Chapter 26 #3
Mei Lin zipped the rubberized jumpsuit. “We’re ready.”
She’d changed into the grimy green oilskin getup, Ethan holding his coat up for a curtain.
The jumpsuit Pastor Su had brought was so bulky she would disappear.
She pulled the knit cap down to her ears and the mask up to just below her eyes.
Even if a camera captured her image, nobody would be able to identify her.
At least, that was her hope.
She leaned forward and kissed Pastor Su on the cheek. “Thank you.”
“The Lord be with you.”
“You too. Be safe.”
“I’ll walk them in. Wait here.” Renshu didn’t wait for agreement, just climbed out of the pickup.
She was surprised at how well her jumpsuit protected her from the cold wind.
Behind her, Ethan lifted both backpacks out and slung them over his shoulder before reaching for her.
“Don’t do that,” Renshu snapped. “She is a boy.”
“Right. Habit.” Ethan shoved his hands into his pockets.
They walked toward a streetlight where a man waited, leaning against the post and smoking a cigarette. He dropped it and ground it underfoot as they approached. He was short and stocky. Just outside the glow of the light stood a handcart holding three oversized white coolers.
Renshu spoke Mandarin. “Why are you here?”
“Waiting for you.” Apparently, that answer satisfied her brother because he held out a paper sack, which she’d seen him fill with bills a few minutes before. “I’ll know if you betray us.”
The man smiled, showcasing two missing teeth. “I’m taking on a new hand and a bunch of empty fish bins. Nothing to betray.”
Renshu turned to her. “This is Lao Wu.”
She gave the older man a small bow of respect. “This is my husband.” She said the words in Mandarin, then English.
Ethan nodded.
Lao Wu looked him up and down and grunted. He removed two of the bins from the cart and lifted the lid of the third. “I hope he’s flexible.”
Mei Lin didn’t translate that part. “He wants you to get in.”
“Of course he does.” Ethan had been warned. It was one thing to have Mei Lin seen on the dock, but a six-foot-tall Caucasian would raise eyebrows and invite questions. He handed the backpacks to Renshu, kissed Mei Lin’s cheek, and crouched into the fish bin.
Lao Wu closed it over him.
Mei Lin bent to one of the air holes. “Are you okay?”
He grunted something that she took for a yes.
Renshu dropped the backpacks into one of the two empty coolers, then lifted them both on top of the one hiding her husband.
After putting an unlit cigarette into his mouth, Lao Wu tilted the handcart and pushed it across the gravelly lot.
“You worked everything out?” Renshu asked.
“The port administrator was a classmate of mine. This is not our first time.”
Renshu seemed satisfied with his answer.
Mei Lin walked on one side of the sailor, her brother on the other. Renshu had put on the dark cadre jacket that marked him as a Party official.
He didn’t look like the big brother she remembered but a leader, the kind of man who expected to be obeyed.
She had the sudden impulse to tease him, but she squelched the instinct.
The rest of the world slept, but the fishing pier was coming alive. A man hosed down a stretch of dock while others loaded nets onto the stern of a trawler. Idling engines sent low chuffs into the cold air, the scent pungent.
Two figures stepped around the corner of a small building thirty meters ahead. They wore dark uniforms and peaked caps. Both had radios at their shoulders.
Her insides twisted.
Mei Lin was thankful for her brother and the fisherman, neither of whom paused at the sight of the guards walking toward them. She tucked her chin into her jacket. It was one thing to blend in on a screen, but standing a few feet away, would the guards realize she wasn’t a boy but a woman?
She let Renshu and Lao Wu drift a half-step ahead, playing the part of a deckhand trailing his elders.
Protect us, Father.
The two men stopped in the center of the dock, blocking the way.
“Who are your friends, uncle?” The older one addressed Lao Wu, the question carrying curiosity. But his gaze was sharp as it passed over Renshu, then settled on her.
Renshu stepped forward and flashed his red badge in front of the man’s face.
“Who are you to disrupt official Party business?” He spoke in the clipped northern Mandarin of a Party member on official business, then snapped the credential shut and stowed the badge in his pocket.
“Step aside or point me to your supervisor.”
The guard seemed to shrink. “Sorry, Leader. Proceed.”
They moved on, the younger of the two bowing as he passed.
Renshu marched forward, seemingly unsurprised at the men’s immediate obedience.
Mei Lin and the fisherman hurried to keep up.
When the guards were well behind them, she glanced at her brother. “Are you so important?”
