End of the Road Page 24

“No. Well, sort of. I came here, you know, to Nepal, to find some respite from my Granny,” she said cryptically. “And Ganesh is the only one left who may be able to give it to me.”

  She gazed directly into his puzzled face, tried to fix his eyes with hers, without freaking him out. She could see he wanted to be patient. But this wasn’t his errand, and maybe it was unfair to force it on him. She saw something else as she looked in his eyes. He was beautiful, with his sharp features and his eyes almost as dark as hers. And, of course, that Byronic mane of hair flaring about his head. She felt it just then, a poetic spark in him, something that might one day articulate the divinity of the world, reshaping it in the words he would use to name it. She leaned over and kissed his lips.

  “Let’s just try to breathe for a few minutes, okay, for me.”

  Yesh wanted to be all compliance now—that much was written across his face. He nodded vigorously, apparently having lost the power of speech. And he did manage to sit quietly, at least to all outward appearances. But the sound of his heart pounding against his ribs echoed in her ears. Emily tried to breathe past it, to hear the rapids in the gorge, to let herself float away down the river and join the rest of the dead on their way to whatever peace awaited them. After a few more minutes, she saw the futility of her effort. Not now, not here. “Not after I kissed him,” she thought. “Brilliant.”

  “Let’s go back,” she said, standing over him.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’ll try harder. Let’s not go yet.”

  She leaned over him and smiled.

  “It’s okay. I’m hungry anyway.”

  It was surprisingly easy to find food outside the temple. Vendors stood ready on both sides of the access road. Emily found a bowl of potato and lentil curry at one stand, while Yesh hunted down a plate of momos and some mangos blended in beaten rice at another, as well as a bag of candied lapsi fruit. He seemed to have quite a sweet tooth. They ran to catch the bus and ate in the back.

  “Is this how you usually spend your days,” she asked.

  “Sadly, no. I work during the week, and then weekends are always filled with family errands. I think it’s time to go see the world.”

  “I may have seen enough of the world,” she sighed.

  The bus rumbled back around Dakchhinkali Road as it wound its way back into the city. As they broached more urban neighborhoods, traffic thickened and the exhaust fumes of other buses began to infiltrate the cabin. Emily scanned a route map as they approached Ring Road.

  “I have to go to Swayambhunath. I’m gonna change buses up ahead.”

  “What do you want there?” he asked.

  “I’m supposed to meet Rinpoche Tashi this afternoon.”

  “How on earth did you manage that?” he asked. “I didn’t think the Tibetan gompas accepted bikchunis.”

  “They don’t, but I told you, I’m not a bikchuni.”

  “Then why would the Rinpoche meet with you? They don’t usually make time for tourists, you know.”

  “You don’t have to come,” she said when he got off the bus with her.

  “I’d like to, if you don’t mind. I haven’t been to that part of town in some time. Don’t worry, I’ll watch the monkeys while you have your meeting.”

  Two buses later, they found themselves entering the western end of the Swayambhu temple complex.

  Emily spotted him before Yesh did, monk’s robes bedraggled from running. He was out of breath by the time he reached them.

  “Michi-didi,” he spluttered out.

  “Nawang, what is it?” she asked, now beginning to feel the panic inside him.

  “It’s Sonam, the Sherpas…”

  “What’s happened?”

  “He didn’t come back from school. The Sherpas, they took him… Michi-didi, they might…”

  “Calm down, Nawang,” she said. “Do you know where they took him?”

  The young monk bent over to catch his breath.

  “What’s this all about?” Yesh asked.

  “It’s a little boy I look after sometimes.”

  “Sherpas took him? Why? And where?” he asked

  Nawang stood upright, breathing a little easier and gave directions to an address just outside Thamel, the tourist district.

  “Let’s go, Michi-didi. We have to hurry,” he said.

  “You’re not going there, are you?” Yesh asked. “What are you supposed to do, negotiate with gangsters?”

  Emily ignored him and looked at Nawang. “You stay here. Go, tell Rinpoche where I’ve gone.”

