The Untimely Deaths of Alex Wayfare

by M. G. Buehrlen

  He took us into his hut, one by one, and each person came out with an amber bottle clutched in their hands, hope in their eyes. I waited until last, leaning against the wagon, arms crossed, trying to keep my anxiety in check. To my surprise, Blue went in after Ning, and remained inside for quite a while. He emerged empty-handed and joined the other passengers, never once glancing in my direction. When it was my turn, I slipped inside with shaking hands, my nerves betraying me.

  Jian’s house was dark and cool. Bunches of dried grasses and flowers hung from the ceiling. Jian was so short he could probably walk through the hut without ducking, but I had to stoop to find my way to the back, where he waited.

  He stood behind a long wooden table covered with fist-sized piles of wrinkled roots, dried berries, leaves, and mushrooms, shaved bark, seeds of every size and shape, and dozens of tiny bowls with different-colored powders. There were intricate wooden boxes with compartments filled with different types of tea leaves. There was a mortar and pestle. And behind him, rows and rows of glass jars filled with the same kinds of ingredients.

  Jian stood quietly, his weathered hands folded before him, waiting for me to explain why I’d come. I told him I had a sister, young, and listed her symptoms, the ones Porter read in the ancient Chinese text, the ones Audrey suffered from every day. I had only mentioned three or four when he thrust an amber bottle into my hands.

  It couldn’t be that easy. He had to know all of her symptoms. He couldn’t possibly know exactly what I needed. Not yet.

  I hurried on. “She bruises easily, and bleeds without clotting.”

  He nodded more vigorously and pushed the bottle at me.

  Take it, Porter said. He knows what you mean.

  I took it. Tucked it inside the vase and rewrapped my pack across my chest. I placed my fist to my palm and bowed to Jian. He smiled, then motioned for the door. I turned to go, but realized I hadn’t paid him.

  “I owe you money,” I said, glancing at my daggers. I wondered if he’d take them as payment.

  He shook his head. “Your brother paid for you.”

  Blue.

  I closed my eyes, guilt washing over me. Even though we’d argued, he still covered for me. I hoped Micki and Porter were paying attention. Those weren’t the actions of a traitor.

  Outside, I found Zhen milling around the wagon, tending to his horses, but Blue and the others were nowhere to be seen. “Tao Jin?” I asked Zhen, and he nodded toward the trees beyond Jian’s farm fields. I headed for them, thinking the forest might provide the perfect hiding place for the cure.

  The shade was welcome. Beneath the silver birches and oaks, I smelled something fresh, felt a cool breeze on my face, heard water gurgling and churning.

  A new goal crept its way to the forefront of Lo Jie’s mind.

  Thirst.

  The forest floor sloped downward, and at the bottom of the bank there was an area of smooth, flat, white rock the size of a football field, with a crooked line of gushing water flowing through it. I stepped down the bank, my feet sinking into soft soil and leaves left over from winter. The other members of my convoy were there, wandering about the creek bed, stretching their legs and backs. Honqi and Quon were fishing with wooden poles in a deep pool off the bank. Ning and Mei were squatting by the creek, washing their jackets by rubbing the fabric against the smooth stones.

  I didn’t see Blue.

  If he needed time to himself, I wanted to give it to him, just like he gave to me. I didn’t want to push him away or force him to talk when he wasn’t ready.

  I knelt at the edge of the water for a drink and splashed the dust from my face. After I drank my fill and the ripples settled, I saw Lo Jie’s reflection for the first time. Her face was oval, her lips full and pink, her cheekbones high and sharp, her dark eyes fierce. She was a natural beauty, wild and willowy. I didn’t see much of myself in her, except for her button nose and square chin. Out of all the bodies I’d been in, she was the most different from me, both in appearance and personality. Maybe that’s why I liked being in her shoes so much.

