Fic: "The Hell Season" pt. 2 of 3 [2002, Chiu/Fung, PG-13]

[keiko-kirin.livejournal.com]

Author: Keiko Kirin
Title: The Hell Season
Fandom: 2002 (Hong Kong movie, 2001)
Pairing: Chiu [played by Nicholas Tse]/Fung [played by Stephen Fung]
Summary: Unusually dry weather hits Hong Kong, and its resident ghosts are suddenly quiet, but Chiu finds himself increasingly distracted by the mysterious 'Matron' -- and by his partner, Fung. Set after the movie.
Word count: pt. 1: 7900, pt. 2: 6800, pt. 3: 3300
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Long story! Contains spoilers for the movie.
URL for printer-friendly version: pteropus.com/keiko/misc/2002hs.html

It was one of those dreams the dreamer knows is unreal, and he wanders through the tableaux both afraid of staying and afraid of waking. Chiu stayed; he knew this dream would be important.

He stood on a hill in the city and watched men building a squat schoolhouse under a broiling sun. Then he wandered through its halls and saw children sleeping, crying, and whispering in the dark. At the end of the hall was a closed door, and the room beyond emitted evil. He watched little children lining up to go inside, and tried to reach them, call out to them, but he was only an observer here. Maybe this wasn't even his own dream.

That thought propelled him back outside, and under another broiling sun, he stood beside the charred ruins of the schoolhouse and watched old men and women from the neighborhood pick through the wreckage for anything they could salvage to sell. Nausea roiled in his belly, and he turned away. A beautiful, sad young woman stood beside him, watching the scavengers. Her hands were draped over the shoulders of two little children, a boy and a girl. They wore matching school uniforms.

The woman was familiar to him. With the certainty that comes in dreams, he knew she had brought him here.

"Why?" he asked her, hearing no sound in his voice. "Why show me this?"

The woman's face hardened and she stared at him with fathomless hatred. "You're the boy who helps ghosts. So nice, they say. So handsome. So useless."

Beyond her, he saw hundreds of children lining up, all staring at him silently, standing in orderly rows. Some of them had terrible wounds on their bodies; others simply bore the signs of unspeakable, hidden horrors. Older children cradled silent babies in their arms. He recognized one little girl in the gathering crowd: a girl with a gash down her face and a bloody wound in her hair.

He was afraid, maybe moreso than he had ever been, but he knew this was a dream, and even ghosts couldn't harm him in a dream.

"Older sister," he said respectfully to the woman, though she looked no older than he was, "you're very angry, and your children are angry. You were robbed of your lives. But that was many years ago, and you must be in pain after staying here for so long. Let me wake up and help you."

The woman inspected him as if he were an insect. "There's nothing you can do for me. And it's too late for them. No one wept over their deaths, no one invited them back to the womb. You would send them away to be reincarnated as worms? At least your partner, when he tempted them with sweets, had no idea what he was doing."

She paused and looked out at the rubble. "He has a kind heart," she said, making the words seem nasty and evil. "It's a pity." She smiled a cold knife blade of a smile.

"What do you mean? What's happened to Fung?" Chiu grabbed for her, but now he was floating away, seeing her from above. "Leave Fung alone! You're angry at me, fine. Come after me, you bitch! But stay away from Fung!"

Her laughter, hollow and vile, floated after him and followed him as he awoke.

Chiu blinked at the morning light, groggy from the nightmare which even now faded so quickly, he couldn't remember why he'd been so afraid, just felt the chills and twisting in his gut. He opened his eyes and saw his own clock, and was slightly surprised that he was in his own bed. He didn't remember coming home the night before.

He rolled onto his back and stretched his shoulders, and figured he must have been dead tired because he hadn't even bothered with his pajamas, had just stripped down to nothing. He wiped his face with his hands and yawned hugely.

"'Morning," a muffled voice said into a pillow.

Chiu's pulse jumped and clogged his throat, and he turned to see the back of Fung's head on the bed beside him. So unreal a sight that his first fear was that it was just the head, unattached, but a quick scan revealed that it was attached to Fung's shoulders. Fung's bare shoulders.

"No," Chiu gasped, scrambling to sit up and pulling the covers with him, uncovering more of Fung's body: a bare leg, a bare arm, part of his back.

