by Leigh Lyn
Did Lin visit the Canon-gate churchyard too, and discover that Smith was buried there, after which she looked into his work out of curiosity? Wen gazed at the map. Had Lin had prior knowledge and interest in Smith’s ideas or not?
Wen sighed. In so many places, the manuscript was a battlefield between the contradictory constructions of reality. It seemed absurd to seek the truth from it. If only he could talk to the people who used the induction phrase. According to Lin’s manuscript, they were Sam, Dr. Liu, and Frieda. But then, Wen wouldn’t trust anyone at this stage. Anyone apart from Au-Yeung.
The casual way Mimi had asked, “What twin?” flashed in front of his eyes. It had knocked the air out of his lungs.
Chapter 57
Wen picked up a sleeping Bull’s Eye off the deck and put him on a cushion at his feet. The stocky white terrier opened an eye before dozing off again, leaving Wen to gaze at the moon reflected in the glistening waves. Going by the nonchalant way Mimi denied the existence of her twin, Lin failed to break the generational pattern despite all her efforts. Whether Mimi was lying or genuine, it was gut wrenching.
Wen contemplated calling Frieda. If he’d have to guess who the needle was, he’d bet on Frieda, the way she’d shown up at Castle-peak on her first day of work the same day Lin was admitted and the way she’d passed the vetting process. Wen picked up his cell. Too lazy to learn new operating systems, it was the same one he’d had for years. He searched his contacts to look up Frieda’s data and stared at her coiffed hair and impeccable make-up. But hang on… What about the young nurse whom he’d asked to keep an eye on Lin; what was her name? Wendy? For a reason he couldn’t quite remember, he’d given her his mobile number. He recalled being annoyed yet impressed at the same time by her commitment, texting, and reporting everything that happened, whether it was relevant or not. She’d quit three months after she’d started, and he’d not seen her for years.
Wen searched through his contact list. There she was, Wendy Wong. He pondered if he should. After staring at her child-like face for a while, he pressed the call button.
“Yello?” a high female voice chirped. “How are you, Dr. Wen?”
Wen felt the hair on the back of his neck rise, and he gazed at the phone before picking it up.
“Hello, Wendy. I’m good.” He hesitated. “And you remember me.”
Wen heard a deep throaty giggle. “No need to freak out, Doc. Your name popped up on my caller ID,” Wendy babbled.
Feeling awkward, Wen said. “Of course. How have you been, Wendy?”
“I’m doing great,” she said, more cheerful than Wen remembered her. Years had gone by. “I started a business. A childcare-slash-extra-curricular activities center for kids.”
“That’s excellent. I can imagine taking care of kids is much sweeter than attending to inmates.”
“Some of the rascals can be a handful too,” Wendy laughed. “But yes, on the whole, it’s less demanding than Castle Peak.”
“Well, you sound happier.”
“Yep, I must confess I’m glad I quit, Doc. I don’t know if you noticed, but I was bummed out so much.”
“I had a little idea.”
“I bet you did. You cut me a lot of slack. The others had me for breakfast.” Wendy paused.
“Don’t mind them. It all worked out for the best,” Wen hurried to say. “Listen, Wendy, I hope it doesn’t scare you; I have been staring at your number in my contact list.” He waited for Wendy’s reply. When she didn’t, he continued. “There is something I want to ask you if that’s okay?”
Cautious, Wendy said, “Not at all. How can I help?”
“Do you remember Lin Lee, the patient I asked you to keep an eye on?”
“It has been a few years, but do you mean the one with the blue crayon?”
“That’s her. Listen, Wendy, when her family came to visit, do you recall if there were one or two little girls?” He held his breath.
“Why, there were two girls; twins,” Wendy said, too fast for his liking.
“Are you sure you remember?”
“Well, yes, the crayon got me into trouble. On top, they pulled a prank on me. They kept moving around, and they looked so alike, that I’d thought I was seeing the same girl. Until Lin told me there were two. Apparently, it was a prank they pulled all the time.”
“So, you never saw both girls at the same time?”
“No, I didn’t. Ray, one of the guards I was friendly with, said there really was just one even though he saw Lin talk to both of them as if two were sitting on her lap at the same time.”
An intense send of gratitude and relief washed over Wen as he slumped his aching back into the cushions. “Thanks, Wendy. I never told you how helpful you were, did I?”
“No problem,” Wendy said. “I pride myself on a good memory even though I know my other skills were lacking. Is she alright? The patient, I mean?”
