Darkness Under Heaven (14 page)

Avakian sprang to his feet and ran down the street. Fireworks were still going off all over the place, and if there had been people around they'd cleared out. The kid was crawling across the pavement, still trying to get away,
a single dark entry wound in the light colored jacket just above his ass. Avakian aimed the rifle at the base of his skull and blew his brains out onto the pavement.

Judy Rose was sitting against the brick wall, arms crossed tightly over her chest, holding the two halves of her torn blouse together. She watched Peter Avakian run up, lift up the corporal's helmet with the rifle barrel, and shoot him in the head. The sound of the shot and the sight of the head bouncing gruesomely made her flinch. Then there was some kind of disconnect because he had her by the shoulders and was shaking her.

“Are you hurt?”

“No,” she said. And then thinking to herself: what did he mean by that?

Then he was pulling the belts with the pouches off the Chinese soldiers. He threw his suit jacket onto the ground and laid the rifle and belts on top, wrapping the fabric over them and tying the sleeves together to make a bundle.

After that he was back in front of her and she couldn't believe how gently he was speaking. “You have to get up. We're in an unbelievable amount of trouble.”

J
udy Rose felt herself being pulled to her feet. She stood unsteadily while Pete Avakian tucked his bundle under one arm and her under the other.

Then they were walking. Streets and cars and people flashed by. She knew she was walking, but she couldn't feel herself walking. It was like she was watching herself walking. And it felt maddening to not be in control yet at the same time fully aware that she wasn't in control. The doctor knew she was having a classic dissociative reaction, but she couldn't do anything about it.

It started raining and she heard Pete Avakian mutter, “Finally we catch a break.” Though she had no idea why the rain was a break.

It came down harder, and even though the air was hot and the rain was warm, it felt clammy cold on her skin. She began to shiver, and felt as if she couldn't catch her breath. She managed to gasp out, “I have to stop.”

Then she was sitting down, and her head gently but firmly pressed down to the level of her knees. And Pete Avakian's voice saying, “If you feel sick, go ahead. Don't try and hold it back.”

But she didn't feel sick. She was shaking. Her whole body. She tried to stop, but it was uncontrollable.

“Don't fight it,” Avakian said. “Ride it out. It's just your nervous system discharging on you. This is a good thing.”

Now she was angry at him. Shaking like an aspen in the wind and furious because he was right and so calm and it
was
a reaction of her overloaded central nervous system and for the life of her she couldn't stop shaking.

It felt like it would never stop, but it finally did. She didn't think she even had the strength to lift her body off her knees.

“I know you feel wiped out,” Avakian said. “But we can't stay here. I want you to tense and relax each of your major muscle groups in succession. Start with your hands.”

She tried to ignore him but he wouldn't leave her alone. It seemed silly, but she tried it and did feel some of her strength coming back.

“Get mad,” he said. “At me, at anything. Just get mad.”

That wasn't hard. Especially when he pulled her to her feet once more. Except this time she felt everything, and her legs were so weak they were wobbling. It was the same sense of absolute fatigue after a high fever had broken.

He was still at her. “You can always move even when you think you can't. Just put your mind to it, because we've got to go. Get mad at me—I'm the one making you walk.”

How did he know she was angry? But soon she discovered that there were worse things than not being in control of yourself. Like being dragged through Beijing in pouring rain when you could barely move your legs. She was hoping they'd go numb but they never did.

The only rest she got was whenever they passed by an ATM, because Avakian always stopped to draw out money.
Either Bank of China or Industrial and Commercial Bank of China. There were only a few Chinese banks that accepted foreign ATM cards, and those two had the only ATMs you could actually find. A third of the time Avakian ended up muttering darkly when the machine either declined the transaction or was out of cash. Both common occurrences at Chinese ATMs.

There wasn't that same sense of danger on the streets as before. It was like New York City on New Year's Eve. Except in this case everyone was celebrating a war. You were wary, but you weren't scared. It took so much effort to just put one foot in front of the other that she took no notice of where they were going until they were off the street and standing at the rear door of a modern apartment building. Avakian started digging in his wallet by the light of the flashlight held in his teeth. After some effort, he produced two keys tied together with a twist of wire.

“Let's hold a good thought that this works so we don't have to go past the doorman,” he said. He slid a key into the door lock. It didn't turn.

Judy Rose was leaning against the building wall, too tired to think positively. She wanted very badly to sit down on the concrete walk, but the thought of having to get up again was too much to bear.

Avakian put the second key in the lock. “C'mon, baby,” he told it. The key turned and the door opened. “That's what I'm talking about.” He held the door open with a flourish.

She was still leaning against the wall, only able to manage a weak smile.

Avakian held the door open with his foot, pressed the very heavy bundle into her hands, and swept her up into his arms.

And he wasn't even trying to look for an elevator. The door to a stairwell was right nearby, and he charged up without any hesitation.

“This is so embarrassing,” she said. “I've run four marathons.”

“But not under the present conditions,” Avakian replied.

She couldn't believe how strong he was. He went up seven flights without even pausing to catch his breath.

And set her down in front of apartment 707. Brandishing the keys once again, he said, “Same good thought.”

When the door opened the relief was so great Judy Rose felt like crying.

The lights popped on to reveal a small studio apartment, simply furnished and neat. It was hot and smelled stale, like every place that had been shut up tight and not lived in for a while.

He tucked his arm around her waist and guided her over to the couch. “Put your feet up. I'm going to have a look around.”

He hadn't needed to say that. The couch felt so good she did in fact shed a few tears. Then the air-conditioning came on and she started to feel cold again in her soaked clothes.

But there was Avakian again. He thrust a plastic bottle of water into her hand. “Drink up.”

