Black Flame (12 page)

It was early morning, and they hadn't been on the road for long. Kelsang suddenly felt a change in the atmosphere when the man in the police hat called out, and everyone's eyes lit up. Then, aside from the rumbling of the engine, there was silence. Everyone was transfixed by the view up ahead.

Kelsang couldn't help but be affected by the atmosphere. He could tell that whatever they had been waiting for had just happened.

The three vehicles drove into a small valley, and since there was no road ahead, everyone climbed out of their cars and proceeded on foot. The team leader warned Han Ma that it was vital that no one make a sound, so Kelsang was tied up inside the jeep.

The team members knew exactly what to do. They took their guns and started climbing up one side of the valley. Han Ma and Yang Yan followed. Han Ma was carrying half an antelope horn that he had picked up, while Yang Yan held tightly to his Swiss army knife.

Before long, Han Ma and Yang Yan were lagging behind the rest of the group. As they clambered to the top, they heard a shot and rushed forward. Han Ma was so tired, a black cloud seemed to descend over his eyes, but when he looked over the hill, he managed to make out two parked cars and five people scattering in different directions.

“Do we follow them?” Yang Yan panted, catching up to the rest of the team.

“Yes!” replied Han Ma, already running.

They thought at first that the poachers had been too nervous to start their cars, but later they discovered that one of their vehicles had broken down. The poachers had no idea where to go and seemed to have forgotten that there was no point in trying to run anywhere in this vast open landscape.

Han Ma and Yang Yan chased a young man in a black down jacket to the edge of a large crevice, a topographical scar from when the plateau had formed thousands of years ago. In global terms, it was a mere wrinkle on the earth's surface, but at over ten yards wide, it was too far for the poacher to jump across.

The young man may have had a bad leg, otherwise it's unlikely that Han Ma and Yang Yan could have reached him so quickly. They stumbled up to him, their eyes misted over from lack of oxygen and their hearts thumping so hard it felt like they would leap from their chests.

Having reached the dead end at the edge of the crevice, the young man turned around revealing his dark, weather-beaten face. He was holding something above his head.

“A gun!” Yan Ya exclaimed. He was farther behind, yet he saw it before Han Ma.

Han Ma didn't hear him, and within moments the barrel of the gun was only inches from his head. He froze, his eyes fixed on its gaping black mouth.

The young man's face twisted in distress like a cornered leopard.

The crack of a shot.

In that moment, Han Ma thought it was over, but the bullet scraped past his shoulder. By the time he came to his senses, Kelsang's teeth were firmly planted in the poacher's wrist. He had brought the man to the ground and was now towering over him. His furious barks sounded like bones snapping, one after the other.

Yang Yan grabbed hold of Kelsang's head, while Han Ma forced his jaws open in an attempt to save the poacher's bloody hand. The man groaned.

“He nearly bit through it.” Yang Yan examined the ugly face before him. “But did you see how that bullet scraped past your shoulder?” he said, turning to Han Ma. “Feathers flew out of your jacket! If the dog hadn't pounced on him, that bullet would've gone right through you.” He picked the gun off the ground.

“I'll tie him up,” Han Ma said, trying to calm Kelsang, who was still trembling with anger.

Kelsang shook the long fur on his neck and stared at the terrified poacher with deathly cold eyes.

“Haven't you noticed the rope's broken?” said Yang Yan. “A rope can't hold that dog.”

The chewed-through rope dangled from Kelsang's neck.

The truth was that when Han Ma left with the others, Kelsang had felt abandoned. He hadn't let Han Ma out of his sight in days, and even at night, he lay in front of his tent and wouldn't let anyone near. It hadn't taken much to bite through the rope and squeeze through the half-open window of the jeep. He had started running in the direction of the hill the instant his paws touched the grass.

Kelsang had been greeted at the top by absolute chaos, but it still didn't take him long to spot Han Ma. He ran over just in time to see the poacher raise the gun to his master's head. He didn't understand what was happening, but he had experience with guns. The sound of the dying dog's cries on the street in Lhasa started echoing in his ears, and the fear of losing Han Ma flooded him. Without a thought to anything else, he rushed over to the two men, leapt into the air and lodged his teeth in the poacher's wrist, knocking the bullet off its intended course.

