Kallang Basin Adagio Read online

  “What…what is this place?” he said to the silence. Nothing answered. Behind him, the others slipped quietly into the room, awed by its withered majesty.

  Enrique stepped close to Kenji. “It looks like a library,” he whispered, his voice disrupting the still air. “A place that keeps the old science.”

  Kenji grunted an acknowledgement and gestured for the others to come forward. They obeyed, forming a wide circle around the light. The reek of death grew stronger with every step.

  “No traps,” Kenji said in a satisfied tone. “We’ll have to find the dead one before we can bring in the others. There could be food in here. Artefacts, and batteries, maybe.” He turned to Enrique, the slightest hint of an apology on his face. “You may have saved us the climb,” he admitted. “We can camp here till the Boomer is gone.”

  But Enrique was not listening. He gaze went beyond Kenji. His brow narrowed and he pointed at something illuminated weakly at the edge of the orb’s glow. “What is that?” he asked, evidently alarmed. The others turned at once, their swords poised and ready. Enrique moved slowly towards the dark shape. It seemed familiar somehow and, as he moved closer, he suddenly became aware of what he was seeing.

  “Woman!” he yelped. He fell into a crouch, thrusting his weapon towards the apparition. The others immediately began moving away from the light where they would be easy targets.

  Only Kenji stood his ground. He had seen the shape. It was set in folds of white that cascaded down onto the dark, cold floor, the folds of white that gathered elegantly at the base of the chair in which she sat. He stepped towards her, ignoring the protests of warning from his followers.

  “You can relax,” Kenji said. “She’s no threat to anyone. Not anymore.”

  He kicked the orb so that it rolled across the floor and stopped near the folds of the woman’s dress. She was lit in the glow, her eyes fixed on some point beyond the men.

  “She’s dead,” he said.

  “But her eyes, Kenji,” Enrique whispered urgently.

  Kenji shrugged. “I have seen this before, the dead with opened eyes. We are not so much different, maybe.” He knelt before the woman, and studied her face. She had been beautiful in life. Her face bore delicate, oval features; the exposed patches of her skin glimmered with the polished shine. Her lips were rosy and full, her eyes wide rings of brown. Her gaze was set on the eternity beyond the mortal world, into the realm of Shadows. Her hands were folded in the lap of her white gown, as if she had been awaiting something. Or someone, perhaps.

  Her hair, caked with the frozen moisture of the room, was a shining black that ran down the length of her body in thick ribbons. If not for the icy moisture that wreathed her skin, Kenji would have thought her alive.

  “No signs of the rot,” he said. Yet she could not have died of hunger, he thought, for her body appeared to be in the pink of health and manifested no sign of starvation. “There must be food supplies somewhere,” he said.

  “Maybe the food killed her,” Tommy grunted. “Toxics. Better for us to eat our own hunt.”

  “Maybe her people did it, whoever they are,” Ling suggested, disturbed by the woman’s stare. Who could hurt such a harmless looking creature as this?

  Tommy moved closer, to gain a clearer look at the unmoving woman. There was something amiss here.

  “Why is she dressed so?” Miguel wondered, casting a wary glance into the ominous darkness about them. “Shouldn’t she be wearing thicker clothes? I feel as though there’s something bad lurking in this place,” he said.

  “Maybe this, maybe that,” Kenji replied. “I think she just froze here. It’s easy to do.” He turned to look at his followers. “You grow warm before you succumb to the freeze. It gets comfortable, and you fall asleep. Then you just…” Kenji swallowed the quaver in his voice as an anguished memory evoked images like wisps of smoke from a locked room that was burning from within. He blotted out those images, turning to gaze on the unmoving woman’s face.

  “Maybe she finds herself alone one cold night,” he mused aloud. “All her men and family gone away. And her dreams just disappear. So she sits here in the cold, and waits for—”

  The woman’s eyes suddenly turned on Kenji. The man jumped backwards as the woman fixed him with a look of electric intensity. Her head snapped to life, moving to and fro swiftly. Her face twisted into an expression of agitation, breaking the thin film of frost that coated her flesh. The men recoiled from her, quivering with terrified disbelief.

