Book of Bravery Page 7

  At the war’s end Quintus returned to America. Unimpressed by modern building methods, he took advantage of the GI Bill and got himself an education and became a history teacher.

  In early 1952 he again changed his surname, this time from Hill to Sheehan, and he ended up in the quiet city of Boise, Idaho. There he met a woman named Kaitlyn who he married in 1957. It was his first intimate relationship ever. Tai earlier warned him about sentiment but getting married seemed to Quintus the fitting thing to do at that time. He was tired of wandering and waiting for something that had yet to happen, plus he fell head over heels in love with her.

  In 1962 they had a daughter and named her Abby. One thing he discovered was that being a parent and the head of a family changes everything.

  From below the demon kings were increasingly furious by what they saw. They couldn’t stomach the fact Quintus was living an everyday life in what was one of the most prosperous societies in history. Now they had to destroy him to prove a point amongst themselves that no one was beyond their reach if they so deemed it.

  After decades of failure attempting to destroy Quintus, the demon kings decided to take another course of action. They needed to be cautious; they didn’t want a wrathful Tai and his White Dragon revisiting them. A fundamental part of that would be taking Tai out of the equation before that could occur. Quickly their plans fell into place.

  Urban Life

  It was mid-autumn 1966. Quintus rode his English racer through a middle-class Boise neighborhood. He was conservatively dressed as a high-school teacher would be in Idaho during that period. As he pedaled, he turned into a street lined with trees in the early stages of shedding their leaves. He rode past four pampered homes until veering into the driveway of number 45, a timbered double-story house painted off white. His home.

  Under the house’s attached carport, Quintus stopped his bicycle and dismounted just to the side of the parked Buick Invicta station wagon. He waved to his neighbor, a squat humorless retiree called Andrei Vasiliev who was next door up a ladder mending a broken gutter.

  ‘Afternoon Mr Vasiliev, another beautiful day,’ Quintus said.

  Vasiliev gruffly nodded while continuing his repairs.

  Ignoring his neighbor’s frostiness, Quintus made his way to the house’s back entrance and entered into a living space connected to the kitchen.

  ‘Daddy! Yay!’ exclaimed a 4-year-old girl clutching her favorite stuffed teddy bear.

  ‘Hello there Abby girl,’ Quintus said warmly.

  She tackled him around the legs and looked up to him, this man who was half of her world.

  ‘Mommy and I went to nan and pop’s,’ Abby said.

  ‘Aren’t you lucky,’ her dad said as he picked her up and playfully kissed her once on each of her rosy cheeks.

  As Quintus held her, he looked over to his wife, Kaitlyn, who was preparing dinner in the open kitchen. She winked at him. He winked back.

  ‘Then she spent the afternoon in the garden gossiping with the fairies,’ Kaitlyn said.

  ‘So how are those fairies?’ Quintus asked his daughter as he put her down.

  ‘They are good. They said to say “Hello” to you. They think you are very, very special,’ Abby said.

  ‘Well you must be special if they let you see them.’

  ‘And they love mommy’s poems and when she plays the piano, they love, love, love that a lot.’

  ‘Mommy’s poems and the piano?’

  ‘Yes, and they love Dean Martin’s songs, just like mommy does.’

  ‘Well those fairies have exceptional taste, don’t they?’ Quintus said as he ruffled her hair, which had the same blonde hue as his wife’s.

  ‘Dinner in 20 or so minutes Quintus Sheehan, you’d better go wash up and then grace us with your company again,’ Kaitlyn said.

  Quintus playfully lifted up Abbey again, she squealed in delight.

  ‘Now you stay here princess, keep your mom company while I go shower,’ he said as he put her back down.

  ‘Okay. But hurry please,’ Abby replied.

  As Quintus left to go upstairs his wife called out to him.

  ‘After you have showered can you please light the fire, they say it’s going to be cold tonight,’ said Kaitlyn.

  ‘Who is they?’ he asked already halfway up the stairs.

