Phoenix

by Jeff Stone

  The front wheel locked up, and Meathead sailed over the handlebars, just as I had done when my mountain bike’s front wheel tacoed, except Meathead was wearing a padded protective jacket and a fully enclosed helmet. The big man sailed into the compound, his head and shoulders skidding across the cobblestones as he hit the ground. The moment he came to rest, however, he stood up. His tinted face shield was scuffed and cracked, but otherwise he appeared fine. He tore off the damaged face shield, and I got a good look at his face. It was Meathead, without a doubt.

  The engine on Meathead’s riderless motorcycle cut out, and through the ringing in my ears I heard Slim’s motorcycle engine rev. I looked over and saw that he was well past the shed and clear of the grenade’s blast zone. However, his attention still seemed to be focused on the shed’s doorway.

  I glanced toward the building and saw Grandmaster Long stumble out of it. The old monk looked dazed and confused. He was staggering like a drunkard, his eyes a blank stare. He still held the dragon bone vessel tightly under one arm, and he now had a broadsword in his other hand.

  Hú Dié let loose the same banshee wail she’d used when she’d attacked earlier, and I looked over to see her running full tilt toward Meathead. He was reaching across his body, into his riding jacket.

  Hú Dié cocked her arm back as though about to throw a punch, and Meathead jerked his face to one side, out of her reach. However, the place where his face shield had been wasn’t Hú Dié’s target. Instead, she wound up with her entire torso and let fly the most wicked elbow I’d ever seen, connecting with the back of Meathead’s hand, crushing it against his massive chest. I heard the thin bones in his hand snap and splinter like Popsicle sticks.

  Meathead howled and dropped something to the cobblestones. It was a gun. Hú Dié bent over, scooping it up. She had nearly straightened when Meathead kicked like a football player punting a football. His foot knocked the pistol from her hand, sending the gun clear over the perimeter wall, while his shin connected with her chin.

  Hú Dié hit the ground, possibly knocked out. I considered running to help her, but Meathead had already turned his attention to Grandmaster Long. The old monk still looked dazed, but he held tightly to the dragon bone as well as the broadsword.

  I raced to his side well ahead of Meathead. I made a move to grab the container from Grandmaster Long before he accidentally dropped it, but the confused monk swung his broadsword the moment my hands touched the vessel. I ducked just in time to miss the deadly blow. The grenade must have temporarily blinded him. He didn’t recognize me.

  “Grandmaster Long!” I shouted. “It’s me! Phoenix!”

  Grandmaster Long must have also been deafened by the blast, because he continued to swing the broadsword.

  I took several steps backward, out of range. As Meathead neared, I heard Slim’s engine rev again. I looked over to see the motorcycle spring forward like a hungry jaguar. Slim reached into his jacket and pulled out another grenade, raising its metal ring to his teeth.

  I dropped to the ground and curled into a ball, closing my eyes tight and covering my ears with my hands. I heard something hit the cobblestones behind me as Slim’s motorcycle zoomed past and then—

  BOOM!

  A white-hot flash of unimaginable brightness washed over me, together with a sonic pulse that punched at my kidneys and rattled the bones of my inner ear. Behind me, Grandmaster Long howled in pain, then fell silent. Meathead howled, too.

  I opened my eyes and found the world awash with stars like I’d experienced after the first grenade, only a hundred times worse. My head throbbed, and I was so disoriented that I didn’t know which way was up. I tried to rise to my knees but toppled over.

  Through the ringing in my ears, I heard the whine of a motorcycle engine. The motocross bike swung around and stopped a few feet from Grandmaster Long. I saw that the old monk no longer held the broadsword. He was lying flat on his back, either out cold or dead. Both of his legs had been burned by the incendiary flash.

  The dragon bone vessel lay smashed beside Slim’s motorcycle. Slim removed a fabric drawstring bag from his jacket and quickly scooped up all that he could of the dragon bone. Once he’d finished, he tied the bag closed and rammed it back into his jacket.

  I looked past Slim and saw Meathead staggering as though he were standing in a stiff breeze. He must have had his bell rung by the blast, too. Beyond Meathead, Hú Dié was getting to her knees.