Fung reached back and grabbed the covers, tugging them back. "Go back to sleep," he said to the pillow.

Chiu looked around the room, his heart pounding wildly. "If I go back to sleep, will all of this go away?"

Fung rolled over and squinted up at him. "Huh?" Then his look softened and he smiled sleepily and said, "You're not dreaming, don't worry."

Chiu hugged his knees, feeling sick and dizzy. "So the nightmare's real."

Fung sat up, scratching a hand through his hair. "What are you talking about?" He touched Chiu's forearm. "You don't look well. Are you okay? Should I get you something?"

Chiu shut his eyes, unable to look at him, unable to believe this was happening. Matron's haunting laughter echoed in his ears, and his skin flushed with angry shame as he pieced together what must have happened. Oh, she didn't need to come after Fung at all, did she? Not when she had a body she could possess.

"Bitch," he spat out.

Fung's fingers dropped from his arm. "Excuse me?"

Chiu took a deep breath and opened his eyes. There was no help for it; sooner or later he would have to face it. He was only sorry that this was Matron's game, exactly what she wanted; he didn't want to give her anything.

"I don't know how to say this, but whatever's happened here, it wasn't me. I don't remember anything--" He raised a hand in warning. "--and don't tell me anything. What's done is done, we'll have to get through it." He reluctantly met Fung's eyes, saw his wary bewilderment. "You have to know this: it wasn't me. It was Matron. She possessed me."

"Oh." Fung rubbed the back of his neck and winced. "That's... not what I expected to hear. You're sure?"

"I'm certain. The last thing I remember, I was in the car talking to Danielle on the phone."

Fung gave him a curious look. "She told you to come home. She told you I'd be worried about you, and I was."

Chiu stared at him. "How do you know what she said?"

"You told me. When you came home." Fung chewed on his lip, frowning. "I have to say, you didn't act like you were possessed. You seemed like you. You seemed normal."

"Except for the part where I ended up naked in bed with you," Chiu pointed out, glimpsing the true extent of Matron's powers. That explained, partially, how Fung could've been fooled.

"Hmmm, I suppose so," Fung said noncommittally. He folded his arms over his chest and leaned against the wall. "But why would she--? Why make us--?" He gestured in the air with one hand. Chiu couldn't interpret it, wasn't sure he wanted to.

He folded the top blanket over himself and carefully rolled himself into it, leaving Fung covered in the lower sheet. "She's trying to hurt us. Hurt me. She hates me because I help ghosts, but never helped her."

"That's crazy," Fung said. "You weren't even born when she died."

"I know it's crazy." Chiu stood up, wrapped in the blanket. "She's crazy. I've looked into her eyes, so believe me." He paused and forced himself to turn around, not to look away. It was unsettling, to say the least, to see Fung in his bed only covered by a sheet, but looking away wasn't going to change anything. It could make things worse; of that, Chiu was certain.

"She'll tear us apart if she can," Chiu said. "I'm sorry for what happened here, but we can't let it get in the way. That's what she wants. She wants to destroy us both."

Fung met his gaze. "Let her try," he said, raising his chin.

-----

Calm determination at the bedside was one thing, but Chiu found it hard to meet Fung's eyes over the kitchen table, no matter how aggressively cheerful Fung insisted on being. Fung made lunch, sat down across from him, and between bites of snow peas said, "We have to tell Paper Chan."

Chiu set down his chopsticks. "No."

"He can help us." Fung placed some celery and water chestnuts in Chiu's bowl.

Chiu reluctantly picked up his chopsticks and poked at the bowl. "His help is usually more trouble than it's worth."

Fung made a noise and shook his head. "How can you say that? If it weren't for him, we'd both be dead, and 2002 would be shut down. Have another shrimp."

Chiu flicked him an annoyed look. "Okay, but we don't need to tell him everything."

They found Chan in the shop twisting wires and attaching them as the bars of a paper birdcage.

Fung hung back in the doorway and let Chiu do the talking, for which Chiu supposed he should be grateful. He sunk his hands into his coat pockets and stood beside Chan, trying to get his attention.

"Something's happened, and we think we need your help."

"You and Fung had a big argument last night, and you ran off to sulk like a little boy," Chan said without looking up from his work. "Big deal."

