The Night Tiger(105)

Ren wrinkles his brow. “Is there another one?”

She gives him a sideways look. “I don’t know. Come on!”

He doesn’t like the way she moves, her broken body inching forward, one shoulder bent and a leg dragging. No one should be able to walk with injuries like that, but he doesn’t ask about it. He’s afraid that she’ll grab his elbow again, the way she did earlier in that icy, bony clutch. But he’s sorry for her, and he can’t let her go alone. Besides, there’s a tiger in the tangle of grass and bushes. From time to time, he glimpses a lean striped shape, though whether it’s leading him on or warning him away, he can’t say. Ren has the sudden memory of an old man, a foreigner, wandering among the trees. It floods him with dread and pity and love, that dark loneliness, and he puts his head down and keeps walking.

They head towards the train station in the distance. How long have they been walking—months, days, or minutes? But at last they arrive. The train station is remarkably similar to the Batu Gajah Station. Long and low, with deep eaves to keep the rain and sun off, it has wooden benches and a large round clock. A train is waiting, the big steam locomotive gently hissing. People mill around the station, though when Ren looks at them directly, they flicker and fade away. It’s only out of the corner of his eye that he sees their blurred figures. A shadow child runs across the platform, clutching the hand of its mother who enfolds it as they climb into a carriage. For an instant, Ren envies that warm gesture.

“Hurry!” says his companion.

“Where are we going?”

She looks impatient and distracted. “Just get in!”

“I don’t even know your name.” A moment of doubt strikes him. Why should he follow this strange lady onto a train—after all, wasn’t he looking for someone else? He strains to remember. Yes, Nandani. “I can’t go with you, I’m looking for someone.”

“Don’t be silly! My name is Pei Ling,” she says. “I’m a nurse, so you ought to follow me.” But even she frowns, as though she can’t quite understand her own logic.

“No, thank you,” says Ren politely.

“Heavens! What a silly boy you are! Do come—I don’t want to go alone.” She makes a pitiful face, as though she’s the child and not him, and Ren wavers.

“All right,” he says, putting one hand on the lintel of the train door. As soon as he touches it, he feels a deep quiver, a vibration that shakes his field of vision. In that instant, he can see everyone clearly—all the other passengers who are sitting or standing or getting onto the train. But nobody gets off, and none of them have luggage.

Ren climbs in and there is Nandani, her heart-shaped face looking pensively out of the window. Delighted, Ren slides into the seat next to her. “Hello!”

But to his surprise, she looks frightened. “What are you doing here?”

“I was looking for you.”

“No, you mustn’t! Don’t follow me.”

Ren stares at Nandani, her curling hair and plump, pretty figure. Why isn’t she happy to see him?

“Come here, little boy,” says the nurse, Pei Ling, patting the seat. “Sit next to me.”

He shakes his head. He’d rather sit with Nandani than this pale lady with her crooked shoulder and dragging walk. In fact, the more he looks at Pei Ling, the more frightened he feels. He scoots next to Nandani, but she shakes her head anxiously. “Please get off. They’ll close the doors soon.”

Ren can feel a deep low humming, as though the entire track is a live wire. Yi lies that way, somewhere at the end of that track. He’s sure of it. The two young women are arguing now in harsh whispers. Nandani wants him to leave, but Pei Ling is stubborn and says he should stay if he wants to. She reaches out to grab his hand and Nandani gives a gasp of outrage.

“Don’t touch him!” she snaps.

“Why not? I already did.” And it’s true, the elbow that Pei Ling grabbed earlier is cold and numb now.

Ren feels worse and worse as they squabble. “I want to stay,” he says to Nandani. Her expression softens.

“All right,” she says. “We’ll go together.”

Ren closes his eyes, telling himself that it’s all right. He’s going to Yi.

There’s a twitch. An electric tingle. The quiet loneliness with its undertones of sadness and blood—the one that’s been drawing him onward, reminding him of the old man wandering in the darkness—winks out abruptly. His cat sense blazes up. The hair on his head rises, his skin constricts. He hasn’t felt a signal this strong, not since the hospital. Pictures flood him. A girl digging with a spade. A glass bottle, dropping into a hole. And the hole widens, becoming a grave. What—no, who is it? Ren’s heart is thudding wildly, the first time that he’s taken note of it since he’s come to this strange land. And all of a sudden, Ren realizes that he doesn’t want to ride this train anymore, not with Nandani and especially not with small, crooked Pei Ling with her icy hands.

But the doors are closing. He can hear them farther down the train as they slam shut, the sound getting nearer. Bang. Bang. The faint buzz, that promise of Yi farther down the line, weighs against him, pulling him down even as he struggles to rise, every nerve in his body twitching.

“What’s the matter?” cries Nandani.