  “This is crazy,” Yesh exclaimed as she turned to go. “You can’t do this.”

  “Don’t worry about me. Wait here.”

  “Wait. You don’t even know the way… Fine. I’ll come with you.”

  “No,” she called over her shoulder, already starting to run. “Stay here.”

  ~~~~~~~

  The address Nawang gave her turned out to be just another unprepossessing building, like so many others in Kathmandu. A blank front face, one imposing door, but no first floor windows—an alley way on the left seemed to beckon to her. A few seconds later, Yesh caught her up, chest still heaving from the run.

  “Mrs. Kansakar wasn’t kidding,” he said between breaths. “You do run way too much.”

  As Emily looked at him, it occurred to her that whatever might happen, it was likely to be much more dangerous than he had bargained for. This was definitely not his errand. “I shouldn’t have kissed him,” she thought. “Now I’ll never be rid of him.”

  She guided him over to a stoop across the street where he could sit down.

  “Wait here.”

  A slight curve in the alley made it impossible to see the far end from the street. Emily remembered what Rinpoche said about one last lesson Sonam could learn from her. After all her talk about the evils of fighting back against bullies, what could she teach him now, just when unleashing all manner of destruction on his tormentors might turn out to be necessary?

  The other end of the alley opened onto a courtyard with three blank, whitewashed walls. A door next to a curtained window on the last wall led into the main building. A dozen or so young men lounged about carelessly, some gambling, one cooking over an open fire, two others engaged in some form of horse play, all of them unaware of the new pair of eyes sizing them up. They seemed older and harder than the teenagers who made up the Manange gang. These were men, stout and sturdy, not callow adolescents. But none of them looked to Emily like a leader.

  “I’m here for Sonam,” Emily announced in a loud voice from the alleyway, and then took two steps forward.

  A few of the men turned to look. None seemed impressed. One walked over and eyed her rudely, sneering in her face.

  “We may have a job for you,” he said with a suggestive leer.

  “Where is Sonam?” she shouted.

  “Tenzing,” one of them called into the window. “You have a visitor.”

  The sounds of a scuffle came from the window. A moment later a small man, coarse and scruffy, stepped into the doorway.

  “Look who Deepak sends for his boy,” he said to his men. “Is he afraid to come himself?”

  “Deepak didn’t send me. I’m here for Sonam. Where is he?”

  “Who’s the Newar?” he asked.

  Emily turned to see Yesh step out of the alley. “Great. One more person to worry about,” she thought. Her angry stare was intended to tell him to go back while he still could, that he shouldn’t have followed. He shrugged.

  The man in the doorway signaled to his men. The one with the leer grabbed Emily from behind. Two others grabbed Yesh, one yanking him to his knees by the hair. He protested to no avail. Another voice spoke from inside, not Nepali or Hindi. She recognized it as Chinese.

  “This is not your lucky day, sister,” Tenzing said.

  “I’m here for the boy,” she replied defiantly.

  “He will be the last thing you see. Lobsang, bring the boy.”

  A large man emerged,
struggling to hold a squirming child.

  “Michi-didi,” Sonam cried and tried to run to her.

  The man holding him squeezed a wrist until he cried out. He pushed the boy to the ground.

  “Lobsang, give him the knife,” Tenzing ordered, and gestured to what Emily recognized as a khukuri, or Gurkha knife, on a nearby table. At almost eighteen inches long, the heavy, curved blade probably weighed a few pounds. The inner edge was sharpened, while the outer was thick and blunt.

  “Hit them in the neck,” Lobsang said, placing the knife in Sonam’s hand and pointing at Emily and Yesh. “Kill them or we’ll kill you. You want to live, don’t you?”

  He guided Sonam over to Emily. The man holding her twisted one arm behind her back and pushed her shoulder down, forcing her to crouch close to the ground—roughly the height a small boy would prefer for a decapitation. She saw tears in Sonam’s eyes when she looked up. He wailed out something incoherent.

  “Don’t worry,” she said to him in a quiet voice. “I’m here for you. Stay close to Yesh.”

  Her voice seemed to have soothing qualities, because he stopped crying as he looked at her, and then nodded his head. The knife clattered on the ground.

  “Fine,” Tenzing barked. “Kill all three of them.”

