He rode his motorcycle into the dim zinc-roofed shed and turned off the ignition. Cradling his red-coloured helmet under one arm, he walked into the fluorescent-lit college lobby. He looked like any other young university student on campus. Fresh-faced earnestness framed with thick glasses, clad in a floppy grey T-shirt and baggy shorts. He had just returned from a late night supper at the KL Gate burger stall with his girlfriend. After dropping her off at First College, he headed back to Sixth College. He had planned to play his computer game for about half-an-hour before turning in for the night.
'Beep beep'
He looked at the flashing light on his Samsung Galaxy. An in-coming text. He deftly flicked at the screen and the following message popped up - 'Hv u written ur part of the elective report? Nd to print tonite n submit tmr. Ruben.'
He ran his fingers through his short spiky black hair and gasped slightly. He had forgotten about the assignment which was due the next morning. He jogged swiftly up the staircase and kicked aside a few stray slippers on the way to his room, dodging soapy droplets dripping from the laundry slung from the metal piping overhead.
Sliding his helmet under his rickety wooden bed and throwing his bunch of keys on the mattress, he flipped open his laptop and double-clicked on the folder marked 'Elective Phase III'. The mouse hovered over the Word Document marked 'Elective Report' and his right index finger tapped twice swiftly on the mouse button. He drummed the fingers of his other hand on the formica top impatiently.
He sat down on the flimsy green plastic chair, his feet cool on the slippery tiled floor. He watched in disbelief as a dialog box appeared and proclaimed 'The file is corrupt and cannot be opened.' He swore at the computer and double-clicked again. Same message.
He looked at the glowing numbers on his phone. 00.05 AM. Half the college would be asleep by now. He winced as he tried to figure out what had gone wrong. He had been working on the report with Ruben and the other teammates in the computer lab earlier in the afternoon when he realized that he had forgotten to bring his USB drive and sent the file to himself via e-mail instead. Having replaced the original draft on his hard disk with the downloaded version, he now had no point of reference. No way to retrieve his original draft, not even to rewrite his newly-edited part of the report. Not unless...
He quickly unlocked his door and slipped on his flip-flops, USB drive in hand. He knocked on the wooden door of the room two doors away.
Nothing. Then, a groan.
"Ming Chee, it's me, Jason."
"What? I have gone to bed," came a muffled reply from within.
"Can I get the elective report file off you? Mine has been corrupted, I can't open the file."
"Oh man, do you know what time it is now? Sleeping edi. Tomorrow lah, you come look for me tomorrow," Ming Chee said groggily. He buried his face in his soft, warm pillow and hoped that Jason would go away.
"Please, Ming. Ruben needs to compile and pass it up by tomorrow. He'll kill me if I don't sort this out tonight. Please," Jason said.
"Hmph."
"Please lah."
The door creaked open, letting a sliver of light pool onto the floor. Ming Chee held out an oblong-shaped blue USB drive.
"OK...OK, take this. Return to me tomorrow then. Good night, Jason," he mumbled.
"Thanks! Thank you so much, Ming. Owe you one, bro."
Jason rushed back to his room and plugged Ming Chee's USB drive into his own machine. Then he put on his headphones and went to work.
[Image copyright of Gerald Chong Art www.gerartchong.com]
He clamped his nostrils shut as his eyes roamed the dimly-lit alley hungrily. A mangy orange cat with a stumpy tail scampered across his path, in search of a gray rat which had darted into the drain. Garish red fluorescent lamps shone in the doorways of the shophouses and silhouettes of drunken people stumbled into budget motels located upstairs. Gaunt young men with matted hair and vacant eyes lay on the five foot pathway, too stoned to move. Needles in their scabbed, crusted hands. The stench of uncollected rubbish, unwashed humans, stagnant drains and stale beer nauseated him.
He reached into his trouser pocket and gripped his wallet tightly. A piece of folded cut-out newspaper brushed against his hand. Damp sweat stained the back of his shirt.
Girl, 16, missing from home
Felicia Tan, a 16 year old student, was found missing yesterday. She told her parents that she had gone for band practice at a schoolmate’s home after school but failed to return home. It is feared that she had been abducted by some unidentified man as she was spotted leaving the school compound with a tall dark-skinned male. Anyone who has any information on her whereabouts can contact the police at….
It had been a whole two days. He was at work when he received the news.
“Honey, our daughter hasn’t come home yet. Did she tell you where she might be?”
He was busy closing a business deal via e-mail. It was almost ten p.m. and he had not taken any dinner yet. He rubbed his tired eyes.
“Didn’t she say that she would be going to Mei San’s house after school? Some band practice or something?”
He could feel his wife tense up over the phone. There was a moment of silence.
“It is now ten o’clock at night. I called Mei San. She never went to her friend’s house. You know very well it isn’t safe out there in KL these days. I don’t want anything to happen to her.”
“Perhaps you are over-reacting, dear. She might have gone to the mamak with friends again.”
“I don’t care. You better come home and help out with this,” his wife muttered angrily.
He hastily typed out a quick reply to the client, gulped down the remains of his cold coffee and grabbed his bag. Switched off the office lights before heading to his BMW.