  Slim shouted something to Meathead, and I recognized his voice. These were definitely the same guys who had broken into our house. Meathead stumbled over to the revving motorcycle and climbed onto the back.

  I’d never been so angry in my life. I had to do something.

  I managed to rise to a squatting position, like a toad. As the motorcycle skittered past me with a squeal of rubber, I launched myself into the air. My plan was to slam into Slim’s torso, knocking him off the bike, but Slim saw me coming and stuck out his leg.

  Slim’s foot collided with my shoulder. My forward momentum stopped, and I grabbed hold of Slim’s ankle. He twisted the throttle, and I was jerked forward so hard I thought my arms were going to rip out of their sockets. But I wasn’t about to let go. I began to roll like an alligator and felt the cuff of Slim’s pant leg catch between the motorcycle’s chain and its drive sprocket.

  Fearing for my fingers, I let go. Slim’s entire body shifted down and to the right as the revolving sprocket tugged his pant leg down and around; however, he didn’t fall as most people would have. Instead, he seemed to know exactly what to do. He kicked his leg out and then forward, tearing his pant leg up the back from ankle to knee. The slackened fabric spun out of the sprocket teeth, and Slim was free.

  I stared. Behind the flapping remains of his pant leg was one of the largest calf muscles I’d ever seen. Slim’s leg was shaved, and it looked as if someone had replaced his calf with a softball. Bulging veins crisscrossing his calf even resembled softball stitching.

  Hú Dié shrieked, and I spun around. She was standing now, pointing toward the motorcycle as it raced through the gap in the wall and disappeared into the trees.

  “What?” I asked.

  “That driver,” she replied. “Do you know him?”

  “Yeah, he and the big guy are the ones who broke into my house.”

  “No, no,” Hú Dié said, shaking her head. “You already said that. I mean, do you know his name?”

  “Of course not. Why?”

  “Because I do. I would recognize that calf muscle anywhere. I have had a crush on those legs and the man they belong to for a long time. His name is Lin Tan, and he is a Chinese cyclocross racer. He recently moved to Europe to join a Belgian race team called Team Vanderhausen. ‘V equals Victory.’ Have you heard of them?”

  I stared at Hú Dié in disbelief. I glanced across the stained cobblestones at Grandmaster Long, who was still lying in front of the stone shed. Then I looked back at Hú Dié.

  Her eyes remained fixed in the direction the motorcycle had gone.

  “That man rides for Team Vanderhausen?” I asked. “Are you sure?”

  “Positive,” she replied. “Calf muscles like that are unique, especially with those veins. That was Lin Tan. I am sure of it.”

  “Well, your crush just stole Grandmaster Long’s dragon bone. He may have killed him, too.”

  Hú Dié turned toward the monk and gasped. We headed for Grandmaster Long.

  I cursed as we knelt next to the old monk, trying hard not to look at his leg burns. I was ecstatic when he opened his eyes.

  “Phoenix?” Grandmaster Long asked in a strained voice.

  “Yes,” I replied loudly. “I’m here. Can you hear me?”

  Grandmaster Long nodded. “I can hear you. My vision is returning, too. Those were stun grenades. Their effects are designed to be short-term.”

  “But your legs,” Hú Dié said. “They are badly burned.”

  Grandmaster Long raised his head and peered down at the blistering ski
n on his shins. He smirked, laying his head back down. “I was an Iron Shin master in my younger days. The training destroyed most of the nerve endings below my knees. I hardly feel a thing. I will heal soon enough. Dragon bone will help.”

  “But it’s gone,” I said. “Those guys took it.”

  “All of it?” Hú Dié asked.

  I motioned toward the remains of the shattered dragon bone vessel. “I might be able to sweep a few teaspoons’ worth from the cracks in the cobblestones, but it will be dirty.”

  “Dirty is fine,” Grandmaster Long said, “and two or three teaspoons will be sufficient. By the time I use it up, I will have healed enough to travel to another location, where I have more hidden. It is not a lifetime’s worth, though. Phoenix, I am sorry. I will no longer be able to help your grandfather.”

  I lowered my head. “I understand. I apologize for the misfortune I have brought you.”

  “There is no need to apologize.”

  “But it’s my fault,” I said, looking up. “I don’t know how, but they followed me. I think I know how to find them, though. I will get it back.”