  I walked along the smooth rock, stepping over driftwood and scrubby weeds, following the water downstream and out of sight. I wound around a few bends until I was completely alone in the vast China wilderness. The gentle, soft soil bank on my left grew steadily steeper into a jagged, rocky bluff. There were crags and crevices, high above the flood line, that would make a perfect resting place for the remedy for centuries to come. Cask Carter had taught me how to hide loot back in 1876. He stashed his train-robbing spoils all across the Midwest where only bats and birds might find them.

  I let Lo Jie pick her way up the side of the bluff, using her lean strength and nimble body to pull myself to a thin ledge near the top. The wind swirled around me, tugging loose strands of hair from my braid. I rested the vase and the remedy, still wrapped securely in the cloth pack, in a crevice shaped like a crescent moon. I tucked it beneath a blanket of moss and twigs, then stood on the ledge, chin up, chest out, closed my eyes, breathed in, and felt a rush of freedom sweep through me as strong as the wind.

  You did it, Porter said. The pride in his voice made my chest swell. You captured the flag. You won.

  Part of me wanted to ascend to Limbo right then and there, but I had to return Jie’s body to Beijing so I wouldn’t make an impact. I had two more nights before I could close this mission, and I didn’t know how I was going to last that long. I was so anxious to get back to Audrey. To set her free from her cage.

  As I breathed in and out, I went through the movements of the Seven Star Fist, slowly, letting Jie lull me into a meditative state, calming my anxiety. Every move was so detailed; every one of my muscles engaged with purpose. Squatting, bending, breathing, stretching my leg up to touch my cheek, it all worked together to focus my body and free my mind. The moves reminded me of practicing yoga with Mom and Gran on Sunday afternoons. The bow stance was like the warrior pose, which had always been my favorite. I felt so strong in that pose, like anything could come at me.

  Now I felt it even more so.

  I once heard someone describe kung fu as meditation in motion. Now I understood what that meant. It was control and freedom and relaxation all in one. And once Audrey was healthy again, I’d teach her everything Jie knew. Maybe it would be something we could do together, something for her to hold onto when I’m gone, something for her to remember me by.

  Surrounded

  When the sun skimmed the treetops, gold and glittering, I finally climbed down from the bluff and headed back to Jian’s. I must not have been gone as long as I thought because all of my journeymates were exactly as I had left them by the water’s edge. Honqi and Quon were still fishing on the other side of creek. I crouched beside Ning and Mei, who were still washing their garments, to give my own jacket a rinse.

  As I pulled off my jacket, I glanced around again for Blue. I was worried about him. I felt awful about our argument, and somewhat responsible for his tortured existence. He was plagued with nightmares, had endless memories from past lives coming and going without warning, and a girl he thought he could trust dragging him across time at her every whim. It made me feel sick to think about. It made me angry that I couldn’t do a damn thing about it, not in this life.

  But maybe in the next.

  Micki and Porter had been surprisingly silent the entire afternoon. They had let me meditate and they didn’t try to talk me out of my concern for Blue. It was refreshing. I enjoyed my little patch of alone time at the water’s edge, soaking my jacket and rubbing it against stone.

  “Am I doing this right?” I asked Ning.

  She didn’t respond.

  I glanced at her and Mei. They stared straight ahead, slack-jawed, jerking their jackets back and forth against the rocks like they’d forgotten how to use their hands.

  “Ning?” The word came out as little more than a whisper. Something was so very wrong with the whole scene. My body knew it before my brain did; my mouth was bone dry.


  Ning turned her head my way, cocked to the side, but she left her gaze behind, still staring down at her hands. Then her eyes snapped to mine, her movements disjointed and frightening. It was like watching an alien trapped in a human’s body, unsure how to use its new vessel.

  That’s when I scrambled backwards to my feet, my heart thudding in my throat.

  Descender, I hissed to Porter.

  Get out of there, now!

  I tried to lift my soul to Limbo, arcing upward, but it was too late. I was already under a soulblock.

  Chapter 21

  Trapped

  Break through, break through! Porter shouted, but my shock was too great. It rooted me to the ground, cementing my focus on the Descender rising to her feet before me, twisting Ning’s lips into a cruel snarl.

