Reading · A New Breed of Dragon

Previously on Sea Dragon Apocalypse … Blayde awakens from surgeries and discovers the world is not how he remembered and never will be again.

“Wake up Ching Chong,” Jake barked, “don’t make me say it again. You know how I’m hatin’ to repeat myself.”

Ja Long groggily opened his eyes, managed a tolerably convincing smile, and sat upright before yawning. His smile evolved into a mild chuckle when he told himself Jake must be a couple hundred years displaced in the world, always using antiquated words and phrases, and dressing himself like history book pirates, excepting perhaps, his tactical pants and old-school army boots. Well, and he never wore a sword, but that would be downright silly. Still, it all converged as indisputable evidence of failed and backwards time travel, Ja Long mused.

Apparently satisfied, Jake moved on, though Ja Long had no idea where he went next, probably somewhere to massage his feelings of self-importance, he guessed.

Silently mocking his new owner kept him from lashing out in anger from time time when things grew especially tense. Truth be told, he struggled on occasion because he nearly liked Jake. Word was, journalists who’d met serial killers often confessed to a similar, morbid truth — they enjoyed hanging out with these abhorrent criminals — but that didn’t stop Ja Long from being upset at himself for his milder offense. For all of Jake’s meanness and quirks, he was interminably amusing like no one Ja Long had ever met before and something about his misuse of language ringing in his ear the same time as correct English came through on the translation unit in the other ear kept him amused, so much so that he had to discipline himself to not laugh out loud when occasion all but demanded it.

Ja Long collected two neatly folded socks from the side of the bed where he’d left them the night before, placed one on each foot before reaching down to pick up and then put on his right shoe and then his left shoe. He slept in his britches because Jake, on random nights, would order him to get up and be ready at a heartbeat’s notice to perform some menial task just so that there would never be any question of who was in charge. At least, Ja Long surmised as much.

At the bottom left hand corner of the bed lay his folded shirt or tank top or whatever one was supposed to label the potatoe-bag-esque covering he was made to wear every day. He unfolded it one section at a time before pulling it over his head. This routine, he maintained without compromise to remind himself of his upbringing and origins. Regardless of whether or not his family had been responsible for selling him after showing signs of blue goo contagion, he wasn’t going to allow circumstances to change him. He would remain true to himself, his values, his people.

Or, so he told himself, daily, despite the fact that he routinely dishonored those values and had already grown complacent about being a slave. Still, one had to maintain goals. If nothing else, corporate life had taught him that perpetual cycle. You always had to have a goal. What should be his goal as a slave? Every expectation he’d ever held screamed at him that his only obvious goal would be to formulate an escape plan, but as shameful as it sounded, he couldn’t do it. Worse, he didn’t care to try. What did it matter? He hated life before. He hated life now.

Well, that was a lie, too.

He didn’t hate it. Not really. He told himself to hate it, believed he should, but he couldn’t. At least, not this time of the day.

Ja Long sighed, stood up straight, and started a brisk pace to the neighboring hut for his first daily appointment. He would never say so, not if he lived to be a hundred and grew both wealthy and powerful, but he looked forward to this part of the day even though he knew he shouldn’t.

The walk to Chu Hua’s hut wasn’t far at all but it always felt like a long journey. Far too many emotions were bound up in this appointment for it to be otherwise. There was no denying it was his favorite time of day. He hated himself for admitting that, despised himself, really, felt disappointed that he wasn’t the better man he’d once thought himself to be. Life always seems to test us, to show us what we’re really made of. Ja Long used to confidently believe he would excel in those tests, prove his unimpeachable integrity, his love for living rightly, prove he was the great man like his parents had raised him to be, like corporate life had taught him to be.

Now? He knew better.

And he tried not to care about that. Everyone should live in the moment, right? Enjoy what fate lays before you? That’s what he’d heard dozens of times, no, hundreds of times, at motivational luncheons and seminars and inspiring, entrepreneurial get togethers. That part, enjoying life in the moment, appreciating whatever lot life might deal you, that, he did pretty well, at least he did that in moments before he castigated himself for enjoying someone else’s suffering, regardless of his many and continual efforts to package it some other way. But then, his job wasn’t to inspire thousands of corporate cronies. His only job was to survive, and it seemed that enjoying survival wasn’t the worst trait one could excel at.

