Second Chance

Chapter 20 - Jake's Folly

Wing-mun’s face registered shock at what he had heard.

“It was real? I wasn’t seeing things last night?” he asked.

“As real as you are with me right now,” Jake replied casually.

It was midday. The two friends had left the waterfall, riding side by side towards Jake’s house by way of the forest – they needed to collect some of their personal stuff before going to the tea plantation, with the monks scheduled to join them in a day or two. There was little sunshine and the wind was cold as they sped down the southward slope, the clatter of the horses’ hoofs sounding like thunder.

Wing-mun pouted; he was sorely disappointed. “Bloody hell, Jake,” he lashed out, “why didn’t you wake me up and let me say hello to your wife? She’s my friend and I miss her too, you know.”

“How could I?” Jake countered, slowing his steed to a trot. “You were so drunk you could sleep through a bomb raid. Anyway, Mei-suet told me Chin-ling could spare her only fifteen minutes; her life essence would be totally drained away if Mei-suet chose to remain in her body when the time was up, eventually sending both of them to the infernal darkness.” He paused, a smile spreading over his face; happiness was flowing through him. “It was a rather short ‘reunion’ actually, but no matter – I will cherish those fifteen minutes with Mei-suet till the day I die.”

“You spoke as if you won’t be seeing your wife again.”

“I need to be fair to Chin-ling,” Jake reasoned. “She took a big risk back there, her life was hanging in the balance. She was very weak after her return, so I let her rest, thinking it was just one of the side-effects. I didn’t know how serious it was until Lanky told me this morning she was running a high fever and had to stay in bed – she sacrificed so much of herself just to give me a few minutes of joy. I swear I shall never ask her to do it again – I do not want to lose a friend.”

Wing-mun gave him a stare. Then he let out a sarcastic laugh.

“You think of Chin-ling as only your friend? Ha! You clearly have lost your touch for understanding the fairer gender since your hibernation three years ago. Hey, Jake, listen to me: no woman will ever go to such extremes unless she has deep feelings for her man.”

Jake blinked at Wing-mun in bemusement.

“You dumb dead-stick!” the mobster bellowed. “Do I have to draw you a picture? Can’t you see Chin-ling is in love with you?”

The ex-gunman was completely taken aback by Wing-mun’s statement. Instantly, his mind raced back to earlier in the morning when he went to check on Chin-ling; she was awake but her eyelids were weighed down. Her body was trembling despite having a thick blanket over her, and her face looked paler than usual. Upon noticing him entering the room, her eyes began to gleam and she could even afford a small smile. Her expression changed however, when after thanking her for her hospitality, he rose and bade her goodbye. Her smile vanished, and as she tugged at his sleeve, her lower lip quivered – she wanted to speak but she was too weak to do so. At that time he couldn’t understand her actions, but he realised now she didn’t want him to leave.

When he finally made a reply to Wing-mun, only one word came out of his mouth: “Dumb.”

“Of course you are dumb, didn’t I just tell you that?” Wing-mun had no qualms reminding him. “But the dumb period is over. It’s time for you to arrive at a decision. Either you reciprocate her love or tell her straight your heart has no place for another. Don’t leave her twisting in the wind. Like you said, you need to be fair to her.”

There was a moment’s silence. Wing-mun looked intently at Jake, wondering what went on inside his head; his countenance was abnormally expressionless. Finally, the ex-gunman, after taking a deep breath, said, “Sure, no problem, Mun Gor, I’ll settle this matter with her when we next meet each other. Now come, let’s go. I pray the Japanese troops have not ransacked my house.”

He kicked his steed and rode off.

Before long they came to the main road. Jake was pleased to see that they had come this far without incident. Just another three miles to go and we are home free, he said quietly to himself.

The men stopped and looked about them: except for the howl of the cold dry wind, the whole area lay under a blanket of silence. They also saw no vehicles, no people, no animals, nothing.

Wing-mun shrugged. The graveyard looks more cheerful than here, he thought.

Jake dismounted and surveyed the snow-laden ground, slowly walking backwards and forwards.

“There are hoof prints,” he said when he returned to his steed. “Still fresh and clear. They were all heading one way: south.”

“How many?” Wing-mun asked.

“Five, maybe six riders, could be enemy soldiers,” Jake replied grimly. “We best be careful – we are out of ammo.”