  ‘The man on the TV,’ Kaitlyn said as she smiled at her daughter. ‘Isn’t that right sugar pie?’

  Abby nodded with a smile.

  China Televised

  The warmth of the lit fireplace in the living room took the edge off the cool night. Quintus was with Abby sitting on a rug drawing pictures of fairies on paper with crayons. He wondered about his daughter’s ability to see and communicate with these special beings who called their garden home.

  Just behind them, Kaitlyn played a soft tune on an upright piano. It was ‘Begin the Beguine’ written by Cole Porter. It was one of eight songs she knew by heart.

  The music she played was soft enough to allow Quintus to hear the television situated in the corner. A news program about chaos in China was being broadcast.

  ‘Gangs of Red Guards, most of whom are no more than teenagers, are destroying religious institutions, long cherished traditions and so-called antirevolutionary elements,’ the program’s narrator said.

  The TV displayed grainy footage of fanatical young Red Guards adulating Mao Zedong, the then chairman of the Communist Party of China. The program went on to show monasteries being looted, statues of deities being desecrated and nuns being publicly humiliated.

  ‘China, dear viewer, is continuing its downward spiral into Hell.’

  Politics of Hatred

  Like others nominated in his village, Chang Boyang was proud to be entrusted with the knowledge of where the ancient sage was hidden on White Dragon Mountain.

  As a 13-year-old, he and five others of the same age were taken by three elders to be shown what remained of the Taoist’s sanctuary. At the end of their four-day trek-climb they maintained a respectable distance from the immediate area of the terrace so not to disturb holy ground.

  The boys, now considered custodians, earlier swore to protect the sanctuary and keep its location a secret. It was expected, if need be, they would lay down their life to keep the sanctuary safe. Their village had numerous tales of how their ancestors built up their mighty virtue by doing just that.

  But Chang and his vow were tested when the communists came decades later. In the autumn of 1966 two truckloads of Red Guards, led by a tall thin 20-year-old sociopath nicknamed ‘The Hammer,’ arrived at the village.

  The Hammer got his name due to the pickaxe he carried at all times. When he wasn’t swinging it around he was fond of stroking his delicate mustache. He also made it a habit of seeking shade so that his skin would remain fair.

  He and his fellow Red Guards weren’t welcomed at the village, but no one was brave enough to tell them so. The villagers had viewed the Maoists as thuggish followers of an insane ideology since day one. But despite what the communists had committed through much of China, the valley, up until then, had managed to avoid the worst of their depredations, including the mass collectivization of rural communities and the Great Famine that followed. The villagers believed their good fortune was due to having a Taoist in the mountain as their otherworldly protector. And for the most part they were pretty much right about that.

  However with the arrival of The Hammer and his Red Guards on that October day, it appeared to them their blessings had run out.

  Not that our now middle-aged Chang understood or comprehended such things as the Red Guards arrived. Like lambs to the slaughter, Chang and the other elders gathered in the village center as ordered. There, The Hammer lectured them.

  ‘Chairman Mao has ordered us to rid society of old customs, old culture, old habits and old ideas,’ he shouted in a creepy squeaky kind of way. ‘Elders you must prove your worth or the ever-glorious party shall smash you and sweep you aside!’

  The H
ammer then demanded that they tell him the location of the sanctuary. When no one told him what he wanted, that’s when the torturing began.

  Remorse

  Chang wondered how the Red Guards learnt of the sanctuary’s existence in the first place before the torture began. Had someone in the valley unknowingly told a party spy or a scheming official from a nearby district? But that was irrelevant now as he led The Hammer and six of his Red Guards up White Dragon Mountain. With each step, Chang asked Heaven’s forgiveness for betraying the vow he had made as a boy. He felt there was little choice when The Hammer ordered children to be tortured. The older men had earlier managed to endure.

  Chang had already led the Red Guards up the mountain for four days and their ruthless fanaticism dismayed him. Two other villagers had been tasked as porters to lug food supplies needed for the trek and both of them were summarily executed once their purpose was spent.

