September 1, 1969. The Year of the Cock (Xiao at age 20)

Feng Xiao forced his feet to touch the rock-packed surface gently, as if each toe was a blind man's cane, relying on his stealth, as he fled along the top of the Great Wall. Down one hundred steps, up eighty, he gasped for air, relying on his gut for the stamina to continue. Then he heard the gun shots and turned his head for an instant, glimpsing a flash of light as another shot spit out its hatred into the darkness of the night and he flew along the top of the ancient wall, lungs bursting, as he sucked in hurried gasps of the frigid November air, praying to the ancient goddess, Kuan-Yin, for help.

I've run an hour, Feng Xiao thought, thank the gods I haven't passed the stairs leading to the river and the cavern. Xiao struggled, eating huge mouthfuls of frosty air as he felt for landmarks in the overcast night. Where are the stairs? I can't see the stars? I must get to the river. I must make it to the cavern, otherwise the men will kill me, or… Xiao paused for a moment, touching the Great Wall with his left hand, trying to find the opening that led to the stairs, then, instinctually, he cradled his testicles with his right hand. He didn't want to think about Sung Li's alternatives, the room, the table, the pain. Why can't I be free? Why must I run for nothing more than being me?

Xiao stumbled, slipping on the two-thousand-year-old ramparts, accidentally battering his arms and legs against the bulwarks. The cavern's down two angular flights of stairs, he thought. One's as steep as a ladder; the other's like a henhouse ramp.

Another gunshot splintered the silence of the night. They're close. I can sense them. I must-

A third terrifying shot rang out behind him and Xiao crouched down, mere centimeters from the battlement, squat-running with his tail in the air, like a frightened cat, tummy to the ground, palms and knees scraping against the pebbles as a millennium of dirt ate into the air. Twice he skinned his ankles against the rugged stones, once he banged his elbow against the wall. Then, rounding a bend, he sensed he was near the exit to the river. I'm almost safe now, Xiao thought as he slowed to a lion's swagger, feeling his way like Wen Zhen-Nan, the seventy-two-year-old blind poet in his village of Shouxian. Slithering on kneecaps and elbows like a baby crawling for the first time, Xiao's left hand rubbed: wall, wall, wall, wall, wall, wall, wall, then…nothing-This is it; I've found the stairs.

Xiao's heart pounded as loudly as the threshing stone that crushed his father's grain, but he wasn't sure if was from the fear of Sung Li or the joy of finding his escape route; either way he felt another surge of adrenalin oozing through his capillaries, filling him with its vigor. Xiao hobbled fifty meters further along the rampart, purposing passing the staircase; then he released a torrent of his piss up and down the wall before he crept back to the narrow gap. If they bring the dogs, they'll smell my scent and head straight ahead until they realize they've lost me. Xiao chuckled, let them chase my demon scent to hell; perhaps I'll have enough time to escape by the time they realize their mistake; maybe I'm smarter than the police after all.

Hand, foot, hand, foot, hand, foot, Xiao Feng monkey-climbed down the steep ladder-like staircase angling to the Stygian river below. Then he scurried down to the ramp-like stairs that would put him in the river that flowed near the base of the cavern. I know every rock in the river; if I make it there, I can swim to the cavern, and I'll be free to love Wu Jiang. If I can only make it to the river, Sung Li will never molest me again.

Feng slipped, gouged his right knee, and stifled a scream as he felt the blood oozing out of his leg onto the rocky ground. I pray to Kuan-Yin that the policemen didn't bring the dogs; please, great goddess, just men, not dogs. Men are evil enough-but dogs? Xiao lay quietly for a moment, trying to examine his wound in the darkness, feeling the size of the gash, keeping the blood from the walls, absorbing all of it, knowing the terror he'd feel if just one drop ended up behind him-if one dog…Xiao pressed the cloth of his cotton trousers deep into the wound, trying to stop the blood from flowing. He could feel the cotton fibers meshing into his wound, but he could also smell his sweat…his blood. Please God, no dogs, no dogs, no dogs-

For a moment, Xiao lay on the unforgiving rocks, but he knew the moment was merely a vaporous luxury; he knew he didn't have time to suffer now, he knew he had to move. Painfully, he rolled onto his back, heaving in agony and breathlessness as he panted great white clouds of boy mist into the cold uncaring night. Shivering violently, he realized he was beyond the point where his teeth merely chattered on this frosty night-he was frozen now-frozen colder than the ice-capped mountains near his father's native village of Urumqi. He could barely feel his toes, his fingers were frozen as one-like a hand that had fallen asleep, tingling, excruciatingly painful, helpless, hopeless.

