistance, and Sarah watches with disbelief as the door swings open after a gentle tug on the knob.
Holy shit. It actually works.
Relief sweeps over her and she suddenly bursts out in tears, laughing and sobbing at the same time. Then she clamps her hands firmly over her mouth, peering through the opening, trying to detect any movements on the other side.
Stepping through the doorway with heightened caution, she’s half expecting to find herself in a derelict house, a creepy abode for a serial killer just like in the horror movies she likes to watch. Instead, she sees nothing but a small concrete shed. Like the basement downstairs, it’s pretty much empty.
A cold draft hisses softly through the metal door to the left, and she walks over to open it, finding it locked.
Ugh.
Sarah turns to retrieve the wires from the door to the basement. It looks like this place will be keeping her a prisoner for a little while yet.
When Sarah finally manages to get the door open, it becomes apparent that the tiny shed which has kept her captive for god-knows-how-long is located somewhere in the Australian outback. The sun is high in the sky, so thankfully she won’t have to navigate the bushes in the dark. After all the trouble she’s gone through to break out, it would be the height of irony to die from a venomous snake or spider bite.
She shivers uncontrollably in the shade, the winter’s breeze nipping through her thin sweater. Stepping into the sunlight, she rubs her arms, trying to warm up. There must be a road here somewhere, Sarah decides. Her kidnapper couldn’t have carried her too far without a car, even if he is built like a bull.
She looks about her, but there are only trees beyond even more trees. Gazing down, Sarah searches for any hints of a track near the door of the shed. The man visited multiple times, and since the shed is empty, he must have walked here from his house or car. She observes the flattened vegetation on the ground, finding a very faint trail leading away from the door.
Her feet crunching on dead leaves, she follows the ill-defined path, but loses sight of it a few hundred metres away from the shed. Frustrated and looking all around her to regain her direction, the distinctive sound of an approaching vehicle makes her look up. She turns right, sprinting in the direction of the noise, and encounters the road not long after as a large truck thunders past.
“Hey!” Sarah runs after the lorry, waving her hands wildly in the air, hoping the driver will spot her in the rear view mirror. It continues on without slowing, throwing up dust in its wake.
Huffing, Sarah rests her hands on her knees, trying to catch her breath from the run. She has no idea where she is, but sooner or later a car will come by again. When it does, it’ll stop for her. She’ll make sure it does.
She needs to get to a police station. She must warn Georgia.
63
After another day of fruitless search, they retire to their river-side camp.
According to the topography changes in the region, Georgia and Charlie have been searching just over a hundred metres off the mark, but that has been sufficient to throw them completely off course. Their supplies are now so low that they’ll need to turn back if they don’t find anything tomorrow.
The truth, though, is that Georgia has no idea if they’re even looking in the right area. She needs more data: satellite images, geology analyses, and historical archives that she cannot access from here. Taiwan sits on the meeting point between two tectonic plates, and it would make sense that the terrain has changed significantly over the years. Without more information, she cannot possibly extrapolate where the river was flowing over two thousand years ago.
Realistically, they’ll need to widen the radius of their search. But Georgia tries to not think about that, since there’s no time for it. Charlie has been optimistic all this time, and she’s determined to be the same for his sake.
“Rum?” Charlie offers her a metal flask with one hand as he stirs their food with the other.
She smiles gratefully and takes a long swig from the container, feeling the liquid burn a warm trail down to her belly. Her feet, swollen and sore from a week of vigorous hiking, are immersed in the cool stream.
“What’s for dinner?” she asks. Her mouth is salivating as the aroma emanates from the pot on the small burner.
He chuckles. “According to the packet, it is Kung Pao chicken with rice. But it looks more like brown goo if you ask me.”
Laughing, she says, “Don’t worry, I’ll eat anything you give me right now—”
Georgia stops mid-sentence as a tremor shakes the earth beneath them, quickly escalating into a violent quake accompanied by a deep, resonant boom. It barely lasts a second, but it is enough to send the entire valley into chaos.
“Another one,” Charlie comments, raising his voice above the din of the frightened birds.
Not far from them, Georgia spots a swirl of black creatures emanating from the forest, flying high into the purpling sky.
The same sight also appeared yesterday when the tremor occurred, but now it triggers something that makes her rise to her feet. Georgia’s sure she hasn’t seen these bats sleeping in the trees during the day, which can only mean one thing.
“Charlie.” Georgia points towards the nocturnal animals.
He turns to follow the direction of her finger, his body going still when he catches her meaning. “Bats live in caves,” he says.
“Yeah.” She is already crouched down, hurriedly putting her boots back on.
Charlie is a step before her, breaking into a sprint for the woods. Georgia runs after him once her shoes are on, making a swift ascent up the river bank and into the shadow of the trees. But as suddenly as the bats appeared, they are gone. Charlie runs without hindrance through the forest in the direction from which they appeared, and she struggles to keep up, weaving her way through the trees and rocks.
Up ahead, he stops in his pursuit, calling out to her, “I think they came from here somewhere!”
She is still catching up to him, hands out to protect her face from the leaves and branches in her way, when her foot catches on something. The obstruction sends her flying through the air, and the wind is knocked out of her as she lands on something hard at an awkward angle. Pain spreads across her side, and she fights to bring air back into her lungs.
Charlie is beside her before she even has time to roll over. “Georgia! Are you okay?”
Unable to speak, she nods her head. Every breath radiates pain through her entire chest, and she groans with agony as he helps her sit up. She puts her hand on the rock she landed on to support her weight. Lifting the side of her T-shirt to check for lacerations, she winces with pain as Charlie probes her ribs delicately with his fingers.
“You have bruised them, but there does not seem to be any fracture.”
She n
ods gingerly, pushing up against the rock to stand.
“No, Georgia,” Charlie protests. “Just rest. You have bruised your ribs. It will hurt like hell for quite a while.”
Georgia shakes her head, uninterested in his suggestion. She asks breathily instead, “Did you find where the bats came from?”
“No, but I will keep looking. Stay here.”
She nods as he walks away. Her fingers brush against something on the rock that is supporting her, and she looks down at it for the first time.
“Charlie, wait,” she calls as she sweeps the dead leaves aside to get a better look at the stone. She can see that it’s no ordinary boulder, for it’s perfectly round in shape. Covered with moss, there is a deep carving on its surface. Georgia traces her fingers along the concentric circles:
“Oh my god,” she whispers.
“What is it?” Charlie kneels next to her to get a better look.
“This symbol, it’s been used by many cultures to represent a pool or a pond,” she explains. “In some ancient civilisations, it also symbolises the past, present and future in one: the state of timelessness.”
“Eternity,” Charlie says, reading her thoughts.
She looks up to survey their surroundings, scanning frantically around her. The valley is now darkening as the sun slips behind the mountain peaks.
“The cave must be here,” she says. “It must be here somewhere.”
She begins to brush away the debris of leaves and soil surrounding the rock, encountering nothing but more soil. Widening her search, Georgia moves away from the stone and up the slope on her hands and knees, removing dead foliage as she goes.
“Charlie,” she says without turning, focused on her search. “Can you please bring our gear over here? I need torches and digging equipment.”
“Of course.”
He leaves to go back to their camp, and she continues to remove the top layer of the forest bed with her bare hands. The sharp pain in her side flares up whenever she makes any sudden movements, but she does her best to ignore it.