“Burned down his own company’s lab? Destroyed company property?”
“Sure, why not? It’s just one facility. They had all the data backed up. They do that, they can discredit the movement, put a bunch of us in jail, make everyone think it’s okay to treat Greens like terrorists-”
I’m getting that hollow feeling in my gut again. The one I get when I’m hearing something I don’t want to hear, because I know it’s true.
“We threaten them because we’re telling the truth, and they can’t stand that. They don’t want people to know. They just want to keep poisoning the planet and counting their profits, and that’s all they give a shit about. Not about you, not about me, not about a bunch of farmers in China, or India, or the US. We’re fucking roadkill to them.”
Jason’s rigid, tensed up, ready to fight. Now I see the passion that drove him into the mess he’s in. The kid I thought he was.
And then he just deflates.
He’s too young to look this exhausted. This defeated.
Then I remember how I looked when I was his age.
“Anyway, I can’t go home,” he says.
“Yeah. I get that.”
We sit and watch the farmer in the paddy below us, slogging through mud behind his water buffalo, against that backdrop of emerald hills covered with white flowers. I think I can smell them, the flowers, a hint of sweet in the sharp scent of pine.
“He’s probably using a shitload of pesticides,” Jason says.
“So why did you want to meet me?” I finally ask. “Is there something I can do? Something you want me to tell Doug?”
He turns to me, frowning. “I didn’t ask you here,” he says. “I knew who you were because some friends of mine told me you were looking for me.”
And now I’m getting that prickly feeling between my shoulders. Like someone’s got me in his sights.
“I figured you were… I don’t know, maybe working for Eos,” he continues. “Working for somebody.” He shrugs. “I just don’t care anymore.”
“I’m not,” I say, and I’m looking around, looking for Buzz Cut, looking for hajjis, for whoever might have followed me here.
But there’s no one. It’s utterly quiet, except for the wind blowing through the leaves, like a faint shuffling of cards.
“Listen,” I say, “someone spoofed your email address. Said you wanted a meeting with me, and that I’d know where to find you. I figured out where you were through your Langhai videos. And the way I got here, I don’t think anyone followed me. But…”
I take another look around. At the silent plaza, at the cow skull on top of the pole. At the mountains, the mist, the fluttering white flags.
“I don’t think you should stay here,” I say.
“Fuck,” he says quietly.
I expect him to… I don’t know, react. Freak out. Bolt, grab his stuff, and head out of town.
He fingers his flute, like he’s going to start playing it. Then shrugs. “It’s not like I have a lot going on. I’m teaching the village kids some English. I’ll miss that.”
“Sorry,” I say, and I mean it. “But if you’re trying to hide? Maybe this isn’t the best place.”
“You think there’s a better one?” He’s looking out over the hills again. “Where can you hide anymore?”
“Maybe some place that’s not in China, for a start. Or a place in China that’s bigger. A city, like Guangzhou, or Shanghai, where there’s a lot of foreigners and you won’t stand out.”
“A city like Guangzhou or Shanghai’s the last place I want to be.” He turns back to me. “The way we’re going, who knows how much longer there’ll even be places like this left? I want to be in them while I can.”
I get it. I stare out over the hills, at the cultivated wilderness, at the people living on this land who aren’t living that differently from how they did hundreds of years ago.
Except they probably have Internet.
“Okay. But at least get yourself as far away from Eos and Hongxing as you can. Away from here, or anyplace you posted as Langhai. And for fuck’s sake, delete those videos.”
“No.”
“No? Seriously?” I want to grab him by the shoulders and shake him, hard.
“If they catch me, if that’s what I’m leaving behind, then I want them out there.” He manages a smile. Cute, almost cocky. “Maybe I’ll hop the Great Firewall and cross-post them to YouTube. Think I’ll get more hits?”
Stubborn as Dog’s been about this whole mission? I’m thinking it runs in the family.
Okay. If he wants to stay here, I’m not going to be able to talk him out of it. But I feel like, after everything that’s happened, I have to try to do something. Something positive. I don’t know what.
“I’m going back to Beijing,” I finally say. “I’ll see if there’s something I can do to help.”
He snorts. “Like what?”
“I don’t know, like…” I think, suddenly, of Moudzu and Peach Computers. Of Moudzu’s parents, who’d hoped I was a reporter.
“I know some journalists back in BJ. I can talk to them. See if someone wants to do a story. It could be a big one.”
“I guess it couldn’t hurt,” he says. The way he says it, I’m guessing he doesn’t think it’ll help.
“In the meantime, seriously, get yourself someplace else. And set up another email address. Email me when you’re settled. Just don’t say who you are.”
“What do you want me to say?”
“You’ll think of something. We’ll figure it out from there. How to get the evidence to me. Backups of the videos. Just in case you… decide to delete them or something.”
In the distance I hear some of those crazy pipes, like I heard on the street in Kaili yesterday. Drums. And now high-pitched singing.
“Festival tonight,” Jason says. “Why don’t you stick around?” He smiles, a little hesitantly. “You can tell me about Doug. You probably know a lot about him I don’t.”
I shake my head. “I’d like to. But I’d better not. Stay, I mean.”
Now I stand up, muscles between my shoulders twitching. I’m feeling like I’ve already stayed too long. Like someone’s coming for us.
“Remember what I told you,” I say. “And… write me. Okay?”
He nods.
Who knows if he’s listened to anything I’ve said?
Me, I’m getting the fuck out.
I take one look over my shoulder as I reach the path that leads out of the plaza, into the village. See Jason sitting there, his back to me, his shoulders slumped, staring at the rice paddies below.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
I WHITE-KNUCKLE IT ALL the way back to Beijing.
I luck out and get a seat on a train that leaves Kaili at 1:30 in the morning. I don’t particularly care where it’s going, I just want out of here, and I don’t want to go back to Guiyang.
As it turns out, the train goes all the way to Beijing, but it’s a thirty-two-hour ride.
What I do is, I get off at Changsha instead, eleven hours later, just after noon. Go directly to the airport, which takes about an hour. I miss out on the flights that leave around 2:00 P.M. but manage one departing at 4:00 P.M. that gets me into Beijing just after 6:30 P.M.
I don’t think the Eos guys have access to whatever system it is that my passport gets entered into when I buy a plane ticket. But even if they do, if they think I’ve been looking for Jason in Changsha, all the better.
From the Capital Airport, I catch the express train that hooks up to the Beijing subway and transfer to the 2 Line. And from there it’s just a few stops to the Gulou station.
As I ride up the escalator and emerge onto the familiar corner, see that goofy bronze statue of kids playing surrounded by half-dead bushes, I feel this rush of relief and affection that’s better than a drink.
Home.
I fumble for my keys, expecting my mom to open the beige metal door before I manage to open the second lock. But when I open the door, there’s no one home.