  I had no idea how they found me—my mind whirled with questions, but I didn’t have time to think it through. With a swift hand, Ning swung her cane at me. I bent backwards, the cane grazing my chest as it flew past.

  Don’t fight, just get out of there.

  Easy for him to say—he wasn’t the one blocking blows from a cane with his forearms. If I couldn’t concentrate to help Porter break the soulblock then I had to fight my way free and run, run until the soulblock was out of range. And if I wanted to save this mission, I had to do it without killing anyone.

  That meant keeping my daggers at my hips. I didn’t want to take any chances.

  The next time Ning raised her cane above me, I grabbed her arm, twisted it around to her back, and locked her shoulder. Then I twisted harder, dropping her to the ground. She collapsed, clutching her arm, wailing out in pain.

  That’s enough, Porter said. Now run.

  I turned to race back toward the farm, but that’s when Mei awoke from her zombie-like state and charged me.

  Two Descenders.

  The moves burst out of me, my arms waving, my feet shuffling forward and back, side to side, as I deflected her jabs and punches. My forearms were iron bars. My hands were shields. All of my meditation moves were there, fluid, natural, as automatic as breathing. I threw a kick into her chest. Down she went, smacking her head on the smooth rock under our feet, and I knelt over her to see if she was OK. She was still breathing, but she’d have a nasty headache.

  I started for the creek, hoping to leap across and disappear into the forest beyond, but Quon and Honqi lifted their fishing poles with a roar and came at me, splashing across the stepped falls. They charged at me like madmen. I turned again toward the farm, but Jian and Zhen raced down the bank, each armed with a shepherd’s whip.

  Six Descenders. How was that possible?

  I tried to ascend again, but it didn’t work. The soulblock was too strong.

  There are too many, I told Porter. I can’t break through.

  Quon and Honqi reached me first, their pants dripping with water. They spun and sliced their poles through the air, and I jumped and kicked my way through the barrage. Quon swept his pole down and around, and I threw myself back against the earth, missing the blow, then sprang up in the same movement. I drove a kick into the softness of his belly, and as he stumbled backwards I twisted the pole out of his fingers. Using it like a pole vault, I struck it into the ground, lifted myself into the air, and threw my feet into Honqi’s chest. He flew backwards and onto the rock. Standing over him, I dropped my knee onto his thigh, power driving down as I channeled my chi through my knee. He reached for his leg, crying out in pain, and I turned back to finish the rest.

  Alex, you have to concentrate. You have to get out of there.

  Porter didn’t realize what he was asking of me. How impossible it was. My brain was full of fight; there was no room for anything else. I was too busy battling them, one by one, sometimes several at a time. Whips whizzing past my ears, my body bending and flexing and turning. There was no time to concentrate, no time to meld my energy with my team’s and break through the soulblock.

  Instead, I fought with all my might, until they were all writhing on the ground.

  “You’re good.”

  I turned around, and Ning stood behind me. She spoke in English, her voice dry and flat. “They said you would be, but you’re just a little girl. How good can you really be?”

  My eyes narrowed. I wanted to make her pay for that remark. I lowered into a deep squat and smacked the pole against the ground with a yell that said, come at me, bro.

  She did, cane held high.

  She jabbed and I smacked. I stabbed and she sliced. I swept the pole at her feet, but she jumped. I sliced at her neck, but she bent backwards. She sliced back at mine, and I leaned to the side, expecting to feel the swish of air on my skin.

  Instead, I felt the crack of wood across my collarbone. Saw a flash of light, heard the bone break. I dropped to my knees and fell to my side, clutching the injury, eyes squeezed shut.

  It wasn’t a gunshot, but it hurt like one.

  The Descender stood over me, hunched in Ning’s withered body, her sweet face marred by the Descender’s scowl.

  “Why don’t you just kill me?” I said, wishing I had the tiniest bit of strength left over to beat the Descender senseless.