Upon arrival at Chu Hua’s tent, he stepped onto the large doormat, wiped his feet, and then moved to the adjoining mat where he slipped off his shoes. She did not like shoes in her tent. Dirt floor notwithstanding, she made every effort to keep things clean and tidy in her private space. She daily swept the ground until it had gained an almost polished look. Jake made a point to scuff the floor with his boots when he visited, informed Ja Long that he didn’t have to comply with Chu Hua’s request, not matter how sweetly requested, but Ja Long never failed to remove his shoes, and even made sure to tread as lightly upon the floor as he could, carefully not to scar its surface any more than necessary.

He broadened his chest, straightened his back as perfectly as he could, and ran through a brief set of breathing exercises as part of his daily routine. Thoughts gathered, he put on a pleasant air, skipped the smile. That would be inappropriate. He reached up, grabbed a green, silk ribbon, and rang a small, tinny sounding bell.

More time passed than usual and no one came to the door. Ja Long began running possible scenarios of what might be wrong, considered what Jake would expect of him if Chu Hua had run away or worse, harmed herself. He wiped a few beads of sweat as they mounted upon his forehead, looked left and then right, wondered if anyone had noticed his arrival, wondered if he should go back to his tent, go about his day and pretend nothing had happened or …

An especially small, Chinese woman bashfully opened the door a crack and peaked through the opening, established eye contact briefer than a flashing laser beam, and then deeply bowed as she dragged the makeshift, woven door across her neatly swept floor. Although flimsy and pocked with holes, it nevertheless provided as much privacy as the matching walls because of a thick, black felt-like material that lined the inside. Slave luxury at its finest. Only she and he had their own tents, being the most favored of Jake’s slaves. Only she had been allowed so much privacy.

As Chu Hua stepped backward to retreat inside and open the door wider, Ja Long mirrored her bow, followed her in. His bow, however, was extra deep. Carefully following her eyes as he did every day, he recognized that she never seemed to notice the gesture but he made it nonetheless. He would honor her as best he could, trivial size of his acts notwithstanding. It was the least he could do.

It was also the best he could do.

As part of their ritual, she closed the door, latched the lock they both knew was there more for her comfort than for any pragmatic reason, and silently walked to her bedside where she perfunctorily remove her potato-bag shirt and linen britches in silence before laying naked on the bed like a corpse, arms at her side, legs closed, eyes closed, breathing slowed to a trickle. Chu Hua, whom Jake ruggedly referred to as “chihuahua” because he fancied it easier to pronounce, sent this daily message without variation: she complied willingly, though she, like Ja Long, under extreme duress.

Still, he knew she held nothing against him. Indeed, she’d insisted Ja Long stop resisting when first ordered by Jake to begin their daily ritual. He’d been beaten mercilessly, electrocuted with the collar nigh unto death. Knowing Ja Long’s objection was a refusal to dishonor Chu Hua, she’d lied, they all knew. She begged for Ja Long to stop resisting, pleaded with him to lay with her, and to be at peace doing so.

Nevertheless, she posed herself like this every day and never opened her eyes. Whatever her motivation in keeping her eyes closed, he received it as a gift, took the luxury of admiring every corner of her figure with great care, without the possibility of embarrassing her. He blushed in shame. Daily, he rebuked himself for saturating his eyes in her beauty, presuming she would disapprove, but neither did he make any effort to change. He varied not a speck, hoped one day he’d be able to draw her from memory.

Truth was a nasty, ruthless, unyielding opponent, never opposed to dirty tactics or harsh measures. It was best not to fight her at all.

So, he didn’t.

Still, it was also true that he should be ashamed for dishonoring her by taking so much time to enjoy her figure, so he didn’t fight that, either.

Before removing his clothes to join her, he spoke the only words they exchanged during this appointment: “Two months, three days. Twenty-seven days remaining.”

If any part of the ritual dampened the joy Chu Hua brought to Ja Long, this was it. Truth be told, life here with her was far better than life alone in the big city, despite the sword hanging over both their heads. Four weeks minus a day. That was the time they had left.

At first, Jake attended this first appointment, watched to ensure that Ja Long performed as instructed, and then, slapped him on the back for completing his duty. After a couple of weeks, Jake had grown tired of the routine, informed Ja Long and chihuahua that if she wasn’t pregnant after three months of daily effort, he’d personally fillet her in front of Ja Long the moment he found a replacement. He intended to have more of those “right pretty eyes” as he fondly called them, and she was the only other gooper he’d found since he’d sold the last batch.

