by Jeremy Finn
“Ok,” James said as a pang of guilt struck him, “I’ll make it up to the company. You can take the losses out of my paycheck.” He knew it would be a large cut, but he also felt bad about causing such a major project to fall through, regardless of the importance of the events that had kept him away over the last couple days. As for the smell, he had changed his clothes back in the storage room at the apartment, but he didn’t have access to the shower in his room, so he could still feel the dry mud clinging to his unwashed skin.
“No, James,” his boss replied firmly. “That would take several paychecks, and I have decided you won’t be getting anymore paychecks from us anyways.” With a shake of his head in disappointment, he picked up a folder on his desk and handed it to James, “This is all the paperwork making your dismissal official. You don’t need to do anything. Just get your stuff out of the closet in your office and stop by the cashier’s window to draw your final pay. I assume you brought the company car here. Just leave it in the garage and give the keys to the cashier. Oh, and don’t bother the guy who’s working in your office now. I told you we could find a replacement quickly. Good bye James.”
James shuffled out of the office and headed for his old workspace. He couldn’t help but feel guilt and despair at letting the company down and becoming jobless all at once on top of everything else that had happened recently. At least now all he had to focus on was getting the message to DaNyang, and then he could deal with his labor and housing issues. The young, clean cut man in his office didn’t say a word as James entered, but looked uncomfortable to be in the same room with the guy he replaced.
James grabbed a few trinkets of personal interest and headed for the door. On his way out, he turned and addressed his replacement, “Don’t worry, it’s not your fault. Could you do me a favor? I’ll let you take anything you want from that pile of stuff in the closet if you’ll get rid of the rest for me. I don’t really have the time or the motivation to dispose of it all right now.”
“Uh, ok, I guess,” the new worker agreed. “Sorry about this.”
“No need,” James called as he cast his hand in a motion of dismissal and left the room.
The cash he picked up on his way out of the office covered the week or so he worked since he received his last paycheck. At least he had enough now to cover a few weeks in a cheap hotel and meals of instant noodles and snack cakes. He was never a big saver and only had a small amount in his checking account which, combined with his final pay, constituted the whole of his monetary possessions.
Since he was forced to be free of the worries of his office and home now, James set his focus on contacting DaNyang. If he could not reach him by phone, he would go to the police station where he worked and inquire there. Even if he is not at the station, his coworkers will know where he is or when he is expected to return.
James stopped by an old project partner’s office on his way out to borrow his phone. A quick call to DaNyang revealed he still was not answering his cell phone, so James decided to try the police station. The sun was beginning to slide down the sky toward the western horizon as he grabbed a dish of long, tubular rice cakes and flat squares of something fishy tasting mixed in a spicy red sauce with onions and cabbage. He munched on his snack while waiting for the bus and then hunkered down in a back seat to wait out the long journey through the city. This time, he slouched down in the middle of the seat and took special care to remain inconspicuous.
As the steel and glass canyon walls cast their shadows across the jammed streets and sidewalks, the bus pulled up in front of the police station where DaNyang worked and James hobbled out and wound his way through the rapidly flowing river of men and women in suits to reach the front doors of the station. Once inside, he made his way to the front desk and attempted to ask for help. The officer on the other side of the window shook his head and retreated into the maze of cubicles behind him. He returned shortly with a younger man who spoke James’ language.
“How can I help you? the young man queried.
“I’m looking for Officer Lomas,” James replied.
“Just a moment please,” he said as he motioned for James to take a seat against the wall. The man left the front office for a few minutes then returned and made his way toward the front window. When he was halfway across the office, though, an older man grabbed him by the arm and spoke to him briefly. The two seemed to be disagreeing about something, but finally the younger man nodded his acceptance and continued to the window.
“Sir,” he called, “I am afraid Officer Lomas is not here. He took emergency leave and no one has heard from him since then. But if you don’t mind,” he hesitated, “we would like to see you in the back for a moment. We just have a few questions for you.”
Over the younger man’s shoulder, James saw the older man glance at him and then walk out of the front office. For a moment, he thought about declining the invitation and trying to find another way to contact DaNyang, but after a brief mental debate he decided he might be able to ask someone to leave a note or something if he went out back. Besides, it did not look like this was really going to be optional anyways.
Another officer opened a door at the far end of the room and escorted James down a few hallways and into a large, bare room. He mumbled something in the native tongue and then left, closing the door behind him. For the few moments James was alone in the room, discomfort crept up inside him. Judging by the single table and three chairs in the barren room, this was an interrogation room. What had he gotten into? Then suddenly the door swung open and the older man from the front office strode in. He shut the door behind him and took a seat opposite James. James attempted a greeting in the man’s language, but the man did not smile or respond. He just visually inspected James for a while. Then, he spoke in James’ language, though with a thick accent.
“Why do you look for Lomas?”
“He helped me one time,” James answered, careful not to reveal too much about his unusual connection with DaNyang. “Well, he’s my friend too.”
