The Tank Man

by William Oday

  CONTENTS

  Title Page

  Want Books for FREE?

  Recovering Eden Series

  Freebie for Finding Errors

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Preview of Sole Prey

  Chapter Fourteen

  Want Books for FREE?

  A Small Favor

  Other Works

  Questions or Comments?

  The Goal

  My Life Thus Far

  Copyright

  THE TANK MAN

  A short story by

  William Oday

  WILLIAMODAY.COM

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  Recovering Eden Series

  SOLE PREY, Book 1

  SOLE SURVIVOR, Book 2

  Coming 2017!

  SOLE CONNECTION, A Short Story

  THE TANK MAN, A Short Story

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  I do my best to squash every error creeping through the pages of this book. A professional editor also combs through it looking for what I missed. Despite our combined best efforts, the occasional mistake still slips through. But with your valiant help, Dear Reader, we will catch the last of them!

  If you notice an error, please email me at william@williamoday.com. For just one caught error, I’ll send you a digital copy of any book in my existing collection for free. That’s right! One error for one book. (Creative use of words or grammatical structure doesn’t apply. Honest-to-goodness mistakes absolutely do.)

  Thanks!

  Will

  CHAPTER ONE

  ZHANG YONG never wanted to be a hero. For one, heroes often ended up dead. And while all the stories that came later focused on the bravery of the act–the sheer strength of will and resolve that set a man against a tank and moved the man to prevail—there was little to no consideration given to the fact that maybe the hero would’ve preferred a less noble and perilous role.

  Because even if a hero survives in the story, life goes on after the story ends. And the consequences can echo into the future.

  But history didn’t give him a choice.

  Zhang gathered up a bite of noodles from the bowl warming his hand and stuffed them into his mouth. The wavering hum of tens of thousands of voices quietly talking (with some not so quiet) masked the gurgle of his eager belly. He brought the bowl to his lips and inhaled. The sharp scent of ginger and soy sauce briefly masked the odor of sour sweat and unwashed bodies. The hot broth burned his throat as he gulped it down faster than was prudent. A lone noodle hung out of his mouth like a worm trying to wriggle free and he slurped it up.

  Sitting cross-legged on the pavement next to him, his wife giggled. “It’s manners like that that make you so popular at my parents’ house.”

  Zhang rolled his eyes and burped. Li Min’s parents would never accept him. They’d been married nearly a year and nothing had changed there. He was a step (or maybe even three) down the social ladder from her. Her father was a low-ranking government official in the local prefecture while he was nothing more than a graduate student with no connections or political future. The fact that his area of study was quantum mechanics, a topic that Li’s father had no knowledge or interest in, only made the disconnect worse. Her father constantly reminded him that China didn’t need another lazy, good-for-nothing academic. It needed honest and productive workers.

  Just like him was the unspoken subtext.

  Far worse than his social status and educational goals though was that Zhang had gotten Li Min involved in the protest movement.

  “Please relay my thanks to your mother for the soup,” he said.

  It was the only food they’d had all day.

  “I will,” she replied. “Just not when father is around.” She grinned and the bridge of her nose crinkled as it always did.

  Zhang’s heart soared. Even here in the middle of the night in the middle of Tiananmen Square surrounded by tens of thousands of other protesters, she shone like the brightest star in the night sky. Her soft lips formed a perfect smile that always made him light-headed and wondering again why she chose him to be the father of their yet unborn child.

  She leaned forward over a bulging belly and lightly kissed his lips. She pulled back a little so they were nose to nose. “Earth to Zhang. Come in, Zhang.”

  He blinked hard and whispered above the buzz of so many voices. “I love you. Forever and more.”

  Her eyes glistened with emotion and then she grinned even bigger. “You’d better. Now eat your soup before it gets cold.”

  “Yes, mother.”

  “I’m not your mother.”

  “No,” he gently patted her round belly, “but you will soon be the mother of my son.”

  It was like her whole body smiled. Every part of her vibrated with a serene glow that he would’ve sworn literally lit up the tight space around them.

  A choking sound intruded upon the intimate moment. A gagging sound, rather. “Disgusting. Do you two want me to barf up the only food I’ve had in forever?”

  Zhang’s best friend, Han, sat next to them with his hand clamped over his mouth like he was barely holding it in. “I’d leave if it didn’t mean having to wade through a zillion people.”

  Zhang slurped down another bite. “You’re just jealous.”

  Han combed his long bangs behind his ears where they would stay for a few seconds before inevitably slipping back down in front of his eyes. “Yeah, maybe.”

  Zhang chuckled and waved his hand over the mass of humanity surrounding them. “Surely, there’s one girl here who thinks your jokes are funny.”

  Li jumped in before Han could respond. “Yeah, maybe.” She barely got the two words out before laughing so hard her belly bounced like a basketball.

