After a few hundred yards they looked back and saw that a fire had been set in front of the warehouse gate. A man whose skin showed up red ripped down the signboard and consigned it to the flames. “The cold-storage warehouse is actually called a ‘temperature-controlled warehouse.’ Gao Yang informed Fourth Uncle. “That’s what the sign said.”
“Who gives a shit what it’s called?” Fourth Uncle replied. “I hope they burn the fucker down!”
They were still watching when the gate fell and the crowd swarmed into the compound. Flickering light from the flames danced on people’s faces, even from that distance. Thunderous shouts carried over to Gao Yang and Fourth Uncle, that and the sound of glass splintering.
A black sedan drove up from the east. “The authorities!” Gao Yang said with alarm as the car screeched to a halt near the fire and the occupants jumped out. They were immediately pushed into the gutter as the mob began pounding the roof of the car with clubs, filling the air with dull thuds. Then someone dragged a burning log from the fire and crammed it into the besieged sedan.
“Let’s get out of here, Fourth Uncle!” Gao Yang insisted.
Fourth Uncle, beginning to share Gao Yang’s fear, smacked his cow on the rump with his switch.
As they headed down the road they heard a massive explosion behind them, and when they turned to look, they saw a fiery column rise into the air, higher than the building, lighting up the area for miles around. Not sure what he was feeling, ecstasy or terror, Gao Yang heard his own heartbeat and felt a clammy sweat on his palms.
4.
The two men skirted the county town and crossed the railroad tracks before Gao Yang breathed a sigh of relief, feeling like a man who has escaped from a wolves’ den. He couldn’t tell if Fourth Uncle shared his relief. If he listened carefully, he could still hear the din back at the warehouse.
After heading north for a mile or so, they heard the putt-putt of a diesel engine and the splashing of water a little east of the road, where a ring of pale lamplight was visible. The sound of water reminded Gao Yang how thirsty he was; Fourth Uncle must be just as thirsty, he figured, since he hadn’t eaten or drunk anything all day. “Watch my cart, Fourth Uncle, while I get us some water. The animals need to be fed and watered, since we still have a long ways to go.”
Reining in his cow in silent assent, Fourth Uncle edged his cart over to the side of the road, as Gao Yang took down a metal pail and headed toward the light, soon locating a narrow footpath amid some knee-high cornstalks whose leaves brushed his legs and pail. The lamplight was dim, yet he could tell that its source was probably no more than a couple of arrow shots from the road, although getting to it would not be easy. The sound of the diesel engine and splashing water remained constant, as if forever beyond his reach. At one point the path simply vanished, forcing him to thread his way through the field, careful not to trample any stalks. He couldn’t help noticing the difference between the rich soil beneath his feet and the mineral-poor dirt back home, far from town. Then the footpath reappeared, and a few steps later widened enough to accommodate a small cart. Shallow ditches separated it from rolling farmland that gave off an aromatic mixture of cotton, peanuts, corn, and sorghum, each odor quite distinct.
Suddenly the lamplight brightened considerably, and the sounds of the diesel motor and gurgling water grew louder and clearer. Seeing his own shadow made Gao Yang bashfully aware of his own timidity, even as he walked up to the lamp. It hung from a wooden pole beside a red, twelve-horsepower diesel motor mounted on four wooden posts above the path. The fan belt didn’t appear to be turning, but he knew that was an illusion, since the shiny metal clip kept flashing past and making a clicking noise. Clear water gurgled up through a thick plastic hose inserted deep into a well and gushed out of the pump. A pair of sneakers on a sheet of plastic was the only sign of life, even when he squinted to get a better look. The air was heavy with the smell of young corn.
“Who’s there?” came a voice out of the darkness.
“Just a passerby in need of a little water,” he replied.
Rustling cornstalks preceded the appearance of a tall, husky man with a hoe over his shoulder. He walked up to the pump and washed his muddy feet in the gushing water, then rinsed off the hoe. Lamplight shimmered in the water dripping from the blade.
After jumping across the irrigation ditch, the man leaned against his hoe and said, “Go ahead, drink as much as you want.”
Gao Yang ran over, knelt down, and thrust his mouth into the powerful stream of water, which numbed his lips and nearly choked him. When he couldn’t drink another drop, he washed his face, filled his pail, and carried it over to the lantern.
The man was observing him closely, so he returned the favor.
