"It's too late to flee," Sunyi said very quietly.
Before dawn, the Japanese, too, had discovered that the city was defenseless. Troops streamed in, destroying defensive structures and taking over the abandoned arsenals, but instead of leaving the civilian population alone, they attacked them with astonishing ferocity. The few townsfolk that approached the platoons that marched in were savagely gunned down. After neutralizing the garrison, the bombers fell to attacking purely residential districts. Civilians fled, only to be cut off by troops entering from the river gates. Very shortly, no more radio reports came from the center of Nanking, meaning that the communication centers had been taken over or destroyed by the Japanese invaders. Sunyi mourned for his lost colleagues, and feared what would happen to them.
A squad of bombers made a run over their neighborhood. The front half of Mei's apartment building was destroyed, caving in half of their rooms. They cowered in the kitchen, which remained intact, in the shelter of the stove.
What followed was almost incredible in its barbaric intensity. Those who fled the explosions were mowed down in cold blood by the Japanese soldiers. Men, women, and children were shot whenever they appeared in the streets of Mei's neighborhood. Children, sent out to scavenge for food, were used as moving targets by whole squads of soldiers. To her horror, the troops made wagers on whose bullet would fell a particular victim. Some of the soldiers held murder contests, seeing how many people they could kill within a time limit. Bodies lay everywhere, steaming faintly in the cold air before becoming no more than part of the horrific landscape. In days, there was no movement whatsoever in their street except the creeping of rats. Mei hoped that some of their neighbors were still alive. No one came forth, and she did not dare to seek them out, fearing the bloodthirsty soldiers. Jeep patrols rode through the ruined lanes several times a day, killing anything live they saw. Mei hardly knew how to deal with the grief and fear she felt.
Women found outside were dragged screaming into the nearest alley, where they were forced by numerous soldiers until they slumped, bleeding, to the streets. Mei and Sunyi could do nothing for their neighbors. They were afraid to move from the intact room left in their apartment. Gunfire and explosions echoed to their ears from all over the city. They dared not even venture out to forage. What little rice they had left was left to soak and grow soft enough to eat, a cold porridge that satisfied no one, but at least it was a form of sustenance.
Jinyiang grew more silent every day. She shuddered when she heard female screams of terror. Dead women lay strewn all around them. Some were only shot to death, or had died of wounds sustained in blasts. Others were naked or partially so, battered around the face and ribcage, bloody between the legs. Those had been murdered after multiple rapes. Mei wanted to shelter the girl from the horror, but couldn't figure out how. It was difficult enough to keep her safe.
In the dark of night several days after the invasion began, Mei rose from her huddled blankets beside the barely warm stove. There was a sound somewhere below. Ever since their siege began, she had been sleeping badly, and blamed it on the lack of food. She poked Sunyi, then slid silently back into the recess behind the stove with the sleeping baby. Her husband sat up and armed himself with a chair leg which was all that remained of their handsome furniture. The rest, along with the four Chinese soldiers' discarded uniforms, had been burned for warmth.
"Mei?" A whisper in the darkness.
"Who is there?" Sunyi hissed back. He and his father-in-law rose and silently glided to places behind the broken door.
"It's Chi'en," the voice replied. "Where are you?" Soft footsteps sounded on the floorboards, stumbling a little as they hit a piece of fallen plaster or shattered brick.
Sunyi and Father grabbed the intruder and dragged him in, forcing him against the side of the stove. Sunyi clapped a hand over the figure's mouth to keep it from calling out. Mei opened the stove door to let out a little of the embers' glow. Mei's father raised a chair leg to deliver a killing blow, and stopped short only just short of murdering his own son. In the orange light, Chi'en blinked up at them, and pulled his brother-in-law's hand away from his mouth. Mei let out a little cry of joy, which she immediately stifled. Who knew how well the Japanese could hear?
"You're alive," he croaked, beaming at his parents, and hushed his voice further as they gestured desperately for silence. "I hardly dared hope when I saw what happened to the shop."
"Is it standing?" Mother asked, almost pathetically.
