The sky was as blue as the ocean, calm and consuming of all thoughts that drifted towards it. Across its immense surface, like brushstrokes across a canvas, thin wisps of clouds high above the land scurried along invisible tides of wind, quickly moving in the scheme of things. There was no threat of looming rain, no black taint on the horizon for the people, with their rubble homes and fragile tents, to worry about. The weather had been philanthropic in Sai Yok, but that was as far as generosity went in a city that, only weeks before, had once stood tall and proud, a defiant testament to the ebb and flows of the eternal war between civilization and nature.
Below, the sound of footfall echoed across the blasted cityscape, the many facings of debris scattering the source. Even the corporate office buildings had fallen, distributing from their hulks tonnes of cement, twisted steel, and paper that drifted and meandered through those parts of the city. Here, less than a mile from what had been downtown, those papers found their way through an alleyway, before becoming pasted to the dirty path by a storm maybe days before. Now, a boot ripped it apart as it planted itself into the ground firmly, its occupant obviously in a hurry.
Seri knew he had no time left as he rushed through what was left of a residential district. Many of the tenements, constructed under old Communist policies, had been left to weather the polluted air. Now blackened residue hung from windows like the laden eyes of a tired and overworked man. Seri hustled around a corner, pausing for a moment to collect his breathe. His ears focused, intently listening for the sound of someone following him. He waited for only a few moments, but those moments seemed a lifetime each.
His fears became realized, however; the hustling of several other pairs of footsteps softly echoed down the corridor. Panicking, Seri quickly hurried along the side of the building and towards a door buried in the otherwise spartan facing of the structure. The glass had been broken, shattered most likely by the shockwaves of pressure from nearby shelling. He crouched low, maneuvering his way under the central rail. A broken stairway led higher into the building, and each step creaked as the old wood resisted the weight of his body. The painting over the brick along the walls, an aging beige stained by water, had begun to strip in places. The hallway of the second floor was much the same as the first, dark and empty. There was no lighting in this part of the city, the power had long since gone as had the running water. He peered down the hallway for a moment, testing his own gut. He felt like going up one more flight, each stair again creaking. By the time he got to the top, he could hear the feint crackle of feet on glass. He looked down, below him men dressed in casual clothes stood around, looking for something.
Their disguises were given away by the official aura they emanated from themselves. He knew better than to linger and find out for sure, though. He pushed down the hallway just in time to avoid a quick glance by the agents below. He looked at all the doors, checking them all. He could take one of the many empty, abandoned rooms. But that would be obvious, they'd do a thorough search. He had to find one that was occupied, and as he lurked deeper into the darkness, he paid ever closer attention to the thin slivers of light that crept from crack beneath the doors. He saw a shadow move within one, number 322.
He grabbed the doorknob and pulled out a pistol hiding under his jacket. It was unlocked - fortune smiled on him today. He pushed it open quickly and closed it behind him, taking in the new scenery quickly. There were four rooms he could see: a bedroom, a living room/kitchen, a bathroom, and a closet. He was standing in the living room, the light from the window illuminating his new quarters. He held the pistol carefully and peered into the kitchen, two shadows moved slowly within. He could hear a faint murmur, and another one make the distinctive sound "shh".
He pointed the gun at the kitchen just as the face of a girl peeked to see him. She tried to hide, and he could hear her scrambling across the kitchen. She was probably looking for a knife. He moved to the kitchen quickly, around a wooden table and over the worn floorboards beneath him. He aimed the pistol at the woman, who shouted at him. She held a knife in her hand, but she was not stupid enough to believe her knife would have a chance against him. Not at this range.
"Ga-roo-naa-hai-naawy,"(Please help) Seri pleaded with the woman, with one hand he tried to gesture her to be quiet. He knew by now that the agents were likely looking through the floors. "Phoot-bao-bao-naawy-dai-mai-khrap" (Would you please be quiet)
The woman seemed to hesitate, her brain rationalizing the outcomes of the situation. Obviously she was smarter than many, as she began lowering the knife cautiously.
"Khon-mee-laeng-gohp-daan-khrap?" (Do you have a place to hide?)
He could tell she was thinking, but he still had his weapon pointed at her. A small voice murmured from the corner, and it was then that he noticed she had a small son. He began lowering his weapon when he saw the boy, and the mother hurried to him, wrapping her arms around him protectively.
