Darkness Under Heaven

by F. J. Chase

  “Switch over again,” said Avakian. “And you can take a look at this.”

  He pulled himself back into the driver’s seat and she jumped over again. With his right leg extended across the passenger’s seat, he was steering with his left hand and working the pedals with his left foot. His right fist was up in the air, grasping the free end of the constricted belt. “The knife is in my right pants pocket.”

  She pulled it out and opened up the blade, and carefully sliced open the seam of his jeans. Definitely a gunshot. No exit wound. “Give the belt some slack, just a bit,” she said.

  He followed her instructions, and there was no arterial bleeding. “Okay, tighten it back up.”

  “There’s a first aid kit in that Chinese equipment harness,” he mentioned helpfully.

  She had to open every pouch until she found the two plastic-wrapped five-by-seven compresses with the gauze wrappings. But Pete had been swimming through sewage all night long and the wound field was totally contaminated. Who knew when they were going to reach somewhere she could treat him properly? Infection was a certainty. Better to risk tissue damage. She furiously rooted through her bag and then reached under the seat. It was going to be a total insult to orthodoxy. “This is going to hurt.”

  “It already hurts,” he said through gritted teeth.

  She poured Chinese moonshine into the wound and over his leg.

  “FUUUUCK!” Avakian yelled.

  While he was yelling Judy inserted one of her tampons into the bullet hole, placed the battle dressing over that, and secured it with the dangling gauze. The femur wasn’t broken, and thank God no major vessels had been compromised. “Okay, release the belt.”

  The tampon and dressing were containing the bleeding. He’d lost a bit of blood, but not like some gunshots she’d seen. It would have been much worse if he hadn’t stopped it himself so quickly. “There’s nothing here to splint it with. Let me back behind the wheel, and don’t move too much.”

  Avakian pulled himself over again, wincing at every bounce. He picked the rifle up off the floorboard and checked the magazine. “I suggest you drive as fast as you can.”

  26

  Commissioner Zhou ran out into the road. The truck had disappeared around the next bend. He burned with shame that he had not even fired his pistol.

  One of the sergeants at the roadblock was dead and the other was wounded in the legs and groin. The other pair was attending to him with the patrol car first aid kit.

  One glance at this and Commissioner Zhou was running for the patrol car. The front was crushed and the windshield peppered with bullet holes. Ducking into the front seat, he snatched up the radio handset. Dead.

  Furious with himself for not thinking of it before, he flipped his cell phone open. No signal.

  Inspector He came panting up. “Comrade Commissioner, I shot at him but do not know if I hit him. It was a white man.”

  “It was him,” said Commissioner Zhou. “Get the car, He.”

  “Yes, we must get Sergeant Fan to medical attention. He is badly wounded.”

  “No. Leave one man and tell him to flag down the next passing vehicle.”

  Inspector He could not believe his ears. “But who knows when that may be? If we take Fan back to the city we can call forward to arrange for blocks on the highway ahead.”

  “Who knows what disorders are on the road ahead to prevent this?” Commissioner Zhou shouted. “The man is a demon! If he can get through Zhangjiakou last night he can get through some halfhearted roadblocks. We must pursue him. Carry out your orders.”

  Inspector He doggedly stayed put for a moment or two, then turned and ran for the road. He stopped and bent over his wounded sergeant, exchanging a few words before he and one of the surviving investigators headed for the car.

  Commissioner Zhou stood out on the road to spur them to action. They left a cloud of dust pulling out of the trees. He got in the back seat, saying, “There is no way that truck can outrun a car. Do not worry. This will be finished soon.”

  “Better ease up on the gas a bit,” Avakian said. “Don’t want to blow the engine with this heavy load.” He was kneeling on the seat with his good leg, keeping an eye on the road behind them through the window.

  “We’re not going to outrun anything in this,” Judy said.

  “This is true,” he said. “Let’s hope that police car isn’t in any condition to run until we pick up a new and faster ride.”

  “But they must have radioed ahead.”