"There's not one brick on top of another," Chi'en admitted, sadly. His mother pressed her lips together as tears dripped from her eyes. Mei knew her parents held on to the thought of returning to their shop one a way of surviving. This was the end of their hope.
They all wept together, softly, so as not to draw attention to themselves. Chi'en recovered first.
"Look here," he whispered. "I brought food. I killed this duck myself in the marshes only sixteen miles from here. These greens are from there, too. I also have a small bag of rice." He took the foodstuffs out of his pocket and piled them in his sister's lap.
"Everything else was taken from me on the way here," he said, a little embarrassed.
Mei regarded them as if the small offerings were the riches of the Yellow Emperor. "Chi'en, this is better than silks and jades," she said, her eyes shining.
"Will you cook for me, sister?" Chi'en begged. "I'm half starved. The street is empty, and it is still full night. I'm sure there's no one around. Please?"
It had been days since they had had a hot meal. It seemed worth the risk to have decent food again. "All right," Mei agreed.
Taking precautions to channel the wisp of smoke down under sheets of old newsprint, so that it might be mistaken for mist over the icy ground instead of spiraling out of the chimney where it could be seen in the frosty air. Sunyi built up the little fire. Mei didn't realize until the flames began to crackle how cold she was. Even the baby showed more animation as he warmed up. The sizzle of the wok was music in the fearful silence. Cooking odors were heavenly perfumes. Quietly, Mei cut up the offering of meat and set it in with the rice so that its strong aroma would be muffled while it simmered. The one burner was all they dared risk.
"Please may we come in?"
Mei recognized the voice immediately, and gestured to her father to put down the chair-leg club. "It is old Mrs. Wu Tien," she said. "Come in. We feared you dead."
The old woman sighed. "Not yet. My son's wife is with me."
"Come ahead. Be careful. The floor is not safe."
Two faces appeared in the darkness. Far behind them, Mei could see the black of the sky beginning to change to midnight blue. False dawn was coming. They had better be finished with their meal and all traces cleared away before the Japanese began their morning rounds.
Mrs. Wu warmed her hands against the side of the stove and said a blessing for the kitchen god. "We smelled cooking, and thought at first it was a beautiful dream. It is an imposition, but may we beg you for a small portion of rice? We ran out of supplies days ago."
Even in extreme need, Mrs. Wu was still an admirable lady. Her request was not a demand nor a groveling plea. Mei could see how weak she was, and her heart went out to the old woman. The daughter-in-law proudly held her husband's mother erect, not daring to add her own voice.
"I will share with you," Mei assured them.
"Not all would do so," the old woman said, gratefully. Jinyiang sprang to help the old woman to sit closer to the warm stove, with a fold of thick quilt brought up to support her back. Mei was proud of her daughter. The girl seemed to be handling the isolation and privations heroically. No child, especially not one whose parents brought in an income that was well above average should have had to live like a scavenging rodent, living in silence during the day, in utter darkness when the sun went down, and cold and hungry all the time. The girl should have been thinking of young men, and pretty clothes, and a college education.
A few more neighbors, who had hid
den in broken walls, in closets, or in cupboards underneath stairs came to join them as the aroma of steaming duck and rice permeated the chilly building.
"Whatever I have you may have also," she told them, as they appeared, one by one, pale and ragged wraiths around the fire.
"After I struggled to get this food here for you? After I carried it in on my very back?" Chi'en exclaimed, in disgust.
Mei dragged him aside. "What does it matter? If this is the last day of my life, I don't want to be reminded before the Jade Throne that I watched others starve while I had plenty."
"You're a fool," said Chi'en, throwing up his hands. "Now you will be hungry sooner. That is reality."
"Everything seems unreal to me now," Mei snapped. "Will you help, or will you get out of my way so I can finish cooking?" She shoved Sunli into his hands and put the two of them closer to the stove so the baby would stay warm.
Every dish in Mei's cupboard, every cup was used to hand around the meager meal. Mei ate slowly, hoping her shrunken stomach wouldn't reject the only substantial meal she could see for the near future.
