The Scavenger's Daughters (Tales of the Scavenger's Daughters, Book One) (2 page)

“ ‘The dragon sighs, the fine rains fall.…’ ” He paced as the whisper of his words punctured the silence of the small enclosure. The dragon was the heat, and he sincerely wished that fine rains would come and the roof would open so he could lift his face to the sky and take in mouthfuls of sweet water.

Twice already earlier in the day, before and after beatings, the commune leader had come to the shed to ask Benfu if he was ready to cooperate. Simple, he’d said, just tell him his parents’ names and address and Benfu could
go back to work with the others. Benfu knew if he did, his mother and father would be persecuted. They’d sent him to what they thought was a safe place to hide from the Red Guards who were so vehemently against those with undesirable family backgrounds—black families, as they called them. Teachers, landowners, business owners—in this tumultuous time, if a person didn’t have ties to officials who could protect him, any sort of success or title gained in life could be their downfall, branding them as a counter–revolutionary. Benfu wouldn’t put his parents in danger by revealing their identity.

But he wasn’t the only one in the commune who came from a black background. There were landowners’ family members as well as other people who’d come from some sort of undesirable line. The difference was that they had not tried to hide it and they gladly attended reeducation classes and renounced their family members, declaring to forever ban them from their lives—a last resort to find their way back in the good graces of Mao and his followers, and avoid persecution.

Benfu backed up gingerly and sat on the makeshift shelf over one of the deep holes. It was ironic that he was in misery from holding his bowels but was imprisoned in an outhouse. Only twice that day had someone come to unfasten his belt and allow him to relieve himself, ignoring his shame as they stood over him and watched as his dehydrated body expelled nothing but black waste. Only once had they sent a frightened young woman in with a cup of warm water to ease his swollen throat and cracked lips. He’d begged her to help him, to give him more water or bring him a ball of rice, but the girl had scampered away like a scared rabbit, too afraid to jeopardize her own freedom. He couldn’t blame her; she was just a small peasant girl and would have never been able to withstand the punishment it would have earned her if caught.

The voices faded into the night and Benfu knew they were all now in the communal kitchen for dinner, competing in line with their coupons to get their rations before the food disappeared. Gone were the days of family meals and the joy of gathering around the table to connect. In its place Mao had convinced the people that communal kitchens were bonding the people
together as a nation, but Benfu knew he wanted to eliminate the people’s independence to function or fend for themselves. Total dependence would mean total commitment to his reign. Why couldn’t the people see this instead of allowing themselves to be herded like blind sheep? Benfu couldn’t understand it. Was the world going crazy around him? He once again wished for the calm assurance of his father and mother. But he’d never give up their names or tell the leaders where they were. He’d do all he could to keep them safe. Judging from the way the last few evenings had gone, Benfu knew he had about two hours before his next beating. It was usually after dinner and right before lights-out that they sent someone to do the deed.

He looked up in the dark as he heard the metal chain outside the door being rattled. It was too early! He wasn’t ready! Yet he stood, proudly lifting his chin in defiance as the chain slid from the handles and the door cracked open. Quickly a young man darted in and shut the door behind him, the flash of light from the receding sun too fast for Benfu to make out who it was.

“Benfu?” the boy called out.

Benfu stayed silent. He wouldn’t make it easy for whomever they’d sent. Even though usually they left the door open, Benfu suspected there were probably two or more others waiting outside to assist in dragging him out for his evening beating.

“I’m here to help you,” the boy whispered in the dark.

Benfu straightened up. Help? He couldn’t believe it. He hoped whoever it was had brought food and water. Anything—he’d eat anything at all. Even the tree bark he’d heard was the newest delicacy in the poorer circles that’d refused the life of communes. If he could only get to a tree, he’d strip it clean.

“What help? Who are you?” Benfu asked, trying to keep the pleading tone from entering his voice.

“It’s me. Pei. I work on the other work team. You’ve seen me. I’m always at the end of the line.”

Benfu struggled to remember who Pei was and suddenly his voice sounded familiar. If it was who he thought it was, the boy was several years younger than he and they rarely crossed paths due to the work teams’ being
segregated by age and ability. Here, everyone was assigned to a team, some inside the commune for the cooking, cleaning, or minding the children, and the stronger ones were sent to the fields to plant, collect, or water. It was a strict enforcement, and though in some communes around China, families were still allowed to live together, in this one, all males and females had separate sleeping quarters with each cabin assigned by age. Still, he’d seen Pei around a few times.

“Pei? What do you want? Are there more of your cadres out there?” Benfu didn’t trust anyone at this point.

“No, just me. Come closer. I’m going to unbind you.”

Benfu felt the young man’s hands touch his shoulder. Then a sliver of light entered the shed again as the boy cracked the door enough to see him better.

He examined Benfu from head to toe and inhaled deeply. “
Aiya,
it’s much worse than I thought. You’re covered in welts and bruises. Is anything broken?”

“Why are you untying me?” Benfu asked, his swollen eyes frantically trying to see through the slit in the door to what lay waiting outside. He could handle a beating from one, but he didn’t know if he could take on three or more tyrants. His body hurt so much and though he’d try, he didn’t know how long he could remain strong.

But surprisingly, the boy was gentle and had brought a small kitchen knife. He moved around Benfu and cut cleanly through the rope around his wrists. With the sudden release, Benfu’s shoulders throbbed and he rubbed his hands together, trying to restart the blood flow.

“I asked you why you are untying me?” Benfu stared in the dark, trying to see the boy’s face.

