by F. J. Chase
They ran down the alley until stopped by a crumbling old brick wall. Slinging the duffel bag over his back, Avakian bent down and slapped Judy’s knee. She lifted her leg up. He got his cupped hands under her foot and launched her over the wall. His best jump got one hand over the top but that was enough with adrenaline giving him the strength of many.
Once again Judy was waiting for him on the other side. “You okay?” he whispered, putting a finger to his lips.
She nodded, and turned toward the opening into the next street.
Avakian grabbed her arm. He didn’t think running out that end would be such a great idea. On this part of the alley there was a break in the building walls on one side, covered by a short section of rickety wooden fence. He pulled himself up for a look. Another smaller alley along the back of a row of houses. Not bad. He dropped back down and gave her another boost up.
Staying put wasn’t an option. Your perfect hiding place was a joke to someone who knew every rock and junk pile in the neighborhood. On the other side of the fence he paused only to draw the rifle from his bag.
“Watch where you step and stay right behind me,” he whispered in her ear. She nodded again. Scared shitless but still standing tall. Quite a woman.
Nothing was blacker than an urban landscape with all the lights out. Avakian picked his way carefully along the alley. This was not the time to kick a garbage can. A couple of gunshots rang out nearby, and someone was running down the alley they’d just left. The shouting all around them made him wish he’d studied Mandarin a little harder.
A substantial explosion from the direction of the Mercedes caused him to instinctively drop to the ground. It took a second before he realized it was the leftover bombs in his toolbox. More running feet on the street on the other side of the house.
At the end of that alley a narrow little walkway led out to the street. Avakian crept down it cautiously. He could hear people talking inside the house, and didn’t need to speak Chinese to recognize terrified when he heard it. Join the club, folks.
He dropped to his stomach to peek out into the street. No moon, no stars, no lights—he could barely see a thing. But if he couldn’t they couldn’t either. He could hear, though. Young men and teenagers running up and down, yelling like it was Halloween. Whooping it up because they could do whatever they wanted and no one seemed about to stop them. A few hundred yards down was another roadblock, which he could see only because someone had thrown some tires on it and set them afire.
It would be nice to know what was going on. Not a cop in sight. Definitely not the China he knew. Normally anybody who pulled this kind of shit had the whole weight of authority drop down and carpet-bomb them. Maybe it was the power blackout. Those had a way of bringing out the beast.
Well, they’d just act like part of the mob. He turned to Judy lying next to him and pointed to the alley across the street. “We’re going to run,” he whispered. “Stop only if I do. Run on the balls of your feet—makes less noise.”
She nodded.
They got up on their feet. Avakian touched her arm and they sprinted across the street. Ducking into the cover of the alley entrance he stopped so he could listen for pursuing feet. Nothing that seemed to be coming in their direction.
There wasn’t even the glow of a candle from a single window. Avakian wondered, then realized why. Showing any light or sign of life was like inviting someone to kick down your door to see what you had worth taking.
This alley was open all the way to the next street over, so they were able to go a little faster. As they neared the end there seemed to be a shape moving across the opening. And maybe another along with it. It was so damned dark. Avakian slowed his pace and held out an arm so Judy wouldn’t get past him. Okay, the glow of someone’s cigarette. There were a few of them.
He kept walking toward them. They knew someone was there—they all turned his way. He smelled the cigarette smoke in the breeze. He could only make out the face of the one that was smoking, which meant they couldn’t see his features.
Somebody asked a question in Chinese and Avakian fired the whole 30-round magazine across the width of the alley. Before the sound even stopped echoing off the walls he was in his bag for a fresh magazine, reloaded, and charged right at them.
A move totally unexpected by Judy, who had been ready to retreat and now had to sprint flat-out to keep up, high-stepping over the groaning bodies littered across the alley like running through the tires in high school gym class.
When Avakian got out into the street someone was running away in the other direction. He didn’t fire.
That pause allowed Judy to catch up, and they crossed the street and dashed along the line of houses until they reached the next alley.
More shouting and pounding footsteps, but those were all headed toward the sound of the shooting. It was no place to hang around, but Avakian did go a little slower down that alley to forestall any more surprises.
At the end he paused to take stock. Replaying all their moves in his head from the crash on, he was fairly sure they’d moved in a rough westerly direction. Trying to visualize the map, he remembered that the long avenues seemed to go north-south.
So he decided to go up this street instead of across, to see if it really was north. These neighborhoods were like someone had grabbed every size and shape of house and shop from a one-room shack to a two-story family, all made out of different varieties of dirty brick, and like a jigsaw puzzle had randomly shoehorned them together within a city block with barely an inch of space in between. He and Judy stayed on the narrow uneven walkways as close to the buildings as possible. No lights meant no shadows, but the darkness was even darker there. And because of that everyone else seemed to prefer running down the middle of the street.