The two friends then rode in file with Jake leading the way. All of their senses were on the alert for danger as they cantered towards their destination – the path was beginning to bend and wind at this stretch and they couldn’t see far ahead of them. Then, just as they were about to turn the last bend, they heard the sound of an explosion followed by gunshots. Quickly, they wheeled their horses to the trees and dismounted. And there, huddling together behind the big tree trunk, they waited. The time passed painfully slow. The wind was thin and bleak. Wing-mun grew uneasy.

“How long do we have to hide here?” he asked. “The gunfire seems to have ceased. Maybe the shooters, whoever they are, have killed each other in the battle. I say we go and investigate.”

“I don’t think there’s a need to,” Jake replied. “Already the riders are approaching.”

When Wing-mun heard the distant beat of galloping hoofs coming from the south side of the road, he took a peek at that direction. The six riders, all male and rough-looking, had come off a slip road and were speeding towards the city. Three were stocky and two were lean and sinewy. The foremost rider, with long dark hair, a big bushy beard, and the piercing eyes of a wolf, was a giant of a man. All of them were dressed in black beneath their cloaks.

Upon realizing who they were, Wing-mun broke into a broad smile. Then, much to Jake’s surprise, he made a dash to the roadside.

“Mun Gor, what the hell are you doing?” Jake cried. “You gone crazy? Come back here!”

The mobster ignored Jake and as the riders went past him, he yelled on top of his voice: “Hey guys, stop! I am over here! Stop!”

Naturally curious by the stranger’s loud calling, the men in black looked behind them. The next moment, with remarkable dexterity and speed, they checked their horses, turned, and came back. Soon, Wing-mun found himself surrounded by the horsemen. Without a word, they halted and dismounted. Wing-mun, rejoicing at the sight of familiar faces, hugged each and every one of them. When Jake finally caught up with the group, he smiled too – the riders were Wing-mun’s henchmen; he knew all of them from his days in Shanghai.

“We came as soon as we heard that you were stranded here, boss,” the huge man, who was Wing-mun’s lieutenant, said. At six foot five, he was the tallest of the group and was suitably named Mountain. “The Beijing-bound train resumed operations only yesterday. When we arrived this morning, we split into two groups to search for you; four in the city while we six went to Mr Lone’s house in the hope of finding you there. Instead, we encountered a squad of Japanese troops who arrived in a truck five minutes after us. However, we made short work of them. After that we dumped the truck and burned the bodies in the gully.”

“The enemy must have come from the south as I didn’t see any tyre tracks on the ground here,” Jake opined, shaking Mountain’s hand.

Wing-mun, upon noticing the men were carrying rifles on their backs while their saddlebags were stuffed with explosives, hand grenades, and boxes of bullets, asked, “How did you manage to get past the Japanese army at the railway station with all your firearms and ammo?”

“We didn’t disembark at the station,” Mountain replied. “The train driver who is my cousin made a brief stop a few miles before reaching the city to let us off.”

“You guys have ammo?” Jake interposed, expressing the words with such excitement that he might as well have been referring to the Monkey King’s staff. “That’s the best news I’ve heard all day. Do you have the .38 Special bullets with you? I feel so naked walking around with an empty gun.”

Mountain nodded and passed him a box. As Jake gleefully reloaded his six-shooter, he turned to Wing-mun and said, “Hey, Mun Gor, you’d better do the same with yours.”

“Nah,” answered the crime czar, shaking his head. “I’ve got a far more pressing matter at hand right now.”

“Oh? And what is that?”

“Anyone here got a cigarette? I am dying for a cigarette!”

The others laughed. Then Chee-ming, a short young man with a pockmarked face and flat nose, took a small crumpled pack out of his shirt pocket, lit two cigarettes, and passed one to his boss while he smoked the other.

“Thank you, Chee-ming, you are truly a life saver,” Wing-mun complimented, patting him on the shoulder. He inhaled deeply, letting the smoke seep into his lungs. The comfort he had been tortuously yearning for since last night had returned at last.

No sooner had the men remounted than the clouds broke into a deluge of swirling snow. Clumps of silvery flakes rained on them, pelting their frozen cheeks and numbing their exposed skin. The wind, its sound now rising to a thousand howling jackals, swept through the path where they stood. And the world about them began to pass from sight, and they would go with it if they didn’t find shelter soon.

“Damn, we are being hit by a snowstorm,” Jake shouted to the others. “Let’s get our behinds to my house as quickly as possible.” He then bent his steed to the south and sprang forward. The rest thundered after him.