As soon as more goopers were found, he’d told Ja Long, daily duties would expand until Jake made another gooper with those right pretty eyes.

Ja Long never understood Jake’s obsession. Nobody had discovered any benefit to mutated eyes beyond seeing in the dark and when blindfolded, but Jake didn’t seem to care much. Besides, as Jake had said several times, a rose ain’t got no need to be anything but pretty. That’s all a rose is made for. When Ja Long had teasingly corrected him, noting that roses also smelled good, Jake had scoffed, rolled his eyes, and pretended that he was going to press the buzzer to the collar before laughing and putting the controller back into the breast pocket of his jacket.

And so it was. As soon as Jake fathered another right pretty-eyed baby, Jake would take Ja Long’s eyes for himself, but promised his only duty would be to continue making more pretty-eyed goopers with all of other lady goopers Jake could find. If he refused … well, he didn’t like to think about what Jake had said about that. Besides, it didn’t matter. There was no way Ja Long would be refusing anything. He’d experienced enough of that path to know he wouldn’t be treading it again.

He removed his clothes methodically, folding each item and placing them in a neat line along the foot of the bed. Chu Hua had placed a mat there last week. How she’d negotiated that extra luxury, he didn’t know but he appreciated the effort. Despite his meticulous routine, he only passingly removed his gaze from Chu Hua. One could never breathe in enough beauty, he’d grown fond of thinking. And nothing was as beautiful as the figure of a healthy woman. Pants folded and placed in the line, he moved onto the bed.

Despite conflicting moral challenges, Ja Long daily tried to strike a balance between short, respectful visits and longer, pleasure-inducing visits. Despite her continual kindness toward him, he understood his growing feelings for her were not reciprocated. She acted out of duty and to protect him. He could truthfully claim the same, but despite himself, that wasn’t everything.

As per their established ritual, he maintained silence but he couldn’t help expressing his growing affection for her and when he finished his duty, he felt Chu Hua’s muscles shiver, tighten, observed her very stoic expression fade, though only passingly, but enough to know her secret.

As he dressed, Ja Long stared at her again, noticed her shut eyes leaking tears, and determined his kindest course was to break their unspoken protocol. “No one finds fault with you,” he began. “No one should. Your choices are impossible. Your heart is transparent for all to see. Don’t allow yourself to judge your honor lessened because your body responds as it was designed to respond.

“Every day, you teach me many things, for which, I am in your debt. Today, let me teach you one thing to offer you peace.” His wandering gaze returned to her closed eyes, observed far more tears than usual, lips tightly held together, and her brow notably crumpled. “In the face of impossible choices, allow yourself to receive whatever joy life offers, even if it offends our traditions, our understanding of honor. You suffer plenty. What little happiness you can receive can pull you through when times get harder.”

It wasn’t eloquent. She wouldn’t slather him with compliments for a beautiful delivery, either. It wasn’t perfect but it was the best he could do and, he thought, it seemed to help somehow. For a simple man like him, that was meaningful, a joy he could also receive.

A half hour later, after they’d dressed, separated, and eaten their morning rations, they met at their practice tent, exchanged formal greetings as if was the first time they’d met that day, and began Ja Long’s magic lessons.

Sort of.

Lifting heavy stuff didn’t exactly qualify as magic in his mind. Besides, it made the mini-tubule, tendril thingies hurt. And he was a flunky, to boot. Chu Hua was far more capable. Her tendril, suction cup extensions were longer than his, much thicker. He guessed he’d be much more capable of lifting heavy things once his grew larger, but until then, he earned regular collar shocks for his marked failures.

Despite that, Ja Long couldn’t help enjoying her lessons. Between her accent and her thoughtful ways of explaining things, her naturally sensuous, though unpretentious body language, her intoxicating scent, and her infrequent, but soul-melting smiles, he couldn’t help but to look forward to every minute spent with her.

Usually, when they were allotted a break, they parted ways for a brief while. Today, Ja Long couldn’t govern his curiosity.

“Jake never lets me see anyone else,” he began. “I hear people on the other side of the screens but never meet them. How many are there? Are they building something? I hear stones smashing sometimes.”

Chu Hua squinted her eyes, pursed her lips, and offered a sideways glance accompanied by a curious look, the kind that no average man would ever understand, but seemed very meaningful and indisputably important. At least, he’d probably find himself in some sort of hot water for improperly guessing what it meant. She said nothing for several seconds, then, stood with strong posture. “Before you came,” she began, “there were nearly one hundred. Now, we are less than ten. There are more guards than …”

“Us?” he offered.

