Clear Sky

by Patrick G. Laplante

  After maneuvering the child, he was able to pry the child’s trapped leg from out of the bed. He held the kicking and screaming child, holding it close to his body as he felt his way out of the small room and back to the staircase. As he ran down, the whining sounds of the trapped dog reached his ears. Yet again, he couldn’t take a chance. But for some reason, he felt like he had much more time than usual, and the hot, smoky air didn’t seem to obstruct his breathing as much. But the child had been in the smoke for too long.

  He ran down the hot stairs and finally found his way outside, where he was greeted by the child’s mother, who embraced her poor child while crying at her ineptitude. She was surrounded by two other young children.

  As he panted with his hands on both knees, he once again heard the barking sound. Was there enough time? The house fire was now much more intense, and he would truly be risking his life if he went inside. He could at least try. If he didn’t, he would regret it for the rest of his life. The dog wasn’t unknown to him, even though it wasn’t his dog. He had played with the dog many times before.

  Despite the cries of the young mother, Cha Ming sprinted toward the open door of the house. Growing flames reached through the door now. The smoke had started to clear up a little, a sign that the remaining moisture in the wooden house had already evaporated. Nevertheless, he darted up the stairs. He could feel his shoes melting as he quickly ran up the stairs, making each step precarious and slippery.

  This time, he turned left at the top of the staircase. After a quick check on the doorknob, he slowly opened the door, and smoke blew out into his face. A quick gust of wind blew past him, and as he looked back, he noticed that the flight of stairs had now burst into flames. There was no turning back.

  His hands darted out as he felt along the floor for any signs of his hairy friend. His eyes were even more bloodshot than before, and tears were no longer streaming out of his eyes. After searching for a few breaths of time, he finally located the large fifty-pound dog. It had passed out because of the smoke, and Cha Ming was forced to hoist the fifty pounds of dead weight on his shoulder.

  Since the stairs were aflame, he had no choice but to use the window. He dragged the golden dog up to the large window. It had a modern design, which meant that it was difficult to fully open in the first place. He didn’t hesitate to grab a nearby chair, using it to shatter the window and force the broken pieces of metal framing outward.

  Luckily, inside the room there were two twin-sized beds. Even in his best shape he would never have been able to properly handle an awkwardly large king-sized bed. It only took him forty-five seconds to throw the mattresses out of the window. He then hoisted the large dog to the side of the house, carefully throwing it onto the farther mattress. Bright red lights flashed outside the house. The fire department had arrived, and if he managed to even step outside, he would surely be saved.

  But luck was not on his side today. As he prepared to jump out of the window, the window frame he was holding collapsed along with the wall, which fell due to the burden of his weight and the loss of support underneath. He fell directly through the crumbling floor, only to be devoured by the raging inferno on the first floor. His consciousness faded as he was burned bit by bit. His sight faded to black, and soon the black faded to white.

  Cha Ming opened his eyes to the usual bleak scenery. He was surrounded by dead trees and white mist. He thought about his dream. Why had the dream changed? Why was he not too exhausted to rescue the dog this time around? Why was there now an extra choice: Should I risk my life to save a dog?

  Many firefighters had asked themselves the same question in recent times. Newspapers published mountains of stories about brave firefighters who traveled through harm’s way to save a furry family friend. Sadly, these stories accompanied the fewer articles that memorialized the firefighters who died trying.

  It was in their bones to save those that had a chance, and they took that chance to fight against the odds. It was no one’s right to deny them that privilege.

  Chapter 21: Do Not Let Worry Color the Landscape

  Cha Ming’s group continued through the misty, desolate forest for what seemed like days. They would never truly know how much time had passed. Their perception of time had been affected, and their bodies seemed to assimilate into the endless, gloomy forest.

  Eventually, a hundred-foot-long shadow appeared off in the distance. Unlike the large hound, it was not surrounded by many of its brood, and it lay down like a solitary mountain. Everyone in the group was overcome with a sudden urge to turn back. Unfortunately, their direction was no longer up to them. The path they had traveled to come to this place was covered in the thick mist, and it felt like an invisible force was pressing them forward, not allowing them to deviate from their current path. They also realized that this force was familiar—it was the same subtle force that had guided them since they’d breached the invisible barrier and escaped the horde of spirit hounds.

  They approached the towering figure cautiously, and the figure became clearer and clearer with every step. First, bright orange patches of fur appeared. A few steps later, white patches appeared. These white patches were stained red and covered with dry, crusted blood. Finally, the patches of white and red fur merged into the imagine of a large fox.

  It was not a typical fox, of course. For one, the pressure emanating from the fox was no less than that of the black hound. That indicated that it was at least as strong as a mid-level foundation-establishment expert. Ordinary spirit beasts could only reach the peak of the spirit level. Any higher and they would evolve and become a fierce demon beast.

  While there were many demon beasts in the inner forest, it was quite surprising to see one so far out from the center of the forest. The center of the forest was where the natural energy of Heaven and Earth was densest. As such, more precious treasures grew there, and the growth of spirit beasts in the area was much more rapid. It was only natural that the demon beasts monopolized the area.

