The Night Tiger(86)

But he was fading. The world was fading back to grey, and struggle as I might, I could only gasp and thrash as my mouth and face were covered with a choking softness.

“Yi!” I screamed. “Leave Ren alone!”





30

Batu Gajah

Sunday, June 21st




Ren’s eyes flutter open. Close. Open again. There’s a dryness in his mouth, a thick feeling in his head, as though someone has stuffed it with cotton wool. An unfamiliar face swims into view. A foreign woman, her hair pinned severely back with a white cap.

“He’s awake.”

Another face. It’s William. Mouth tight and strained. Two lines are etched deeply under his eyes. “Ren, can you hear me? We’re at the hospital.”

The hospital. That explains the feeling of empty air around him, the hollow length of a hospital ward. The bed is bigger, too, longer than the cot Ren sleeps on. There’s a heaviness on his left side, and he can’t feel his arm at all.

“Does it hurt?”

Under the layers of numbness, there’s pain in Ren’s body. A deep ache that’s buried by some artificial means. The light is bright; it’s daytime already.

“Mr. Acton, you’d better go home now.” It’s the nurse. “You’ve been here all night.”

“Just a moment, Sister.” William turns back to him.

How strange. Ren can see all these threads coming from William now. Gossamer threads that spew out, like the unraveling of a silkworm. He’s never been able to see them before, only felt their spark of energy. But now his cat sense is stronger than ever, or perhaps it’s just that his body is so broken. He knows it without even looking at William’s haunted face.

“Ren, I’m so terribly sorry. I shot you last night.”

So that’s what it was, the flash and the roar that tore him apart. Ren looks at William with wide, unblinking eyes.

“But you’ll be all right. Well, almost. You’ve lost a lot of blood but we managed to take out most of the shot. It was the wadding around the shot that really worried me—infection in the soft tissues, you know.” William’s jaw is moving like a clockwork toy that’s been wound too far.

“Mr. Acton!” It’s the nurse again. “That’s quite enough!”

William stops. Passes a tongue over dry lips. “Yes, of course. If you need anything, let me know.”

It’s hard to speak; Ren’s throat is so parched. “Nandani,” he says. His eyes signal a question.

William stares at him blankly. “Ah. Nandani. I don’t know where she is. Don’t worry—she’s bound to turn up.”

No, you have to find her! Ren’s anguished expression cuts like a knife. William makes a tight grimace. “Of course we’ll find her. All right? Just … rest now. It’s very important that you get some rest.”



* * *



Ren sinks back into half sleep. Dimly, he’s aware of doors opening and shutting. The sun climbs higher then starts to wane, though Ren doesn’t know what day it is. Somewhere, his body is getting weaker and colder, or is it feverishly hot? His painful side is examined, the bulky dressing on his arm unwrapped.

“—bleeding again. Looks bad.”

“—risk of infection.”



* * *



Ren closes his eyes. Behind them, another landscape unfurls, bright and burning like a fever dream. And there it is, the tiger that he’s feared for so long. It stands before him, unbelievably large. Lean muscular bulk tapering into a twitching tail. This isn’t the moth-eaten, forlorn tiger skin that’s stretched out on the floor of William’s study, or the wraithlike white creature Ren has imagined, wandering in the jungle with Dr. MacFarlane’s face. It’s simply a huge, bright beast. An animal that he cannot comprehend. Surprisingly, Ren feels no fear, just an overwhelming sensation of relief.

So that’s what you are, he thinks, though it seems undignified to address it.

The stripes on its brilliant coat ripple; the yellow eyes glare like lanterns. Ren can only drop his gaze. The tiger makes a deep hrff sound. Then it turns and walks away, with a deliberate tread that’s heavy and delicate at the same time. Where is it going?

In the shimmering landscape, Ren sees a familiar shedlike outline—a railway station, just like the one he boarded at Taiping when he took his first and only train ride after Dr. MacFarlane’s death. It seems quite natural to follow. He takes a step forward. Then he remembers something.

“Nandani—where is she?” he calls after the tiger.

There is no answer, only the white tip of its tail swaying hypnotically. Then he sees them: the uneven tracks of a woman’s feet. Slender, pretty footprints, the left leg dragging in a limp.

“Is Nandani here?” If she is, she must be heading towards the station. Ren takes another step. The tiger turns its head and snarls. Is that a warning? Ren doesn’t know, but his side hurts, a fiery pain that spreads through his body, up his useless left arm and hand. Gritting his teeth, Ren forces himself to walk on, following the footprints towards the train station.





31

Ipoh

Sunday, June 21st




A crash. The breath was knocked out of my body, my face pressed against a hard, cool surface. For a moment I lay there, motionless.