Long Hidden: Speculative Fiction from the Margins of History (20 page)

Everyone scattered. Some left at a leisurely pace. Others skipped away like scolded children. Fat Leung waddled off, wiping sweat off his ham-like face. I remained, watching the thugs beat Wing into a stupor. I felt my chest tightening. The foreman saw me.

“Wu Xiao-Li.” He approached, pocketing his watch. “Now
there’s
a worker. We’ll have the tunnel finished by the end of the week at the rate you’re going.”

I tried not to look at Wing. The men broke away from him and came to Benny’s side. Wing whimpered and rolled onto his back, straining to pull his pants up. Welts formed on his bottom.

I produced the papers. “These are from Mister Bunting.”

Benny snatched them and read them over. He was an educated man, having taught himself English and reached a level far above us all. This advantage netted him the comfortable foreman position he enjoyed far too much.

“New blasting orders,” he mused aloud, folding the papers and pocketing them. “We’re to widen the tunnel, bring it a little closer to the river’s edge.” Benny put his hands together and cocked a stare at me. “Perhaps so future travellers can enjoy the view. Do
you
enjoy the view, Wu?”

I nodded. “I just wish this place had a better name. ‘Hell’s Gate,’ I heard people calling it.”

“They can call it whatever they like,” Benny spat. Behind him, Wing was trying to stand. His legs wobbled under his weight. “It’s a popular fishing site. Perhaps you can catch us dinner.”

“I’m not a fisherman.”

“I bet you never worked a detonator before, either.”

Flashes of my past danced before me. Rain hitting old stone steps. The smell of incense. The ringing of prayer bells.

Hair like silk.

I coughed. “Very true, sir.”

“Meet me at the pass in an hour. Get Wing to a doctor first,” Benny turned to Wing, who had finally maintained a semblance of balance. “Maybe we should dynamite a latrine for him.” Benny and his thugs laughed and sauntered off.

I went to Wing, supporting him on my shoulder. He whimpered all the way to the doctor’s office.

Soon enough, I was back at the work site. Some of my fellows were on break, resting in whatever shade was available. Others, out of fear of their superior and his goons, worked harder than before, speedily shovelling rocks out of the chasm.

The ridge, tufts of grass growing along its top, towered over us and the river. A great shadow stretched across the valley. Sun-bleached rock led up the side. Overhead, four birds sailed and dove over the hill.

I stood with my foreman, who took time to regard the scene. Benny sniffed. “Reminds you of the Dalian coast, doesn’t it?”

I shrugged. “I’ve never been. Have you?”

“My father was born there. He brought me to the coast every summer. Even after he died, my mother and I kept visiting it, just to smell the sea air. As if doing so somehow kept him alive.”

“He must have meant a lot to you.”

Bitter silence. Scowling, Benny waved vaguely at the mountain’s base. “Place some sticks there. And be quick about it. Bunting’s taking more photographs today.” He turned on a heel and left.

I groaned. Mister Bunting hired a man to take photographs every other week: of the men at work, of the site’s progress, and more importantly, of himself. It was during those times that Mister Bunting would stop everything and get a photograph taken of him shovelling dirt, driving a spike, reading at a desk, or standing beside the river. Word around the camp was that he sent them to his family out east for some private collection they loved showing off. His good niece, in fact, was to accompany the latest set’s delivery and ensure its arrival at their door.

His narcissism was not my concern, however. I had work to do.

I returned to the supply wagon we had ridden up in, gesturing to some explosives an older fellow drank next to. He regarded me briefly then reached in and tossed my supplies to the ground before returning to his flask. I took them and left. To keep my spirits up, I hummed a song from my old life.

I was checking the wires on the dynamite sticks when Bunting arrived. The process was delicate and needed my full concentration. Imagine my surprise when I heard him cry out: “Move it, boys! Charlie, are you done?!”

I snapped out of my trance and finished quickly. I turned and bowed. Bunting neared, rubbing his hands and grinning smugly. With him came the photographer and Benny’s thugs. Frustrated young Olivia was in tow, gripping the front of her skirt.

Past them, I saw a frail-looking figure bringing up the rear. It was Wing, face twisted in agony as he carried a fat camera and tripod on his back.

The sight of it was too shameful. I jogged to Wing and made a motion at him. “Here, I help,” I muttered in English.