  “Hey, easy there,” he said. “Never expect unfailing efficiency from any bureaucracy. Mountains block radio waves. Riots happen. Shit happens.”

  “I appreciate you trying and make me feel better. Even though I don’t necessarily buy it.”

  “By the way, you looked real good back there. Didn’t Bogart say that to Bacall one time?”

  “The Big Sleep,” Judy said automatically. “Thanks, but after all this time I finally got a chance to work inside my own skill set.” She smiled. “I’m only sorry you didn’t get shot sooner.”

  “I’m going to try and take that in the spirit you intended.”

  “It’s probably not the first time it happened to you.”

  “Actually, it is. It’s something I’ve always worked hard to avoid.”

  “Hurt bad?”

  “Doesn’t hurt good. But I’m still here, so it’s all good.”

  “I wish you wouldn’t do that.”

  “Hey, you’re always okay as long as you’ve still got your sense of humor.” Oh, shit. He leaned farther out the window to be sure. “We’ve got company. Looks like they had a plainclothes car we didn’t see.” He turned around to check the road ahead. “Okay, when we go over the next hill slow down and let me out. Then park down at the bottom. When I wave come back and get me. If anything unfortunate should happen, remember 110 to 206 right to the border. You’ve been watching me steal cars. The tools are in my bag.”

  “Are you kidding?” Judy shouted. “I’m not letting you out. You can’t hop around on that leg. You shift that bullet you could cut a major vessel and bleed to death.”

  “Like you said,” Avakian pointed out calmly. “We’re not outrunning anyone in this truck. You stick to the driving and the medicine and I’ll do the shooting. Let me out on the reverse slope of the hill so they can’t see you do it.”

  She really, really hated when he was logical and reasonable.

  As they crested the hill he opened the door and hopped onto the running board on his good leg. Every movement was like sticking his finger in an electric socket. He watched the top of the truck to make sure it was out of sight. “Okay, stop.”

  Judy wasn’t used to truck brakes, and almost threw him off. Dangling from the handrail for a moment, he let himself down amid red flashes of pain every time he blinked his eyes. “Go!”

  She pulled out, and he hopped all the way across the road so he’d have a better angle on the driver. Every hop was like an ice pick being stuck into his brain. Reaching the dirt on the other side he dropped to his stomach and crawled to the top.

  The pain left him trembling and bathed in cold sweat. Not the best state in which to do some precision shooting. He pulled the last two thirty-round magazines from the equipment belt and laid them on the ground close to his hand. Now that he wasn’t moving the pain had subsided. He wiped the sweat off his face with his shirt and concentrated on steadying his breathing. The roadside weeds were high enough for good concealment. They’d be looking for the truck, anyway. He looped the sling around his arm for a good tight firing position, peering through the rear sight aperture at the front sight post and shifting a bit for a better sight picture. When he was moving he’d been afraid he was going to pass out. But now was as ready as he was ever going to be. A good ambush was like cold-blooded murder. One that went bad meant the ambusher got murdered.

  “We will have them on the next hill,” said Commissioner Zhou. He was holding the driver’s rifle. It had been a long time since h
e fired one, but it felt comfortable in his hands. They would shoot out the truck tires, surround them, and wait. Perhaps to take Avakian alive once he realized it was hopeless. What an achievement that would be.

  Avakian remembered a sergeant major at the Special Warfare School, who had run recon into Cambodia during the Vietnam War, telling them to never get anxious and open fire too soon. If the enemy was going to oblige by running right up onto your front sight post, let them. And all the better since he was low on ammo anyway. He moved the selector switch to single shot.

  They were almost to the top of the hill now. Commissioner Zhou leaned over the seat partition in order to see better. With the ground they had gained the truck should be in sight.

  The sound was exactly like a rock hitting the windshield. The driver’s head snapped back and Commissioner Zhou recoiled as he was sprayed with blood.