Chiu narrowed his eyes and wondered how Chan could've known about any of that. He shot a suspicious glare at Fung, but Fung shrugged. Chan glanced up and smirked.

"That's what happens when two foolish young men become partners. Get over it. This is not the time to be distracted and sulky and letting your guard down. It's hell--"

"--season, yeah, I know," Chiu interrupted. "But there was something else. I met Matron last night." Chan's fingers slowed on the paper he was twisting. "She possessed me, and made me hurt Fung." He winced, unhappy with his explanation, but not knowing how else to put it without getting into details.

Chan set the paper cage down and looked him over. He cocked his head and looked at Fung, who was obviously physically unhurt.

"I see," he said at last. Chiu was sure he'd press for details, and ran through what he was willing to say, but Chan returned to his paper cage and ignored them. Chiu couldn't resist casting an I-told-you-so-look at Fung.

Fung stalked inside and stood next to Chan with his hands on his hips. "Well?"

"You want me to help you?" Chan asked, giving Chiu a hard stare.

"Yes," Fung answered for them both.

Chiu gnawed on his lower lip, inwardly shrinking. He sometimes forgot how scary Chan could be.

"Yeah," he said at last. "We... I do."

"Good." Chan went back to twisting paper over the wires. "Then forget about it. Forget what happened, and stop worrying about Matron."

"That's your help?" Fung exploded. "That's all you can say? Stop being so useless, old man." He marched out of the shop, stepping on paper flowers and kicking them out of the way. Chiu watched him pacing outside.

After a long moment, he said, "He trusts you. He thinks you can really help us."

Chan sighed and fastened another wire to the paper cage. "It doesn't matter if he trusts me or not; it's you he has to trust." He looked at Chiu. "And that means you have to trust yourself."

Chiu scanned the walls of the shop, the colors of the paper flowers blurring together. He rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah, okay. But you're wrong about Matron. She's powerful. She possessed me."

"Forget about her."

"But she's got ghost children with her, a lot of them, like an army. I can't stop worrying about her just because you say so. She's really scary."

Chan sucked on a tooth and shrugged. "That's my advice." He gave a disgusted sigh and tapped Chiu's forehead with his finger. "Is there anything left in there, sulky boy? Do you listen at all? What do I keep telling you about the hell season?"

Chiu grimaced at him. "Not to be distracted."

Chan smiled. "Very good. Telling you a hundred times is all it took for it to sink in." His smile faded. "Now go, get out of my way, I'm busy. Forget what happened. Keep an eye on Fung, and when the time comes, let him help you. You got that? You understand through your wooden skull?"

Chiu nodded, thinking Chan's advice, as always, was easier said than done. He flicked at the paper flowers hanging from the wall as he left the shop, glancing back and asking, "Think you have enough of these?"

"We'll see," Chan said, and Chiu had no idea what he meant by that.

-----

The third week of hot, dry weather settled over the city. Most days were stagnant and airless, but occasionally strong, burning winds swept through the streets, sucking the moisture from the air. Everything was dusty, dying. For the first time Chiu could see why they called it a hell season. Even the ghosts were listless, most of them staying away.

With no serious supernatural incidents occurring, their days fell into routine. They trained to keep in shape, they fruitlessly searched for connections between the fires and ghosts, and they never mentioned Chiu's possession. In the evenings, Fung cooked dinner for Chiu, but went out with Betty. Danielle no longer worked the night shift and would come over to share dinner, then Chiu would take her out, usually for a long, quiet walk. It was a normal, average kind of life, the life Chiu had never believed he could have.

And it was all wrong. He was lazy and stupid during the day, making careless mistakes. He was sullen and withdrawn at night, or irritable and snappish. He watched the city around him shrivelling and didn't care. Each day dragged to a close, each night stretched into meaningless darkness. With nothing to fight, and no one to help, he was useless.

Even Fung was affected by the pointless boredom. He kept quiet and stayed out of Chiu's way. He disappeared in the afternoons and never said where he'd been. If Chiu caught his eye, he looked away. More than once Chiu had woken in the middle of the night and found Fung sitting on the sofa, asleep in his clothes.

Yes, Chiu thought, they were all going insane. Leaves dried and died on trees, insects burnt on asphalt, and everyone walked around in a stupor. Ordinary crimes were on the rise, from petty theft to murder, but there was little reaction, no outrage.