  Han swept his dark bangs back again. “And I could be watching TV at home right now.”

  They all knew he was joking. None of them wanted to be anywhere else. This was history happening. This was change personified. Like all the other protestors peacefully assembled in Tiananmen Square, Zhang knew their voices would be heard. There were simply too many of them to be ignored. That and their vision of a more progressive China were too important to be marginalized as had happened in the past.

  The government had to listen. It was as simple as that.

  At least, that’s what they all believed.

  When the crack of gunfire broke across the masses, everyone scattered at once. The unthinkable crashed down upon them like a tsunami. Instead of listening, the government had chosen to silence them forever. Bones snapped like dry twigs as tanks ground over them. Rifle butts cracked jaws and skulls with equally malignant intent.

  The protestors had been peaceful and ambitious… and naive.

  In the chaos, Zhang managed to guide his wife and Han away from the soldiers and tanks and toward one of the side streets where so many others were fleeing into the dark night. They made it to the edge of the square and Zhang looked back to find Han no longer behind them. He scanned left and right and caught sight of his friend twenty feet away.

  A soldier appeared behind Han and shoved him to the ground.

  Han tried to rise but the soldier k
icked him in the face sending him sprawling backward. Han turned and caught Zhang’s eyes as the soldier aimed his rifle at Han’s chest and fired five times. His chest thumped with the impacts and then his head fell limply to the side.

  CHAPTER TWO

  “No!” Zhang screamed and was about to run over when a hand yanked him back.

  “He can’t be helped now. We must go!” Li shouted.

  She was right. He had to get her to safety. He had to get his unborn son to safety.

  They fled through the streets until the sounds of the massacre faded in the distance. They eventually made it to the house of an old man not involved in the movement. The old one was an uncle twice-removed from a third cousin of a student that happened to be of some relation to Zhang.

  Family ties were knotted affairs in a place as old as China.

  Another student with a red-soaked bandage around his arm ushered them inside in silence. Small groups of students arrived throughout the early morning hours. They sat around the kitchen table and argued about the best response to this unprecedented act of violence.

  A skinny boy younger than Zhang pounded his fist on the table. “Enough! I say we kill the soldiers and their families! One of them lives at the end of my street. Let’s go there now!”

  A chorus of voices howled support while others tried to shout them down.

  A girl around the same age as Zhang shouted repeatedly until the tiny room quieted again. “No, we can’t do that. We are a peaceful protest! Besides, Deng Xiapong has shown he’s willing to use a level of violence that we can never hope to withstand. We’re students, not soldiers. I say we disband for now. It’s better to be alive than to die for ideas that the wider culture probably isn’t ready for anyway.”

  Another round of shouting broke out and the group was again no closer to consensus.

  Zhang didn’t pretend to know what to do next. He had never been one of the leaders of the movement and he preferred it that way. He was a proponent of the cause, but not a particularly militant one. Advocating for radical change in a culture known for its love of tradition and continuity was always going to be a difficult proposition.

  As the sun rose further into the sky outside, one thing was finally agreed upon. More information was needed. Someone had to return to the square. Were others even now converging again on the square to retake what was taken by force and blood?

  Someone had to go and find out.

  “I’ll go.”

  From the back of the room by the wall, Zhang flinched. He looked back and forth across the rectangle table surrounded by seated people and packed tighter by those standing behind. He wondered who would dare do such an insane thing. What fool would volunteer to return to the scene of such brutality, where more such treatment likely awaited?

  Every pair of exhausted, grave eyes slowly turned to him.

  Which was when he realized with horror that he was the fool.

  He gulped down the boulder stuck in his throat.

  “I’ll go,” he said again. His voice cracked like a boy entering puberty.

  The lively discussion, point and counterpoint, died. The rank air of tightly pressed bodies soaked in misery filled the air.

  Zhang turned to his wife and her eyes were wide. After an unblinking minute, they narrowed and the muscles in her jaws flickered under the smooth skin.

  “You are not going!”

  Everyone in the room shifted uneasily, whether seated or standing. Those standing closest to them backed away imperceptibly.

  Zhang held her gaze and nodded yes because he couldn’t force the words out.

  She crossed her arms, above her bulging belly, and shook her head no. The hand underneath patted her belly and their baby boy inside. She, in turn, didn’t use words, but the message couldn’t have been more clear.

  “Li, please,” Zhang slipped his hand into hers.

  She tried to pull away but he held fast.

  He moved along the wall toward the door to the bedroom and a space less congested with observers. She resisted at first, but then acquiesced as he turned back and mouthed please.

