CHAPTER TWELVE: DIARY OF A MADMAN
Tuesday, March 14th, 1995…a twin engine charter plane flies over the southeast asian peninsula. I stood at the door of the plane, preparing to jump on my first ever skydive. Thankfully by this point I was starting to feel my connection to my inner Chi returning. It was time to thoroughly explore this power once again.
The instructor shouted to me over the sound of rushing wind, “Are you sure you wanna do this? Due to visa restriction, I can’t jump with you and the pilot won’t be able to land to find you!”
“It’s ok,” I shouted back, “I’ve gotten out of worse situations!”
“Alright, well good luck to you,” he said, moments before I leapt from the plane into the jungle below.
I realized it had been some time since I saw any real action just after hanging out in Florida before I met up with Zack at that club. The debacle in Reno didn’t count. But I knew that if I was in for a long haul with the boys in the band that I might not see any action again for a while. Touring would be a journey, but it would be a different kind of journey. I wanted something different. So, I figured, what the hell, I’d just get dropped somewhere in Asia and see what happens. I’d make my way Northeast and try to get to Tokyo before the deadline. Surely I could do it in forty five days right?
As my chute opened and the greenery below came hurling ever closer, I got the feeling that this may have been more than I bargained for. I had already made a fatal error. I packed no food!
*Thud* I hit the ground in the middle of the jungle. There was nothing around me except mud, trees, and the sound of cicadas. Once I got myself cut loose from the chute, I looked at my compass and decided to just start walking Northeast.
I walked for miles. No sign of anyone, or anything in particular. Just thick jungle. Minutes turned into hours. Hours poured into the next day. I needed to take a rest, so I searched for a little clearing. Not long after I sat down, I heard a rustling in the bushes near me, so I cautiously leaned in to take a look. In the flash of an eye, there sprang an enormous King Cobra. It was lunging directly at me. I did the only sensible thing…
“White Lightning!” I shouted, destroying the upper body of the Cobra in a single strike. It would appear the jungle was a bit more dangerous than I anticipated. Thankfully the connection to my inner Chi was returning to me.
Another day passed with less excitement. I was fortunate to find plenty of drinkable water but could not isolate a food source. I really didn’t know what was way out there in the bush. All I knew was that I was getting really hungry. It wasn’t until the next day that I came across some more familiar wildlife. Cows! Just standing around in a field. I watched them for a minute, and then started to approach them. One of the cows took a few steps forward and snorted at me. Then to my surprise, it charged me! About thirty feet away from reaching me, there was a sudden explosion and the cow was destroyed. I shielded my face, but shrapnel got stuck in my forearms. It was a landmine! I was standing in the middle of an abandoned minefield!
More careful than ever, I was no longer afraid of King Cobras, but of landmines. I knew that my best bet for the moment was to stay put and retrieve some of the cattle to cook and restore my energy. I made a little campfire and cooked beef that night.
The next morning, I felt sick. I got up, threw up, and started to skirt out of the mine field. I must have made it about a half a mile before I collapsed. Just as I blacked out, I saw what appeared to be a little Vietnamese boy about twelve years old standing over me.
When I woke up, I was in a little straw house. An old man and the little boy that I thought I had hallucinated were tending to me.
“What happened?” I inquired, “Where am I?”
“We took you back to our village,” the child said, “My name Bao. What yours?” “Oh thank god. You speak English,” I noted.
“Yea. I learn from missionaries,” he explained, “Are you a soldier?” “A soldier, what makes you think that?” I asked.
“You wearing airmen clothes, and I remember stories of American soldiers coming down wearing them.”
“No, I’m not a soldier kid. Hope that’s not a disappointment,” I apologized before introducing myself, “Call me Guy. Nice to meet you, Bao.”
I shook his hand and asked him again, “What happened to me?” “You do something stupid. You eat Mad Cow!” he scolded.
“Mad Cow! As in, Mad Cow Disease?!”
“That's right. Wealthy British man bring Mad Cows to clear our fields of landmines. He tell us not to eat them. Go crazy! He say.”
“Oh shit. So that’s it huh? An anonymous tombstone. Here lies ‘Some Guy’, cause of death, Mad Cow Disease,” I mocked myself.
“Nah, I think you okay,” Bao said, “You throw most of it up. Grandfather is making you cleansing juice to get the rest out.”