Footsteps resounded in the hall and the door opened again. Mei clutched her children to her, huddling in the shadow, fearing that Japanese soldiers had found them. The sun was nearly up now, fingers of light reaching across the leaden dullness of the winter sky. There wasn't time to scatter to their many hiding places. It was a vain hope that her family and friends could escape being seen. Twenty people could not be invisible in the corner of one small room. It must be the last moment of her life. She braced herself, determined to take the bullets before they could touch her daughter and son. Sunyi and Chi'en interposed themselves between the knot of refugees and the door.
Instead, she who entered was the beautiful woman whom Mei had seen in the shrine. Mei was amazed. The woman's exquisite costume was still spotless, a fantastic picture of calm against the destruction of Mei's home. She looked worried.
"Forgive me if I have surprised you," she said, bowing in a graceful fashion. She had not only the clothes of an ancient court lady, but the manners as well.
"Do not fear you have intruded," Mei said, standing up with the baby in her arms and extending her hand. The woman probably had smelled the steam from the wok, and had come, hoping to be invited to partake. Their efforts to conceal the cooking odors was probably not as successful as she had hoped. "Will you share our rice?" Mei asked.
The tiny smile spread across the lady's face. "Thank you, no. I do not need food. You are most generous."
Bursts of gunfire erupted in the street outside, breaking the stillness, and Sunli shrieked. His mother, frantic, grabbed him from his father's arms and clapped a hand over his mouth.
"Oh, my love. Please be quiet. Please, my love," she whispered fearfully, rocking him. The people around her cowered back. The shaft of light at the door was interrupted by a squat, dark shape.
Framed by the doorway, a Japanese soldier appeared, and leered at them with a greedy glint in his eyes. He called out something over his shoulder in his harsh voice. The baby's cry must have attracted his attention. They were discovered. It meant death.
"No!" Mei screamed, throwing her body over her son and daughter. "Get down!" she called to the visitor as the soldier raised his rifle.
Instead of recoiling, the woman swept out an arm, her broad silk sleeve nearly touching the floor. The soldier was hidden from view, but Mei could hear his gun fire again and again. The report sounded loud in her ears, but no bullets tore through her. The shining silk quivered, causing the embroidered figures upon it to appear to dance. Nothing passed through it. Like crystal raindrops, little balls of dull metal fell ringing to the ground. Mei stared at them.
"Do not cry, children," the stranger said, then swept out, an illusion of smoke on the air. Behind her, the soldier was gone, and the ruined hall was empty.
"I think we are all going mad," Mei's husband said.
"Who was she?" asked Mrs. Wu.
Mei raised her shoulders once and busied herself settling the baby, who had stopped crying when the noise ceased. "I met her in the Hall of Ancestors."
"She's no ancestor of yours," jeered her brother.
"She's a goddess," Mei said, without the least trace of doubt, remembering the tiny smile.
"Impossible," said her mother. "Why would a goddess stoop to rescuing peasants from soldiers."
"That was Kwan Yin," Mei breathed, marveling that she hadn't recognized the calm smile of the statue in the Buddhist temple the first time she had seen the strange woman. "The Goddess of Mercy saved us." She cuddled Sunli, who cooed.
"Oh, nonsense!" Chi'en protested. "Superstitious nonsense at that."
"But those are spent bullets on the floor."
Jinyiang sat up straight. The girl's eyes were fever-bright. "Mother, she can take us out of Nanking. You said, if we had a safe escort we could go out to Uncle Chi'en's farm."
"Darling blossom, what just happened was a fluke," Sunyi said. "The soldier missed us, that is all. The woman ran away. She is no goddess."
"No, Mama is right," Jinyiang insisted. "I'll ask her." She stood up. Her gaze was fixed on something far away. Mei was frightened by her expression.
"The child is deranged," Father said, reaching for Jinyiang's arm. "Come here, blossom. It was an illusion, that is all." The girl slipped his grasp and ran down the stairs toward the street.
"Kwan Yin! Mother of Mercy! Take us with you!" she cried.
"It's those stories you told," Father said, glaring at Mei. "She believes them, and she will get us all killed."
Not bothering to defend herself, Mei sprang up, baby in arms, and dashed after the girl.