“Good show!” Bunting beamed, snapping his fingers at the photo-grapher. “Take the shot just as the dynamite goes. We’ll do another of us at the crater.”

“Oh, Uncle Neil, must we?” Olivia pleaded, gazing out at the rows of trees beyond, “I so was hoping to take a carriage ride through the woods.”

“They’re no place for a lady,” he scolded her. “It’s best you stay where it’s safe.”

“Uncle Neil–”

“None of that, now. Come, let me look you over. This must be
perfect
.”

As they bickered, I set up the tripod with Wing. “What are you doing?” I asked in Mandarin, spreading the device’s legs.

My friend shuddered. “Benny’s fiends came by the doctor’s office. Dragged me out and made me carry this.”

“How do you feel?”

“How do you think?”

I met his eyes and saw misery. Sighing, I barely had the chance to answer when I heard Bunting call my ‘name.’ “Charlie, move it! The photographer’s gotta do his job!”

I apologized and stepped back; Benny’s widest goon pushed Wing aside. The photographer positioned himself. Lifting the tarp from the tripod, he stepped in front, raising the switch. Before him, Mister Bunting stretched his fingers and set them on the plunger. Olivia folded her arms and waited. He hesitated. Sweat rolled down his cheeks. His niece huffed. Breathing deep, he pressed down.

An earth-shattering eruption. Stone flew and clouds rose from the blast-site. Light flashed across the valley as the photographer’s shot snapped.

Low rumbles sounded.

Rose.

Fissures spread across the ground and up the cliff. Cracks opened wide, swallowing the land. I fell backwards. Around me, men dropped what they were carrying and ran for safety. Their equipment vanished behind them. An unlucky few tumbled into the earth’s gaping maw. I watched in horror as the cracks spread toward us. Bunting and his cronies fled the scene, hoping to outrun the coming disaster.

Wing tripped and fell flat against the ground.

I froze then. Stared at his prone body. Watched him turn over and cry out as the ground swallowed itself. A swelling in my chest made its way down to my legs.

I ran. Someone was calling out. I shut them out. Suddenly, I saw Olivia by my side, skirt hiked as she rushed alongside me. Just as the ground gave out beneath Wing, we shot forward, seizing an arm each. Our bodies lurched and hit the earth. Muscle and bone stretched. Pain ran through me. Wing cried out. Olivia jerked, tugging at his sleeve.

Beneath us, more earth gave way.

We dropped, skidding down the side. Tumbling into darkness.

You should leave
.
They’re going to notice you’re gone.

A voice from long ago brought me back to life, words echoing in my mind as my eyes opened. I pulled myself up from stone. Fire burned up my side. Arms and body aching, I propped myself against a wall and gripped my head. Eyes adjusted to the black. Faint light spilled from above. Darkness covered everything below me. I pulled my hand off my temple. Blood stained the palm.

Shadows shifted near me. I ran to them, seized shoulders amidst the rubble and pulled my friend into the light. I leaned him against the chasm wall. Crimson ran down his face. Beside us, Olivia coughed and staggered to her feet.

Wing’s eyes fluttered open and he moaned at me. “Did we die?” I shook my head. My friend groaned in disappointment.

We looked up together. Steep rock towered over us. Midday sun bled into the pit. Shapes moved overhead. Shadows danced along the wall. Someone called down to us in Mandarin.

I called back: “We’re here!”

“Is that Xiao-Li?” a man cried. “Hang on! We’re sending men down soon! Just stay still and don’t go near that thing!”

I did not understand. “What thing?!”

“Don’t you see?!” A faint gesture waved at a sight unseen. “Look!” Cautiously, Wing, Olivia, and I followed his arm. Olivia gasped, clutching my arm.

For a moment, I thought we were gazing upon a train carriage. However, it was far too large to be anything of the sort. Its grey body was almost as tall as the wall behind us. Sunlight reflected off its metal skin. Three great cylinders fitted into its side. A pointed head stabbed into darkened earth. Its massive, rectangular backside loomed behind it.

A gash sat between two of the side-drums.

Wing’s breathing grew heavy. I felt Olivia trembling. “What is that?” she wheezed. “Are you seeing that, Mister Charlie?”

“Yes, miss,” I assured her. My eyes traced up the iron mystery and I wished I knew what it was.