It had been unseasonably warm when Xiao left home early that morning, but now night had erupted like a swooping owl out of the forest and the morning dew had turned to ice. The temperature had plummeted from shirt-sleeved warmth to wool coat fury-but Xiao wasn't wearing wool when he fled. He'd dashed from his mother's house naked, grabing nothing but a thin cotton shirt, trousers and shoes, which he flung on as he raced away. He hadn't even had time to find his underwear and now his tiny balls clinked between his legs like ice pellets in a winter storm.

Thank the gods, Wu Jiang left before the police came. I only wish mother hadn't seen me naked: Father will beat me, if I live long enough to see him again, but mother will neither forget nor forgive my shame.

Feng Xiao wept as he struggled to run again. His arms and legs were ice and his tears had frozen to his cheeks.

The villagers will shun me, if my father doesn't beat me, if the Communists don't torture me, if the policemen don't kill me. Xiao couldn't understand how everything had turned against him so quickly. This morning he was in love and his boyfriend, Wu Jiang, who had vowed to stay with him forever, but now everything had changed and Xiao had nothing to rely on except the inner core of his brain and legs that were the fastest in the village.

Xiao needed to sob; he needed to put his head on his granny's shoulders and weep like a baby, but he was a man now and he sensed he would never cry again. Now, as he fled the injustice of China's police force, Xiao remembered his quiet moments with Jiang-gently caressing Jiang's chest, kissing his lips, rubbing his inner thighs, holding him, hugging him. Xiao felt so complete then, so fulfilled, but now he was empty and alone. Jiang, come to me. Come to me!

A dozen tiny icicles slid down Xiao's cheeks now, but he didn't have time for self-pity. All he had left inside him was running time-fleeing China's unjust laws! Escaping the hatred and running, running, runming away from the terror! As more tears flowed down Xiao's face, he wiped his hand across his cheeks-grabing his tears two by two and shoving his hands deep inside his pockets. I'll save my tears for Jiang, he thought, I'll save them for the day we're both free.

Xiao slipped on the icy stones, sliding nearly a meter before he finally fell flat on his back, thumped his head against an outcropping rock, and blacked out. When he awoke, he heard the distant sound of barking and terror consumed him. It's Sung Li and he has brought the dogs! Xiao, still frozen in panic, listened motionlessly, unable to breathe, unable to move. Then he realized that his urine trail had worked! The dogs were hurrying down The Great Wall's unending roadway; they had passed the staircases. Sung Li missed the trail. I will escape!

Xiao rose, hobbling and stumbling, as once again he fell onto the slippery moss-covered rocks. He twisted his left ankle and gouged his left thigh. His foot tingled in pain; it felt as if someone had stuck seven hundred tiny pins into his naked flesh, and still, the cold, uncooperative night refused to clot his blood.

Xiao shivered, knowing he had to stop the bleeding. He ripped off his shirt, trembling and shivering in the frigid night air. Then he tore his shirt into strips and wrapped them around his bleeding thigh.

The blood continued to seep over the bandage. It's a bad wound, Xiao thought. But I can't go back; I can never go back. I must get to the cave-I have everything I need there-if only I can get to the cave! Xiao stopped thinking and started to limp-run, limp-run, limp-run, struggling like a wounded panda, angry and in heat. I have no other choice. I must find the cave!

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Sung Li stopped when he ultimately realized he'd been following a false trail. "Turn the damned dogs around! The boy has fooled us; the little queer fooled us!" Three minutes later, the dogs discovered the real trail and howled out their delight. "Shine the lights over there, Han. What's that? Blood? Is Feng Xiao bleeding? Let the dogs lick his blood-God knows they'll taste it again soon enough."

Han hesitated for an eye blink before releasing the dogs.

"We'll save enough of him for you and your men," Li screamed, "I don't want this to happen fast…you and your men will have plenty of time to play with the little faggot. Just find him now. Hurry!"