  “You know who did this?”

  “Hú Dié believes she recognized one of the men.”

  “It is Lin Tan,” Hú Dié said. “I’m certain.”

  “Who is Lin Tan?” Grandmaster Long asked.

  “A professional bicycle racer,” I said.

  “A cyclist?” Grandmaster Long said. “Hmm. In addition to its accelerative healing qualities, dragon bone also enhances physical performance. Perhaps the thieves have learned this.”

  “That’s it!” I said. “Bicycle racing is crazy competitive. Like a lot of sports, multimillion-dollar contracts are at stake. Riders are always looking for an edge.”

  “They have no idea what they are dealing with,” Grandmaster Long said. “Dragon bone is dangerous. What will you do next?”

  “I’ll figure something out. First, I need to use a telephone.”

  “There are no phones here.”

  “There is one at the shop,” Hú Dié said.

  “Then we have to get back there,” I said. “Nice work stopping the big guy’s motorcycle with your seat post, but do you think you can still ride Trixie?”

  Hú Dié shook her head. “No way. My seat post has to be trashed. I can’t ride all the way back to Kaifeng without one, and we can’t both ride your bike. We might be able to take the motorcycle, though.”

  “Do you think you can fix it?” I asked. “Do you even know how to drive one?”

  Hú Dié looked offended. “If it’s made of metal, I can fix it. If it has two wheels, I can ride it.”

  “You rock,” I said, and turned to Grandmaster Long. “Is there anything we can do for you?”

  “No,” Grandmaster Long replied. “I will be fine.” As if to prove his point, he stood. He wobbled a bit, his legs looking as though they might give out any second, but then he steadied himself. “I have been in far worse condition, Phoenix,” he said. “So has your grandfather. When I lost my eyesight from that flash grenade, all I could think about was him.”

  “Why?”

  Grandmaster Long sighed. “You do not know this tale, either?”

  “Grandfather told me that he once knew a boy who lost his eyesight, but the boy’s vision returned after using dragon bone. That boy was Grandfather?”

  “Why don’t you ask him?” Grandmaster Long said. “We have work to do. I will get something to put the dragon bone in. You two, fix that motorcycle.” He turned and slowly began to walk toward the inner compound.

  Hú Dié was already heading to Meathead’s motorcycle. “Go get the backpack,” she called.

  I retrieved the hydration pack from my bike and went over to where she was kneeling beside the motorcycle. She had pulled Trixie’s seat post from the spokes of the motorcycle’s front wheel. The aluminum bicycle seat post was bent and cracked. It was useless. The motorcycle spokes, however, didn’t look too bad. Two were broken, and one was bent, but the rest of them and the front fork appeared to be fine.

  “Maybe we’re in luck,” Hú Dié said. “Find my multi-tool. It kind of looks like an oversized Swiss Army knife.”

  “I know what a multi-tool is,” I said, digging through the pack. I found the device and slapped it into Hú Dié’s waiting palm like an operating room nurse handing a clamp to a surgeon. She unfolded the multi-tool’s pliers and used them to twist the two broken spokes around the two nearest undamaged ones. Then she began to tap each of the remaining spokes, one at a time, with the pliers.

  “What are you doing?” I asked.

  “Hush!” she replied. She continued tapping, lightly striking each spoke in sequence around the entire wheel. I noticed that the spokes all rang out at more or less the same pitch, which probably meant they were all under the same amount of tension. This was good. Hú Dié tapped the bent spoke last; I heard what sounded like a dull thump.

  She turned to me. “I think we can ride it. The spokes sound like they are all tightened about the same amount, except for the bent one, but there is no point in trying to straighten it. If I accidentally break it, we’re done. Three broken spokes is one too many. Help me stand her up. I need to check one more thing.”

  I helped Hú Dié muscle the motorcycle onto its wheels, and I grunted with the effort. It had to weigh close to three hundred pounds.

  “This thing is heavy,” I said.

  “Heavy is good,” she said. “It means there is a lot of gas.” She removed the gas cap and peered into the tank. Hú Dié smiled.