On the first day of the fourth week of the dry spell, five students at an exclusive girls' school committed suicide. There was nothing supernatural about the case, but it caught Chiu's interest, and Fung remarked about it. Chiu turned on the news to hear about it, and Fung came to watch. Chiu couldn't remember the last time they'd watched television together.

It was the top story. A newscaster was at the school, reporting from the scene. Chiu's pulse skipped as he watched the screen.

There she was, right on the video: Matron. She stood on the roof where the girls had jumped to their deaths holding hands. Chiu's breath caught, the camera whirred away to the newscaster, and he questioned whether he had really seen her. The camera swung back to the roof, and there she was. And as he watched, she looked into the camera and stared directly at him.

"Is that her?" Fung asked, and Chiu was relieved to know Fung could also see her.

"Yeah, that's her."

They drove out to the school but met uncooperative administrators and local cops. They hadn't been officially summoned, and no one believed it was anything paranormal. Grudgingly, the cops showed them where the bodies had been found and took them onto the roof. Matron was nowhere to be seen, but Chiu sensed a malevolent presence all the same. He exchanged a look with Fung and knew Fung felt it, too.

But nothing happened, no ghosts appeared, and they found nothing unusual at the scene.

"Could she have made them do it?" Chiu wondered aloud as they walked back to the car.

Fung looked back at the school building. "Do you think she's still there, not showing herself?"

"I don't know. Maybe she was toying with us. She knew we'd be able to see her on the newscast, and would have to come see for ourselves." Chiu hated admitting it, but they'd played right into her hands again.

"I've been thinking," Fung said as they reached the car. "Chan's never told us much about the last hell season, but it shouldn't be too hard to figure out when it happened. Weather like this? People who were around would remember it."

Chiu tapped his fingers on the car door, thinking. "And we could find the newspapers from then, read up on what happened."

"And police reports," Fung added. "I know 2002 didn't exist yet, but there might be unsolved cases or eyewitness statements that didn't make sense at the time."

Chiu smiled. "I know just who to ask. Old Chu at Central. He remembers everything."

Fung smiled back, and a weight lifted from Chiu's chest. He hadn't seen Fung smile like that -- a true, real smile -- since the night he'd been possessed. Chan had been right: it was better to forget all about that.

-----

Old Chu was more than happy to talk about the past, especially as Fung had brought a small box of pastries. Chu took them to the break room, poured three cups of tea, and helped himself to a coconut bun.

"The last hell season..." he mused. "Oh yes, I remember it. I was young and handsome back then." He looked Chiu and Fung over and frowned. "Not as young as you pups, I suppose."

"When was it?" Fung asked, pushing the open pastry box closer to Chu.

"Oh, let's see." Chu closed his eyes and counted on his fingers. "Forty-five, no, forty-four years ago. It was hotter than this one. There was dust on the streets. And the sky, always full of smoke. You could mistake noon for dusk, it was so dark."

Chiu sipped his tea. "There were a lot of fires?"

"Everyday!" Old Chu shook his head, selecting a custard from the box. "Some were accidents, but most were arson. Business rivals trying to destroy each other. Triads getting even with their enemies. It seemed like the weather brought out the worst in people. No one smiled or had a kind word. The victims of the fires were shunned, not pitied. It was a very bad time."

He paused to eat the custard, and Chiu thought about how listless the city had been lately, how no one seemed to care about anything. It was exactly like Old Chu described.

"Ah, but the worst fire of all," said Chu. "That one I'll never forget. It was an orphanage up on a hill. The arsonist set the fire at night when everyone was asleep. No one survived, and they never found out who did it. There were only two adults there at the time: the director and his assistant, a young woman who took care of the kids and ran a little day school. All the other victims were children."

Chiu exchanged a look with Fung. Neither of them were surprised; it made too much sense that Matron's orphanage had burned down during the last hell season.

Fung poured more tea into the old man's cup. "Were there any unusual incidents? Anything that couldn't be explained at the time?"

Old Chu looked at them both and smirked. "Like the kinds of cases Special Unit 2002 handles now?" he chuckled. He took a drink of tea. "Oh, of course. There always have been. But nothing I can really recall."