Eleven o’clock. Twelve midnight. One a.m. Two a.m. Three and then four a.m. They heard a cock crow.
The couple sat in silence on the sofa. Numerous phone calls to Felicia had gone unanswered at first, then finally going to voice mail. Out in the hallway, the clock ticked frantically.
“I’m going to the police station,” he said tersely.
“I’ll come with you,” she said.
The police station was thirty minutes away. Despite his rising apprehension, he could not help but stifle a yawn as he strained to keep his eyes on the road. His knuckles turned white as he gripped the steering wheel with his sweaty hands. Beside him, his wife stared out at the deserted roads stonily.
“It’s your fault. You spend all your time on your work, on your clients, on your projects. You hardly even see your own daughter,” her voice broke.
“Look, I need to work to provide for the family. How about yourself? Do you even know who her friends are?” he snapped.
Her tears stained the car seat cushion as she looked away. They both felt a pang of guilt. Felicia had been slowly becoming more distant. But as her grades remained satisfactory, neither of her parents had expected much trouble. Henry could remember when they had first brought her home from the hospital, a wee little lady bundled up in layers of cloth. He would often go to her crib at night and watch her sleep. Trace a callused finger along the curve of her soft baby cheek. Inhale her sweet baby scent. He had watched as she toddled unsteadily on her chubby feet, pedalled her first bicycle, danced her first ballet performance. She had grown up quickly, their girl. Far too quickly.
Their life over the next few days quickly descended into an endless round of press interviews, checking e-mails and answering phone calls, even making YouTube videos pleading with her to return home. There was nothing. He had taken to wandering the shopping malls and back lanes around town, looking out for signs of his daughter.
He kicked at a pebble in frustration, sending it bouncing against a grimy brick wall. Suddenly he saw a shadow slip out from beneath a doorway. The way the person moved and walked seemed rather familiar. Henry held his breath and ducked behind a pillar as yellow light pooled onto the person’s profile from a streetlamp overhead. He recognized the face. But from where?
Then it hit him. He had seen the same young man when he last dropped Felicia at the mall to hang out with her friends. He had then caught a quick glimpse of a few of her friends as he drove off. Among them was a tall young man with brown highlights in his hair and a scar on one cheek.
The shadow moved away. Henry followed, taking care to keep in the shadows. Across the road, down a path littered with broken stones and glass shards. Past a clump of bushes and a hedge of tall prickly lalang. The young man fished out a key from his pocket and opened the door to a small wooden hut shaded by a cherry tree. Henry hid behind some bushes. He heard some muffled sounds, a shriek and a loud thud.
“Shut up!” a male voice shouted.
“Let me go! Please,” he heard Felicia’s plaintive plea, interspersed with sobs.
Henry darted out into the entrance of the wooden hut. He saw his daughter cowering in a corner on a torn, dirty mattress. Her hands and feet were bound with strips of cloth. There was a purple stain on her left cheek and crusted dried blood on her lower lip. There were two other girls crouched beside her. The young man stood before them. The only other furniture in the hut was a table littered with peanut shells and cans of Carlsberg. The musty smell of stale urine permeated the humid air.
“Let her go,” Henry said.
The young man turned to look at him. His thin lips twisted into a scowl.
“Who are you?”
“Daddy!” she uttered a cry of surprise.
“What have you done with her?” Henry asked angrily.
“Ah, her good ol’ daddy eh? What you going to do, uncle?” the other man taunted.
“Let her go,” Henry repeated himself. “How much do you want?”
“Ah Chong, please,” Felicia looked at the tall young man who merely chuckled and took a swig of warm beer from a half-opened can.
“Eh uncle, please lah, your daughter followed me here willingly. She’s a fool and so are you.”
“How much? I am not leaving without her today. She might have followed you here willingly but now she wishes to leave,” Henry was firm.
Chong retrieved a small pistol from his pocket and held the cold gunmetal to his lips. He walked up to Henry menacingly.
Henry’s mouth went dry and his heart thumped loudly against his ribcage. A rivulet of sweat ran down his brow.
“Don’t threaten me, old man. You know how much she is worth?” Chong taunted.
“Don’t waste your words. Name your price,” Henry took out his brown leather wallet.
The young man trained his gun on the elder man and stepped forward, snatching the wallet.
“Ah, you’re a rich man I see. Walking around with seven thousand ringgit in your pocket,” Chong laughed and whistled. He deftly removed the notes and credit cards from the wallet and tucked them into his jeans. He then threw the wallet onto the dusty floor. Henry picked it up.
“Now you can let her go,” Henry could feel his hands trembling.
Chong walked over to the three girls and kicked Felicia with his boot. She whimpered.
“Your daddy says you can leave. Ha, now get lost!”
She crawled towards the door. Henry swooped forward, loosened her restraints and helped her up, carrying her to the door.
Her arms circled him in an embrace.
“Did he hurt you much?”
She held him tightly as they stumbled down the path. Her hot tears seeped through the thin cotton material of his shirt.
“I’m sorry, Daddy. I’m so sorry,” she whispered.
“It’s OK. Let’s go home now.”