  “We really are in luck,” she said, replacing the cap. “This bike has an oversized gas tank for long-distance riding, and the tank is nearly full. Most motocross motorcycle tanks hold less than two gallons, which would only get us fifty miles, maximum. This one holds almost double that. We should be able to make it all the way home without refueling. It also has passenger foot pegs welded on.”

  I noticed there was a bungee net strung over the back section of the seat, holding down a small folded blanket. “What’s this?”

  “I don’t know,” Hú Dié replied, “but you’re going to have to get rid of it. Otherwise, you’ll have nowhere to sit.”

  I unhitched the springy cargo net and grabbed the blanket. There was something wrapped inside. I flipped back the top fold and saw a brand-new notebook computer. Promotional stickers were still affixed to its outer casing, touting the machine’s high-end capabilities. I opened the lid and it woke from sleep mode.

  My blood ran cold.

  Hú Dié looked at me. “A computer? That’s interesting. What’s wrong? You don’t look so good.”

  “I know how those guys found us,” I said. “This computer is running GPS software. I believe it was used to program my GPS unit. They must have stolen the computer from my grandfather’s friend PawPaw. She told me that she just bought a new notebook.” I minimized the GPS software window and saw that the computer’s wallpaper was a photo of a Chinese apothecary shop. “This was PawPaw’s, for sure. I have to get to a phone as quickly as possible.”

  “Let’s leave now. Go get our helmets. I’ll try to start the motorcycle.”

  “What about the backpack?”

  “Leave it. I don’t want to risk you on the back with all that extra weight tossing you around. I’ll return sometime and get it, along with Trixie. I can’t abandon her. We should probably leave the computer, too, unless you think we’ll need it. It will be too difficult to carry.”

  “We don’t need it.” I pulled my passport and wallet out of the pack and shoved them into one of my cargo shorts’ zippered pockets. Then I clamped the computer under my arm and retrieved our bike helmets as Hú Dié climbed onto the motorcycle and fired it up, working the kick-starter, clutch, and throttle like a pro. The dirt bike sounded fine.

  I strapped on my helmet and looked back toward the stone shed. Grandmaster Long had returned with a small Chinese teacup, a piece of rice paper, and an old-fashioned Chinese calligraphy paintbr
ush. He was lying on the cobblestones, brushing dragon bone from the cracks onto the paper, then pouring the dragon bone into the teacup.

  I jogged over to him and set the computer next to the teacup. “Do you think you will see PawPaw soon?”

  “I was just thinking about arranging a meeting with her,” he replied. “Why?”

  “Could you please give this to her? And could you also keep our pack and bikes until we can figure out a way to get them back?”

  “Of course. The computer belongs to PawPaw?”

  “I’m pretty sure, yeah. She said she bought a new notebook computer to program the GPS unit that she loaned me in order to find you.”

  “You think those men stole it from her?”

  “Yes. Those guys probably bugged our phone in Indiana or placed a listening device in our house or something. Then they would have known that I was going to see her before coming here. I’m so stupid for not thinking of it sooner. I’m worried about her.”

  “Did those men harm you or your grandfather?”

  “Not really.”

  “Then it is very likely that PawPaw is safe. They don’t sound like killers. They may have stolen whatever dragon bone she had readily available, but even that would likely be an insubstantial amount. PawPaw is the most careful of the three of us.”

  “I still plan to call her when we get back to Kaifeng. I don’t care if someone has bugged her phone. I need to make sure she is okay.”

  “Then you had better get moving. She goes to bed early and sleeps like the dead. It is a side effect of the dragon bone. She won’t hear your call.”

  “I know,” I replied. “Grandfather is the same way.” I bowed. “Thank you for everything, Grandmaster Long. I hope to see you again soon and return your dragon bone.”

  Grandmaster Long nodded. “Visit me regardless of what happens with the dragon bone. I still have many stories to share. Best of luck to you. I fear you are going to need it.” He waved to Hú Dié, and she waved back, revving the engine.

  I bowed one more time and then ran to Hú Dié. I handed her bicycle helmet to her, and she strapped it on as I climbed onto the seat behind her. There was very little room, and the firm, rectangular seat was uncomfortable. It got worse when I raised my feet onto the passenger foot pegs and found that my knees were nearly even with my chin. I was beginning to wonder what I should do with my hands when Hú Dié turned to me.