  “She lives!” Enrique gasped in awe.

  Tommy had known something was wrong. His heart spluttered at the sight of her. He did not believe in the trapped spirits that were said to haunt the realm of mortals, but his mind could not make any sense of this creature. “Who are you?” he asked, cloaking himself in the dimness beyond the orb’s glow.

  The woman glanced quickly towards his voice, but she made no response. Then her expression changed. The suspicion evaporated from her face, and she tilted her head in apparent curiosity. A soft smile grew at the corners of her mouth, which only caused Tommy to cringe.

  Meanwhile, Kenji had recovered from his initial shock. He did not believe in ghosts. There were many dangers in this world, dangers that were all too real. He regained his composure and instead of shrinking backwards, stepped towards the impossible woman.

  “Your name!” he ordered. But as he spoke he gave an involuntary shudder that mortified him.

  The woman’s response was the same as Tommy had received: a vacant smile and curious twist of the head. “Name yourself!” Kenji said again, asserting himself with greater conviction. But the woman simply returned his stare for a moment, before turning towards the dimness where Miguel and Ling stood poised for fight or flight.

  “Devil,” Miguel whispered. He had heard of spirits that populated the nether regions of the world, but he had never witnessed one for himself. Ling deftly moved towards the door, her sword held steadily at the woman.

  Enrique stepped into the radius of light, undaunted by the mysterious woman. The evil spirits were lies that parents used to keep errant children from straying into the areas contaminated by nuclear toxins, lies that hoarders used to keep travellers from infringing on their gatherings. There had to be an explanation. She watched Enrique impassively as he approached and he relented under the intensity of her gaze. Then he noticed motion in the folds of her dress.

  “Her hands,” Enrique said, gesturing to the woman’s lap where her fingers moved in a slow rhythmic dance, rippling like leaves in a breeze.

  Kenji set his fears and embarrassment aside. If this woman was not the dead one, then whose reek filled the room? “Who died in here?” he asked. She did not answer, but her eyes turned to him.

  “I know you can hear me,” he said.

  The others came forward, emboldened by their Chief.

  “We are just tired travellers,” Kenji explained, holding his palm upraised, to show he was friendly. “Just looking for a place to rest,” he said. “We are not here to hurt you or take your things.” He knelt beside her, eliciting warnings from Tommy. “Why don’t you speak to us?” he asked gently, reaching out to touch her shoulder.

  A shrill noise broke out from somewhere in the darkness. “Nooooo…”

  Kenji ducked a second later, as something flew from the space beyond the woman and brushed by his head to clatter loudly on the ground behind him. The men instantly formed a protective circle around their Chief.

  “Step away from her!” a high-pitched voice rang out. “Don’t touch her! She is not for that!”

  Enrique kicked at the orb, so that it went spinning towards the direction of the voice. Zigzagging shapes smudged the walls and ceiling as the rotating orb revealed the dark recesses of the room. A small figure dashed out of the sudden light, upsetting tables and piles of dusty machinery.

  “Go back out now! Get away from her!” the voice shrieked. A chunk of metallic debris flew out from the dimness, and Miguel swung his sword, intercepting
its flight. It crashed against a wall, shattering into fragments that clattered to the floor.

  “There is nothing here for you!”

  Enrique raised his blade and moved towards the frantic voice. But he was halted by a tug on his arm.

  “No,” Kenji whispered, pulling Enrique back. “It’s only a child.” He waved his arm to call off his men. Then he calmly held his hands out to his sides, to show them free of weapons as he stepped into the light.

  “Listen!” he said. “We are not here to steal. We want nothing from you or your woman.”

  Enrique hissed. “You are going to get injured, Kenji!” he warned.

  But the Chief continued confidently. “We are just seeking cover!” he explained. “You must know how bad it is outside! We will not—”

  A frenzied bundle scampered out of the darkness towards Kenji, something sharp glinting in its upraised hand. “Leave us alone!” the small figure screamed, slicing at the air wildly as it came.