“What is Lomas doing now?” he demanded dryly.
“I don’t know,” James replied without lying entirely. “I was hoping you guys could tell me that. You see...”
“Why do you carry the mark?” the man interrupted suddenly.
“The what?” James asked.
“No matter,” the officer said curtly and reached behind his back around his belt line, “you will go no further.”
Before James could make sense of what was going on, a loud series of knocks struck the door to the room. The officer quickly brought his hand back in front of him and called out something that sounded rather agitated in his native language. An equally agitated reply answered from beyond the door, and the bizarre officer stared coldly into James’ eyes before cursing and walking over to throw the door open. There was another man about the same age as his interrogator standing in the doorway, and a heated argument ensued. Finally, the interrogator slammed his fist against the wall and took off down the hallway.
“I am sorry,” the new officer said as he walked into the room. “My colleague is working on several difficult cases and the stress has caused him to forget himself. We do not have any evidence against you or strong reason for questioning you, so you should not be held against your will. Do you wish to go?”
“Yes,” James replied emphatically. “But if you see DaNyang, could you tell him James was looking for him?”
“Yes, I will.” The officer assured.
James followed the man though the hallways and out the front entrance. As they passed by the young officer in the front office, he turned his eyes away, apparently aware that he had been part of something somewhat underhanded.
When James stepped out onto the street, the cityscape was bathed in the orange glow of a setting sun. Since he really did not know what to do next, he decided to head toward the part of town nearby where he ate dinner with DaNyang what seemed like months ago already. He knew his chances of running into DaNyang there
were one in a million, but he had no idea what else he could do, and at least he could find a hotel room for the night. He remembered noticing several small hotels in the area when they passed through before. He would just have a much needed meal, find a room, and keep trying DaNyang’s cell.
The approaching evening brought cool air with its shadows as James meandered through mobs of people hastily making their ways home from work or out to drink together with the company group. As he walked, he reflected on his current situation. At first, he could not put a finger on why he felt somewhat elated. After all, he just lost his home, his job and regular contact with anyone he knew in this country beside DaNyang, and it seemed that he might not be in touch with him again either. He did not even really have enough money to buy a plane ticket home, and could only survive on a college student’s diet for a couple weeks. Nevertheless, something inside him felt buoyant. Eventually, he began to realize that cutting all those ties to his old life gave him a sort of freedom. It was funny to think of it as his old life since he was living it just weeks ago, but it certainly seemed old now in light of recent events and decisions. Becoming a servant of the Light led to a complete divorce from the life James knew before and the values he held. He was no longer confined to setting his aspirations on career advancement and making more money. Now, he was a part of something much grander – something on a universal scale it seemed. He was a part of the struggle to turn the tide away from the Darkness consuming the planet. As soon as his spirit began to soar with the idea, though, it deflated just as rapidly. He remembered he had a particular mission to fulfill, and he was far from accomplishing it. In fact, he was dead in the water without any idea which way to turn next. “Show me the way,” James whispered under his breath.
On the street behind him, tires squealed, and James looked back to see if an accident would ensue. As he turned his head, though, an odd movement in the crowd caught his eye. He seemed certain someone was watching him and ducked suddenly into a storefront as James turned to glance at the street. James walked to the next street and turned as he stopped to wait for the pedestrian signal to change. Again he noticed a man turn aside, this time apparently to browse through a magazine at a newspaper stand. A few casual glances allowed James’ mind to make the connection – this was the same older officer who was interrogating him at the police station. Once again, it seemed, he was a hunted man.
When the signal changed, James strode quickly across the street and attempted to push his way rapidly through the crowd on the sidewalk. When he reached the next road, he glanced back quickly and, failing to see the man in the crowd, turned to his right and started jogging down the less crowded side street. The narrow street was not long and ended abruptly at the entrance to an ancient palace preserved as a cultural relic. Since the sun had dipped below the horizon, the palace was closed and empty, and few people walked the street outside the palace. James turned to head back up the street when he saw the officer holding out his badge and questioning people on the street around the spot where he took the abrupt right in an effort to throw off his pursuer. Without much time to think of a course of action, James ducked behind a row of bushes growing along the outer wall of the palace and then clawed his way over the two meter wall.
When he dropped down into the palace grounds, it seemed like a different world. The noises of the city all but disappeared, and the sullen silence of twilight surrounded him. The palace stretched out all around him with buildings of various sizes bearing likeness to the halls at Hanasan. They stood on stone foundations and rose in ornate carved and colorfully painted wooden pillars, lattice work and roof supports. Furthermore, they were capped with glazed blue tiles flowing like a cascading stream downwards and then suddenly back up in a raised tip at the corners as if dashing against a rock in the rapids. The edges of the roofs were lined with small statues of animals and monsters. In between the buildings, large sandy courtyards stretched, and bare trees stood at erratic intervals. Little light made its way into the palace, so the corners and doorways were hidden in shadow. The whole somber impression of the place made James contemplate scrambling back over the wall, but a visitor’s plaque caught his eye. The plaque had a map of the palace grounds, and James was able to see he could cross through the grounds and come out just about a block away from the traditional part of town he was heading toward before he fled from the officer.