  At their last rest stop before reaching the sanctuary, Chang looked at a young Red Guard named Zhou Lijun who sat nearby massaging a sore foot. Perhaps this boy has some conscience left, he thought.

  Zhou felt Chang’s gaze on him and their eyes met.

  ‘Do you really want to destroy what the Heavens have given China?’ Chang quietly asked the boy.

  Zhou did not immediately reply. He initially looked sideways at his nearest comrade who was reading Mao’s Little Red Book and then returned to Chang and offered the older man a rancorous look.

  ‘Save your talk of Heaven you old clown. All of us despise your feudal superstitions,’ Zhou said. ‘Great Chairman Mao has promised to lead mankind to communism. The purification process begins with the annihilation of the likes of you and the end of your lies.’

  With that Chang knew he would not see his family again.

  A minute later The Hammer ordered them all to continue with their climb. It wasn’t long till they reached the sanctuary.

  Desecration

  It was pitch black inside the cave but the sound of steel hitting stone from outside could be heard. There were also muffled yells in Mandarin. Soon enough cracks of light emerged as a pick and iron bar broke through what Quintus built centuries earlier.

  The incoming wind unsettled a layer of fine dust that covered everything inside the cavernous room. Little by little, Han Dynasty period artifacts and murals emerged.

  When the cracks became the size of a small window The Hammer and his Red Guards stopped their efforts and momentarily peered inside the cave.

  The room’s largest object appeared to be a life size sculpture of a man meditating, sitting in the lotus position. As the entering breeze cleaned the statue’s surface, they noted that it wore decayed clothing and that it had long hair and protruding finger nails.

  The Hammer cleared additional stones and plaster from the wall, resulting in more light filling the cavern. It quickly became obvious to the Red Guard leader that the figure was not a statue but a living man — a Taoist sage in trance. Just as the villagers believed.

  Such ways must be wiped from the earth, The Hammer thought as he put in extra effort to widen the entrance.

  It didn’t take long for the Red Guards to make a gap big enough for them to enter the cave and once they were inside they began trashing and looting the room. The Hammer approached the still Taoist — Tai in a meditative state.

  ‘Take everything out, including him!’ yelled The Hammer pointing at Tai.

  Zhou was one of three Red Guards who dragged Tai out of the cave and onto the terrace. They unceremoniously dumped him beside the dead body of Chang who they had clubbed to death before they began work opening the cave.

  As his spiritual and physical body reunited, Tai slowly emerged from his deep meditative state. The three Red Guards stood over him, each unsure of what to do with this wizened remnant of the past.

  The Hammer exited the cavern, pulled out his pistol and gave it to Zhou.

  ‘Shoot him,’ The Hammer ordered.

  The teenager hesitated.

  ‘Zhou! Battle with Heaven, fight with the earth, struggle with humans — therein lies endless joy!’ The Hammer shouted.

  Zhou cocked the pistol, as per how he was shown how to do a week before, and then aimed it at Tai’s heart and pulled the trigger.

  The shot rang out across creation.

  The Funk

  Quintus awoke with such a shudder he initially thought the house had just been hit by a tremor or a minor earthquake. Quickly the stillness of the room convinced him otherwise. A dream perhaps?

  A feeling of oddness — bordering on unease — made him sit up. Next to him Kaitlyn slept soundly. She could sleep through a tornado without stirring if need be.

  After switching on the small bedside lamp, he looked at his wristwatch. It was just before midnight. He’d only been asleep for an hour but that’s half of what he usually needed anyhow.

  The bedroom door creaked open and Abby waddled in. Without an invite she got into her parents’ bed. Quintus moved over and gave her room in the center. He puffed up the pillow for her.

  ‘It’s cold daddy.’

  ‘I know bubby, try and sleep.’

  After two minutes she was doing just that, and Quintus got out of bed and went into the adjoining study where he sat at its timber desk. He put his head in his hands; trying to figure what was amiss but he couldn’t pinpoint what.

