Ancient Chinese Secret: Part 5

Note: Make sure to read parts 1-4 first (below).

Saturday

Karen spent most of the previous night in the emergency room, Peter by her side. All day today, she sat on her couch, her foot in its huge cast propped up on her coffee table. Her ankle hurt. And it itched and it wanted to wiggle. She wasn’t sure if it really itched and wanted to wiggle, but the fact that she couldn’t do either made the feelings even stronger. She felt trapped. Her foot was confined in a cast that wouldn’t let her move, and the inability to move much on her own meant she was confined to her apartment. She felt itchy all over. Itchy and restless.

And the more she thought about it, she was mad. Mad at that infuriating little Chinese man who put this stupid curse on her. She forced back thoughts of wanting to strangle him. Obviously, sitting on her couch with nothing to do but think was not helping her disposition. She needed to get out. She picked up the phone and started dialing Judy’s phone number, then changed her mind and dialed Peter’s. He eagerly said he would be right over to help with whatever she needed.

“So, where do you want to go?” Peter asked after repeated attempts to convince Karen to stay home and rest.

“Anywhere but here. I don’t even care if we just drive around,” Karen answered as she clumsily worked her way down the outside stairs with a broken ankle and crutches.

After driving around for more than an hour, Karen decided to stop venting her anger about the Chinaman when she saw how it was affecting Peter. Now that she had gotten physically hurt, she had spent a lot of time worrying that the curse could bring very bad things to her. She had mentioned how worried she was to Peter, and it evoked some pretty strong protective instincts in him. He suggested that they confront the old man and get him to remove the curse before anything worse could happen to her, then turned the car around and headed toward Chinatown.

Someone once told Karen that finding a parking spot in Chinatown was like “winning the world championship of musical chairs,” and she found that to be a fairly accurate description. They parked in one of their usual spots just outside of Chinatown, she grabbed her purse, and they walked toward the arch of the Friendship Gate, ornamented with a fire-breathing dragon. They moved down the streets, trying not to bump into anyone, one of them walking and supporting, the other hobbling.

Here she was, walking down a street in Chinatown, on an ankle that was arguably broken because of her addiction to Chinese food, and all she could think about was ducking into one of the restaurants they were passing to get a little fix. The smells of the delicious dishes wafted out into the streets, pulling her nose forward with each new scent. She’d had a long day. So long, in fact, that it made her feel like it had been ages since she’d had some Moo Goo Gai Pan or Sweet and Sour Chicken. If Peter hadn’t been there, intent on getting her to the Chinaman, she wouldn’t have been able to keep going without making a quick pit stop at one of the restaurants.

When they reached Mei Hsian Lou, Peter led Karen to a padded bench in the lobby, while he left to speak with the hostess, then with a waiter, then with a manager. She waited, trying to focus on the tv program playing in the lobby as a means to distract herself from her strong cravings, and from the growing fear that the Chinaman would never be found. She was starting to wonder if he was a figment of her imagination. Or maybe even someone who was invisible to everyone else. Realizing how insane that line of thought sounded even in her current state, she forced herself to focus on the special news bulletin that popped up on the tv screen.

“...has been stolen from the Royal Artifacts exhibit at an art gallery in Chinatown. Police are scouring the streets for the suspects, who are to be considered armed and dangerous. Citizens are advised to use extreme caution...”

The newscast must have sufficiently distracted her, because she didn’t even notice Peter return with the manager until he offered his hand to help her up. The manager then escorted Peter and Karen to a small room just off the kitchens where the Chinaman waited.

“I thought I might see you again,” the old man said to Karen as he glanced down at her cast, his chin beard shaking with each word.

“Why? Why did you put a curse on me?” It had taken more energy than she had expected to walk to the restaurant. Her voice quavered with mental and physical exhaustion and she was feeling overcome with sadness and anger and fear. Her ankle hurt, and she was on the brink of crying to this man she didn’t even know.

The Chinaman’s voice became kind, sorrowful, understanding as he placed a hand like a dried up leaf on her shoulder. “Child, I did not place a curse on you; I merely told what I saw. This curse is much more ancient than even me. Many centuries ago, in a duel between the last two remaining Fang-Shih, the curse was released. The secrets to controlling it were lost with them. No man controls it now, nor is it known how the curse chooses a host. I’m sorry. There is nothing you can do but hope for the best. ”

He gave both of them a long look. “Wait here. Let me get you soup to take home. You should be resting.”