Chiu stifled a sigh of disappointment. He hoped the old newspapers and police reports would be more helpful. He finished his tea. "Well, thank you for your time and help." He stood up and gave Fung an impatient look.

"Keep the rest of these, uncle," Fung said, offering Chu the pastry box. "Thank you."

Old Chu seemed pleased, scanning over the remaining pastries. "Of course, there was the little girl..." he said.

"What little girl?" Chiu asked.

"Little girl with long hair and a cut on her face. People would report seeing her just before a fire or an accident. A triad member who was arrested for murder swore that the little girl had been there, making him do it." Chu took a slow sip of tea. "Yes, and sometimes the reports showed different people in different places seeing her at the same time. We never found her, of course, and the commissioner at the time advised us to keep her out of the official reports. Is this one mango cream?"

When they'd left Old Chu, Fung gave Chiu a meaningful look. "The little girl? It has to be the same one."

"Yes," Chiu said distractedly. He hadn't forgotten about the malevolence emanating from her the night they prevented the fire. But Old Chu's story hadn't been quite what he'd expected, either. "But what he said about the orphanage. That makes Matron sound like just another victim."

"Maybe she's the one who started the fire."

"I don't think so," Chiu said, but couldn't explain why he didn't believe she'd done it.

"Even so," said Fung. "The woman suffered at her death and could have become an angry spirit."

They stepped outside into the furnace-like heat of late afternoon. Chiu checked his watch. "It's almost time for the bakery to close. You go along to Betty. I'm going to visit the archives and read up on the fire."

Fung furrowed his bow. "I'll go with you. We can get more done together."

Chiu smiled at him. "No, it's okay. There probably isn't much there, anyway. It sounded like they didn't keep very extensive reports."

"Well, if you say so," Fung said hesitantly. "I'll meet you at the flat later. I'll make us dinner."

Chiu cleared his throat and glanced away, watching pedestrians across the street wander around in their numb haze. "What about Betty?"

"Oh, she won't mind. Unless..." Fung said, sounding hopeful.

Chiu raised an eyebrow and regarded him. "Unless what?"

"You can call Danielle, and we can all eat together."

Chiu narrowed his eyes. "As in a double date."

Fung grinned at him. "You could be a famous detective, the way you figure things out. You'd look very cool in a nice suit and sunglasses, questioning suspects. Okay, okay," he said hurriedly, raising his hands. "Some other time." He shot Chiu another grin before jogging off to catch a bus waiting at the nearest stop. Chiu watched him go and sighed, and wished he could answer all of the questions he was trying to ignore.

-----

Fung wasn't home when Chiu returned from his afternoon in the police archives. As he'd suspected, the records were sketchy and not very helpful. He'd learned that Matron's name had been Margaret Lee, and that she'd been twenty-two when she died, the same age Chiu was now. He walked into the darkened flat and checked his watch. He'd been deliberately late coming home; he'd had a suspicion that Fung would go behind his back again and invite Danielle and Betty over despite Chiu. It was strange that Fung wasn't even here.

Chiu paused by the kitchen table, idly picking up an empty rice bowl. He took another look at the table: two rice bowls, two sets of chopsticks, two glasses, a few serving plates, and a pitcher of water. Everything set out for a quiet dinner at home.

There were vegetables and shrimp in the refrigerator, and next to a cutting board, some ginger root waiting to be sliced. Chiu picked up the knife and frowned.

"Fung?"

The responding silence was thick and oppressive. Chiu stepped into the living area and stopped. Over the blood writing, I hate you, three new words were scrawled: Fung will die.

Chiu dropped the knife and it fell point down into the floor. Heart racing, he searched through the flat for signs of struggle, for blood, for any clue. He sank to the sofa and ran his hands through his hair, thinking fast. He had to focus, had to figure this out. Matron. The orphanage. Tsong Tower.

Almost immediately he had changed into his uniform and geared up. Seconds later he was in the car. As he turned on the ignition, he remembered when the water ghost had possessed Fung. and how if it hadn't been for Chan's help, they'd both be dead. Chiu clenched his jaw, flashes of Fung's death distracting him.

Don't be distracted, Chan's advice floated back to him.

Such a shame, the old lady ghost had said.

Chiu sped off, tapping his cellphone.