  Kenji sidestepped the attack and pushed the child aside, simultaneously trying to intercept Enrique’s blow.

  “It’s only a boy!” the Chief shouted, ducking just in time to hear the child’s blade swish by his head. The child scampered back into the darkness and crouched behind an overturned table. Tommy, Miguel and Ling could hear his ragged breathing as he sought cover from them. The mysterious woman sat calmly, observing the confrontation with a disinterested smile, as if the scene unfolding before her was none of her concern.

  “Stop this, boy!” Kenji said in a stern voice. “Look at us! You are outnumbered! If we wanted your woman we would just take her!”

  The boy whined from his hiding place. “We don’t have anything for you!” he cried. “No guns! No food! Go away!” There was weariness now, obvious in his desperate pleas.

  “We have food, boy,” Kenji replied. “We have enough to share with you.”

  “You lie!” the boy accused, and something else flew out of the dark. But it was only a small object that bounced on the floor.

  Kenji turned to Enrique. “Give me something!” he whispered. The two men exchanged quick glances before Enrique reluctantly parted the heavy fur of his jacket and retrieved a strip of salt-dried meat. He tossed it to Kenji, who held it up for the boy to see.

  “Look, boy,” he said, “I have something for you.” He walked back into the glow of the orb and knelt, dangling the tangled piece of jerky before him. “Good meat, from a wild boar.” He took a bite and chewed. “Mmmm,” he said, rubbing his stomach with exaggeration.

  There was no reaction at first, only the boy’s troubled breathing. Then a whimper broke out, and Kenji knelt to greet the child who came skulking meekly towards him.

  He was in his tenth year, maybe, well before his bloom; bundled in soiled rags of clothing that were musky from wear. His face was haggard and bony; his skin, pale and sallow. He needed sun. He needed a bath. His black hair was unkempt and dirty, his body thin and malnourished.

  But his eyes! Though weary and squinted in suspicion, they were the deepest shade of brown Kenji had ever seen. They seemed to penetrate the gloom, darting back and forth between Kenji’s face and the jerky he held in hand.

  “Here,” Kenji coaxed. “We won’t hurt you.” The boy stopped, inches from the meat dangling from Kenji’s hand. After a moment of apprehensive hesitation, he reached out, snatched the stick and scrambled back. Then he began to gnaw at the meat.

  Kenji relaxed. They all did. This was an encouraging sign.

  “Easy, boy,” Kenji warned, holding up his hands in a gesture to slow down. “Not too fast or you’ll retch everything back out.” Ling, Tommy and Miguel laughed among themselves; they lowered their weapons as they stepped into the light to watch the famished child devour the meat. Kenji waved them back. “You’ll scare him,” he whispered.

  In moments the stick was gone. Kenji beckoned for another. One was passed to him, from Ling this time. It met a similar fate.

  The boy was slowing now, as his stomach filled. He looked up at the Chief with a fatigued expression of resignation.

  “What do I call you?” Kenji asked, not daring to approach lest he scare the boy off.

  “Uncle calls me Daniel,” the boy replied, after a moment’s consideration. He spoke in a civil tone now that he was no longer trying to chase anyone away.

  “Uncle?” Kenji inquired.

  The boy chewed another mouthful of jerky before he responded. He gestured towards the darkness behind him. “Uncle is asleep,” he said feebly, and his eyes started to flutter. “He won’t wake up and…” Daniel’s head slumped forward to his chest and his knees buckled, but he quickly righted himself.

  “And her?” Enrique asked, gesturing to the silent woman. She seemed oblivious to the scuffle between Kenji and the boy.

  Daniel’s eyes grew suspicious and his lips curled into a snarl. “She’s not to be touched,” he said in a trembling growl.

  “We will not hurt her, child,” Kenji said, his tone assuring. “We just want to know what to call her.”

  “My name is Daniel, not child!” the boy replied testily.

  Kenji made a calming motion with his hands. “All right, Daniel,” he said. “What is your friend called, and why is she fed while you go hungry?”