The other team members joined them after they had caught the remaining poachers. The scene before them made their eyes pop, and the team leader breathed a deep sigh of relief once he was sure that neither of the volunteers had been hurt.

Kelsang, for his part, wouldn't take his burning red eyes off the poacher, who was now being led away. He even tried to wriggle free from Han Ma to have another go.

“That was close. The poacher nearly got you!” The team leader looked admiringly at Kelsang. “What an excellent dog. We need a mascot like him!”

But Kelsang didn't become a mascot for the team. A week later, Kelsang, Yang Yan and Han Ma left Hoh Xil so that they could take the tired jeep to be fixed in Golmud. It needed a complete overhaul after the tough driving conditions on the grasslands. This was to be their last assignment as volunteers for the Antelope Protection Team.

7

HEADING NORTH

ALL DAY THE JEEP
lurched along the dirt road that had been torn up by heavy rain, and yet they only managed to cover around sixty miles. Rivers of mud had destroyed parts of the route, and at times they had to edge around piles of stones, mindful of the fact that not five yards to the right or left was a drop to a deep valley strewn with car wrecks. It was so nerve-racking that Han Ma and Yang Yan took turns driving every five miles, each one taking his place in the passenger seat drenched in sweat.

Kelsang was sitting up in the backseat. Every time they went over a hole in the road, he was flung to the side, and the terrible sound of the chassis scraping against stones echoed in their ears. As the engine gasped for life, he would climb back into a sitting position.

But the dangers of the road didn't dampen the two young men's enthusiasm, and whenever they got stuck behind other vehicles, they would chatter about the adventures ahead. Gripped by excitement at one point, Yang Yan leaned back and stroked Kelsang on the head. But he was met with an angry growl, and seeing Kelsang's sharp teeth, he whipped his hand back.

“He won't bite. He's just warning you, that's all,” Han Ma laughed, as he patted down the fur on the back of Kelsang's neck.

But the scare brought Yang Yan down to earth. Even though they'd spent two exciting weeks with Kelsang, he wasn't like an ordinary pet who developed affection freely and easily.

“Do you think he's part wolf? said Yang Yan. “They can never be tamed. Think about it. Circuses have tigers, lions, even, but have you ever heard of a tame wolf? No. And do you know why? Because they just can't be tamed. I've been feeding cans of beef to a wolf!” He drew farther back.

“Of course, he's not a wolf,” Han Ma replied. “He's a dog, and you'll never find one as good as him. Look at him. He's trying his best to let us be his masters.”

“He doesn't want me for a master. You're the one he's chosen.” Yang Yan reached for the water.

Han Ma carefully parted the fur around Kelsang's neck and examined his wound. It had recovered completely.

Kelsang sat quietly, letting Han Ma stroke his neck.

Ever since meeting Han Ma, his life had changed. Having Han Ma for a master was completely different from living with Tenzin or the old painter. (He had never considered the man with the dark cheeks his master. He had tied him up for a year and hadn't looked after him.) Sometimes he felt as if he was part of Han Ma and Yang Yan's gang. Something welled up inside him every time Han Ma called him or stroked him, and the emotion surprised him. It was love.

As evening approached, the jeep crawled like a heavy tank into the parking lot of a small wooden guesthouse tucked under a cliff by the side of the road. They would eat here and spend the night. Han Ma and Yang Yan had slept in a tent ever since leaving Hoh Xil and were extremely happy to have found the guesthouse.

After they went inside, Kelsang jumped down from the jeep and lay in front of it, as he did every night. No one who had spent days driving on these exhausting, purgatorial roads had the energy to covet other people's belongings, but Kelsang was used to keeping guard. It was his new job. No one could get close to the jeep. It belonged to his master, and he was protecting it.

By the time Kelsang finished the water and steamed buns Master brought out to him, the sky was dark and the lights in the guesthouse had gone out, one by one. The guests were eager to sleep after bumping along such a washboard of a road all day. Kelsang was tired, too, but as he curled up with his head tucked close to his belly, something began to disturb him. His eardrums were hurting.

He looked up toward the guesthouse in the inky darkness. All was quiet except for the sounds of snoring and of someone muttering in their sleep. And yet a maddening feeling was growing inside him to the point that he could hardly bear the pressure. Then it slowly dawned on him that it was not madness, but fear. A creeping fear was pressing on his chest.

