The Long Siege - Chapter 6

This is where people hang, and where shady meetings can take place without being suspicious.

Previously on Act 1:

After his girlfriend Brooke dies of a suspected overdose—a death the police ruled suicide but left Harry as the prime suspect—he secures a research position in Missouri. At a convention, Elise Truong, a PhD candidate, offers him $900 for three interviews about overcoming trauma. He accepts. During their first session, he reveals his brutal past: sold to a gang as a child, tortured when he tried to leave.

After the interview, Brooke’s father attacks Harry, accusing him of murder. Elise intervenes and is stabbed. When the father suffers a heart attack, Elise convinces Harry to cover up the attack—sanitize the scene, lie to the police—to protect both their futures. Now they’re bound by a shared lie. And Harry still has one foot in the gang he’s desperately trying to escape.

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Chapter 6

By the time I arrive at the hospital, Uncle Tam is already in the emergency room. The nurse recognizes me peeking through the door and announces his name on the mic. They give me his phone, his purse, his bike key, and his clothes. I fill out the form and pay the ambulance fee for the man who ambushed me. It’s a small price to pay to access his personal belongings. I ask the nurse to check his ID chip and contact his next of kin. Everything is normal, just an accident, not even an accident, just a misfortune.

Slinking myself into a corner, I tap Brooke’s birthday on his phone, wrong passcode. I put in her deceased day, wrong again. One more try left. I can’t risk it, not when things are happening as I desire. I check his purse and find a parking ticket on the campus. How did he know I would be there? The answer lies on Elise. Or maybe he has been following me for quite some time. That’s why I always have the feeling someone is watching me. Even now, the tinge still lingers. CCTV makes me itch, not for fear of being seen, I can scramble feeds in minutes, but because someone else can scramble them too and plant a story. CCTV, the campus, the last time I checked, the electricity was out. He must have cut it before he jumped on me. Even then, a campus won’t usually have surveillance at the porch, unlike residential buildings. I can’t even go back to double check, fuck, I swear in my head.

The nurse calls me and says I can visit uncle Tam in the ER now. I hesitate for a brief moment but it would be suspicious if I don’t go. The confined space has rows of medical beds. It looks sterile and is beeping with monitors, and the smell of antiseptic feels like an invasion to my nose. Half of the people are in ventilation support, some just arrive with traffic wounds and awaiting surgery. This is what hell in myth looks like, but instead of heat, you get chill, instead of demons, you get angels in white. Nevertheless, you are suffering the same pain, you rejuvenate, just to suffer again on another day. It’s a twisted way of thinking, I know, but it is what it appears in my head.

Uncle Tam is not awake, but the machine shows steady survival signals. The last time I was standing like this, looking at a patient, I was with Brooke. Her skin was cold, lips blue, skin so pale. Drug overdose, that’s what they say in the official record. There’s no struggle and she has a letter saying her regret and guilt and confession to her parents. And I, the primary suspect who happened to be on the scene, has the alibi that she took those pills and drugs fifteen minutes before I appeared in her apartment. Why does this man still not believe logic and authority?

I put his stuff on the bed, then my hand on his. Sorry I can’t understand your pain for I don’t have a father who would do this for me. Mine forces me to sell lottery tickets after school so he can get insider knowledge. Mine hosts a gambling den when I’m in the kitchen, doing homework. Mine worries more about his roaster when he’s taken by the police than his own ten years old son. I cook that chicken with yogurt and curry and share it with my fellow urchins gang. Most of them didn’t make it to adulthood, only Vinny, the little one. You can’t be my undoing, the word rings a cold prayer in my mind as I look at uncle Tam one last time, you have to live.

I have to leave. At least, I have to slink out of sight before his wife or whoever comes. A thought crosses my mind and I stay, hiding myself behind a tree trunk near the entrance of the emergency department. Elise. Her appearance and these events feel like a relentless ambush on my peace. Can she be an accomplice to this family? Can she be Brooke’s sister? It’s hard to believe because their facial structures are very different and I see no alteration of Elise or Brooke’s nose. The only similarity is in their boldness in approaching me, their confidence, their tactic and sharp wits.

The clock is tickling, I need to be somewhere else. I switch off my phone’s alarm or turn it to silent. The rain has ceased, leaving the road flooded. A good reason for my late arrival at the gang’s meeting. I wait for another fifteen minutes and there she is, aunty Kim, Brooke’s mother. I watch her hurry from the parking lot to the emergency room, my eyes zoom at her wrist. No gold bracelets, she is not the one who put Brooke’s key in my pawn shop.

Unsatisfied with the result, I get on my bike and ride to the Jade Dragon’s ancestral house. I stop at a gas station to fill up my tank and my phone flashes again. The uncles of the gang again, pulling the leash on my throat. I sit trapped at a red light, and people, just like what people would do on a Sunday night after being trapped at their house by the storm, pouring out on the street, looking for nothing but fresh air and a brief oblivion of their concrete room. The neon signs of pho and streetfoods come after I make a turn into the busy street of district five. This is where people hang, and where shady meetings can take place without being suspicious.

The ancestral house looms at the end of an alley. The entrance looks like a slumdog house with no people maintaining its ancient structure, but inside, the house starts spreading to both sides. Originally, it was a family run factory producing plastic bags and cheap helmets. Now abandoned, but the smell of burnt plastic lingers. I turn off my bike’s engine the moment I’m at the far side of the alley. This particular alley is the Jade Dragon’s territory. All those houses on both sides are theirs. A few of them are preparing food for the mobile street vendors like dirty sticks and congee.