"Dtiang-naawng" (In the bedroom) She grudgingly gave him her support. He could hear their footsteps outside, and he knew that the woman had seen his head turn to the door. Anticipating what happened next, she walked into the living room as he hurried into the bedroom. He looked around, using every ounce of his brain to fathom where the hiding place would be. He lifted the sheets, glanced in the closet, nothing seemed good. The boy came in and looked at Seri before pointing to the floorboards; under the bed there was a raised floor. There was enough space to squeeze under, but only barely so. He helped the boy remove the facing and hurried under, tucking his gun under his body.
"Khaawp-khoon-khrap" (Thank you) his voice was stressed and shaking by now, he could hear the rapping on the door in the living room all to clearly. The boy quickly put the facing of the raised floor back on and hurried to the living room. From between the wood he could see just barely into the living room.
"DICE!" The knock came again but harder, and the woman took the four steps towards the door to answer it.
"Sa-wat-dee-kha," (Hello[polite]) the woman stated calmly after opening the door. "Mee-a-rai-hai-phohm-tham-baang-mai-kha?" (Is there anything I can do for you?)
"Raa-gaam-lang-haa-phuu-dtawng-sohng-sai," (We're looking for a suspect) said a man who, without a further statement, pushed the woman aside. Several agents spilled into the small apartment, dressed in civilian wear but carrying pistols. The woman made several protests, but it was obvious the agents had heard her previous shout at Seri.
"Di-chan-sohng-siang-luuk-chai," (I was yelling at my son) she explained calmly to the one that had shoved her. "Khrai-khrai-mee-baan" (There's nobody else here)
The man turned to her, knowing that he really couldn't afford to waste time searching her apartment when there were dozens of other rooms in the tenement he needed to search through. "Phohm-siia-jai-khwaam-sap-sohn," (I'm sorry for the confusion) the agent murmured as he signalled the rest of his posse to leave. His eyes glanced about the room before he, too, turned and left. The woman shut the door with a sigh and looked at what Seri believed was her son. He breathed a sigh of relief as the dilemma seemed to pass. The woman walked into the room and removed the wooden panel.
Seri turned to smile at her, but quickly realized she had a blade by his neck. "Fang," (Listen) she stated flatly, "Khoon-mai-mee-boon-khoon-gap" (Now you owe me)
He gulped, feeling his Adam's Apple scrape against the blade, the sharp metal dug into his skin. She was quite serious, and at this distance the knife was greater than the pistol. He nodded in acknowledgment, wondering what debt she would hold him to.
Below, the sound of footfall echoed across the blasted cityscape, the many facings of debris scattering the source. Even the corporate office buildings had fallen, distributing from their hulks tonnes of cement, twisted steel, and paper that drifted and meandered through those parts of the city. Here, less than a mile from what had been downtown, those papers found their way through an alleyway, before becoming pasted to the dirty path by a storm maybe days before. Now, a boot ripped it apart as it planted itself into the ground firmly, its occupant obviously in a hurry.
Seri knew he had no time left as he rushed through what was left of a residential district. Many of the tenements, constructed under old Communist policies, had been left to weather the polluted air. Now blackened residue hung from windows like the laden eyes of a tired and overworked man. Seri hustled around a corner, pausing for a moment to collect his breathe. His ears focused, intently listening for the sound of someone following him. He waited for only a few moments, but those moments seemed a lifetime each.
His fears became realized, however; the hustling of several other pairs of footsteps softly echoed down the corridor. Panicking, Seri quickly hurried along the side of the building and towards a door buried in the otherwise spartan facing of the structure. The glass had been broken, shattered most likely by the shockwaves of pressure from nearby shelling. He crouched low, maneuvering his way under the central rail. A broken stairway led higher into the building, and each step creaked as the old wood resisted the weight of his body. The painting over the brick along the walls, an aging beige stained by water, had begun to strip in places. The hallway of the second floor was much the same as the first, dark and empty. There was no lighting in this part of the city, the power had long since gone as had the running water. He peered down the hallway for a moment, testing his own gut. He felt like going up one more flight, each stair again creaking. By the time he got to the top, he could hear the feint crackle of feet on glass. He looked down, below him men dressed in casual clothes stood around, looking for something.