  CHAPTER THREE

  They entered the bedroom and stepped over a woman with a bandage more red than white around her head lying unmoving on the floor. Her chest finally rose and Zhang blew out a tense breath. He led Li to the bed and tried to help her sit. It was like trying to move a Tibetan Cypress tree. Not even a bulldozer would’ve done much good.

  The hands anchored to her plump hips added to the certainty that she wasn’t going to be calmed down or made to understand.

  Zhang scrubbed at the thick stubble on his chin while thinking of what to say next. Nothing especially convincing came forward, so he started in anyway. “My love, this is important. You saw what happened last night. People were killed. Han was shot down!”

  Li’s lower lip trembled. “And that’s exactly why you can’t go!”

  “That’s exactly why I have to.”

  She took his hand and cupped it over her round belly. “Think of our son. Do you want him to grow up without a father?”

  Zhang tried to swallow but again found it impossible. Being only twenty-three, the thought of becoming a parent made him nearly as nervous as the thought of returning to Tiananmen.

  “How could I be a real father if I don’t do what I can to help? He wouldn’t think much of me.”

  Li wrapped her arms around him and laid her cheek onto his chest. Her full belly pressed into him. “Please, don’t go. For me. For your son.”

  Zhang lifted her chin and kissed her soft lips. She was as beautiful as the day they’d met nearly ten years ago. No, more beautiful. He wiped a thumb over her wet cheeks.

  Her name loosely meant quick. It was fitting. Even at the age of thirteen, when most boys cared more for frogs than for girls, he’d fallen in love with her in less than a second.

  “Li, I’ll be careful. I won’t do anything stupid. I won’t be there to cause trouble. Only to gather information.” He kissed her again and tasted the tears dripping over her lips.

  She pulled back and stared at him in silence. The naked fear in her eyes slowly dissolved into something harder. Something decided. She wiped away the tears clinging to her delicate chin. She nodded so faintly it could’ve been imagined. “Then you will have to be dressed better than this.”

  The only love of his life was like that. Strong beyond measure. Stronger than he by far.

  Zhang looked down at the ripped shorts and t-shirt that was missing one sleeve and covered in brown stains. He didn’t want to know which were dirt and which were blood.

  “Wait here. I’ll ask the old man for something to borrow.”

  She returned a few minutes later with a pair of black pants and a white, long sleeve shirt. A pair of black shoes completed the outfit. Fashion had cycled through at least four new styles, returned, and then again left this one behind years ago.

  Still, they were nice and in good repair.

  “These will make you appear respectable. Soldiers won’t like the idea of attacking a proper businessman in broad daylight.” She placed the folded clothes into his outstretched hands and then glanced around for a place for him to change. Seeing none, her achingly beautiful face blushed and she spun around to face the wall.

  Zhang undressed, grateful to be rid of his tattered and soiled clothing. He noticed Li’s foot tapping the floor nervously. They’d been married almost a year ago, plenty long enough for her to be comfortable with his naked body. And yet she wasn’t. Despite her activism and progressive outlook, the deep conservatism of her family anchored her like the roots of a tree.

  He smiled. Her shyness made her more dear. “Okay. I’m dressed.”

  She turned back around and her jaw dropped. Her mouth made a perfect O as she stared at his naked skin.

  He chuckled and twisted back and forth slapping his manhood against his waist like the stringed bead on a whirling drum.

  “Zhang!” she shrieked as she covered her eyes and sp
un back around.

  He laughed for a minute, but the emotion took on a rawer edge. A wild sorrow that turned mirth into tears. The laugh grew ragged and convulsed in his chest while tears spilled down his cheeks.

  Many of the other students had exhibited the same over the course of the night. Weeping. Fury. Pride. And yes, even laughter. All of the emotions were bottled up tight and different ones spewed out at different times.

  Li turned and came to him. She lifted her dirty blouse to reveal the tight skin of her round belly. The belly button had already popped out. Their son was due any day now. She took his hand and pressed the palm flat to her belly. “He’s kicking.”

  Sure enough, a little foot thumped hard enough for him to feel. His heart ached with love. He knelt down and kissed her belly and their baby inside it. “I will always take care of you both. Always.”

  “You’d better.” She pulled him up and poked his chest with a stiff finger. “Now, get dressed. For real this time.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  The streets of central Beijing were quiet like they had never been before. The infrequent person darted across a vacant street and quickly disappeared down a side alley. Whereas the sidewalks would normally be packed with people all trying to elbow their way one step closer to their destination, they were now desolate.

  Zhang walked to the corner of a building on Chang’an Avenue and, hugging close to its red brick surface, stopped to survey the situation. He set the two bags of baby clothes down next to him. Getting them wasn’t strictly part of the mission he was on, but his aunt’s house was on the way so he’d picked up some hand-me-downs for little Zhou. He didn’t know how long the crackdown was going to last and he didn’t want to bring their son into the world without having something for him to wear.