  Daniel looked hard into Kenji’s eyes. The man was stocky, perhaps as strong as the bear from which he must have gotten the fur of his coat. His voice was deep and gruff, his skin swarthy. Despite his calm demeanour, his serious countenance and furrowed forehead was forbidding, as was his direct, unwavering stare. Yet there was something gentle there too.

  “She is called Doll,” Daniel said, when whatever he saw in Kenji’s eyes disarmed him. “She’s the only one of her kind and she needs no food from you. She eats from the sun.”

  The inscrutable woman turned when the boy spoke her name. A new smile broke on her lips and she adjusted her torso in the chair so that she was facing Daniel. Still, she did not speak.

  “Eats from the sun?” Enrique mocked and the others shared a baffled chuckle. But they were silenced by a grunt from Kenji.

  “What is wrong with her, Daniel?” the Chief asked.

  “Nothing. I am all right now,” Daniel replied matter-of-factly, holding up his forefinger in a resolute gesture. He shook his head to clear his thoughts. “I thank you sincerely. You’ve been most helpful and can go now. I…I will…” He trailed off as his eyes fluttered shut. Then his head tilted, and he fell forward. Kenji had to jump quickly to catch the boy before his scrawny body hit the floor.

  He had passed out completely.

  Kenji took Daniel’s limp frame into his lap. He placed his head against the dirty cloth that covered the boy’s chest, and listened. The young heart was beating rapidly. His breathing was thick, but unbroken. The boy’s hunger was a positive sign that he had not been afflicted with the rot. But Kenji had to check his face and hands, searching for holes in the flesh, or telltale splotches of darkness. With Ling’s assistance, Kenji loosed the boy’s soiled clothing and inspected his emaciated frame. Tommy, Enrique and Miguel knew what it was the Chief sought.

  “Nothing,” Kenji said, audibly relieved, as he and Ling gently laid the boy on the floor. The others nodded, acknowledging the credence of this information. Had anything been detected on the boy’s body, there would be nothing they could do to save the child.

  Kenji stood and considered the inscrutable woman. She gazed up at him, smiling with detached curiosity. Her gaze truly unnerved him, everything about her did. But he also sensed that she posed no danger. Strange and requiring an explanation, indeed, but not dangerous.

  “Call in the others,” he said finally.

  ———

  It is not sleep from which she has been awakened, but it is as close as she can come to that state. There is nothing like time for her in this blankness. A thousand years is no different than a day.

  The activity that ignites her awakening ceases as the men retreat, their faces contorted into that pa
ttern she knows as fear. They assumed she could not see them in the dark. But she does, and she wonders at their panic.

  She watched serenely as the boy emerged from under a table to defend her, throwing broken machinery at the intruders. But eventually he collapsed from the effects of his exertion.

  Others soon enter. Wrapped tightly in dirty animal hides and hooded against the cold, they trudge in from the storm. They bring light and sound with them, the bustle of their entry, the murmur of their furry coats against the walls of the place, and the thud of their packs dropping to the floor. They bring their weariness and anxiety too. Their words fill the room as they discuss the many things of their concern, matters unimportant to her.

  “What is that smell?” asks one. “Is there food here?” asks another. “Who is she?” and “Are there others?” they ask in unison.

  She has no answers for these questions, so she makes no reply. She adopts the “smile” face as they study her warily. But her welcoming expression does nothing to affect their caution.

  The younger ones among them take the sleeping boy and place him in the folds of thick blankets. They huddle over the bundled child, emitting squealing sounds as they fuss about him.

  But the child does not respond. The child has become unconscious, as did the man who had cared for her, before he fell into that sleep from which his type never wakes.

  The strangers search the area and find the fallen man slumped in an armchair.

  The room is lit now by their illuminating devices. It grows warm with their presence. Not that the temperature concerns her either way. They know this about her, she can tell. They know she is different. They cast a myriad of looks at her as they settle for the night. Their eyes send a multitude of coded signals.

  Trepidation.

  Wariness.