“No.” His lips twitched. “But they don’t know that.”
A strange pride rose in her chest. Her brother had learned how power worked in this country and wielded it comfortably. Maybe someday, he would use what he’d learned to honor God instead of the Party.
The fishing boat was maybe fifteen meters long—about the same size as the others bobbing nearby.
The sky was still dark enough that the paint flaking along the hull held no distinct color.
A wheelhouse the size of an outhouse sat on the deck.
A younger man was at the bow, working a line free of the cleat.
He didn’t look up as Lao Wu rolled the hand truck onto the gangway.
She followed, holding onto the railing as the wood pitched under her feet.
The deck stank of old fish. Lao Wu pushed the hand truck to an open hatch in the deck and lifted the fish bins off the one where Ethan hid and set them aside.
Then he and Renshu gripped either end of the third one.
Lao Wu went first, backing down a steep staircase.
Renshu followed, bending low to keep a grip on the high end. The bin scraped at the corners of the hatch frame. Her brother’s overcoat caught on something, and he hissed under his breath.
Mei Lin grabbed their backpacks from the other bin and followed, her pulse in her throat at every bump.
The men reached the bottom of the steps in a tight, low-ceilinged space lit by a bare bulb in a wire cage. Lao Wu was bending to set down the bin, but Renshu let go of his end a second too soon. It thumped on the deck with a thud she felt through her boots.
“Be careful!”
Renshu was smirking. “Your husband is the size of a tree,” he said in English. “Next time, marry a shrub, eh?”
She glared at him—hiding a grin—as she lifted the lid.
Ethan squinted against the dim light, uncoiling himself one joint at a time. He pushed up to standing and stretched, then winced and rubbed his neck. His gaze slid past her to Renshu. “There won’t be a next time. She’s stuck with the tree.”
Renshu laughed, the sound filling her with warmth. She missed her brother’s laugh.
Lao Wu backed up the steps. “Five minutes.”
Ethan stepped free, holding himself steady against the wall. Then he held out his hand to Renshu. “You took a risk being here. I appreciate it.”
Renshu shook it. “Protect her.”
“With my life.”
Her brother held the grip a beat longer, then turned to Mei Lin.
His smile was gone. “Mèimei.” Little sister.
“Gēgē.” Older brother. The names they’d called each other when they were children.
He shoved a hand in his pocket. When it came out, it was closed around something. He opened her fingers gently and pressed the small thing into her palm. Then he folded her hand closed and held it in both of his.
She recognized the object without looking. She’d held it a thousand times since Renshu had given it to her when she was nine years old.
Her throat closed, and she tried to swallow the lump there.
“Tell Bàba and Mama that I am well.”
“I will.” Her words came out thick.
“Tell them I think of them.”
“I will.”
He pulled her against his chest and held her for two beats before stepping back.
She tried to memorize the face that was so familiar, yet so changed.
He touched her cheek with the back of his fingers. Then he climbed the steps and closed the hatch.
His footfalls crossed the deck. There was a muffled exchange she couldn’t quite catch, and then he was gone.
Father, keep him. Draw him to Yourself.
The engine rumbled.
“Let’s sit, sweetheart.” Ethan closed the lid of the fish container and urged her down on top of it just as the boat pulled away from the dock.
Soon, they’d be out of Chinese waters. Out of China forever. Would she miss her homeland someday? The warm people from her village. The chaos of thousands of souls pressed together, their voices rising in a beautiful cacophony.
Yes. But she wouldn’t miss the cameras or the government that wanted to harm her. She wouldn’t miss the prison she’d endured for six torturous years or the prison her country had become.
Ethan shifted some nets and tarps and whatever else had been tossed into this storage area, clearing a place to sit. “What did he give you?”
She opened her hand, displaying the little wooden monkey in her palm, its painted smile faded to pink. “He gave this to me when we went to Zhangjiajie. He told me it was my twin.”
Ethan studied the toy, then studied her. “I can see it.”
She smacked his arm playfully, even if she didn’t feel playful at all. “He kept it,” she said. “All these years.”
Ethan pulled the cap off her head and brushed her hair away from her temple. “Are you all right?”
She closed her fingers over the monkey. “I will be.”
“God’s got your brother in His hands. And your country.”
She leaned against Ethan’s broad chest, and he enveloped her in his arms. She was happy to be at the end of their escape. Even so, it hurt to say goodbye. She doubted she’d ever see Renshu, or China, again.