"Paper Chan, Matron has Fung. I'm heading to Tsong Tower now. I think that's where they'll go." Chan started to say something, but Chiu had no time for debates. "Shut up. Just meet me there. I may need your help. It's Fung. He can't die this time." He turned off the call before Chan could respond, and ignored his cellphone's ringing shortly afterwards. Eventually it stopped and didn't ring again, and Chiu hoped that meant that Chan had listened to him.

He arrived at Tsong Tower during mass confusion and panic. Police and fire trucks were at the scene, and people were running from the building. He soon saw why: fires had been started in the lobby and on some of the floors. Windows had been broken and flames reached outside, growing in the air. Smoke covered the area.

Chiu scanned the crowds, but he knew in his gut that Matron had taken Fung inside. She had started the fires. Forty-four years too late, she was getting her revenge.

Pulling on his gloves, he strode through the chaos to the building. Firemen blocked his way. "You can't go inside," one of them said.

Chiu produced his Special Unit ID. "I have to. Don't worry about saving me. Just do your job."

The fireman looked dubious but let him pass.

Inside, the building was falling apart. Ceiling tiles littered the floor, ineffectual sprinklers sprayed while fires consumed desks and papers. Chiu covered his face and ran through the acrid smoke to the stairwell. Firemen were climbing the stairs to each floor to search for trapped victims. They waved him ahead, out of their way.

Chiu made for the roof. There were fires on every two or three floors, all the way up, and a fireman told him they had broken out on the lower floors first. That meant the ghost had dragged Fung to the top. It didn't mean they were still up there, but Chiu followed his instincts and doggedly kept his strength for the long climb, knowing that if he was right, the battle was only beginning.

A strong wind nearly knocked him backwards when Chiu stepped outside onto the roof. He scanned the area, squinting and covering his mouth and nose from clouds of smoke.

"Fung?" he shouted.

An unearthly cackle was the response. Chiu followed it, constantly checking around him, bracing for an attack.

"Fung, I'm coming to help," he called out. "Just let me know where you are."

This time there was no reply, and a gust of wind blew smoke and debris at him, making him cough. His eyes stung and watered and he crouched down until he could see again. There were pipes and utility enclosures all over the roof. Four tall telecommunications towers reached to the sky, white lights blinking at their tips. Through the smoky haze, Chiu could see a dark shape along the edge of the roof, beyond the furthest telecom tower. Resting one hand on his gun, he ran toward it, stopping at the base of the tower when he could get a good view.

The ghost wasn't visible, but it had Fung in its grasp and was dangling him over the side of the building. It was almost fifty stories down, a lethal drop. Fung was twisting to get free, kicking at the air and trying to gain a toehold on the roof, but the ghost was too strong.

Chiu reached for the unveiling drops but paused. If the ghost dropped Fung... With a bitter snarl, he put the vial back and strode toward the invisible ghost.

"You want me, not Fung," he said. "Show yourself, and we'll settle this right now."

"Stay back," Fung cried out, struggling in the air. "It's not--" his words were choked off and he briefly swung higher in the air. Chiu ran to the edge, knowing that even if he could catch him, they'd both fall to their deaths. At least they'd be ghosts together, he thought grimly.

"Use your unveiling drops!" A voice called out from behind. It was Chan, crouching to run through the smoke, inexplicably carrying a paper birdcage with him.

"But Fung--"

"Use them!" Chan yelled.

Chiu took out a vial and hesitated, looking at Fung hanging above him in the air, his face contorted in pain, kicking uselessly at the ghost. Chiu blinked rapidly and swallowed. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

He tossed the vial, and the ghost took shape. It was not Matron. It was not even just one ghost. It was a pyramid of child ghosts supporting each other, lifting up two older boy ghosts who were holding Fung over the building. The power emanating from them as a group nearly knocked Chiu back. He reached for his gun.

Fung gasped, shaking his head. He stopped kicking and struggling and choked out, "I didn't know. I couldn't see who... No!" he cried as Chiu drew his gun. "Don't shoot them."

"He's right," Chan said at Chiu's side.

"The army of children," Chiu said, feeling queasy. "You said they didn't exist."

Chan gave him a opaque look. "I never said that."