We were out of the pit before too long. Rope-ladders fell over the walls and men scrambled down to collect us. Some of our rescuers stopped to observe the massive machine. Two whites stood in the middle of the cavern openly contemplating an investigation as I was carried to the surface.

By the next day, the doctor had finished patching me up, saying I was fit return to work. The aches and pains I felt told another story. Poor Wing was in sadder shape than I, Fat Leung told me that morning, but he was still “expected to recover soon.” I shuddered at the thought.

As I was being released, Benny arrived. He wore grey and fiddled with the stopwatch in his hands. “It seems young Olivia was impressed with you and your fellow’s bravery,” Benny said as the doctor finished changing my bandages. “She’s insisting that we increase your pay by ten cents.”

“How generous.” I smiled at the thought. “Please, tell her that I–”

“Will not receive a penny.” He glowered at me. “Your callous rigging nearly cost that girl her life. If she died, we’d
all
have suffered for it.”

“I was following orders.”

“At the cost of your discretion.”

“You never said how much to put down. I didn’t expect us to blast open an old cave. Or unearth that
thing.
” I rotated my arm limply. “What did we find, anyway?”

My foreman stared at me, his face dire. “I’m not sure. The side of the cave nearest to the river has track marks along its bottom, as though it crashed inside and caused a cave-in ages ago.”

“It’s a vehicle?”

Benny and I headed for the front doors. “It has no wheels to speak of, but we suspect those cylinders are engines of some kind. Since it does not look fit for moving in water, it’s likely to be a dirigible.”

“From where?”

“No idea. Bunting sent people down there this morning to inspect it. Sent the photographer to take some more pictures, too. One man came back an hour ago.” He breathed deep, “He found bodies inside.”

That struck me. “There are people in there?”

“He did not describe them as such.” Benny’s eyes grew distant. “He said that they were tall, taller than any of us, and human-like, but…” He stared into the distance, looking lost. “Their hands and skin were as serpents’ scales with wide, toothless mouths. They were slumped over some desk by a window at the machine’s front.”

Monsters. Possibilities ran through my mind as I followed Benny into the street. The obvious one was that these were men fleeing Diyu, Buddha’s earth prison for the most wretched of souls. It was a feared place where dreadful King Yanluo Wang and his underworld wardens tormented those unforgivable ones that were not yet allowed to be reborn. Perhaps these men had escaped the gaze of their wardens, constructed a ship out of unused torture instruments, and then sailed to Earth on cursed winds. Speaking my mind thusly would elicit scepticism from my foreman, who had long abandoned his patience for the immaterial.

Wind blew up from the river, tickling my wounds as we walked down the road. Benny continued, “Bunting’s sent a telegram to the Geological Survey of Canada, hoping we can get it put up in a museum or taken apart.” We rounded a corner and neared the centre of town. “Either way, it’s out of our hands now.”

A wagon had parked along the main road. People stopped to watch as men’s bodies were thrown to the ground, wrapped in white cloth. Some were unwrapped, or had the material around their heads pulled by coroners or co-workers. I noticed something among the corpses, a troubling fact I could not ignore.

My foreman was saying something, but I cut him off. “Where are the dead?”

Still walking, Benny regarded me strangely, “What?”

“Where are
our
dead?” I pointed to the row of bodies.

Benny cleared his throat, “Bunting says to leave them for now.”

“
Leave
them!” I cried, running to his front, “How could he –?!”

He pressed a hand against my chest, stopping. “I’m talking to him about arranging something. For now. Well. ‘They’re already buried, so why bother,’ he said.”

Shock beat at my chest. Benny saw my surprise and sighed. “Xiao-Li, I don’t care for it either, but I can’t move them without Bunting’s approval, and right now he’s more concerned about moving Olivia to–”

“No.”

Benny’s face tightened. “I’m sorry?”

This would not do. Silence would not help me. I pointed in the direction of the site. “We need to gather them and have them properly buried. At the very least, we should pray for them.” He said nothing. I continued: “Sir, it’s important that we do! So that when they’re–”

“Xiao-Li, how long have you been working here?”

I hesitated. “Since the autumn, sir.”

“I see. What did you do before coming to Canada?”

My heart crawled into my throat. I thought of sweeping the monastery’s steps. The morning mantra recitations. Pilgrimages into town for Ghost Day celebrations.