“Well,” I sighed, “thanks for pulling me out of the brush kid.” I took the juice the old man made and started drinking it. “Hey, this tastes pretty good. You said cleansing juice? Is it some kinda mystical, magic elixir?” I asked.
“No,” Bao replied, “It just make you shit water.”
My heart sank. In a matter of seconds, I felt the hardest hitting diarrhea I had ever felt coarse through my body. I ran outside to the nearest bushes I could find. Some Vietnamese women laughed as they saw and heard me relieving myself of the ‘cleansing juice’. An hour later, I was able to join civilization again.
That evening, I got to know the villagers. They of course were as equally interested in me as I was in them. It was like landing on a different planet. Though different than in the way traveling through time felt. Out here, life hadn’t changed much since the war ended decades earlier. I was younger then, than Bao was now, when that mess ended.
As we sat around a community fire, Bao asked me, “Are you here to save us from the thugs?”
“Who are the thugs?” I asked.
Bao told me that every week, men on motorcycles and trucks came by all the smaller villages in the area and asked for free stuff. He said they picked on the elderly, recruited kids his age, and sometimes raped women. It was a classic case of extortion.
I answered him, “Kid, I didn’t come out here to save your village from the thugs. But now that I know about them, that’s exactly what I’m going to do.”
I could have had him show me where they were based out of and paid them a visit. But I much preferred the element of surprise since I wasn’t sure how many of them there were and what I was up against. I waited there at the village for a few days and sure enough, the sound of trucks and motorcycles could be heard in the distance. I decided to hide underneath one of the stilted houses and wait to get a read out on the situation. A few minutes later, three old army trucks and a half dozen motorcycles pulled up. I counted seventeen men. I wasn’t sure how to divide them up. I could do seventeen ‘White Lightnings’ or steal one of their machine guns and pull the trigger seventeen or more times. I ended up choosing to do a mixture of the two.
As the men scattered around the village to gather supplies, taunt the men, and harass the women, I approached one of three men standing guard by the trucks with an AK-47 in hand. I tapped his shoulder and when he turned around, I delivered a ‘White Lightning’ uppercut to his chin and grabbed his falling rifle as it came down, turning it on every one of his comrades in sight. The other men started to come back to the center of town. One by one, I dispatched each of them swiftly. They didn’t know what hit ‘em. But my count was at sixteen. Where was the last guy?
I heard someone shouting at me in Vietnamese and when I turned around, there was the missing man with a bowie knife to the throat of one of the young women that laughed at my condition the other day. Not knowing what to do, I put my hands in the air. I was fast, but I knew I wasn’t fast enough to save her. Before either of us made a move, a gunshot went off. The thug collapsed and the woman was free. Behind them was Bao standing with a pistol he had stolen from one of the other thugs.
“Ya did good kid,” I congratulated him.
”Our village need to start standing up for ourself,” he proclaimed.
When the villagers asked me how they could repay me for what I did, I simply looked around, grabbed the handler bars of one of the motorcycles and said, “This will do just fine.”
Bao said to me, “You don’t wanna take gun?”
“Nah, kid,” I replied, “your village needs them more than I do. Just watch yourself and make sure you don’t find yourself living by the gun so much that you die by it.”
“Don’t worry Mr. Guy,” he said, “I only wish to fight to survive. One day, I want travel far from here. Learn many things. Then maybe become teacher.”
“I’ll hold you to that short round. Maybe someday I’ll look you up and see how that all turned out.”
The following day, I left Bao’s village behind by motorcycle and with enough provisions to get by for the next week. By the end of the day, I had crossed the border into Communist China.
A few weeks later, my bike broke down and I took to foot travel. As I wandered around the countryside, heading north towards the capital, I heard a large commotion. A crowd was gathering. I walked over to see what was going on. Several dozen Chinese were encircled watching a street fight. I saw a tall, skinny, Indian male fighting off three ruffians at once. His body seemed to bend and contort with every new attack he defended against. It was clear that this started as some kind of fight club gone wrong. He probably kept winning his matches and they got fed up with him, so decided to go all in.
I started to involve myself, but just before I dropped my backpack I realized the unusual fighter had things under control. I saw him take several hits from the considerably more buff and brutish men. I was amazed to see his scrawny arms contort once again and form muscles. That’s when it all made sense to me. He must be a fellow Chi user!