Chiu stared at the child ghosts, marvelling at how firm they stood their ground, how unwavering they were as a group. All their energy feeding together for one purpose. The wonder of it made Chiu flinch restlessly. Time was counting down, and even with half their powers gone, they were like this: silent, unmoving, and able to hold Fung.

"But what do I do?" Chiu asked desperately. "They'll drop him if I don't do something. But if I fight them, they'll drop him anyway."

Chan put a hand on Chiu's arm. "They are not your real enemy. Look." He pointed to the far corner, away from the child ghosts.

There she was, hovering over the roof and smiling serenely: the little girl with the gashed face and fractured skull. She was watching the ghost children dangle Fung from the roof, and her eyes were alight with pure, evil enjoyment.

Chiu slid a sideways glance at Chan. "You said she wasn't powerful enough to do anything."

Chan looked impatient. "I didn't say that, either. I said I'd never heard of a child ghost doing the things you described, and that's true. But this one, she's not what she seems."

Chiu looked at her uneasily. "She was here during the last hell season. Old Chu told us."

"She's here every hell season," Chan said. "She's the worst kind of spirit. She feeds off people's fears, secrets, and dread. She doesn't need to possess someone to control him. She can make him create his own demons to battle. Hell season is perfect for her. People are distracted and weak, tired and scared. Ripe for harvesting."

Chiu looked from the girl to the children. "But the child ghosts? They're her army?"

Chan snorted. "She has no army. Her one weakness. She's entirely alone. Other ghosts are too scared of her. They don't want to become like her." He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a bundle of small papers. "She was able to find child ghosts and use them the way she uses the living. Think about those poor children, dying before they can truly live, confused and hurt. All that emotion she can feed from."

Chiu's breath caught. "The five suicides. The girls at that school."

"Yes. Fresh, confused, emotionally turbulent ghosts to feed from." He handed Chiu the papers. "Let me take care of her." At Chiu's protest, he shook his head. "No arguing. You want to save Fung, or you want him to die?"

"I want to save him," Chiu said, clenching his jaw. "I have to this time." This time there were no ghost tears to shed to resurrect him.

"When I tell you to, set fire to these papers and scatter them near the children."

Chiu recoiled. "No. Fung's gonna fall if anything happens to those kids."

Chan looked into his eyes. "If you won't trust me, will you trust yourself? Will you let Fung fall?"

Chiu's eyes watered and he blinked. Damn smoke everywhere. "No, of course not."

"All right, then, that's no problem," Chan said brightly, patting Chiu's shoulder as he stood up. He picked up his paper birdcage and opened its door, and walked toward the evil girl ghost. With one hand behind his back, he gestured for Chiu to go toward Fung.

Chiu warily moved to the edge of the roof, clutching the bundle of papers and a lighter. Fung squirmed around, looking at him questioningly. Chiu met his gaze steadily. I won't let you die this time, he thought.

Fung frowned for a moment, then noticed Chan walking toward the girl with his cage. "What's he doing?"

Chiu glanced over and saw Chan kneeling with the cage, putting something small inside it. He spoke to the girl, but Chiu couldn't hear what he said. Whatever it was, it caught the girl's attention, and she glowered at Chan.

"Chiu, now!" Chan shouted.

Chiu's hands were moving before he could think. He lit the papers and tossed them around the children a few centimeters from where they hovered. The papers crackled and burned in weak, multicolored flames. Chiu wondered how this was supposed to help. As he watched, though, colored wisps of smoke rose from the papers, twisting in the air and taking on shapes: monkeys, cats, dragons, elephants, birds. The children's eyes followed the shapes.

"Chiu!" Fung's voice came from the air above him, and Chiu spun around and lept onto the roof's ledge. He took a dizzying glance at the sheer drop down and steadied himself. He reached up, not even close to grabbing hold of Fung.

The boys holding Fung in the air were watching the colored smoke shapes. Chiu could see their grasp wavering. Fung kicked in the air, trying to propel himself closer to Chiu.

"Little brothers," Chiu called to the ghosts. "He must be heavy to hold like that. Why don't you bring him back?"

The boys looked at him curiously. One of them relaxed his hold and Fung cried out desperately and raised his arms to his head so he wouldn't see his death fall.

"No!" Chiu yelled, running along the ledge, trying to reach for him. "Give him to me first. Don't let go!"