She knew she had to replace fluids. But had a terrible time getting the bottle up to her mouth. God, she was in terrible shape. He put his hands over hers and helped her drink, and she felt humiliated all over again.

“Now, unfortunately,” said Avakian, “you have to get up.”

She was gripped by utter despair. “We're not leaving….”

“No, just a short walk.” He half dragged her down a hall
into a small bathroom with the shower running. The room was already filling up with steam. He slid her sodden jacket off and dropped it with a plop onto the tile floor. Then sat her down on the edge of the tub. “Towels, bathrobe, soap, shampoo,” he recited, ticking the items off.

She kicked off her shoes, reveling in the hot steamy air hitting her back.

“Can you handle the shower yourself?” he asked.

She looked up at him looming over her, and felt a cold jet of fear hit her stomach. “Yes.”

“That's the worst news of the night,” he said, smiling now. And then he was gone and the door clicked shut behind him.

Judy Rose sat on the edge of the tub and laughed so hard she started crying again.

She came out wearing the white terry-cloth robe, her hair wet and brushed back. He was sitting in a living room chair, wearing a T-shirt and shorts that were much too big for him. Eyes closed. Not asleep—deep in thought.

The eyes opened and he said, “You look a lot better.”

“I feel a lot better.” She sat back down on the couch with a little gasp of pleasure. The temperature in the apartment seemed to be just right now.

She had a million questions, most of which she hoped she had sense enough not to start blurting out. Like how a smart, kind, and funny man, with manners impeccable enough to reduce her mother to tears if he ever came to dinner, could suddenly turn into a cold-blooded killer right before her eyes. It would be one thing if he'd just flown into a murderous rage, but it seemed to her that he'd quite rationally decided that the situation had escalated to the point where there was no alternative to taking the loaded
gun away from the soldier and then methodically executing all three Chinese so there wouldn't be any witnesses.

She would have thought she'd be repelled, but she wasn't. There had to be some biological basis for what she was feeling. Something to do with an evolutionary requirement to be predisposed toward a male's ability to protect the family group. A few hours ago she would have told herself that we weren't Peking Man anymore. Now she wasn't so sure.

“You're quite the clinician,” she said. “This wasn't your first experience with emotional shock.”

“No,” was all he said.

But she noticed his eyes drop down to her robe several times. “What are you looking at?”

“What do you mean?” he said.

“Tell me.”

He let out a breath. “I'm seeing how even though your robe is tied tight you're holding the front of it shut with one hand, without realizing you're doing it. And I'm hoping I'm not making you feel unsafe.”

She looked down at her hand, and let go of the robe as if it was on fire. “You're not, I promise.” She made an angry noise. “I've never been so humiliated in my life.”

“Why?” he demanded. “Because you're a doctor?”

“That's a big part of it. I did everything tonight except throw up.”

“Our reactions have everything to do with what we're used to,” Avakian said calmly. “If you'd come across someone with a shattered femur sticking up out of their leg, you wouldn't have batted an eye. This was something totally outside your experience.”

“But not yours.”

He let out another breath. “No. Even though I've run into more stuff this last week than in the last ten years.”

“Would they have tried to rape me?”

Avakian just raised his eyebrows.

“Tell me that, too.”

He definitely didn't want to answer, but she kept staring at him until he did. “I don't know,” he said finally. “Maybe not, but that's really not the point.”

“What's the point?”

“How far they were going to go.”

That was one theory confirmed. “So if I hadn't been there you would have handled it differently?”

“That's
definitely
not the point. If you weren't there it would have been easier for me to wait and see what was going to happen. I'm being honest with you, now.”

“I appreciate that.”

“But that's all irrelevant. You were there. And by the time I knew how far they were going to go it would have been too late.”

“That feels like my fault.”

“You're the only one whose fault it wasn't. It was their fault. And my fault. The bottom line is that I didn't feel like sitting in a Chinese prison cell until this war is over. You do not want to be a prisoner of the Chinese under the best of circumstances, which this most definitely is not. With my luck this would be the next Thirty Years War.”

“Are you saying that to make me feel better?”

“It's the truth. If you feel better, all the better.” He passed her another bottle. “More water.”

“Doctor's orders?”

“Doctor's orders.”

She uncapped it and took a sip. At least her hands were working again. “I went right by the book, didn't I? Traumatic shock followed by physiological response to stress—you
bet. Disorientation in time, place, and person—all of the above. Another extreme physiological response when the central nervous system discharged from being over-stressed—oh, yeah. Followed by exhaustion. What's next, doctor?”

He was watching her with that focus that could be a little unnerving. “You may feel agitated and easily irritated. You may feel fearful and depressed. You may have trouble sleeping, and nightmares when you do. Whatever you do feel, it's normal and it will pass.”

“Good advice.”

“You may also experience dry mouth, increased sweating, skin rash, abdominal pain, sensitivity to light, uncontrolled diarrhea, or liver failure.”

“Thanks, I'll keep an eye out for those symptoms.”

“That was probably in poor taste.”

“In my experience, something's in bad taste only when it's not funny.”

“And the verdict is…?”

“Oh, it was funny. Not as funny as it would have been if I hadn't just walked for miles across downtown Beijing in the pouring rain in a state of emotional shock. But funny nonetheless.”

“Good point. I'll remember that next time.”

“The worst part was knowing that it was all happening to me and not being able to stop it.”

“When you get that far out on the edge, you sometimes become the prisoner of your body.”

“Do you have any formal training?”

“School of life.”

She took another swig of water. “A lot different from the one I attended.” Then it just slipped out of her mouth. “They were so young.” Both panicked and embarrassed,
she straightened up off the couch. “I did not mean it that way! You were
totally
justified in how you acted.”

But Avakian was just smiling at her. “Relax. I know what you meant.”