After he defeated his foes, the sound of a police whistle could be heard and the man darted into an alley to escape them. I decided to run after him. He noticed my pursuit and yelled, “Who are you?” as I struggled to keep up.
“Don’t worry, just some guy,” I said, “quick in that dumpster!”
The two of us climbed into a large dumpster and closed the lid as the police ran by. When we emerged and cleaned ourselves off, I introduced myself more formally.
“You can call me Guy,” I said as I extended my hand.
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
He reciprocated and said, “Jim Guaba, but you can call me Slim.”
“Pleased to meet ya, Slim! Those were some awesome moves back there. Where’d you learn energy harnessing?”
He looked at me impressed and said, “I thought I sensed someone in the area start to spark up. Thought it might have been one of the buffoons at first.”
“Nah, it was me. I was about to help you but then I saw you had it all taken care of.”
“Well, to answer your question, I was taught by a Yogi back home. Care to exchange power demonstrations?”
“Sure,” I said, as I charged some lightning energy in my fist for him to see. I explained to him what my vice was and he laughed.
“It’s so funny how these things work for those of us who can channel it. Always works at just the right time but just looks like cheap tricks to an untrained eye.”
“Right,” I said, “and your ability?”
“Well, I didn’t always used to be Slim Jim. When I was a kid, I was called Fat Boy Jim. I came from a rich Desi family and because of that, I ate a lot of junk food…like, a lot! The other kids made fun of me, so my parents sent me to a Yogi that was able to channel my vice into the power that you saw.”
“Which was?” I asked, bewildered.
“I can drain nutrients from my opponent and channel it to contort my body's shape. I’m no longer overweight, but now that I don’t eat junk food, I’m underweight. My body can flex or bulk up at will and my opponent fatigues from their caloric loss.”
“Damn, that’s handy,” I remarked, “Care to hang for a while and swap stories?”
He agreed and the two of us went out drinking that night before building a campsite outside of town. Around the fire we talked and learned that the two of us were quite similar. He was also on an adventure and even though he hadn't destroyed his past identity like I had, he was trying to separate himself from his privileged upbringing. I told him my tales of mummy fighting and time travel and he told me about his escape from a pack of yetis in the Himalaya’s while trying to find the legendary kingdom of Agartha.
“So, what are you doing out this way?” I asked him.
The fire crackled a bit before he responded, “Why don’t you tell me first then I’ll say?” Clearly, he was on a mission and didn’t want to compromise himself just yet.
“Alright. I’m meeting some friends in Japan next month and wanted to hone my skills first. So, I figured a trip through the Orient might help with that.”
“Ah, that it can, my friend,” he said, before pausing again.
The two of us sat in silence again before he finally continued.
“Perhaps you’d like to accompany me on my current quest?”
Now we were getting somewhere. I anxiously responded, “Sure thing. Where we goin?”
He laughed, “Don’t even want to know what it is before agreeing?”
I was so starved for action, I didn’t care what we were up against. Fighting the jungle goons was a good warm up now that my power returned, but it was time to see what I could really do. I didn’t even need to defend myself. Slim understood my resolve.
“Very well. You can accompany me. But no guarantees either of us survive,” he explained.
“Wow, sounds like you’re really planning to march into the fire,” I quipped.
Slim continued, “There’s a place, not far from here. It’s a crypt, hidden in a hillside. Allegedly there is a map to the ancient silk road hidden inside. The routes on that road could possibly lead me to Agartha. It’s simply too difficult and treacherous for me to find on my own.
So, this is now my best bet.”
“Okay, so what’s so dangerous about this crypt? Why can’t you just walk in and get the
map?”
“Don’t you mean, why hasn’t anyone just walked in and gotten it by now,” he interrupted, “It’s not that easy. The Qing Dynasty went to great lengths to protect their assets. They placed curses on many points of interest around China. Over the ages, those able to bypass the curses ended up being outlived by the curses. The CCP doesn’t want the average citizen to go to these sites, so they’ve made it taboo to even try.”
“What kinda curses we talkin?” I asked, more seriously.
“Have you ever heard of Jiangshi?”
“Can’t say that I have.”
“Jiangshi,” he elaborated, “were reanimated corpses, created by ancient Chinese sorcerers. Like vampires. They were controlled by talismans and often set to guard against intruders. The map I am seeking is allegedly protected by four of them.”