The boys lowered Fung until he swayed in the air close to Chiu. He still covered his face with his arms. "Are they dropping me? I can't look."

"Swing closer," Chiu urged, reaching out.

Fung shook his head but kicked his knees up and came rolling forward. Chiu lunged and grabbed him around the stomach, and for a moment they teetered on the ledge, only the ghost boys' hold on Fung keeping them from falling. Then the boys let go and they toppled backwards, Chiu landing hard on the roof and Fung landing in a crushing weight on top of him.

For a moment, all Chiu could think was, Fung's alive. Fung's chest was pressed against his face, pushing and contracting rapidly with every breath he took. They were both alive, and nothing had ever felt as good as the hard, sharp, scratchy surface of the roof underneath them. Chiu tightened his hold around Fung. Alive.

Fung squirmed and lowered his arms from his face. He raised his head and looked down at Chiu. Their eyes met and Chiu opened his mouth to speak, though he wasn't sure what he was going to say. Fung's eyes widened and he took a breath that Chiu felt as well as heard. A girl's scream pierced the air.

Fung rolled off of him and was already running toward Chan when Chiu stood up. He caught up with them in time to see Chan lifting the birdcage and setting it on fire. The bottom of it fell out and he threw it over the little girl's head. As they watched, the flames devoured the colored paper, leaving behind the wires, which grew to cover her, extending and weaving together all around the ghost until she was caught in a mesh net.

The ghost girl glared at them. "You're nothing, old man. You're weak and stupid," she spat out, and then, with a disturbing smile, disappeared inside the net. It fell into a formless heap onto the roof. The wires glowed briefly, then faded away, leaving nothing behind.

"Hmpf," Chan said with a smirk. "Big talk from a little girl. She won't be back this hell season, don't worry." He wiped soot off his hands.

"How did you draw her to the cage?" Chiu asked.

"I tempted her with the illusion of cruelty. A helpless, innocent paper bird inside. She couldn't resist it. Once I burned it, she thought, she could get her hands on it and torture it. She didn't even notice that the cage was made of spirit-shredding wires. That net did her a lot of damage, don't be fooled. She won't be back anytime soon."

Fung looked back across the roof. "The ghost children. What are we going to do with them?"

Chan gave him a sharp look. "What do you want to do with them? Do you want revenge?"

"No!" Fung said, staring at him, shocked. He looked at Chiu. "They couldn't help it. She did it all. It wasn't their fault."

Chan smiled. "Just what I knew a young man with a kind heart would say." He reached into his coat and pulled out a police radio. He spoke into it, "Are you ready? Now." To Chiu and Fung he said, "Duck."

Chiu and Fung exchanged a puzzled look. A gust of smoky wind swept over the building, and the deafening roar of a helicopter filled the sky. The helicopter approached and hovered, and they ducked from the fierce, slashing air. The door of the helicopter was open, and from it flew paper flowers, thousands of them in every color. The ghost children saw them and ran after them, grabbing as many as they could. The helicopter flew off, trailing paper flowers.

Chan rose and picked up one of the flowers and walked toward the children. Then he stopped, turned, and said to Fung, "Why don't you talk to them?"

Chiu looked from Chan to Fung, watched Fung follow Chan's steps and take the flower from him. He looked uncertainly from Chan to the children, but Chan patted his shoulder. Fung crouched near where they stood in a large group, waving and twirling their flowers.

"Little ones, do you want to go together and play and be happy again?" Fung asked them.

A few of them nodded, some others said, "Yes." A little girl asked, "Can we take our flowers with us?"

"Sure. These flowers are for you." He handed her the flower he held, adding to her bouquet.

A little boy bit his lip and asked, "Will she be there, waiting for us? I don't like her. She's scary."

"No, little ones," Fung said. "She can't go where you're going. You'll be reincarnated, and she never can be."

The children stood together and held their flowers. They closed their eyes at the same time and lifted their faces to the sky. Smoke blew over them, and the wretched stink of the burning building below, but the children's faces were peaceful and happy. Tiny golden lights like fireflies surrounded them, gently lighting the paper flowers into colored flames, gradually growing until all that remained was a golden glow, and when it faded, the children and all of the paper flowers were gone.

 

Completed in part 3