James decided to make his way cautiously through the empty palace as both a shortcut to his destination and a means of avoiding the officer he left behind on the busy streets. The palace grounds were scattered with buildings and courtyards in an almost maze-like arrangement. More than once he had to double back when he entered a courtyard without another exit, and once he even found himself at a location he passed earlier. Just as he was coming to another small gate in a tall wooden wall between courtyards, a stone pillar on the left side of the gate caught his eye. There were waist high pillars on both sides of the gate with animal forms carved into the slanted face at the top of each. The one on the left seemed strangely familiar, though. After a moment, a subtle memory struck him and he reached across his waist to grasp his rhema. As his hand made contact with the handle, it flashed into existence. He pulled the blade out about an inch to provide enough light to see the handle and the pillar in the near darkness. His memory was confirmed as he compared the design of the small metal plate separating blade and handle to the design on the left pillar. He never really paid much attention to the designs on the rhema and just now realized the small disc at the base of the blade was an intricately cast carp. The legendary fish looked nearly identical to the one depicted on the stone carved pillar in character if not in position. The carp on the pillar was at rest while the one on his rhema was poised as if ready to leap out of the water or tackle the rapids.
“Servant!” a voice suddenly called out behind him.
James was absorbed in studying the two carp and did not notice the arrival of a dark form at the other end of the courtyard behind him. Assuming the worst, he twisted to face the voice and unsheathed his rhema in defensive instinct. Though the man was at a distance, the light from James’ fully exposed rhema revealed the same officer who had been tracking him. For a moment, both men stood facing each other with blank expressions. James was waiting for the officer to pull his own sword – anxiously expecting a dark blade. Instead, though, the officer just smiled scornfully and took a step toward James. Just before the man raised his right arm, James caught the glint of his service handgun held at his side.
James turned convulsively and made a rush for the gateway between the stone pillars. In his panic, he whacked his blade into the carp pillar as he passed through the gateway. He didn’t even feel much resistance as the top of the decapitated pillar came free and slid to the ground. Even as he was passing through the gate, the startling crack of gunfire echoed across the palace grounds and loud thuds reverberated in the wooden wall that soon separated him from his hunter.
He was now darting across a large garden surrounding a small pond encircled by shade trees. He remembered this garden from the map and knew his destination was just a bit beyond the far side of the palace wall here. Granted, he was not preoccupied with finding a good restaurant anymore, but if he could reach the district he could attempt to blend in with one of the groups of tourists that often caroused along the streets there.
After a mad sprint, he reached the far wall and thrust his right foot out against it to propel the rest of his body toward the top. He managed to achieve enough height to hook an arm over the top of the wall. As he was straining to pull the rest of his body over the top, more shots rang out across the garden. One of the blue ceramic tiles lining the top of the wall just centimeters from his head shattered and spewed tiny sharp pieces of hard clay in his face. He closed his eyes against the spray and pulled the rest of his body over the wall. Just as his right leg was clearing the top, though, a bullet struck his right hip bone. It just grazed the edge of the bone, but the shock caused James t
o fall uncontrollably and sent a jolt down his right leg.
With a painful grunt, he picked himself up off the street running along the outside of the palace and attempted to run toward the restaurant district. His right leg was practically numb, though, and he had to hobble awkwardly. Several locals stopped what they were doing and stared at the odd foreigner who just fell off the palace wall and hobbled across the street. His destination was not far away, so he was able to drag himself there in a few minutes. Several glances over his shoulder failed to reveal anyone in pursuit, and he breathed a sigh of relief when he rounded a corner and found himself on the busy traditional restaurant street dotted here and there with small groups of foreigners like him snapping pictures and ogling shop windows.
James picked the nearest group and attempted to indiscreetly infiltrate the gaggle of tourists, which was a challenge since he was limping noticeably. To James’ delight, the group seemed to be heading somewhere down the street with a purpose. Some paused to look in shop windows where horse hair paint brushes and ornately carved ink stones were displayed, or mannequins boasted traditional dress with intricate stitching and bright colors. They were quickly harried along, though, by the others in the group who were anxious to reach their destination – a restaurant, it seemed, judging by all the chatter about food passing between the tourists. James stayed with them for about two blocks without drawing any suspicion. Night had fallen completely now, and the road was closed to traffic. Locals mixed with tourists crowding the sidewalks and the street under the glow of traditional red and blue lanterns hanging from posts along the road. Store signs overhead were lit warmly and displayed a wide variety of creative designs. One spelled the name of the store with small logs arranged to form the letters of the name. Another displayed its name across the belly of a large kettle hanging in front of a screen of colored bamboo rods. For a moment, James almost dropped his guard as he took in the warmth and homeyness of the scene. Still, there was no sign of the officer in the crowd behind him.