“Yes. I don’t see them all, either. I hear more but I see only a few before dinner because they walk by the guards assigned to my hut.”

“None are goopers?”

“I think most are goopers, but there are no women left besides me.”

“I hope he finds more soon,” Ja Long said.

Chu Hua shot a surprised, nearly angry glance in response. Ja Long guessed why.

“I couldn’t bear to see you hurt,” he said. “Maybe, even if you don’t get pregnant, he’ll spare you if there are others to offer more hope.”

She blushed, stared at the ground. Tears welled.

Ja Long ached in his heart to witness the silent dripping of tears from her jaw. Twice today, she’d cried. She almost never cried. “Every day,” he said, “I pray to my ancestors and to the ancient gods that you’ll get pregnant so you’ll be spared.”

“You’re kind but … I don’t know if I want spared,” she confessed. “If I must bear shame, I receive it. Perhaps I deserve it, but what if I have a child? Will it be a slave only or will he harvest its eyes, too? Or perhaps, it will be raised only to be a breeder. Better maybe that I die than be a vessel to create such misery. For now, your life is spared if I bring Jake hope, but if he finds others, you will be spared … and perhaps I should not be,” she finished.

A lump filled Ja Long’s throat, too large to swallow, too firm to dismiss, so he could say nothing, though he tried.

Chu Hua cut off his effort with her hand, apparently unaware that he couldn’t form words anyway.

“Sometimes though, I hope to be pregnant, too. Maybe the child won’t have fancy eyes. Maybe I can just find joy in having a child, and though we’d always have work, at least we’d have each other.” She covered her face with her hands, shook her head, threw her hands down and clenched her jaw as she gazed upward. “Please,” she said, “I must go,” and then turned toward the makeshift outhouses at the edge of the property. They were little more than short fences but they offered nominal privacy if other slaves maintained a respectful distance.

Ja Long sighed, stayed far behind, forced back his own tears. He couldn’t fault her for her concerns, felt ashamed he hadn’t begun to think that far ahead. He’d done little more than think selfishly, to hope for life to continue to improve. He’d been foolish for thinking he and she were the same. She’d given him no reason to think any such thing. They never spoke about personal things. He’d simply allowed his feelings for her to blossom while encouraging his mind to remain in a drunken stupor.

There would never be happy endings here. Still, and despite Chu Hua’s thoughtful comments, he didn’t want to escape. Not yet. And if more goopers were found … He doubted he’d have the character to even want to leave if he was given an open door. Well, at least not until a baby with flashy eyes was born. He was tolerably good at avoiding beatings but losing his eyes seemed like it would be another matter entirely.

For a moment, a pathetic vision of his own self stood dully before him, a ragged, slouched, unkempt, hollow shell of a man, a paltry human compared to Chu Hua, though she would never dishonor him by saying so. That was just one more reason to love her, he thought, shook his head in shame.

How had life defeated him so easily, while a tiny woman in the same circumstances bore so much strength?

His parents would be ashamed, he thought before remembering that he really didn’t care. He couldn’t care. The only thing he could care about was finding joy in the moment. Whether that was illogical or silly or downright stupid, it didn’t matter. He was happier here with Chu Hua than he’d ever been. She felt like his long lost friend from a thousand years previous and she meant everything to him.

And she might die soon.

And he’d have to watch.

He ran his fingers through his hair, grabbed handfuls and tugged reasonably hard in frustration. For a moment, he allowed himself to face reality, to consider that he needed to do something, anything to protect her, but realized his only almost-guaranteed option to save her was to commit suicide and that, he unabashedly admitted to himself, would never happen.

He was an indisputable coward. He was too afraid to even emulate the traits he admired in Chu Hua.

And that was it.

He’d rather be a slave with a hopeless fantasy than to be free to ruin his life with his own volition. He didn’t want to face that reality, couldn’t face it. So, he repeated his mantra. Happy ending or not, he would receive whatever joy life might offer. For now, that was Chu Hua.

When she turned a corner beyond where he could see her for a moment, he sighed heavily, fingered his mini-tubules to see if he could discern any growth. He couldn’t. They were like his character, he decided. Far too small.

Sea Dragon Apocalypse || Right Pretty Eyes

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