Shop windows broken, doors hanging open, and unwanted goods scattered across the street. Quite a bit of the woodpecker tapping of gunfire in the distance, in the direction they were moving. What the hell was going on? Maybe the cops were trying to reestablish control. And maybe it wasn’t that easy. It dawned on him that they hadn’t just been throwing rocks at the Mercedes, there had been people shooting at them, too. Didn’t hit anything, but they were definitely shooting.
Avakian thought he saw another roadblock down the street. And where there was a roadblock there would be people. Wandering around aimlessly all night long wasn’t going to cut it. He had to find out what was going on. Preferably without getting killed in the process.
The only solution seemed to be to find some high ground with a view to the north. Not the highest ground, though. That was bound to have someone already on it.
Since a hill or patch of open ground apparently did not exist in that urban landscape, it would have to be a building. No office or apartment buildings, at least in this part of town. Four stories was a skyscraper.
Finding one wasn’t the problem. Getting up it was. The Chinese were not big on safety equipment like fire escapes. And knocking on doors during the current state of emergency didn’t promise a warm welcome.
Standing next to him in the darkness, watching his face, Judy realized she’d never appreciated the incredible strain he’d been under these past few days. All she’d had to do was play follow the leader and be scared to death while he made a continuous series of split-second life or death decisions that made surgery pale by comparison. Easy to overlook because he rarely showed it, cracking jokes instead of lashing out the way anyone else would have. At least life or death surgical decisions were made in a clean cool operating theater with plenty of help and consultation. The surgical team wasn’t wondering if they’d live through the next minute.
And the man moved like a leopard. If it had been up to her she’d still be curled up in the bottom of the Mercedes back in that street, waiting for the angry mob to pry them out and tear them to pieces. And if Pete had been anyone else he might have left her there while he saved himself.
Well, if she couldn’t shoot people at least she’d do what she could
for him. She cupped her hand under his chin and he jumped a little in surprise. But he let her turn his head and she leaned over and kissed him.
Startled, Avakian put his free arm around her and kissed her back. That really punched through his crust and made him very emotional. He kissed her again and whispered in her ear, “Thank you.” But before he got too maudlin he dropped his hand down and gave her ass a squeeze.
In return she gave him an affectionate grope, and if she hadn’t been kissing him at the same time he might have made a noise.
“There’s no crying in baseball,” he whispered in her ear. “And there’s no making out in combat.”
In response to that she groped him a little more lasciviously.
“Actually, it’s more of a recommendation than a rule,” he whispered. “But we have to keep moving. I’m going to find the top of a building where we can look things over.”
They continued down the street, turning in at the next alley because Avakian did not want to get anywhere near that roadblock.
The problem was that this alley turned into a labyrinth of four different zigzag turns as it followed the walls of four different houses, none built in anything resembling a straight line. Avakian even had to retrace his steps once when they ran into a dead end. He emerged onto the next street frustrated and pissed off, and had to remind himself to take a few deep breaths and not let it make him careless.
Maybe a mile to the north—it was hard to judge distance at night—three parachute flares popped over the rooftops. Followed by a furious exchange of gunfire. Someone was making a move, Avakian thought.
More running feet on the pavement and he pulled Judy into a doorway, squeezing her into the corner behind him. He kept the rifle across his body so as not to show any silhouette. Shit, it sounded like a lot of people coming. He turned his head so his eyes wouldn’t shine if they had lights. The feet grew louder, and about twenty ran by, panting loudly, heading in the direction of the flares.
Avakian didn’t want to go in the same direction they were, but also didn’t feel he had any choice.
Just as well, because on the next block it seemed he’d found what he needed. A little shack that was some kind of garage or workshop, butted up against a single story house that was just a little higher. And next door two-and three-story buildings right down the line, just like a stairway.
He checked around the back to make sure he wasn’t walking into anything. Someone had been busting up wood crates for firewood, and there were a couple of intact ones next to the pile of pieces. He took the sturdiest and set it against the wall of the shack.
Handing Judy his duffel bag, he gingerly put a little weight on the box to test both its stability and the noise factor. Stepping up on it he carefully placed the rifle on the roof and made sure it wouldn’t slide before releasing it.
With his back to the wall he got a good grip on the overhang. Pulling himself up, he bent at the waist, kicking his legs up over his head while letting his head swing down until his feet were pointing up at the sky and he was looking at the ground. The momentum of the swing put him stomach-down on the roof.
He wiggled back a bit so a little less body was dangling over the eave. He reached down and Judy handed him the duffel bag and her shoulder bag. Grabbing her wrists, he lifted her up until her upper body was draped over the edge of the roof, grabbed her belt with one hand, and pulled her over.
Slinging the rifle and duffel bag he walked across the roof peak, which sagged alarmingly under his weight. Yes, the next one was within reach and had a very shallow peak. He didn’t even have to drop the duffel bag.
But he did on the one after that. He took a little run at it and caught the overhang, dangling in midair until he swung his leg up and hooked a heel over the edge.
When he rolled onto it and looked down there was Judy eyeing him dubiously. But she held up her arms again.
He was amazed that someone in at least one of the houses didn’t at least yell at them to beat it. But then again it probably wasn’t such a great idea to yell at someone walking across your roof during a blackout and riot. Better to hope they just went away.