  Inspector He reached over and grabbed the steering wheel as another round came through the glass and hit him in the breastplate of his vest. The vest stopped the bullet but the force of the impact threw him back and he lost his grip on the wheel. With the driver’s foot still on the gas pedal, the car began to swerve off the road. All Inspector He could do was grab the shift lever and throw it into park. The car shuddered and lost speed to the shrill accompaniment of grinding metal. Inspector He pulled the emergency brake.

  Commissioner Zhou bent over to pick up his dropped rifle and more bullets came through the windshield.

  With the car stopped and the engine still roaring, Inspector He pushed his door open and laid his rifle across the top of the frame to fire.

  There he was, Avakian thought. The guy who liked to shoot from out in the open. Hope you have your own doctor, motherfucker. The car was less than thirty yards away. Anyone could make that shot.

  The bullet caught Inspector He under the chin and blew out the back of his neck, severing his spinal cord and killing him instantly.

  Commissioner Zhou spilled out his door onto the ground and scrambled around the back of the car, trying to determine where the gunfire was coming from. Heart pounding, hands shaking. Both his men wounded, perhaps dead.

  Avakian wasn’t about to hang around all day waiting for a clear shot. He blew out the front tires and the left rear, only the angle of the car preserving the last one, followed by four more rounds through the radiator. Those dinky little 5.7mm bullets weren’t going through any engine blocks.

  Thinking he was under fire and Avakian advancing on him, Commissioner Zhou leaned his rifle around the bumper and fired rapid bursts to hold him back.

  Avakian remained untouched. If they didn’t hit you or come close enough to make you duck it was just noise. Only rookies thought everything they heard was going to hit them. The trouble with these sprayers and prayers was that nobody ever told them full auto didn’t guarantee anything. You could miss just as easily with ten as one if you didn’t sight carefully and concentrate on your shooting. It offended his professionalism. Anyway, it was time to move on.

  Commissioner Zhou yanked the charging handle back three times before realizing his magazine was empty. And the rest of the ammunition was with the dead men. But there had not been any more firing. Perhaps he had killed Avakian? He cautiously raised his head above the trunk for a look before pulling it back down.

  Too fast for Avakian to make the shot. But he couldn’t believe it. Commissioner Zhou. How the hell? They’d been waiting there for him. And that brought with it a whole avalanche of new worries. Well, if he didn’t have time to kill him, there was still a little matter of face. “Hey, Commissioner!” he shouted. “You better hitchhike back to Beijing. You’re a smart guy but you’re no gunfighter.”

  He turned around and waved to Judy.

  Commissioner Zhou had once put his hand on a hot stove as a child. This humiliation burned like that. Avakian waving farewell to him. He pounded his fist on the trunk. Wait. What was that? He stopped pounding. The sound of a truck.

  Handling the truck more confidently, Judy swung it around inside the span of the road. Avakian grabbed the handrail and pulled himself in.

  “I’m assuming that went well,” she said.

  “You’re not going to believe it,” said Avakian.

  Commissioner Zhou bolted over to Inspector He’s body, pulled a magazine from his pouch, and ran for the top of the hill.

  “What am I not going to believe?” said Judy.

  Commissioner Zhou reached the top of the hill just as the truck reached the bottom. He fired the whole magazine at it.

  Judy automatically hunched down. “Someone’s shooting at us.”

  “Don’t worry,” Avakian said. “We’re out of effective range, with about four tons of steel between us.”

  “What if they hit a tire?”

  “Then we have a flat. Nothing we can do about it right now. He’s just trying to get some face back.”

  “He?”

  “I told you you wouldn’t believe it,” said Avakian. “You know who was on that roadblock? Commissioner Zhou.”

  “Get out.”

  “I kid you not.”

  “But that means…?”

  “Yeah, he tracked us all the way from Beijing. And, believe me, at first I was sweating the load over that. But then I thought about it. A commissioner of police on a roadblock with a handful of cops? Doesn’t add up. But so close to the city I’m thinking maybe he had a lot of the same Zhangjiakou problems we did, and this was the best he could do. Not to say he can’t call up ahead for more help. Which is all the more reason for us not to dawdle.”