  Lobsang slapped the boy aside and picked up the knife. Sonam lay on the ground rubbing his face, too terrified even to cry. The man holding her from behind pulled Emily up.

  “I’m here for Sonam,” Emily announced in a loud voice one more time. “But I am also here for you, Tenzing Sherpa.” She paused to let that remark sink in, and then continued. “And for you, Lobsang, and you, too Ming-ma.” Turning her head to look at the men on the other side of the courtyard, she went on: “And for you, Dorje, and Pemba, and Rinzen and Sangye. Gyaltsen, Jangbu, Dawa and Tschering, I’m here for all of you, too.”

  The effect was unnerving. She could see they were all wondering how she knew their names. The man behind her, Ming-ma, tightened his grip on the arm he held twisted up between her shoulder blades. It’s a common misconception that this hold gives secure control.

  Emily took a deep breath while the men digested her words. She saw how the entire scene would play out as she exhaled. As Ming-ma pushed her head forward, she would lean just a little further, pulling him off-balance. A tiny pivot of her right foot would create just enough space for her to slip a high side-kick under Ming-ma’s chin, crushing his windpipe. He’d want to release her wrist to clutch at his throat, but she wouldn’t allow it, grabbing under his wrist and twisting him around. He’d crash into Lobsang before he could bring the khukuri around. Releasing Ming-ma, she’d pivot again, bringing her left foot around in a roundhouse kick to the back of Lobsang’s elbow, snapping it as she controlled the hand holding the knife.

  Dorje would let go of Yesh’s hair to lunge at her. With an easy twist she’d wrench the khukuri from Lobsang’s now limp hand and strike Dorje across the face with the blunt side, stunning him. A quick crossover step and side-kick to the center of his chest would send him crashing into the wall.

  With each breath, the contents of their hearts opened to her, and the sequence of moves and responses expanded until she saw it all. One last breath brought it all to clarity. Once she was done with Lobsang, with the khukuri in her hand, she’d slash through the gang like a spinning saw blade, hacking tendons, slicing throats. Soon enough, they’d want to flee, but it would be too late for the Sherpas, and for the Chinese security agents concealed inside the building.

  Tenzing seemed frozen, staring at her this entire time, the time of a few breaths, not more than three or four seconds.

  “This is who I am, once again,” she thought. “Is this the lesson Rinpoche thinks I have for Sonam? But what else can I do? Surely not let the Sherpas harm him… or Yesh. At least he’ll know how ugly the spirit of violence is. And he’ll finally know who I really am. This is how he will remember me.”

  Emily shuddered at the design now fully formed in her heart, both for what it said about her, and for what it would mean as a legacy for Sonam. A sharp word from behind the window curtain broke the spell for Tenzing.

  “If Deepak didn’t send you, then who are you?” he asked. “Tell me your name before he cuts your head off.”

  Slowly, deliberately, Emily surveyed the scene. She turned to look at Sonam and Yesh, both of whom were strangely calm at this otherwise terrible moment.

  “My name is Tenno Michiko,” she said. “My friends call me Em.” Then turning back to Tenzing, she continued, “but you may know me as Kali.” She smiled as she said this name.

  When all was done, the only living things left in the courtyard looked at each other. Sonam cringed to meet her eyes and threw himself into Yesh’s arms, and perhaps this was for the best. Surprisingly, Yesh was still able to look at her with affection, not horror. A glimmer in the corner of his eye caught her attention, and his broad smile brought the warmth of human feeling back to her heart. Then she saw it peeking out of one side of his mouth, one of his canine teeth was broken, and she recognized him for who he really is.

  Emily whispered a little prayer under her breath: “Thank you, Granny, for sending the god of obstacles to me.”

  The next morning, she boarded a flight that would return her, after several changes along her complex route, to Annapolis and the Naval Academy, and soon-to-be Ensign Hankinson.

  Back to Top

  The High Road to the Mountain Gods is the latest installment in The Emily Kane Adventures. Look for these other full-length titles from the same series:

  Girl Fights Back, Girl Punches Out, and Girl Takes Up Her Sword.

  And connect with the Author Online:

  Twitter: Jacques Antoine

  Jacques Antoine and The Emily Kane Stories