The highest building had a flat roof, and as they walked across it to find a good vantage point something occurred to him. He leaned over to put his mouth next to her ear. “I just remembered you once told me you didn’t like heights. Sorry about that.”
She turned her head to look at him and he offered her his ear. “Only trapezes,” she whispered back.
Avakian just gave her butt another pat. She was something.
He was pleased to discover that the view was perfect. With only a few taller buildings in the way he could see at least a couple of miles. More when the flares went up.
At least his navigation was correct. They had been heading west and then north. It was too far away to hear, but he could clearly see the tracers going back and forth from at least five pretty good firefights. This displeased him because they followed a jagged line right across the width of the city. The front line of this little conflict. It didn’t take a military genius to figure out that the combatants were the citizens of Zhangjiakou on their side and the government on the other. The public reaction to their flashing blue lights more than confirmed that. And where anyone else would just see green tracer bullets flying back and forth, Avakian’s more experienced eye told him that the ones going out from their side were all rifle rounds while some of the stuff coming in from the north, judging from the size and spacing between them, was medium and heavy machine-gun. All the flares were being fired from that direction, too.
They were well and truly screwed. Because the 110 Highway was the only way to get to Mongolia. And that left the city in only one place, at the very north. There was no other way to reach it other than somehow making their way through the entire length of the city. But they weren’t going to be slipping through the front lines of two sides loaded for bear and shooting anything that moved. Maybe they could find a quiet sector to infiltrate?
Don’t be an idiot, he told himself. Even where there wasn’t shooting there would be roadblocks and people in the houses on both sides watching like hawks.
It sure would be interesting to know what started this. And whether it was happening elsewhere. Once dictatorships showed a crack in their armor anything could happen.
Get your head off that, he told himself. Start thinking about how to get your ass out of there. If their round eyes and white skin were visible when the sun came up they were in a world of trouble. How was he going to manage that in what was left of the night?
Break into someone’s house and be their uninvited guest until sundown tomorrow? Sure. With all the kids and grandparents and brothers and sisters in the typical Chinese household you were going to control them all for a whole day? Without the neighbors getting wise? No way.
He took some more deep breaths to help himself relax and think clearly. Break it down into manageable pieces. First he needed an avenue of approach. Then maybe he could figure out how to do it.
Judy tapped his arm and passed him a bottle of water. He drank gratefully, having pushed his thirst out of his mind. She offered an energy bar but he shook his head. He took another drink and sloshed the water around in his mouth to cut the sensation of thirst without having to drink more than they could spare. Wait a minute. He looked from the water bottle in his hand to the landscape across the rooftops to their left. Oh you saw, Avakian, but you did not observe.
Okay, don’t get excited now and go off half-cocked. Think it through. Make sure it’s doable.
Yeah, it was crazy. And probably suicidal. But it wasn’t like there were a ton of other options.
What he’d been looking at was the dark outline of the Sanggan River, that flowed right along the valley floor and therefore right through the entire length of the city.
Very carefully, he committed the terrain to memory. It would be too easy to get turned around in this warren of buildings and alleys. On a whim, he stuck his head over t
he edge of the roof to see if there might be another way down rather than retracing their steps. Well, that was embarrassing. A metal escape ladder was bolted to the side of the building. So much for a thorough reconnaissance. Good thing Judy didn’t have a weapon. She might be tempted to kneecap the guide.
He pointed down at it and opened his hands in the form of a question. She looked down, saw it, gave him a look, and finally nodded.
The ladder passed covered windows with no one looking out, and ended about fifteen feet above the ground. They dropped the rest of the way.
There were more people on the streets than before. Some zipping by on scooters with rifles slung across their backs. The rifles were mostly old semi-automatic SKS carbines. Which explained a few things to Avakian, knowing how the Russian and Chinese armies worked. Whenever new equipment came into service, like his Type 95 rifle, it went right to a first-line unit. They in turn passed their old stuff, like the Type 81 modernized AK-47, on to the second line. And so on. Finally the remaining junk went into storage for wartime reserve or militia use. So these Korean War-era rifles must have come from militia stockpiles. Interesting.
The ones on foot were traveling back and forth from the front line. Some pushing wheelbarrows or carts filled with stores up and returning with yelling wounded. Unlike the younger kids he’d run into farther back, who mostly carried rocks or Molotov cocktails and only about one in ten had a weapon, nearly all of these were armed.
It meant moving carefully and stopping to hide often as they made their way toward the river. At one point they happened upon a small park that Avakian made a wide detour around. Too open for his taste.
He did some scavenging along the way. Cheap plastic sheeting was ubiquitous in the third world, used for a million different things. The trick turned out to be finding a good-sized piece that wasn’t ripped or full of holes. Clothesline was even easier since dryers were unimaginable luxuries in most of the world. Wire was a little harder but not impossible. Poor people’s houses looked like junkyards because if you couldn’t afford to buy things you couldn’t afford to throw anything out.