Originally written September 8, 2006
Nights like these typically start with a bang.
Hong Kong. Seven million lives. Each of them finding their way on an island not meant for half their number. I’m surprised we haven’t sunk to the bottom of the ocean by now. During the day, the bodies flow to and about their lives, in and out of traffic, as if the ground moved as the walked. Even if you managed to budge way through the traffic, there were no deep breaths to be taken. Unless you enjoy a metallic taste in the back of your throat. The summer sun bearing down on the island just off the equator serves a reminder that best you be in heaven for a half an hour before the devil knows your dead.
In a city that sleeps, the night can give way to a feeling of remoteness. You know there are thousands of people around you, on every block, in every window. But they are in there homes, for lack of a better word. These are the streets. They belong to the night.
The bang. Specifically, a .38 caliber Tauras model double action revolver. A Saturday night special. One of those short barreled guns you’d imagine an old lady pull out of her purse. But no one was too concerned with the details.
If you followed the bang towards the night sky, you would see city skyline framed by unspoiled mountains and stars, millions of brilliant dots shining down upon us in that park. Following the bang back to its origin, the picture becomes slightly less tranquil.
There stood a man and a gun. The gun we’ve all ready met. If you can tell a lot about a man by the type of sports car he drives, maybe you can say the same for the peace that he carries. Our friend stood at about five foot nothing, spikey long hair like you’d see in some crappy anime cartoon. His first shot straight into the sky was meant as a warning. Either that, or wang chung wasn’t the world’s best marksman. He began to yell in some form of gibberish I haven’t mastered yet. The kids playing basketball, presumably, were at full attention. Usually a gun being waved gathers one’s attention.
I sat there on a concrete bench as I had been for the past hour. Two empty bottles next to me, I slowly worked on the third one as the second act commenced. The man with the gun paid no attention to the half dozen of us sitting off to the side of the court. He had other things on his mind. Few minutes earlier I was laughing with the boys around me at the sloppy game that was unfolding in front of us. I was the only one still laughing.
The man with the gun looked like he had fired his sports car once or twice before, there was no shaking of the hand, there was no flinching at the recoil. As he was yelling at the kids, another group of young lads came up from behind us. Dressed like boyz in the hood rejects, or at least the rejects asian counterparts, they walked on to court with a sense of authority, like they owned this park and they didn’t like kids cutting across it.
Now was a time for concern to be entering the picture. Might have been the beer or just my lack of real quality social skills with the Chinese, but by the time I started backing up I realized my fellow amateur scouts had made their exit a while back.
Slowly I made my way to my feet, not wanting to make any sudden movements. Like staring down a snake, you figure the slower you move, the stupider it gets. It just about worked. Glass bottles make a lot of noise when no one is talking but the thoughts in your head. The five in the thick of it turn and see the white boy. More gibberish from wang as he motions to one of his guys in my direction. His attention returns to the group on the court. Tall skinny and not blessed with much in the looks department, the object of his demands starts walking in my direction. You tend to notice if someone is staring you down. You also tend to notice if his hands are in his pockets. They were. I was gone.
I turned and ran. I was pumping my legs up the dirt hill and into a grassy field. No bigger than a city block, I ran with everything I had in me. I made it to the fence. The trouble with fences, they usually are high off the ground. And here I was without a ladder.
I spun around and looked for tiny. I couldn’t see ten feet let alone someone in the dark looking for me. There was a moment of reckoning upon one of us. My heart beat so loud I could hear it in my throat; I could feel myself boiling over. Sweating through my clothes. The heat of the night burned my lungs. I listened. Nothing but the heart beat. Nothing….Something. To my right I see someone move and I let left cross fly. I don’t if I was more surprised that I hit something or that something was there to be hit. Exposed I kicked low to where I imagined a knee would be. I could make him out now, and I unleashed upon him. He never had a chance to fight back. Twenty seconds, twenty minutes, time stood still before I got moving. I had with me his jacket, this red sleeveless vest that had some of those china symbols patched on.
Everything told me to run. Assessed the situation, and leave. I wasn't listening. Foreign country, minding your own business, getting out alive. None of it made sense, I couldn't feel anything. I made my way back to the basketball court. I am a man possessed.
Enraged, feeling invincible, and thinking of the beer I lost and the skinny laying behind me. Fists bleeding, don't even notice. The heat filled the night, there was no escaping the red as it washed over me. I was going back to where it all went down. Trouble had come to me in great dark swarms.
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