Han and the rest of the men laughed wickedly, as they pictured Feng Xiao trusted up naked, his legs spread wide apart, their knives slicing him, their batons probing him, trying to find out what made the boy so different-so perverse-so fucking queer.

Sung Li thought about the tiny room adjoining his office, savoring his memories, visualizing the "the boy's table." I built that table for boys like Xiao. It's served me five years! I've had most of them and now I'll have Feng Xiao; I must have this boy! Xiao tried to turn Jiang into a queer. I'll make him pay; I'll either end his perversion or die in the struggle.

The dogs barked loudly, pulling at their leashes, struggling to be free. They had found the double staircase leading to the river, but it was too steep for the men to lead the dogs and since they could not climb down together, Sung Li signaled Han to release the dogs. Almost immediately, the lead dog jumped four meters down the first staircase, scurried down the second staircase and raced toward the river as Sung Li and his men monkey-climbed down the steep ladder-like staircase-right hand-right foot. Then left hand-left foot and on and on, monkey like in their descent. Meanwhile, the remaining dogs flew over their heads as dog, man, dog, man, dog, man, dog, climbed, jumped, and flew down the stairs, closing in for the blood. . . the boy. . .the kill.

Five dogs tore down the rugged path, scratching back great dust storms of rock chips and dust as they scurried toward their prey.

"Damn," Han screamed, "I've been hit in the eye."

"Pain is pleasure," Sung Li laughed as he thought of Feng Xiao lying naked on his torture table. "Hurry, the dogs are stopping; they've found Feng Xiao."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The sound of the dogs terrorized Xiao as they came toward him. Xiao could hear their yelps and snarls; he could picture their cold white fangs. Jiang says I never sweat, but now I'm dripping and if the dogs smell me, they'll kill me. Xiao's flesh crept up and down his arms like the rats that had abandoned Changshou, his mother's hometown, each time the Yangtze flooded. When they find me, they'll chew me to bits, and the men'll laugh until I scream and sob like the girl they think I am. Then they'll tie me to a pole like a wild pig and carry my naked body through the village Xiao was too frightened and too cold to shiver now. He knew he had to find a way to survive, but in his mind, he was already naked, bleeding, and dangling from a pole, and no matter how hard he tried, he was unable to erase the vision. He literally felt himself being heaved up and down in the air like a captured hog-he heard the little children giggling-he smelled the sweat of his unending fear.

Xiao was trapped between the icy river and the snarling dogs and he stared out through the blackness, hearing the torrent of the ice-filled river more than seeing its flow, sensing its presence, knowing where it must be, knowing it was free, knowing he would be free, too, as soon as he slid into the safety of its raging river.

Without a sound or a screech, Xiao lowered himself over the edge of the cliff, as he dangled his legs high over the torrent below; then, thinking only of his love for Wu Jiang, he opened all eight fingers at once and, like eight rifles going off simultaneously, he plunged backwards into the river.

Xiao wanted to open his mouth to scream, but he was powerless-his vocal cords were frozen; his throat was solid ice now and he couldn't scream, he couldn't talk…he couldn't even whisper. He didn't know what was more frightening-the men with their rifles, the dogs with their hideous fangs, the cold stones closing in around him, drowning in a freezing river, or being alone, eternally away from Wu Jiang. Xiao's body numbed, but the bleeding stopped the instant he plunged into the unforgiving river. Xiao lost all sense of feeling in his legs. He floundered in the icy water, keeping afloat only by flapping his arms, trying to propel himself into the current, and praying for the strength and mercy of the goddess, Kuan-Yin.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The dogs raced down to the shore, almost in Xiao's face now, tearing and snapping, mere centimeters away, lunging in for the kill just as Xiao was tugged under the rapids, less afraid of drowning than of being eaten alive, chewed and devoured by the snarling dogs. Then the river swept him away and the growls dissipated and all Xiao heard were the echoes of the shouting policemen, a faint rifle shot, and dogs howling in frustration and then there was silence.


On to Chapter Two
The Great Wall
Complete Chapter List

The Scot Walker Story Page

Tarheel Writer Home Page

I'd love to hear what you think!  Leave me a comment on our contact us page.