FOR MOTHER YAP SHI QUAN
12
Gary wondered what Percy had found in the forest, his hands were trembling slightly. He had
dressed a bit too lightly for such a cold weather, he realised distantly. He called for Percy to slow
down, his voice magnified within the dense forest. Gary hastened his pace to catch up with Percy,
whose figure seemed oddly small and shruken beneath the looming trees where he had stopped
there, seemingly rooted to the spot.
I don’t like where this is going, Percy. Can you, at least, tell me what’s going on? Gary said.
Percy bit his lip. Okay, but let’s talk while we walk.
Gary realised, as they moved out, that they weren’t on a clear-cut path. Only a mat of dried leaves,
with trees parting aside for an ambiguous walkway, were what both of them could rely on in the
dead of the night.
I think it would be better if you see it yourself. Percy said.
What? Don’t be stupid, Percy. Just tell me —
Shut up! We are almost there anyway.
And true enough, they came to halt almost one minute later, with Percy signalling Gary to stop.
Gary took a look around him, and his stomach sunk: it wasn’t a particularly large clearing, but
big enough for a group of people to assemble. The clouds had cleared and the full moon now
revealed itself, like a surgical light glaring down at them. Right in the middle of the clearning was
a huge hole.
Gary took a step back and grabbed Percy’s shoulder, his fingers trembling with the effort.
Percy...what’s happening?
Gary couldn’t read Percy’s expression, not with the bodies of shadows flickering across his face. The
clouds were moving faster than usual, the moonlight piercing through the clouds. Without saying
a thing, Percy went forward and stepped in front of the hole, gestured with a hand. Gary, come.
Not until you tell me what’s going on.
But Gary knew — he knew something was up, and something was wrong.