  A slight smile flickered at the corner of Ning’s mouth. “I didn’t come to kill you, Nummer Fire. I came to deliver a message.”

  I clenched my teeth. “Then deliver it.”

  Something sinister flickered in Ning’s eyes as she stared at me, watching my blood draw red lines between my fingers. Then, as quick as a snake strike, she reached for one of my daggers, pulled it out, and plunged it into my belly.

  Blood pooled in the crook of my stomach. The mission was lost, and Gesh’s message was loud and clear.

  I can’t win.

  It was like a punch in the gut at first, deep and dull, bringing tears to my eyes, but then it burned, burned so badly I wanted to give up everything right then and there. Let death take me. But I couldn’t. If I died in the past, under a soulblock, my soul would ascend straight to Afterlife. My body back in Base Life would be empty, cold, and lifeless in the dentist chair. My family would have to bury me, and I couldn’t do that to them right now, not with Audrey still in the hospital.

  Not without a proper goodbye.

  With her message delivered, Ning’s eyes rolled back into her head. I felt the Descenders rise to Limbo, and the snap of their soulblock, freeing me. Before Ning regained consciousness, before I could see the shock and bewilderment on her face, I sprang to Limbo, fleeing the scene. I had to do a touchdown before everything carved itself into stone.

  The Traitor

  “What happened?” Porter says when we land back on the boat after the touchdown. “Why didn’t you break the soulblock?” He’s pointing the blame at me, but I’m not at fault. Not this time.

  “There were six of them,” I say, catching my breath, pressing a hand to my stomach, relieved to find no sign of blood. “The soulblock was too strong.”

  Micki shakes her head. “This wasn’t part of the plan.”

  Yeah, no shit.

  I scowl at her. “Seems to me it went exactly as planned.”

  She stops pulling wires from her skin and sits up in her chair. “Excuse me?”

  I square my shoulders and narrow my eyes, like Bacall. “How long have you been in Gesh’s pocket? Since the day you left AIDA? Or did he get to you recently?”

  She looks at me like I’ve grown a second nose. “What the hell are you insinuating?”

  “There’s no way Gesh could’ve tracked me to that exact moment and place in time. He’d have to know intimate details of my mission, details no one outside this room could’ve known. The exact day I’d leave, the exact age I’d be when I descended, which convoy I’d take out of Beijing, and who I’d be traveling with. Porter said Gesh needs weeks, months, sometimes years to find specific soulmarks in Limbo. Someone tipped him off. You kept pointing the finger at Blue, insisting he was the traitor. That should’ve been my first clue. But Blue didn’t know any of the specifics unti
l he was there with me. He couldn’t have known beforehand, which means Gesh couldn’t have ambushed me without your help.”

  Micki’s claws come out. “You’ve got some nerve.”

  “Tell me I’m wrong.”

  “You ungrateful little…” She trails off, but my eyes match hers, dagger for dagger.

  “Go ahead. Say it.”

  Her nostrils flare, but she doesn’t explode. She doesn’t say one word to me. She stalks over to Porter, leans in and says, “I tried to make it work,” then leaves without a glance back, slamming the door.

  “Micki,” Porter calls out, but she doesn’t return. He groans and rakes his hands across his short white hair. “What do you think you’re doing?” he says to me. “She works for us.”

  “Then tell me how Gesh knew. Tell me how it’s possible, how Blue could’ve possibly tipped him off in real time, during the mission. How Gesh had time to find each one of those soulmarks: Zhen, Quon, Honqi, Jian, Mei, Ning. Explain it to me, and I’ll go apologize to her right now.”

  The muscles in Porter’s jaw work as he thinks, scrambling to come up with something, anything to prove Micki’s innocence.

  “That’s what I thought,” I say, crossing my arms.

  “Levi?” Porter says, nodding in Micki’s direction. Levi goes after her, most likely to smooth things over. They should be trying to smooth things over with me. I’m the one who was betrayed. Stabbed and left for dead.