Colin Cotterill - Curse of the Pogo Stick

“OK, Yeh Ming. That should do,” she whispered so only he could hear. She pulled back the mask and the afternoon sun through the window blinded him. He was surprised it was still day. He continued to sit astride the bench. The rattle was no longer in his hand. The audience remained remarkably enthralled considering the number of hours he’d been away. Elder Long looked at Siri with admiration: the great Yeh Ming presiding over an exorcism right here in his own village. Who would have believed it? He nodded his head and raised his eyebrows as if expecting Siri to give him a summary of the trip.

Siri was far from certain what had just happened.

“I need a while to prepare my report,” Siri said.

Nobody in the room moved.

“Alone,” he added. Long and the women got to their feet and paraded out the door. When they were gone and only he and Bao remained in the shaman’s hut he whispered excitedly, “I did it.”

“It was quite convincing,” she said, putting out the candle. “You were better in the rehearsal but I expect you were nervous.”

“No, I mean I did it. I went to the Otherworld.”

She turned to him. “Yeh Ming, there are just the two of us here.”

“I know. So I have no reason to lie.”

She walked to him and knelt by the bench. “You’re serious, Yeh Ming.”

“I am. I can hardly believe it myself. If I was anybody else I’d call me a liar too. Isn’t it marvelous?”

“Tell me about it. Tell me everything.”

“Well, I was rather expecting caves and an underground lake and a mountain, all the things I’d read in the legends.”

“My father said the location can depend on influence from the victim and the imagination of the shaman.”

“Is that so? Then I have no idea who’s been playing with my head.”

“Where were you?”

“Somewhere in North America, I believe. It was a city. Nowhere I’ve ever been in real life. There were skyscrapers and the streets had a layer of ice.”

Siri told her the whole story. There were parts that neither of them understood-the street thugs foremost among them-but everything else was as logical as necromancy can be.

“And all that in three hundred heartbeats. Wonderful.” Bao smiled.

“Three hundred? Why that’s not much more than five minutes. I was only in the trance for five minutes?”

“At the most. You’ve done very well, Yeh Ming. I’m happy for you. But I’m sad for Elder Long.”

“Why?”

“You learned nothing about Chamee.”

“Oh, but I did.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You will. But first I have to go to her house again.”

“Are you sure? You still have the bruises from last time.”

“Ah, but last time I didn’t know what I was dealing with.” He stood and gently patted his rear end.

“And now you do?”

“I hope so.”

“I’ll come with you.”

“No, Bao. Not this time. This is something I have to do by myself. It’ll be all right. I promise.”

“I trust you.”

Siri retrieved the ceremonial dagger from the earth and used the rice whisky to clean the earth from it.

“I should think this is pretty well sanctified now, wouldn’t you?”

He walked gingerly to the door but stopped as he reached the doorway. An unpleasant memory had suddenly returned to him.

“Did you happen to see…?”

“Your weak-minded ‘assistant’? He fainted. Dia took him back to his bed.”

“Do you think he’ll remember?”

“I’m afraid he might.”

“Damn.”

Siri walked uncomfortably up the trail past the blackened stumps until he reached the first bush. He ducked behind it and checked back to be sure he wasn’t being followed. Once he was certain he was alone, he carefully lowered his trousers to his ankles and inspected his bottom. There were two fairly large splinters, neither one of which he could see. But they were protruding enough for him not to have need of the knife. He gritted his teeth and yanked them free. Bao had probably seen worse but this operation was hardly something to be done in front of a lady. She was really quite a remarkable girl. There was something of his ex-wife, Boua, about her, that same determination and…

He slapped himself on the forehead. Such thoughts didn’t help anyone. His wounds smarted when he pulled up his pajama bottom. He’d have to find some antiseptic, but later. He had a demon to confront.

He approached the house quietly although there was little need. Chamee’s screams coming from inside were loud enough to raise the dead. There was no time for caution. He hoped he could catch the demon by surprise. He hurdled the re-erected lattice fence but avoided the front path. He crashed through the land bridges, sending their parts flying all around. He fought his way through the branches and nettles at one side of the house and arrived at an open window. The first thing he noticed was the blood. It seemed to be everywhere. Chamee was sitting naked on the dirt floor, her back against the center pillar, her legs akimbo. She was ghostly white and covered in blood and sweat… and he was standing over her.

Everyone in the village seemed to hear the screams at the same time. They came rushing from the main house, and, without speaking, converged on the pathway. Each of them carried a weapon of some kind: machetes, muskets, crossbows, knives. And they ran like the spirits of the wind up the mountain. Even old Long found the energy to remain not a few paces behind them. They reached the lattice fence and stared at the now-silent house. The front door was closed and Siri was nowhere to be seen. Long joined the others just as another scream rent the air. Birds fled their nests and took to the sky. Long put a foot forward but Nhia grabbed his arm.

“We have to help her,” he said.

“You know we can’t,” Nhia told him. “Even Yeh Ming couldn’t compete with the force of the demon.”

“I can’t just leave her in there, suffering,” Long told her and wrestled his arm free. He began to move forward but now Bao and one or two others held him back.

“No, Elder Long,” Bao said. “I’ll go.”

The others argued with her, begged her not to try. They reminded her what had happened the first time she’d attempted to enter the house. There came another scream. Bao took a breath and marched to the fence. As Siri had done before, she worked loose the post and let the latticework fall to the ground. She stepped over it and raised her machete above her head. She planned to charge the door.

“Stop,” came a voice from inside. She looked up to see the door slightly ajar now and Siri, exhausted, peering through the gap. “It’s dangerous here. Go back beyond the fence. You can’t help. Just wait.”

Bao could see his hand on the door. It was covered in blood.

“Yeh Ming, you’re hurt,” she cried.

“It’s nothing serious. Please… please.”

She stepped back over the fence and joined the others. The door closed and there was silence. Until the next scream.

That was the scream that woke Judge Haeng. He recalled having woken before, being fed water and gruel. There had been nightmares and fantastic dreams. He thought perhaps he’d left his bed once and seen… or perhaps not. He looked around at his surroundings. A pagan hut. Was he a prisoner? There were no chains. A guard outside?

“I’m hungry,” he called in a hoarse voice. “Do you plan to feed me?”

But there was no response. In fact, the door was open. Small ugly black pigs sniffed around him. He tried to sit up. His head was foggy. His stomach felt nauseous. But he could sit. That was when he noticed his splint and the bandages and the foul-smelling balm on his skin. A hospital, that’s what it was. He’d been rescued. It was Siri he’d seen at his bedside.