  After approaching another twenty steps, the shape of the red fox grew more distinct. They immediately noticed that the red fox had more than one tail—three tails, to be exact. There were legends that spoke of demon foxes with as many as nine tails. Their powers defied the heavens, which exacted terrible tribulations on their kind. As such, the number of many-tailed demon foxes were very low compared to the rest of foxkind.

  As their group approached the fox, its chest moved up and down, ever so slowly. The fox was not dead! It was clear that it was on its last legs, with blood trickling down a gaping wound on its hip in a steady stream. There was no way to tell exactly how much blood had flowed out of the wound, but it was clear that it was dying. Demon beasts possessed a frighteningly strong blood vitality, and their bodies could produce substantial amounts of blood in a short amount of time. Seeing that the fox was still alive, Cha Ming once again tried to break free from the hypnotic mists that pulled them forward, to no avail.

  “If it’s a blessing, it’s not a calamity. If it’s a calamity, it can’t be avoided,” Cha Ming muttered softly. He stopped resisting and continued on.

  Cha Ming suddenly jolted back to his senses. He was on his usual walk in the woods. He smelled the frost on the trees, and green-and-gold leaves swirled around as they were picked up by the wind. He was alone, here in these woods. He had been for years. One of his favorite hobbies was hiking around in the mountains, among the trees and rivers. The scenery was perfect, and he could see himself living out the rest of his life there.

  He continued walking toward a nearby stream. Every day, he would come down to the stream a few times a day to drink water. After drinking, he washed his clothes and bathed while his clothes dried on a nearby tree branch. It was a very relaxing, peaceful life. He had no goals, and he lived day by day. Once he finished his bathing, he walked back to his small wooden shack. He had built the shack many years ago when he first came to these peaceful woods. He didn’t remember how he got there, but did that matter?


  The door to his shack let out a loud creak as he opened it. It was fastened together with branches and makeshift rope woven together with sturdy plants. As he stepped inside, a familiar cold sensation caused by the stony floor tickled his feet. These stones had been collected over many years, slowly covering the original dirt floor.

  His meal today consisted of spirit fruits that he had gathered in the woods. He took the large wooden pot that he had carved out of a particularly large tree and boiled some water for rice. The rice was from last year’s harvest, which he grew in a small flooded plot beside his shack when the weather was warmer.

  After finishing his simple meal of rice porridge and spirit fruits, he sat down in front of a plain white canvas fastened to a crude wooden frame. He had a brush and black ink, but it was his only brush and his only pot of ink. He had brought them with him when he first moved into the woods, and if he used them up, who knew how he would obtain more? He was never sure what to paint, and so he just sat there calmly, pondering over his creation. It had been years since he had used the brush to make a painting, but he didn’t mind waiting for the right moment.

  After hours of waiting, the sun finally set, plunging the woods into darkness. He put away the brush and the ink after deciding that today was not the right day to paint. He then lit a lamp, which never seemed to need oil for fuel. He only had one lamp, but it had lasted him many years without ever losing its effectiveness. He brought the lamp over to a small table with two chairs. There was a black-and-white Weiqi board on the table, complete with two bowls of black and white stones. The black bowl was adorned with the character “devil,” while the white bowl was adorned with the character “angel.” In this world, the game was called Angels and Devils.

  Before sitting down, he placed the first black stone in the middle. The middle star point on the board was his favorite. He gave up the fringes to fight for the center whenever he did that, and it was difficult to play with this move. He sat down and continued placing stones until he finished playing a full game against himself.

  Finally, he wandered over to his bed and climbed in under a heavily worn blanket. It had been a peaceful day; he fell into a dreamless sleep, only to wake up the next morning and repeat his routine. This routine continued for many months.

  One day, as he was walking toward the stream where he bathed every morning, he saw a figure in the distance. It was a beautiful young lady. She exuded a bewitching charm, the likes that could cause the downfall of a nation. Cha Ming walked toward her on his way to the stream; her fiery dress was in stark contrast to the nearby woods. As they passed each other, she shot him a bewitching glance, which was accentuated by her tight-fitting traditional dress. She kept walking, and he kept walking. He continued with his daily routine. This time, he fell asleep only after placing his first black piece on the center of the board. The canvas in the room was still pristine and unpainted.

  The next morning, he noticed that another stone had been placed on the board. Thinking for a bit, he took out another black stone, this time occupying a corner from an outward position. He didn’t continue the game; perhaps his mysterious visitor would come again and continue to play. The morning was the same as the previous day. The same girl in the fiery red dress shot him her seductive smile, he went to the river to bathe, he stared at the blank canvas, and he sat in front of the board, which now had three pieces.

  He thought for three hours before making his next move.

  This routine continued for one hundred and eight days. By the end of the last day, the game had plunged into a close endgame. They were fighting for a single point in a situation called “ko” in Weiqi. Cha Ming had counted the difference many times, and this single point would decide the game.

  But the girl in the fiery dress didn’t come. Cha Ming continued his routine and eventually found himself staring at the empty canvas.