They watched the old man leave the room, and Karen laid her forehead down on the edge of the table. The consoling arm that Peter placed around her shoulders helped to hold her fragile emotions together. When the Chinaman returned, he handed Peter a sack, then pressed a fortune cookie into Karen’s hand.

“No! I really don’t want this,” Karen said as she tried to hand the cookie back to the man.

He gently pressed her fingers, wrapping them around the cookie. “They will come whether you accept them or not, child.”

As they walked out of the room, Karen turned to Peter. With a weary voice, she said, “Please take it, before I open it.”


As they walked down the crowded sidewalks of Arch Street, Karen got up the courage to ask what her fortune would have been if she hadn’t given the cookie to Peter before opening it. He stopped, making sure she was balanced, then opened the cookie. She held her breath as he opened it, making her realize exactly how large of a part of her was still hoping for a life changing good fortune. She was surprised that there was any hope left in her.

“It says, ‘A king’s treasure will soon fall into your possession.’”

“Figures I would finally get my gold mine after I already gave it away,” she mumbled.

As they neared Friendship Gate, a man ran out of a side alley, bumping forcefully into Karen. If Peter hadn’t been supporting her so well, she probably would have fallen down. The running man didn’t stop to apologize, he just kept on running.

“Careful! She’s injured!” Peter called angrily after the man. He helped Karen the rest of the way to the car, and got her and her cast situated in the front seat before placing her crutches in the back seat. As he walked around to his side of the car, he noticed a man running towards the car. Peter got in his side, and quickly shut and locked the doors.

Moments later, the man pounded on Karen’s window and tried pulling open the door. She could hear his muffled words through the glass– “Open the door! Open the door!”

“That’s the man that ran into me on the sidewalk,” Karen exclaimed.

Peter put the car in drive and pulled away faster than he normally would have driven in a parking lot. Karen turned to see the man climb into the passenger’s side of a car driven by another man. After a minute of watching, she turned back to Peter. “I think they are following us!” She pulled her purse onto her lap, and as she reached in to grab her cell phone to call the police, she noticed a shiny object. She wrapped her fingers around the cool surface, and pulled it out. It was a seven inch high statue of Chinese warrior in full armor.

By the looks of it and by it’s weight, she guessed that it was made of solid gold.

“The king’s treasure,” she whispered in awe. “I actually did get my good fortune cookie!”

Peter glanced at the treasure for a moment, then went back to staying focused on the road and the car chasing them. “How did it get in your purse?”

Karen was running her fingers all across the surfaces of the sculpture. “I don’t know. It’s like it fell out of the sky or just magically appeared in my.... Crap! That man who ran into me– it wasn’t an accident. He planted this in my purse!” Her mind raced back to the news flash in the lobby of the restaurant. She quickly filled Peter in on the story. “Men stole this from the Royal Artifacts exhibit in Chinatown. Do you think that’s them following us? The news said they are armed and dangerous.”

As if in response to her comment, a bullet shattered their back window. Karen screamed and ducked, pulling out her cell phone to dial 911. Peter slunk as low as he could in his seat, and turned down as many side streets as possible, trying to lose his assailants. He turned into a narrow alleyway, the chasing vehicle only a few car lengths behind them. Two more bullets entered the car, one exiting a side window, shattering it. Karen tried to relay as much information as possible to the police between her screams. The dispatcher directed them a few miles away, toward a warehouse that was sparsely populated on the weekends, where several cops were congregating to head off the criminals.

Peter and Karen kept swerving through streets, hoping the men in the car behind them wouldn’t notice that they were trying to lead them somewhere. Plus, Peter had suggested that if they take the quickest route, there would have been to many straight roads, giving the men a better chance to shoot at them.

Karen had never been so scared in her life. The exhausted sadness that she had felt earlier gave way to the adrenaline that was now flowing through her veins. Now the only thing that mattered was that she and Peter made it to the warehouse parking lot alive.

They reached the district with the warehouses, and the dispatcher relayed instructions on which directions to go. She eventually led them down a narrow street, with the backs of warehouses forming walls on both sides of the road. They could see an opening to a parking lot ahead on their left, and they hoped that it was the correct one; otherwise, they were being led down a dead end street, and would be trapped themselves. Peter barely slowed the car enough to turn into the parking lot, and as they turned, they were able to see the police cars. They stopped the car just past the cops, making sure not to block their exit. The car chasing them turned the corner to follow, then saw the police cars as well. They skidded to a stop, back end of the car spinning around, leaving them facing the opposite direction. The men raced off as police officers turned on their lights and sirens and accelerated quickly after the men in the car.