  By default, his thoughts shifted to how his wife would eventually figure he wasn’t ageing. How could he explain it away? Could she handle the truth? The only other option was for him to abandon his mission and not follow the Way and subsequently get old and die with her. Things he should’ve decided on before he proposed to her.

  He was like this, thinking useless thoughts, sitting in a funk, until 1 a.m. when he slipped into a slumber that lasted five fuzzy hours. It was his longest stretch of sleep for some time. Something was indeed amiss.

  The Asmodeus

  In telling you this fantastical tale I’m somewhat limited in what I can convey. I have to frame certain things in a way that you can relate to them, so I’ll start this part of the tale by telling you about a Catholic priest who was an exorcist by trade. No, he wasn’t a wayward cleric. He was legit and recently was on record describing a demon — called ‘Asmodeus’ — that attacks the family. Yes, there is such an entity. It’s a wicked creature first mentioned in the Old Testament. The Book of Tobit if I remember correctly. The priest said that he had fought such a fiend many times.

  Tai had done so as well, but in a different reality. In other dimensions, he fought off more than one Asmodeus. Many of them had been sent by the 13 Demon Kings of the Pit to attack Quintus and those he loved after he got married.

  However, Tai had found the Asmodeus easy enough to block. This of course changed following his death, much to the delight of the demon kings. After he was killed, the sage was separated from his body and he was sent spiraling through the universe. In such a state he could no longer provide protection for Quintus and his family.

  This allowed the demon kings to send in an Asmodeus one last time. As instructed it arrived early in the morning, two hours before sunup. This creature was unseen of course, at least to the human eye. It tried to enter Quintus’ house but was repelled by the goodness within it — or to be more exact, from the love of the family who called it home. For an Asmodeus to be effective there needed to be an existing gap in a family’s relationship to take advantage of. There was no gap among the Sheehans. The Asmodeus had been forewarned this may have been the case, so it took the next recommended course of action and entered the neighboring house of Andrei Vasiliev.

  Given the disgruntled widower had a cruel past, he proved easily manipulated as all wicked individuals are. The Asmodeus whispered dark tidings into one of Vasiliev’s sleeping ears for about an hour and then departed.

  When he awoke, Vasiliev was primed to do any dirty business required. As the sun emerged, the 68-year-old, wearing only grubby underwear, paced around his filthy kitchen in a silent
rage until he saw Quintus exit the house next door dressed in gym gear. Vasiliev muttered evil deeds as he watched his neighbor begin exercising.

  Reluctant Champion

  Still dressed in pajamas, Abby played with the sparkling wonderful things in a bronze jewelry bowl that usually sat on top of a chest of drawers in her parents’ room.

  Her mother was close by, making up the double bed and tucking in sheets. As Kaitlyn pulled up the cover her thoughts were of her husband, whose only fault, she believed, was his lack of ambition. Recently he declined an offer from his school that would have made him deputy headmaster. If he took it, the next promotion would have naturally been headmaster and she knew that is what the school wanted.

  A year earlier, Quintus had reluctantly taken on the role as head of the history department. Everyone admired him for his obvious qualities both as a teacher and person. Everyone but himself.

  But his humble nature was likewise one of the many manly traits that she loved about him. He never had a harsh word to say about anyone. Never in their time together had she seen him lose his temper or had they got anywhere near having an argument.

  Yet he was an enigma in other ways. Kaitlyn was sure he knew everything there was to know about her, but she felt that was not the case the other way around. She did not know much about his youth apart from how he was an orphan. He rarely discussed his backstory, including his time in the war. Nor did he care much to talk with her about those oriental exercises he did, typically early in the morning when it was still dark.

  ‘They’re something I just picked up and like to do,’ Quintus said when she first asked about them. No conversation followed. He instead preferred to talk at length about their life together or about their daughter, who she now noticed was pushing a foot stool towards a bedroom window.