  “Why don’t you ever paint anything?” asked a soft voice behind him.

  Although he had never heard her speak before, he knew it was the lady in red. She walked out from behind him with soft, alluring steps. When she reached the canvas, she reached out and stroked its side. Her look was practically screaming “Paint me!” She looked deeply into his eyes as her hand moved down the canvas. Cha Ming continued to look at the canvas, pondering.

  “Why have you dragged me into this peaceful illusion for so much time? Was it all to see what I would paint?”

  The woman shot him a surprised look. She walked up to him until her lips were a few inches from his mouth. The smell of her fragrant breath caressed him, and her pouting lips were begging to be kissed.

  “I just wanted to see what you would paint. Who would have thought that you’d see through my illusions? I’m not asking for too much, am I?”

  Walking to the side of the Weiqi board, she reached for the white pieces, took a stone, and threatened one of his precarious territories. She then sat down in front of the board, motioning to him.

  “Would you like to play a game?” she asked him with an innocent smile on her face.

  He looked at her quizzically. “Haven’t we been playing all this time?” He then walked up to the board, looked at it for a few minutes, and placed a stone down to defend. His position was indeed a little precarious here, and he could not afford to take the extra point.

  “My dear friend, we have been playing this very entertaining game inside your memories. But that sort of game is not that interesting…” She shot him a coy look and licked her cherry lips. She then returned ko to him, picking up his black stone from the board and putting it into her “captured” pile. He would not be able to take it back for another turn. In the game of Weiqi, just like life, he was not allowed to repeat the same situation twice, and he was never able to come back to the same moment in time.

  But he was able to continue with his life and eventually come back to the same problem; likewise, he was able to attack the other person’s weaknesses in Weiqi and continue that fight for the same stone next turn. He had identified some weaknesses earlier, and so he played on one of these weaknesses, buying himself another precious turn.

  “What is really interesting is that you and your friends are in a very perilous situation. I am in a position to save you and your friends. However, I really like to play games, so I think I’ll get you to play with me for a bit…”

  Her soft, yet firm voice immediately brought back his recent memories. Cha Ming’s mind became unstable for a few seconds, but he instantly recovered. Right, he had friends with him. They were deep in the forest. There were no lush trees, only desolation.

  “What sort of game would you like to play, miss?” Despite the tense situation, he continued playing. He really didn’t like losing a game due to his lack of concentration.

  She thought for a while and then asked, “Have you ever played One Hundred Questions?”

  He shook his head.

  “It’s a very simple game. To play, you need to enter a contract with me. I will ask you a hundred questions, and if you lie, you die. If you answer truthfully, and you continue until the end, I will give you and your friends a way out of your predicament. With the correct decisions, you will be able to escape back to the city. Unfortunately, I can’t give you a full guarantee. Who knows if you’re a coward that clings to life and fears death.

  “If you lie, I will take your soul. Also, I swear on my true name that if you do not accept, at least three of your friends will never be able to escape those hounds alive. If I have uttered a single lie, may I be struck to death by lightning from the nine heavens!”

  This was indeed a heavy oath, and a binding one. At some point she had taken out a simple-looking contract. After reviewing it, Cha Ming bit his thumb until blood leaked down and signed his name on the contract with blood.

  “Very well, I accept! Ask your questions.” Instantly, the world around him merged with the shadows in the room. He made a move in the game and then found himself in front of a burning house. Inside it, there was an unfamilia
r child. A voice sounded in his mind.

  “Which one will you save?” said the soft woman’s voice.

  He had faced this question countless times. He rushed into the burning house and saved the child. As soon as he came out, he heard the soft whimpering of the dog, whom he could not save. The parents were very grateful. They thanked him profusely, and he became a hero in the town. He bore this memory into his heart until his dying days, and although he did not regret his choice, the whimpering from the burning house haunted his dreams until the day he died. As he faded into nothingness, he awoke from his dream, shocked by his experience. Not only did he have to face the questions, he would need to face the repercussions of his actions.

  “Ninety-nine questions left. Do you give up?” She smiled and bit her lower lip, as if she wanted to take a bite out of him.

  “Of course not,” he answered. “Next!”

  Ninety-eight questions remained.

  This time he faced the same burning house, with an unknown child and his own child. This question was a little harder.

  “Which do you choose?” she asked again.

  He darted into the burning house and saved his own child. Despite knowing that he had made the right decision, he felt guilty inside, and his neighbors scorned him. Their child was also in the house, and they cursed him for not saving theirs. How dare he pick his own child! This guilt and scorn continued throughout his whole life.

  Many scenarios popped into his mind. One time he had the choice between his child and his nephew’s child. Other times it was his own two children. Sometimes it was two unknown children. Other times, it was his child and three children. Sometimes ten. No one would ever know which choices he made with bloodshot eyes and tears streaming down his cheeks. He was forced to live out the full repercussions of his actions one by one. Sometimes he faced parents with tear-filled faces, and other times he was attacked and killed. Once, he was called to trial, where he was denounced by dozens of grieving people. He was then sent to prison for life, where he was assaulted by various criminals.