"Jinyiang," she called softly. "Jinyiang, the soldiers might hear you! Be quiet. Come back!'
The sky was brightening in the east, casting a long shadow behind the girl as she ran down the deserted street, looking wildly about for the silk-clad woman. Mei felt the teeth of the wind biting at her cheeks and ears as soon as she emerged from the protected alcove.
"Take us with you!" Jinyiang wailed, her voice thin and childlike. Her mind had broken. Mei dashed after her.
To her horror, there was a patrol jeep driving along the ruined streets not a hundred yards away. The Japanese in the front passenger seat pointed at Jinyiang. Mei couldn't understand his words, but the intention was obvious. He was ordering his men to capture the pretty young girl and bring her to him. Jinyiang, distracted, realized her danger only when the soldiers grabbed her arms and began to drag her away. She struggled, planting her heels down, and was hauled unceremoniously over the stinking, decaying bodies in the street, still calling for help from Kwan Yin.
Mei screamed, "No!"
Her family and neighbors crowded out behind her to see where the girl had gone. The officer looked up at the interruption, and pointed up at them. One of the men sprayed the stairwell with a machine gun. Out of the corner of her eye, Mei saw some bodies fall, but had no idea whose they were. There wasn't time to think. She had to free her daughter.
She and Sunyi flung themselves between the men and the jeep, clawing at the soldiers. Weak from hunger and long disuse of their muscles, they were easily pushed away by the soldiers. One of the Japanese let go of Jinyiang and unshouldered his machine gun, aiming it at her parents. Mei dropped to her knees. She heard the shots and her daughter's scream, but she felt nothing. Incredibly, he must have missed. She felt instead the cool brush of silk on her cheek. She turned, and saw the goddess standing behind her, shielding her with the broad, white sleeve.
"Kill them," she screamed. "They are murderers!"
The goddess didn't lose her holy smile, but her eyes were sad. "They have mothers, too," she said. Mei felt ashamed.
Sunli was sobbing in her arms. Jin was pushed against the hood of the jeep, and the officer tore at the child's ragged, sooty clothing. The girl cried out, pulling weakly, failing to free her arms from the grasp of the unsmiling soldiers who pinioned her.
"Mercy, l
ady," Mei begged Kwan Yin on her knees. "She is too young. She will never heal of the scar. Spare her."
The calm smile assured Mei that all would be well.
She reached between the men and the jeep, drawing the girl out. The men continued their actions, never realizing that their prey had escaped, that what they held, laughed at, thrust against, was empty air.
Mei felt as if she must be going mad, watching the rape go on. The soldiers paid no attention at all to the little crowd standing on the steps of the building. She stroked her daughter's hair and settled the torn rags of her clothing around her body in a seemly fashion. The girl wept with deep, tearing sobs.
"Come with me now," the goddess said to Mei over the girl's head. "It is time to leave this place. I promised your son a long life. He will be a remarkable man, born in war but fostered in peace. He will be safe where I take you."
Mei glanced up at her friends and neighbors clustered on the exposed stairs of her home. "But all these? You can't leave them. They'll die."
Kwan Yin's smile included them all. "To lose one's body is an important step on the road to enlightenment. But they shall come, too. There is plenty of room on the Islands, where we are going. We have others to gather. Come with me."
In a dream, Mei gathered her family and followed the goddess. Sunyi joined her, taking his wife's elbow and wrapping a protective arm around his daughter's shoulders. The baby in Mei's arms drowsed or suckled placidly. Though they must have walked for miles over the next hours, Mei never felt tired or hungry.
Nanking was a charnel house. Among the shells of burned and bombed-out houses and shops, tens of thousands lay dead in the streets, discarded like spoiled vegetables in drifts of soiled snow. Wounded people, their numbers unguessable, huddled in the ruined alleys and derelict houses. Kwan Yin chose from among those she found, and bid them join the ranks following her.
Occasionally, someone would see them, and stare fearfully at the procession with the shining lady at its head. Once in a very great while man or woman would cry, "Mercy, lady," and stretch out a hand to the goddess. Their hands she would take, and pull them up, giving them the strength to follow her.
The Gods of War Page 17