  “You didn’t shoot him.” She said it as a statement, not a question.

  “Would have, but I didn’t get the chance. His car isn’t going anywhere. And maybe it’s better this way instead of us at each other’s throats atop Reichenbach Falls.”

  “I just totally missed that allusion.”

  “Sherlock Holmes and Professor Moriarty.”

  “Ah. But who is which?”

  “I’ve got the doctor as my partner. I think that settles it.”

  “Yeah, well, we are talking about The Napoleon of Crime, after all. So I may have some different ideas on that.”

  Commissioner Zhou threw the rifle onto the road and slumped down beside it. He put his hands over his face as tears came to his eyes.

  27

  Sitting still in the truck reduced the pain in Avakian’s leg to a dull throb. His exertions had left the battle dressing soaked in blood. Although dazed by fatigue he focused his attention on potential trouble on the road ahead. But soon the absence of stimulation and the droning of the engine put his head back against the seat.

  Judy kept glancing over to check on him. He was sound asleep. He needed it. And she was loving driving the truck. Having something to do energized her.

  She drove through sunburned brown hills and occasional belts of green trees beside the highway. If you could call it that. It was two lanes, and the other was full of coal trucks. Stopped, in the middle of nowhere, as if they’d somehow heard what was up ahead. The drivers kept sticking their heads out their windows, as if they’d never seen a blonde driving a truck before.

  The river swung off, and now the bottom of the slope below the highway held small brown riverbeds, long dried-up.

  The road straightened out but a new problem presented itself. The road signs were exclusively Chinese. It was nerve-wracking to see a blue sign indicating a branch in the highway, and at the end of both arrows were two or three Chinese characters. There was nothing to do but follow the principle of staying on the road you were on.

  But Judy experienced yet more panic as a whole succession of signs kept popping up to announce…something. She thought about waking Pete up, for consultation if nothing else. Then over a low rise a sign with the beautiful Arabic numerals 206. It had to be north to Mongolia so she picked the turn after consulting the path of the sun.

  That stomach-churning tension of wondering whether you’d taken the right exit reminded her of trips w
ith her family. Her dad always had her read the map, and if she ever had a stroke one day that was going to be the cause. The tension lasted more than a few miles until she was rewarded with a billboard image of smiling industrious Chinese amid waving grass and heavy machinery that read, in small print at the bottom: Welcome the Inner Mongolia Autonomous Region. Oh yeah. Thank you, thank you very much. She relaxed and enjoyed the ride for the first time in a long while.

  The countryside rolled out to the horizon. Greenish-brown grasslands intercut with solid brown trails and, hauntingly alone out in the middle of all the space, single green trees. As if they’d been put there just to make you wonder how the hell that happened.

  At first breathtaking but soon monotonous. But the highway had in store one of the strangest things she had ever seen. So strange that at first Judy thought it might be a fatigue-related hallucination. An undulating landscape of nut brown sand dunes. More dirt dunes than sand dunes, actually. But not dunes in a sea of sand. Dunes in a sea of grass. Lush green grass but lifeless dunes. As if, like the lonely trees before, they’d been plopped down to provide some striking artistic contrast.

  She felt a physical pang of sadness as the grasslands became browner and browner as she drove north, finally disappearing altogether. Overgrazing and desertification. A herder’s choice was always between many animals and fewer but higher-quality ones. But high-quality animals were too expensive for poor people to capitalize, and where was the high-quality forage they needed going to come from? So the grass burned away and the deserts expanded.

  At first Judy didn’t realize what was approaching. Thinking it had to be incredibly low cloud cover. Then she realized, rolling her window up tight. As soon as she stretched her arm across Pete he awoke with an electric jolt and had the pistol halfway out his holster.

  “Whoa. Easy, easy, easy,” she said.

  Avakian took stock of his surroundings, not to mention the jab of pain whenever he moved.