Candle in the Attic Window(80)
With the fire burning so brightly, Lien can at last make out her surroundings. She is ensconced in a cavern with vaulted ceilings so high they are hidden in shadow. She can’t determine which way is the entrance; she licks a finger and raises it as high as she can, hoping to feel the chill breeze coming off the mountains, but the air is still.
Terrified and desperate, she tries to crawl around the fire to join Fa, hoping to find comfort beside her teacher. Constant pain sings in her head and every movement of her broken leg is excruciating. She is sobbing in agony by the time she reaches him. She grasps for one of his limp hands; unconsciousness swells up and over her and drags her down into darkness.
Again, Lien dreams, but this time, there is a pale man at her side, ministering to her injuries. He is mumbling in some foreign tongue, so quietly that she can barely make out the sounds. She tries to speak to him, but her words are only gibberish and he ignores her. She tries to make out his features, but they are indistinct; she can’t determine the colour of his eyes or the shape of his mouth, no matter how intently she focuses.
When next she wakes, she is still beside Fa, but she is on her back, once again looking up at the ceiling shrouded in darkness. Beside them, the fire burns low and a copper tea kettle nestled in the flames is whistling, the shrill sound echoing in the massive cavern. Baffled, Lien looks about for the invisible caretaker who put the kettle on the fire. The cavern remains empty and mysterious, giving up none of its secrets.
Her head protesting the whistling, Lien crawls to the fire and snatches out the kettle, barely avoiding burning her fingers. A copper cup rests beside the fire ring and she fills it with boiling water from the kettle. The scent of coffee rises up with the steam and Lien grimaces; she despises the American drink. She is desperate enough to drink a few mouthfuls of the bitter brew, however, much as she detests the strong flavour.
Next, she pours coffee for Fa, and awkwardly – ignoring the burning in her head and the cramping in her leg – she raises the cup to his lips. She pours a little into his mouth, and he sputters and spits it out without waking. The second time, she is more successful and he drinks a little, smacking and pursing his lips in displeasure.
Exhausted, Lien drinks a little more coffee and then returns to her prone position beside Fa. Her stomach burbles hungrily and she wonders whether their mysterious benefactor will provide them with food. She feels, at least, less afraid and more hopeful, with warm drink in her belly. She drifts off into a dreamless sleep.
When she wakes again, she is cold. The fire has died down to mere coals, and a fierce breeze has entered the cavern and spoiled their warm hideaway, carrying with it a flurry of snow.
Lien thinks she hears voices and sits up, crying out wordlessly and then shouting, “Here! We’re in here!” Her head feels as if it will split in two, so she collapses back to the dirt and remains silent, until the voices are louder and she can be sure she isn’t imagining the sound. She calls again. This time, she receives a faint reply.
“Li? Li?”
Is that … Bao?! She sits up again and calls to him, then has to stop because the pain in her head is unbearable. Darkness threatens to take her into unconsciousness again, but she won’t let it, not so close to rescue.
Finally, the voices are nearby, and she hears Bao saying, “Li? Li, is that you? You’re alive!” He appears beside her, his brown face suffused with joy, his smile wider than she has ever seen it.
“And Fa, too,” says another familiar voice: Foreman Storbridge, whose lumbering bulk appears behind Bao, looking down with disapproval at the injured workers. Several other workers, all Chinese, gather around him. They’re wearing heavy furs and boots. Some carry lanterns and climbing ropes.
“I’m alive; someone’s been taking care of us,” Lien tells Bao. Tears stream from her eyes. “They made us a fire and put splints on our broken bones. And there was coffee.” She casts about for the copper tea kettle with its matching cup, but both are gone.
Bao’s expression is worried as he looks at her broken leg.
“Who did this?” he asks.
“I don’t know,” Lien says. She starts to shake her head, but has to stop because of the pain.
“I only remember a pale man. I must have been feverish; I don’t remember much.”
“It’s good work,” he confesses. “This stranger saved your life.” Then he sighs and turns to her with earnestness sparkling in his black eyes. “I have to tell you; we thought you were dead. We came down here to look for a tunnel and collect your bodies.”
“But we’re not dead!” Lien declares.
“And it’s truly a miracle!”
Storbridge says something gruffly to Bao, so low and rapid that Lien doesn’t understand with her limited English. Bao replies; Storbridge walks away with a curt nod.
“We’re going to set up camp here and explore these caverns,” Bao explains. He gets up and goes to check on Fa, who remains unconscious, then returns to Lien. “I wish we knew who was taking care of you.”
“I’m sure he’ll return. He has to,” Lien offers. Her stomach growls and she laughs. “Until then, do you have some food?”
The workers are experienced in setting up camp rapidly. Tents are erected, the fire stoked to a healthy blaze, and tea kettles set to whistling within the hour. Both Lien and Fa are fed, though Fa is still unconscious and is given primarily tea. Lien devours dried fish and fruit from Bao’s rations, and gulps down hot tea while it’s still boiling.