This was some heavy information but considering my past experiences, I’d believe just about anything at this point. Vampires, mummies, why not throw in Frankenstein too.
“...There’s another problem,” Slim continued, “Given the fact that they are corpses, I’m not sure my powers would have any effect on them, seeing as how I draw in consumed calories. If I face someone with an extreme caloric deficit, my power hits a ceiling. Doesn’t get much more extreme than dead.”
“Yeah, this could be a problem. So, what do you suggest?”
“Well, based on the known folklore about them, there’s a few things we can do to stave them off. They’re attracted to life energy, so supposedly holding your breath halts their pursuit of you. Also, they hate being faced with the fact that they are dead, so they retreat at the sight of their own reflection. If I were to carry a small mirror with me and make my way to the inner part of the crypt, perhaps you could fight them off long enough to defend my back?”
“Jim,” I said, “I think it’s just crazy enough to work.”
I agreed to his plan. Considering the fact that five short years ago I would’ve said vampires without question weren’t real, I saw no reason to doubt any other part of an old wive’s tale.
The next day, we made our way even further outside of town into the countryside. Jim acquired a small six by nine sized mirror that he put on a chain to wear around his neck. It wasn’t too hard to find the entrance to the crypt. Many locals could tell you where it was. But no one dared tell you what you should expect to find. The entrance itself looked like an old mine shaft made of wood that protruded from the side of the foothills at the base of a nearby mountain. There was daylight going in, but we knew it would be dark inside, so we brought lanterns.
Before entering, I asked Slim Jim a question, “Why is it you want to find Agartha so bad?”
He said, “It’s just always been one of my favorite childhood stories. Gives me motivation to go adventuring. I figure, either I find Agartha, or I go back home.”
I couldn’t argue with that. His journey wasn’t much different from mine. Except I didn't have rich folks to go back home to. But nonetheless, we had a similar drive.
As we stepped into the dark tunnel, we caught a gust of musty air. The light from the sun only extended about twenty yards past the entrance. Slim walks in front holding his lantern out and I flanked his rear holding my lantern with my left hand to ensure a quick strike with my right if need be.
About a hundred yards into the tunnel we began coming across skeletons. It was bodies of Chinese soldiers wearing gear from the 1950s. It must have been an expeditionary force that was sent in to check the site out. God knows what happened to them. We passed about six of them before the tunnel made a sharp turn. Around the corner was another hundred feet of corridor. There were easily another dozen bodies of soldiers strewn about.
After a few more feet, we realized the tunnel broke off into smaller hallways to our left and right, but the main corridor continued on.
“The Crypt is probably straight ahead. Watch the side tunnels,” Slim whispered.
Suddenly, a figure sprang out of the dark in front of him. Its hands were held out over its head and it was cloaked in an ancient chinese robe with a rimmed hat. Its eyes bulged and its skin was a pale green. As the creature hopped towards us, Slim reached for his mirror and held it up next to the light of his lantern. The monster gasped and started shielding its vision as it backed away. Slim forced it to the side down one of the hallways to the left of us. We slowly passed by. But it wasn’t long before we heard the sound of the other three awakening from their slumber and hopping from all directions towards us.
I shouted for Slim to make a run for it while I fended the Jiangshi off. He ran as fast as his legs could carry him, holding out the mirror in front of him. He made it past two more of the creatures as they emerged from the dark hallways. The fourth popped out at me from my right. I swung a ‘White Lightning’ punch on it, knocking it back. The first creature we encountered was now coming up behind me, realizing the mirror was gone. I did my best to fight it, but its supernatural abilities outmatched my own. In a moment of desperation, I held my breath. This caused the monster to stop dead in its tracks and just look at me. It looked like a confused kitten, pondering my existence.
I had given Slim enough time to make it far ahead and away from all four of the ghoulish assailants. I consciously decided my best course of action would be to continue to hold my breath and run after him. I passed the other three Jiangshi with ease and made my way to the end of the corridor where I found Slim in a small, doorless room. Once inside, I exhaled deeply and gasped for air. The sound of all four monsters could be heard hopping down the hallway towards us.
I turned to Jim, who had sat his lantern down, and asked, “Did you find it?”