Their disguises were given away by the official aura they emanated from themselves. He knew better than to linger and find out for sure, though. He pushed down the hallway just in time to avoid a quick glance by the agents below. He looked at all the doors, checking them all. He could take one of the many empty, abandoned rooms. But that would be obvious, they'd do a thorough search. He had to find one that was occupied, and as he lurked deeper into the darkness, he paid ever closer attention to the thin slivers of light that crept from crack beneath the doors. He saw a shadow move within one, number 322.
He grabbed the doorknob and pulled out a pistol hiding under his jacket. It was unlocked - fortune smiled on him today. He pushed it open quickly and closed it behind him, taking in the new scenery quickly. There were four rooms he could see: a bedroom, a living room/kitchen, a bathroom, and a closet. He was standing in the living room, the light from the window illuminating his new quarters. He held the pistol carefully and peered into the kitchen, two shadows moved slowly within. He could hear a faint murmur, and another one make the distinctive sound "shh".
He pointed the gun at the kitchen just as the face of a girl peeked to see him. She tried to hide, and he could hear her scrambling across the kitchen. She was probably looking for a knife. He moved to the kitchen quickly, around a wooden table and over the worn floorboards beneath him. He aimed the pistol at the woman, who shouted at him. She held a knife in her hand, but she was not stupid enough to believe her knife would have a chance against him. Not at this range.
"Ga-roo-naa-hai-naawy,"(Please help) Seri pleaded with the woman, with one hand he tried to gesture her to be quiet. He knew by now that the agents were likely looking through the floors. "Phoot-bao-bao-naawy-dai-mai-khrap" (Would you please be quiet)
The woman seemed to hesitate, her brain rationalizing the outcomes of the situation. Obviously she was smarter than many, as she began lowering the knife cautiously.
"Khon-mee-laeng-gohp-daan-khrap?" (Do you have a place to hide?)
He could tell she was thinking, but he still had his weapon pointed at her. A small voice murmured from the corner, and it was then that he noticed she had a small son. He began lowering his weapon when he saw the boy, and the mother hurried to him, wrapping her arms around him protectively.
"Dtiang-naawng" (In the bedroom) She grudgingly gave him her support. He could hear their footsteps outside, and he knew that the woman had seen his head turn to the door. Anticipating what happened next, she walked into the living room as he hurried into the bedroom. He looked around, using every ounce of his brain to fathom where the hiding place would be. He lifted the sheets, glanced in the closet, nothing seemed good. The boy came in and looked at Seri before pointing to the floorboards; under the bed there was a raised floor. There was enough space to squeeze under, but only barely so. He helped the boy remove the facing and hurried under, tucking his gun under his body.
"Khaawp-khoon-khrap" (Thank you) his voice was stressed and shaking by now, he could hear the rapping on the door in the living room all to clearly. The boy quickly put the facing of the raised floor back on and hurried to the living room. From between the wood he could see just barely into the living room.
"DICE!" The knock came again but harder, and the woman took the four steps towards the door to answer it.
"Sa-wat-dee-kha," (Hello[polite]) the woman stated calmly after opening the door. "Mee-a-rai-hai-phohm-tham-baang-mai-kha?" (Is there anything I can do for you?)
"Raa-gaam-lang-haa-phuu-dtawng-sohng-sai," (We're looking for a suspect) said a man who, without a further statement, pushed the woman aside. Several agents spilled into the small apartment, dressed in civilian wear but carrying pistols. The woman made several protests, but it was obvious the agents had heard her previous shout at Seri.
"Di-chan-sohng-siang-luuk-chai," (I was yelling at my son) she explained calmly to the one that had shoved her. "Khrai-khrai-mee-baan" (There's nobody else here)
The man turned to her, knowing that he really couldn't afford to waste time searching her apartment when there were dozens of other rooms in the tenement he needed to search through. "Phohm-siia-jai-khwaam-sap-sohn," (I'm sorry for the confusion) the agent murmured as he signalled the rest of his posse to leave. His eyes glanced about the room before he, too, turned and left. The woman shut the door with a sigh and looked at what Seri believed was her son. He breathed a sigh of relief as the dilemma seemed to pass. The woman walked into the room and removed the wooden panel.
Seri turned to smile at her, but quickly realized she had a blade by his neck. "Fang," (Listen) she stated flatly, "Khoon-mai-mee-boon-khoon-gap" (Now you owe me)
He gulped, feeling his Adam's Apple scrape against the blade, the sharp metal dug into his skin. She was quite serious, and at this distance the knife was greater than the pistol. He nodded in acknowledgment, wondering what debt she would hold him to.