“She’s been better, but your help means a lot to both her and me.”
“Don’t mention it, Dr. Wen.”
“Goodbye, Wendy.”
He ended the call and got up. The waves had calmed down, and the serene gradient of black to gray of a brand-new dawn soothed him. He should get some sleep soon. The stress was beginning to take its toll on his poor body. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he closed his tired eyes to rest them for a few seconds. So, there was only one girl. Mimi, he presumed. With the sun behind him, he lifted his chin to let the wind cool the skin of his face. He felt drained with tender points in his ribcage smoldering like local bonfires, but his thoughts still ran amok. He contemplated his plan with which he hoped to help Lin and redeem his pride and reputation, if only in his own mind. In this era of mediated realities, conclusive evidence was imperative.
The last thing Wen wanted to do though, was to drag innocent people like Wendy or Ray into this. If there was one thing he had learned from this, it was not to sacrifice others for one’s own distant dreams. What complicated the matter was that the puppet masters knew it too.
After four hours of shallow sleep, Wen raised anchor and set off on a southbound voyage in the South China Sea. He spent days reworking his notes, duplicating and editing them till they told the story he’d wanted, conveying the state of mind he wished it to portray. The fourth day, he changed course and steered Chang E westward towards Sanya in Hainan. There, he had an extra set of Lin’s manuscript copied and posted it to Au-Yeung, together with his whereabouts. He also sent him the notes he had labored over at length and a letter of consent to publish them.
In the evening, he skyped James Junior and Stacy. They talked for hours. At first, he worried they would sense something was up, but they did not let on if they noticed. Each night the following week, Wen slept on deck with Mr. B next to him. He rested his old body as well as he could. The week after that, he moored at the adjacent island and mailed a postcard to Dr. Liu with his whereabouts. One evening, the rumbling noise of an engine awoke him not long after he dozed off.
Opening his eyes, he saw Bull’s Eye growl while peering into the dark sky with bared teeth. A silent gush of air spilled over him as a large crane flew over at such a startlingly close range he tumbled backward. The bird turned a tight circle before it landed with surprising grace on the shiny railing ten feet from him. Towering tall, it gripped the brass bar with its strong claws and folded up its far-reaching wings. Bull’s Eye stepped back. In a stunning face-off, the two animals gazed at one another.
“Dr. Wen?”
The hoarse, female voice had come from Wen’s right. He clenched his eyes shut and took a plunging breath as his chest tightened and his throat closed. He turned and faced the woman standing five feet from him. It was shocking how much weight she’d lost. The defiant glare in her eyes had made way for a sly, devious glint. Wen composed himself and said in a thick voice, “I was wondering how long it will be before you show up.”
Lin looked at him in a way she had not done before, taunting and mischievous. Based on a hunch, he said
, “Are you looking for Bob?”
Lin leaned backward, casting him a resentful glance before she composed herself and came closer. He watched her hand slip into the long coat she was wearing. For a moment he froze, but he recovered in time to grab the object in his cardigan pocket. Her hand reappeared, holding something. Expecting it to be the wooden handle of a crescent knife, Wen aimed the taser at her and fired when he realized she was holding the postcard he’d sent to Dr. Liu. She dropped the card as she slumped on the deck like a rag doll. Little jerks went through her body as her muscles contracted before she passed out.
Wen was staring at the sun rising over the calm sea when he heard Lin stir. After she’d passed out, he put a cushion under her head and covered her with a blanket. Turning around, he watched her come to. Bewildered and shocked, she grasped the blanket and trembled like a drenched meerkat. He gave her a glass of water.
“Drink this.”
It took a while before she'd pulled herself together.
Once her nerves allowed her to speak, Lin muttered, “I was terrified this would end bad.”
“Well, it occurred to me too. That’s why I took precautions,” he said.
“Every part of me hurts although you tased Maxy, but I’m glad.”
“You made a lot of effort to pass me a bundle of clues,” Wen said.
“It wasn’t as intentional as that, but I’m glad you found it.”
“I wasn’t sure when you would come, but I see you got the note I sent Dr. Liu.”
“I’m sorry about what happened.”
“It’s not your fault. I’ve known my pals for decades. Deep down I might have known which way each would swing, but I didn’t want to risk it, nor did I want to deal with it until I had to.”
“I feel terrible.”
Wen chuckled. “Terrible was how I felt when I read your manuscript for the first time. The second and third time only got worse.”
