subrosa: the adventures of bill chase chapter_23

Chapter 23


I woke up to an old Chinese woman’s face. I was lying in a bed. She was rubbing something on my head. Seeing that I was awake, she reassured me that I was okay. She may have been talking about politics but I took it as reassurance. She told me many things but because it was all in a language I had not knowledge in, I could not respond.

When she was finished with applying ointments to my various wounds, she insisted that I lay still and not go away. Or perhaps she told me it was time to go. When she came back with a hot soup, I decided to act on my first translation and sat quietly as she spoon fed me. The bowl and spoon were the same as I had used in Chinese restaurants. The soup was mostly broth but it tasted like a full feast.

She was pleased when I had finished the soup.

"Very good," I told her.

She explained what was in it, how she made it like her mother did and the mother of her mother and how there was nothing better for you than this soup. I could not think of anything else she might want to tell me.

"I must pee," I said pointing to my crotch.

I thought she might have told me, ‘Yes, go pee,’ but I could not be certain. She did help me out of bed and guide me by my elbow to the small bathroom. I noticed that I was not wearing my clothes. I saw that I had many scrapes and cuts and bruises. After finishing in the bathroom, I was guided back to bed where I lay and listen to the lady talk. After she had made everything clear to me, she left me to rest.

I bent my head back to examine what I had noticed on the way back into the bedroom. It was a sword. I looked around the room to see what else there might be. Though it was a small room, there was much in it. A framed certificate. It was in Chinese, so I could only guess it had something to do with Karate or something similar. It had that kind of self-defence school look.

The wall had two water paintings of bamboo branches. There was a poster of Bruce Lee poised to fight even though it looked like he had just been attacked by a tiger. There was a small desk with a bookshelf by it. On the bookshelf was a framed photo of two fighters in Karate uniforms.

A newspaper landed on my stomach.

"Here’s something for you to read."

It was Chinaman. His friend called him that. He stood over me just as strong as he always portrays himself but he had no challenge against me.

"Is this your bed?"

"Don’t sweat it. I sleep fine on the coach."

I guessed that he did not expect me to go right away.

"How late is it?"

"You might rather ask what day it is."

I looked at the paper.

"You are kidding me. This paper is only from the day after last night."

"It’s not today’s paper."

"You give me old papers to read?"

I looked at the front-page picture. It was a full colour picture of someone using metal jaws to pry open the door of a police car.

"Mutant causes accident," I read. "Two policemen and one Taxi driver where seriously injured. Twenty bus passengers were treated for minor injuries. Police claims that he was hypnotised by a mad mutant that they had arrested for attempted murder. ‘I didn’t even notice the red light,’ the driver exclaimed. Had we know the passenger was a mutant, we would have taken more precautions. But the trouble with these mutants is you can’t tell by looking at them."

I looked up at Chinaman.

"My granny assures me you’re a good boy so I haven’t notified
authorities."

"This is a crock of shit. The cops are such idiots. They have no way of knowing I am a mutant. They just do not want to take responsibility for driving through a red light. Blame everything on the mutant. It is okay until all the mutants are gone. What will they do then? Just go on blaming it on the mutants even if there are none left. Who is to know there are none left? They can just randomly burn the odd homeless fellow at the stake. Or bring back the guillotine. Hell, they could save on the running of jails. Just call them all mutant non-humans and a danger with strange viruses and diseases and they will all have to have their head removed and into the furnace to kill the viruses. Maybe they can blame aids and unemployment on mutants."

"If the article causes you too much stress, the sunshine girl on the next page is pretty hot."

I turned the page to have a look. Her tight sleeveless shit did not quite hold in her large breast. She was twenty years old, liked to water ski and was hot for big strong sporty men.

"That leaves me out," I said.

"You’ve got enough trouble now."

I turned back to the front page and noticed an artist pencil drawing of the mutant. I supposed, if one tried to, one could imagine it looked like me.

"What do I do?"

"You listen to me. I’ll tell you what you do."

He took a passport out of his jacket.

"This is an English passport. The owner is hard up for cash and agreed to sell it for a thousand dollars."

I looked at the picture. It did not look like me.

"It doesn’t matter if it doesn’t quite look like you, you may not have to use it. You will be on a Chinese ship that docks in Hamburg. You won’t need it until after you are there. You might never need it."

"Then why do I need to buy it?"

"In case you need it."

"Where is Hamburg?"

"Germany."

"What am I going to do there?"

"You are going to lead a quiet life for a while. It’s a big city, they don’t bother with white people."

"I do not know."

"You’ll figure it out."

"What if I do not want to go?"

Chinaman crossed his arms and shook his head.



by Joanne B. Washington

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