Kelsang froze, trying to detect the sound of Han Ma among all the other snoring guests. It was impossible. There were too many sounds drowning him out.

Fear closed in on Kelsang, restricting his breathing. It wasn't his experience on the grasslands that was telling him something was wrong, but pure animal instinct. The feeling passed quickly, yet it threw him into confusion, disrupting his rest. Perhaps it had just been some small change in the air or a faint noise. Kelsang couldn't make sense of it. It reminded him of the feeling he'd had one snowy winter day when he'd started barking and circling the yurt and had finally resorted to banging against it when he received no response. Luckily, Tenzin realized that something must be wrong, and just as the family stepped outside, the felt tent collapsed from all the snow piled on top.

It had been a strange omen and showed that Kelsang was particularly sensitive to danger. And something told him that the danger was even greater tonight.

By the time Kelsang's crazed barking awoke Han Ma, the dog had taken action. First he ran around the guesthouse barking as loudly as he could. When the people inside ignored him, he started ramming into the wooden door, and after a few knocks it flew open. It took Kelsang less than a second to find Han Ma.

The guesthouse was only open for business half the year, when the roads were passable. There were just two rooms — one at the front, with a wide platform bed and a couple of wooden tables, and a kitchen at the back. All the guests along with the people working in the guesthouse slept on the bed.

The employees, who were never as exhausted and didn't sleep as deeply as most of the guests, were already awake. They had just had time to get up and light the storm lanterns when the black shadow came crashing through the splintered wood, clambered over the sleeping guests and jumped on Han Ma. Han Ma awoke to find the others staring at the huge dog from under their covers. He was barking so loudly the room shook.

Han Ma had no idea what was going on, and he wasn't happy to have been pulled from his nice, cozy dreams in such a fashion. But he knew something must be very wrong from the way Kelsang was pulling desperately at his sleeve. He had never seen the mastiff so crazy before.

“If it's not too much trouble, can you get it to shut up? Maybe take it outside or something,” a sleepy truck driver complained.

Apologizing, Han Ma put on his shoes and was pulled outside through the broken door by Kelsang's tight grip on his sleeve.

“Buddy, you're paying for that door,” one of the employees called from inside.

“It's probably got rabies,” muttered another driver. No one had managed to sleep through the racket. It was going to be an exhausting night.

Kelsang pulled Han Ma all the way to the jeep before letting go, but he wasn't planning on calming down just yet. He started running, jumping and barking.

Han Ma couldn't see anything unusual. The sky was clear after the day's heavy rain, and the Milky Way shone like a celestial river. The air was eerily still. There were no signs that the jeep had been broken into, and there were no strangers about.

Puzzled, Han Ma stared at Kelsang.

Suddenly Kelsang stopped barking. The sound continued to echo in Han Ma's ears as he followed the direction of the dog's gaze. Up on the cliff above the guesthouse, the root of a tree swayed in the moonlight as if being blown by a gentle wind. But the night was perfectly still.

A sound like gurgling water.

“Landslide!” Han Ma shouted.

He ran back inside the guesthouse, jumped up onto the bed and began to kick Yang Yan, who was still asleep. Then he kicked the other guests. Han Ma's shouts were followed by curses, and the midnight quiet turned into the clamor of an air raid as everyone tumbled out of the building in their nightclothes. Kelsang followed, marshalling them like a flock of sheep scattered by a violent snowstorm. Using his head, he pushed against the last driver's pudgy bottom, as he waddled, penguin-like, outside.

They didn't understand what was going on, but they knew it was bad. This crazy dog and his equally crazy master were determined to have them out of their sweet dreams and into the crisp night air at any cost.

Nine people stood in the parking lot. Those who had not had time to put on their shoes cursed as they hopped on the freezing concrete. They were shocked by the ferociousness of the dog, who was now standing beside Han Ma, and were careful not to make any sudden movements. One careless move and that dog would be on you, they were sure of it. It would rip you to shreds.

Han Ma couldn't hear anything over the confused questions, and he began to wonder if he might have been wrong.

“You're not sleepwalking, are you?” Yang Yan asked, rubbing his eyes from where he crouched on the ground. Despite the mad rush, he hadn't forgotten his sleeping bag and was wrapped up inside it.