He signaled towards an ornate box sitting on a table at the back of the room. It didn’t take any convincing for him to hurriedly open it. Inside was just as he’d hoped. It was a detailed map of the old silk road. Joy had overcome him as this was the closest, he had yet achieved to realizing his lifelong dream. That all came crashing down upon realization that the four hopping foes were right at the doorstep.
I sat down my lantern and went into an attack position. I couldn’t handle one of these for long, let alone all four of them. No amount of mirrors and breath holding could clear enough space for us to escape. Jim and I would have to fight our way out of here. That’s when he did the unthinkable.
The two of us stood shoulder to shoulder, cornered in the room by the Jiangshi. I started to charge up a ‘White Lightning’ attack. But before I could unleash it, Jim raised his lantern, opened it up, and torched the silk road map. Suddenly, all four Jiangshi collapsed and dissolved on the floor in front of us.
“What happened? What’d you do?” I asked, feverishly.
“It wasn’t worth it,” he said, sinking his shoulders, “I shouldn’t have drug you into this. I’m sorry.”
“What do you mean? We had it?” I continued to ask.
“It’s alright. It wasn’t worth my life either. The curse was tied to the map. Even if we escaped, when night would fall, those things would’ve continued after us. Unless you could find a way to break the curse, they’d keep coming. The only way I knew how, was by destroying the map. The Jiangshi tied to it would no longer be needed.”
Jim slowly started to walk out of the crypt and back through the tunnel to the outside. He was clearly defeated, but I knew he’d get over it. He was right. This was one obstacle that neither of us could possibly have overcome. It just wasn’t worth it. There would be other ways to find Agartha.
After a couple of days, the two of us parted ways. I continued north to try and see the Great Wall before I needed to meet back up with Modicum and he told me he was thinking of going to visit home for the first time since he left. The two of us hit it off really well and if I wasn’t already on my way back to some sense of normalcy with the band, I would’ve liked to continue adventuring with him.
Monday, April 3rd, 1995…I’m taken into custody by Chinese authorities at the train station in Beijing for failure to produce a Visa. Evading police at this juncture was impossible. I was taken to jail for three days before my requests to speak to a US diplomat were answered. Having no identification whatsoever did not help me, but after a week of pleading, I was allowed to be transferred to the US Embassy. There, I was allowed to freely roam until some form of identifying who I was could be established. It became a home away from home for quite some time. But I knew I had to find some way to get out of there on my own and there was no way I was gonna let them find some way to out me by my birth name.
Saturday, May 6th, 1995…Well damn, looks like I missed the deadline to get to Japan and meet the guys. Over the past three weeks I had come to know my surroundings at the embassy quite well. At first, I was watched very closely, but my calm demeanor eventually caused everyone around me to relax. I had also devised a way to escape the embassy and hopefully the country. Using my sleight of hand skills, I was able to snatch one of the diplomatic aides ID badges. Obviously it didn’t have my picture on it, so I had to hide it in the soil of a house plant until I could figure out a way to use it…
Friday, May 12th, 1995…Most of the staff was leaving for the weekend and it was much easier to move around the building without my actions being easily noticed. I made it to the little room where tourists who’ve lost their passports get their pictures taken for replacements. I crudely managed to get a picture taken of myself and got out before anyone noticed. When the coast was clear over the weekend, I retrieved the stolen ID badge. I hurriedly cleaned it off and secured my photo to it. Laundry service was always taken out on Mondays, so I knew I had to wait until then to make my move.
Monday, May 15th, 1995…Early in the morning, I waited for one of the maids to gather the linens and when she was by herself, I knocked her unconscious and placed her in a closet. In her laundry collection I found some suits from some of the male staff. After dressing myself up to look the part, I added my makeshift badge and stealthed my way to the laundry pickup truck out back. I gave them my laundry and asked if they could give me a ride into town. They were none the wiser of who I was, so they agreed. In under thirty minutes I was out, scottfree. I can only imagine the conversations the diplomats had with their families when they went back home. ‘Some guy was being held at the embassy and escaped in a laundry truck.’
Tuesday, May 23rd, 1995…After stowing away on a cargo ship bound for Japan, I found myself just days away from the band finishing the album and wanted to still try to catch them at Mr. Iwatodai’s place. Once on land, I hitchhiked my way across the county, hoping there was still time.