I breathe for a moment, allowing myself to adjust to the atmosphere. I have to get rid of the other life I’ve built. The scholarship acceptance letter, the digital driver’s license in my email, the seed in my pocket—talismans of a future where his biggest concern would be protein triggers and academic rivalries—a life of clean, clinical order, a world away from the smell of blood and wet burlap. I am Harry, the upriser now. My gait becomes quicker, knees bend, back bend, like a cat on the hunt.

My phone flashes again. I know you, murderer. An anonymous message at a terrible timing. This Harry won’t care unless there’s proof. I leave my bike there, not even locking it. My last meeting with my old life is more important now.

I pass several checkpoints, and a third of them answer to me. It’s just that they don’t know that. The uncles are waiting, arranged around a table like a tribunal. Uncle Ty, his face wears a roadmap of old violence like a badge of honor, is the still center of the storm. Uncle Long, bald and short and fat, sitting lazily, puffing out smoke in figure O.

“You keep us waiting, little husband,” Ty said, the two syllables dragged out like a verdict. He didn’t look up from pouring tea; he let the word hang, as if testing whether it would stick. “Your mind is already on the plane, perhaps? Forgetting the hands that fed you when you were a starving dog.”

The sound lands somewhere under my ribs. I pretend it’s just nothing to me, but the memory it dredges in my mind says different. I smile and take the offered seat, the old wood groans under my weight. “The hands that fed me also put a leash on me, uncle Ty. I haven’t forgotten. But you are not that one. Would you like to hold my leash?”

A few of the other men shift uncomfortably, but uncle Ty’s lips peel back in something that isn’t a smile. “Showing your fangs already?” His eyes, dark and depthless, finally lift to Harry’s. “Young people’s weakness, too eager to bite, forget to look behind their back.” He rotates his teacup with one finger. “And their fights always leave messes that my old bones have to clean up.”

The words hang in the air, forcing me to decipher its true meaning. Messes. Is it the botched attack by Brooke’s father? The lingering police interest from her death? Or is it a more direct threat, a confirmation that they know about my private plans, my true destination? His finger is still rotating his teacup, like he dangling thread on a muppet, and I’m the cup, the muppet.

“I’m thorough,” I reply, my voice even. I meet Ty’s gaze, a silent duel in the smoky room. “I understand the importance of a… sterile environment. For new growth.”

Uncle Long cuts through the tension. “The new forest in Missouri, where you just secured. We have a man there. He will meet you and guide you around the roads.” He slides a piece of paper across the table. An address. A name. And a copy of my plane ticket. He even writes a note on a domain name of a gambling site I plan to host over there.

My blood runs cold, but my face is a mask of calm. Columbia, Missouri, where Professor Schmidt’s lab is located. A different life entirely, the one they have tracked me down even now. Their arms are long, and still firmly attached to my neck. Let them see more teeth, let them see a mad dog. Missouri is a diversion, even Schmidt. California with its turmoil is a more fitting place for me.

“The business there is small, thirsty,” Uncle Ty continues, watching my every reaction. “You will help it grow. Many things are relying on your shoulders, little husband. Your education, your… cleverness.” He leans forward slightly, the scent of jasmine tea and cheap cigarettes enveloping my face. “Do not become a failed investment. Failed investments are… liquidated.”

This is the second time he calls me ‘little husband’, just to remind me that he is the big one, the legitimate one of Aunty Three. He is still trying to have the upper hand and speak like he is granting permission to me to become his pioneer. “So I’m summoned here just so you could ambush me?” I ask, then light up my cigarette. The smoke raft around the old pillar, dispersing into the dim red light of the altar.

Uncle Long’s usual tapping rhythm begins its chorus on the table. “My daughter and Ty’s son will come within a year.” He waits until I lock eyes with him. “A lawyer and an accountant, just like the vision you told Aunty Three years ago.”

I nod and puff another deep smoke. “You dare to let them fall into my hands?” The rash of smoke burns in my throat and nostril as I speak.

“She’s as stubborn as I am,” he continues, “I can only stop her cursed obsession with you that far. Then,” he snaps his fingers. “‘If you marry my daughter, it would be a blessing to our… partnership.”

I can sense the heat rising from Ty’s side of the table. Long just played a critical card. It’s two against one now, any wrong speech now will corner Ty to an alcove he can’t climb out. Come on, spit your bitter words. Be your usual self, Ty.

“Great idea, such an alliance will forge our triarchy in blood,” Ty says, “May the legacy of the Jade Dragon pass down to eternity.” He pours us tea again, this time with his left hand when he does mine cup. That’s ‘fuck you, fuck off’ in our code.

I shoot uncle Long an amusement look and I think he understands what I think now. Ty has changed. He still hates me with a passion, but he’s retreating after Long’s proposal. I blaze my eyes a bit as if I’m angry at his manner, then I hold my cup in a way to bait his rage. It doesn’t work but it’s worth a try. “We will make a fortune. I promise. About the marriage pact… It’s too soon to seal. America is a place of guns and dynamite. I may die there before meeting your kids.” My eyes never left Ty’s face. I know he knows his son grew up with Linh and always has a crush on her. The game uncle Long has just played is another saw to our dangling thread of trust. “In the meantime, I see we are late.”

Uncle Long sips his tea slowly. “The artisans are coming. Cursed storm delayed the train.”

Uncle Ty dumps his half-finished cigarette into the ashtray. “Same, shit storm delays my boats.” Then he pours leftover tea onto the dying cigarette.

“Let’s drink and hope this cursed storm ends soon. For when the sun reappears, it smiles on us with golden light,” I say, matter of fact. The ancestral house is under renovation to become a porcelain factory. That’s how we smuggle stuff, through artistic objects. And my plan is to make them so expensive that people will just gloss over them with a disdain, all I need is a renowned company. “The brothers are hungry, shall we feast?” I ask, but it isn’t a question.

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