“I was wondering why it took so long and if you did not get it.”
“Oh, I got it alright, but first I had to figure out how to determine who I could trust. Then I had to think of a way to control your alter.”
“Sorry, Doc, but I reckoned only you would figure out how to help me.”
Wen smiled, putting his hand on the taser in his pocket. “I slept on deck and carried this old boy on me at all times. Just in case Maxy decides to eliminate yet another potential leak. It was her all along, wasn’t it?”
“I’m afraid so, Doc.” Lin clenched her jaw. “I’m sorry.”
“Stop apologizing, Lin. I was responsible for you having to go through this.” Topping his glass with whiskey, Wen took a big gulp and handed the rest to Lin. “But from now on, can you please let me in on everything without holding anything back?”
“For the record—” Lin smiled, warily. “I tried that at the very beginning, but you wouldn’t believe me.”
Chapter 58
Standing on the fire escape at the top floor of the old tenement building, Wen checked the traffic turning into Orchard Street, scanning each car, motorbike, or van for the logo of the courier who was to deliver the package.
“Half past eleven,” he murmured as he climbed back inside. “He’s an hour late.”
“It’s your turn to wait for Au-Yeung for once,” Karen guffawed.
“I’m not waiting for him; I’m waiting for what he’s sending me. That’s why.”
Wen picked up the book on the coffee table and admired its mysterious cover of a foggy mountain scape, wondering if the photo was taken at 8th Sky. He flicked to the back to read the afterword, which he’d read at least a dozen times since he received it in a discrete manila envelope a week ago.
Dear Reader,
'The 8th Sky' is the last case in an anthology Dr. James Wen and I collaborated on. James and I first met as psychology majors forty-eight years ago during our orientation camp. We became instant pals and remained the best of friends during our long careers. It was not until after retirement we became collaborators, when Dr. Wen had the idea for compiling an anthology of culture-related cases of psychoneurosis.
Unfortunately, Dr. Wen’s own mental health had suffered a setback with his wife’s passing. His state of mind had fallen prey to delusions, which remained undetected by all, including himself. And it is with extreme sadness that I must report that, on the morning of 14th October 2016, Dr. Wen’s boat was found afloat on the open sea one hundred kilometers southwest of the Hong Kong coastline. On it was his dehydrated dog Bull’s Eye while Dr. Wen’s whereabouts was never found. Nor was his body ever recovered.
With regard to the four DNA specimens Dr. Wen mentioned in the last notes he wrote on the eve of his accident, they have verified that neither the alleged cloning nor the genetic experimentation suggested in the patient’s manuscript was grounded, although the four were related. After the first publication of this case, Lao Bo and Li Meng of G.Y. were arrested for an undisclosed reason. And at the time this was going to press, they were still under investigation.
On a happier note, under the auspices of many experts who became interested in her case, Lin Lee was rehabilitated to a new life. It seems she is doing well even though we can’t share more about it.
Due to the lengthy material of this case, we decided the patient’s memoir and Dr. Wen’s notes should be published as a separate volume to the anthology and dedicated to Dr. James Wen, who unraveled so many enigmas and saved so many snowflakes.
Yours truly,
Henry Au-Yeung
It was another half an hour before the doorbell rang. Excited, Wen rushed to the buzzer to open the building entrance. He scurried out of the apartment, calling out at the courier to bring it up while hurrying down the flights himself. On a landing two floors down, a man in gray overalls carrying a pet carrier looked at him asking, “Dr. James Wen?”
“That would be me,” he said.
“Pet delivery service commissioned by a Dr. Henry Au-Yeung. If you would like to sign here.”
As Wen scribbled his name down as fast as he could, the man opened the door of the pet carrier and let out a dazed Bull’s Eye. Tears welled up in the old man’s eyes as he bent down to pick up the white dog.
“You’ve made it too, my little pal,” he said, as Bull’s Eye laid a paw on the old man’s chin and licked his leathery skin. “Our stubborn goat of a friend Henry saved us both.”
— The End —
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AUTHOR'S BIO
Leigh Lyn grew up and attended university in Europe. She moved to Hong Kong where she won the Young Architect Award. She has designed projects in the Middle East and Asia before embarking on writing novels. She is also an assistant professor teaching courses in Design and Architectural Practice. The 8th Sky is her debut novel.
When Leigh is not writing or drilling her students, she’s likely to be chilling with friends, skyping her daughter. Or attending to a teacup poodle called Muffin G. Barker Brown.