“Let’s just say I found my good sense again.” The boy began rustling in his pockets. He brought out four balls of rice and a chunk of bread. With his overflowing hands, he reached out to Benfu. “This is my share of rations from the last two days. I’ve been saving it for you.”

Benfu took the food and his mouth watered right along with his eyes. Food. He’d been dreaming of it all day. But why? He swallowed past the sudden lump of gratitude that rose in his throat and he fought the urge to stuff it all in his mouth at once. He knew if he started, he’d look like a ravished animal and his pride couldn’t take any more shame.

Then the boy unlatched the canteen hooked to his belt. He reached over and snapped it on Benfu’s waistband. “And here’s my water. I’ll tell them I lost it in the fields.”

Benfu looked at the canteen and shook his head in confusion. “You can’t leave that here. They’ll find it when they come back and your initials are carved on it.”

“It won’t be here when they return. Because
you
won’t be here. I’m here to let you go but you have to hurry before they are done with dinner.”

The boy spoke in such a low voice that Benfu had to strain to make out his words. But Benfu could have sworn he said he was going to let him go. Now he knew he was finally losing it—there was no way he would have said that.

“Did you say let me go?” he asked, his voice just as low but shaking now with hope.

The boy went to the door and peeked out, then gestured his hand toward Benfu. “Yes, the coast is clear. Just run through the cornfield until you reach the other side. You’re about ten miles from Wuxi—follow the lights. From there, you’ll have to find a place to hide for a few days. Then you need to keep moving far, far away from here.”

Benfu knew where they were—he’d watched carefully when they’d been bused in from the city. But he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Was the boy really offering him his freedom? He tried to clear the tornado of thoughts in his head—he wouldn’t let his confusion stand in his way of possible freedom. He stuffed one rice ball into his mouth and the others into his pocket. He’d eat them on the way. The bread he first held under his nose and inhaled the sweet aroma. Then he put it in the other pocket.

“They’ll start looking for you soon. So you can’t stop. Don’t even turn around until you hit Wuxi. I’m going out there to trample down the field leading in the other direction. Then I’ll double back. They’ll think it was you and that might buy you some time, but be careful to not leave a trail.”

Benfu’s head was spinning. He still didn’t understand why this boy whom he barely knew had come to help him. And suddenly he realized what would happen if the boy was caught. He sighed and his shoulders dropped. He spoke the hardest words he’d ever said.

“I can’t go. I appreciate what you are trying to do for me but if they find out it was you, there will be nothing that can save you. Thank you, but I can’t have that on my conscience. You’re just a boy!”

Pei began stubbornly pushing him toward the door, ignoring his whispered protests.

“You
will
go and don’t worry about me. I’m older than I look and I’m fast and smart—they’ll never know who it was. I need to do this for you, Benfu. I’ve heard them beating you and stood in the shadows like a coward. You’ve already repaid me in ways I cannot say. Just go. Please, I beg you to just go!” With that he pushed Benfu harder than expected for such a small fellow and Benfu stumbled out of the shed. He looked around and, seeing no one, bent over and ran toward the first cornfield. At the edge he turned to see the boy one last time but he was already gone. Benfu wished he had thanked him for such a selfless act but now it was too late. He turned and ran.

Benfu watched from the safety of the cornstalks for a moment, then made a dash around the old shed and behind the kitchen building to the old well. The thing was dry and no one attempted to draw from it any longer, making it a great hiding place for the one thing in his possession that would have been confiscated if found. Yes, he’d taken a chance by carrying something that had been forbidden throughout China but he’d safeguarded it well. And he’d been lucky when he’d arrived; there weren’t enough commune workers
on hand to keep everyone together as they’d struggled to check them in, allowing Benfu to sneak away and find the well before returning to the line of new residents. It’d been almost a year since that first day and the well had remained the best place to keep his treasures.

Looking around to be sure he was alone, he leaned over the rounded bricks and began pulling on the frayed rope. He felt the weight on the end of it but didn’t release his sigh of relief until his bag came into view. He quickly untied it and held it to his chest, then ran back to the field.

Pausing for a moment, he ate only a nibble from one more rice ball, scared he’d need to ration it for a while. He listened intently for voices, for he was sure there was probably a chase going on. But he didn’t hear anything and once again he thanked the gods that perhaps Pei had successfully diverted them.

With one arm holding his ribs and the other clutching his bag, Benfu ran through the field until he thought his lungs would explode. As he ran, the stalks slapped his face and he could feel his cuts reopening, but he didn’t let the sting deter him from his rush to freedom. Finally he stopped for only seconds to get his breath and take a sip from the most amazing water he’d ever tasted. He turned the canteen over and, sure enough, there were the initials of the boy, reminding Benfu he’d have to be very careful where he discarded it eventually. He sure didn’t want the boy to face any repercussions.

He ran more until he reached the end of the row of cornstalks. There he stopped to rest and spread mud over the welts on his arms and neck. The mosquitos were still landing on him even in his sprint to safety, and the welts from the last few days burned like fire. Benfu quickly finished and took off again, by this time limping with each stride. He was halfway to town. He could do this, he told himself.
Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop.
The words became a mantra that kept him putting one foot in front of the other.

Finally he could run no more, so he staggered on toward the lights of town. He had plenty of time to think and marveled at how or why he had been given a reprieve. He took the time to barter with the gods that if he could just make it through the night, he’d spend his life finding ways to be
just as selfless as Pei had been with him. As he walked he stayed close to the ditches, ready to jump at any moment. He knew he looked a sight—beaten and staggering like a drunken man. He hoped the late hour would keep anyone from seeing him. He unscrewed the lid from the canteen and drank the rest of the water, unable to stop himself.