Before Han Ma had time to answer, the cliff did it for him. A crashing that sounded like the sky falling in echoed all around them. It was like water blasting through a riverbank and was followed by the creaking of a tree falling over and then another deafening crash.

By the time it had all gone quiet again, the guesthouse, a place that had seen so many sweet slumbers, had disappeared, along with half the cliff that had once towered above it. Over ten thousand tons of rock and gravel had buried the place where they had been sleeping only moments ago.

Han Ma only lost a sleeping bag.

“Buddy, no need to pay for that door,” said the guesthouse worker.

Over the next few days, Kelsang enjoyed many cans of meat given to him as gifts — eighteen cans of meat, from four drivers and three guesthouse staff, to be precise.

Han Ma and Yang Yan were finishing up the handover of the jeep in Golmud. Han Ma had tied Kelsang to a tree in the courtyard before going inside to make arrangements. As he waited, Kelsang discovered that he had the ability to predict his own future. He watched Han Ma's every move — the handshake, the goodbye. And then they left without even glancing his way. Kelsang was confused. It wasn't possible. This was the very thing he had always worried about.

The noise of traffic drowned out the sound of Kelsang's barking before Han Ma and Yang Yan even reached the street.

“Are you still thinking about that dog? I doubt he's missing us,” Yang Yan said, walking ahead with his backpack.

“Hmm,” Han Ma replied. He quickened his pace, even though it was a while before the train would leave.

They crossed two roads in silence before turning into a busy street lined with stalls of roasting meat. The air was thick with smoke from the coals. Gradually, they began to notice that there was something different about the way everyone was looking at them. It was the very fact that everyone was looking at them that made them uneasy. At first they thought it was because of the way they were dressed. They were still wearing their expedition gear. But that seemed unlikely since this was the only route into Lhasa, and there were hikers everywhere with huge backpacks. The people of Golmud must be used to it.

Slowly they realized that people weren't looking at them, but at something behind them.

Han Ma turned around. “The dog!” he exclaimed.

It was indeed Kelsang standing behind them, a rope trailing from his neck with a large tree trunk attached to it. He was silent apart from his violent panting, his rib cage rising and falling as he recovered from running to catch up to them. He looked intently at Han Ma, searching his eyes for answers.

When Han Ma had disappeared, Kelsang's first reaction had been to bark madly in confusion. Then he suddenly stopped and put his energy into pulling on his rope instead. He pulled and pulled, and each time the tree shook, scattering a carpet of leaves on the ground but nothing more.

For the people standing in their doorways, it was like watching a machine performing a mechanical movement over and over again. But Kelsang wasn't paying any attention to his surroundings. He was just stubbornly trying to break the rope so that he could find Han Ma. The onlookers sensed his urgency, and someone even tried to approach to untie the rope. He couldn't bear to see the dog struggling. But the others stopped him. It would be dangerous to get too close.

When the tree finally came down — this time the rope was stronger than the tree — Kelsang nearly fell over, but he didn't pause for more than a second before running straight out of the courtyard.

The crowd let out a sigh of relief, and some people even looked happy.

Kelsang took no notice. He was too busy desperately searching for Han Ma's scent. As soon as he found it, he began to gallop. A couple of times, he feared he had lost the trail, but in his momentary despair he always found his lifeline again — the tiniest trace of Han Ma.

He bumped and crashed his way through a crowd of people, who parted, screaming.

An enormous dog dragging a tree trunk with a rope around its neck was running through the streets of Golmud.

Finally, Kelsang caught sight of Han Ma's familiar shape and became calm. He tried to draw up behind him casually, as if nothing had happened.

“Come here,” Han Ma said.

Kelsang walked over to him and nuzzled his hot head against Han Ma's chest, sticking out his dry tongue to lick his hand. This was Kelsang's world now. He started whimpering and trembling uncontrollably, just like a little puppy.

“Look, it's not that big a deal,” Yang Yan said. “Mastiffs can be shipped by train. Let's go. We have time to make the arrangements before we leave.” He wasn't used to being the center of attention and was getting nervous. A crowd had gathered, many of them chewing on Golmud's famous meat kebabs as they watched to see what was going on.

Han Ma and Yang Yan rushed off in the direction of the train station with Kelsang in tow.

“You didn't choose a spindly tree on purpose, did you?”

“Um…no, of course not,” Han Ma replied.