  Chapter 27

  The Frozen Truth

  By Shirley Bourget

  “No freakin’ way Brad! You have got to be kidding me!” I screamed.

  “No Mandy, I told you this was a dry cabin. There’s no running water and NO indoor plumbing! I thought you knew that! And I thought you said you’ve camped out before?” I could tell by his tone that he was getting angrier by the minute.

  “Yeah, I’ve camped out before! But never this OUT! My family always rented cabins with electricity and plumbing. Not stone-aged piles of logs in the middle of nowhere Brad. I didn’t know places like this even existed! Who in their right mind would stay in a place like this?” I threw my hands into the air in frustration.

  This was supposed to have been a romantic getaway weekend, a chance for us to work on our differences, and already Brad and I were arguing! The drive to the town of Clear, where we rented our machine and the snowmobile ride up to the cabin had been heavenly, even if it was freezing outside. I had been anticipating a nice warm, cozy fire and being able to take a long, hot shower before dinner. I had even planned a special dessert for Brad to indulge in after our evening meal. I wanted to show him that I was willing to start over if he was. That if we could figure out a way to communicate better, I was willing to give our relationship another chance.

  Now he’s telling me that there isn’t a bathroom in this place! That if I have to pee, or worse, I’ll have to trek down the hill to an outhouse and sit in a sub-zero refrigerator! And despite the fact that he keeps insisting that he told me before coming here that there was no bathroom, I’m pretty sure he left that little detail completely out of any plans we made for this trip! Why would he think that taking me anywhere without a bathroom would be romantic?

  “Well they do exist!” he continued to yell with both his voice and the anger in his eyes. “This cabin has been in my family for over a century, and if you paid any attention to anything I’ve been telling you for the past six months, you’d know that!”

  He practically threw our duffle bags into the living room area, before grabbing one of the five-gallon buckets sitting under the makeshift kitchen sink. What a joke to even call it that! Someone decided to install a camper
sink into a rustic looking countertop and call it a kitchen. The buckets sitting below the sink were positioned so that one could catch water as it filtered through the small sink hole, while the other was used for clean water. The catch bucket was dirty with grimy soap residue. This was barbaric!

  “I’m going for some water.” Brad headed for the door and took a long handled ax propped against the wall with him as he started outside.

  “Wait! It’s freezing in here! You aren’t just going to leave me here are you?” I looked around the small cabin that was really just one big room. There was no way I was going to stay here, and definitely not by myself!

  The space had been separated into several small living areas with different functions. The tiny kitchen, or rather, the wannabe sink with a two-foot square tile-topped cabinet sitting next to it, was adjacent to a sitting area complete with an old lumpy sofa and a round table with a few folding chairs. There was a raised sleeping platform with two rough-cut wooden beds built into the walls in the shape of an L, just beyond the back of the sofa. An enormous pot-belly woodstove, with a cooking surface and a small oven built into the cast-iron metal, was oddly stationed in the middle of the whole thing! I’d probably burn my ass just trying to get around it to any of the furniture!

  I’m sure Brad could tell how disgusted I was by the expression on my face as I asked him my question. He hesitated, but didn’t answer me. Instead he got a mischievous grin on his face before slamming the door as he continued to go outside. I wanted to scream!

  We had been seeing each other for a little over a year and somewhere along the line, this ruggedly handsome, dark haired, blue eyed man that I thought I was falling in love with, was slowly being replaced by a person I didn’t know. He had been so attentive at first, doting on me with surprise visits to my St. Paul, Minnesota office with offerings of my favorite coffee, and impromptu picnics full of my favorite foods and plenty of romantic spice.

  The fights had started a few months ago. They had been small at first, just disagreements really, over silly things, like where to have dinner or what movie to see. The typical kind of thing one would expect to find in any relationship after a while.