The Garlic Ballads

“Handcuff them to a tree,” Drumhead said. “That way they’ll get some shade, too.”

“Get up, all of you!” one of the young policemen ordered the prisoners.

Gao Yang was the first to stand up, followed by the horse-faced young man. Fourth Aunt Fang stayed on the floor and sobbed. “I’m not getting up. If I’m going to die I’ll do it with a roof over my head.

“Mrs. Fang,” Zheng said, “if you keep acting like that, we might have to get rough.”

“So what?” she shouted. “What will you do, beat me to death?”

“No, I wont beat you to death,” Zheng said with a sneer, “but if you refuse to obey orders and create a disturbance, I’m within my rights to use force. You may not know what electricity feels like, but that second son of yours knows well enough.”

Zheng took an electric prod out of his belt and waved it in front of her. “If you’re not on your feet by the time I count to three, I’ll let you have it.”

“One …”

“Go ahead, let me have it. Pig!”

“Two …”

“Go ahead, let me have it!”

“Three!” Zheng shouted as he stuck the prod up under her nose. She shrieked and rolled on the floor before scrambling to her feet.

As the other policemen laughed, the one named Guo pointed to the horse-faced young man. “This son of a bitch is in a world of his own,” he said. “Not even an electric shock fazes him.”

“You re joking,” Zheng said.

“Try it, if you don’t believe me.”

Zheng pressed the switch of the prod, which spat green sparks of crackling electricity. “I don’t believe you,” he said, touching the young man’s neck.

Not a twitch; just a contemptuous smile.

“That’s weird,” Zheng marveled. “Maybe it’s busted.”

“There’s one sure way to find out,” Guo suggested.

“Impossible,” Zheng mumbled, then touched his own neck with it. He shrieked, dropping the prod; holding his head in his hands, he crumpled to the floor.

The other policemen roared with laughter.

“That’s what we call testing the law on the lawman,” Guo remarked sarcastically.

They walked about fifty paces down the broad compound path, Gao Yang led by the stammering policeman, the horse-faced young man in the custody of one of the young policemen, and Fourth Aunt Fang being dragged along by Zheng and the policewoman. The path led to the county road, which was lined with a couple of dozen tall poplars, each as big around as a tub.

The handcuffs were removed and the prisoners pushed back against the trees, their arms forced back around the trunks so their police escort could snap the handcuffs on. “Ouch! Damn it, you’re breaking my arms!” It was Fourth Aunt Fang.

“J-just to be on the safe side,” the stammerer said to the policewoman, Song Anni.

Her response was a lazy yawn.

The police all went inside to enjoy their food and beer, now that their prisoners were standing shackled to the trees; but they soon slid slowly down the trunks until they were sitting on the ground, arms wrenched behind them.

The shade kept shifting eastward, until the late-afternoon sun shone directly down on the prisoners. Everything turned black for Gao Yang, whose arms felt as if they had floated away, leaving a burning sensation in his shoulders. The horse-faced young man beside him was puking loudly. Gao Yang turned to look at him.

The drooping head at the end of the man’s long neck forced his shoulder blades straight up. His chest heaved violently, and there was a sticky, nasty mess on the ground, a mixture of red and white; bottleneck flies were already swarming over from the toilet. Gao Yang jerked his head around, as his stomach lurched and a pocket of air rushed noisily to his throat. His mouth flew open and out gushed a yellow liquid.

The wailing of Fourth Aunt, who was on his left, had soon turned to sobs, and now even they had faded away. Was she dead? Alarmed by this thought, he turned to look. No, she wasn’t dead. She was gasping for breath, and if her arms hadn’t been pulled so tightly behind her, she would have been sprawled facedown on the ground. One of her shoes had fallen off, revealing a dark, pointed foot stretched out to the side, where ants swarmed over it. Her head wasn’t touching the ground, but her white hair was.

I’m not crying, Gao Yang muttered to himself. I’m not.

Summoning all his energy, he got to his feet and pushed his back against the tree trunk as hard as he could, in order to take some of the pressure off his arms. The policewoman, Song Anni, came up to survey the scene. She removed her cap, smoothing her lush black hair, but kept her sunglasses on as she wiped her moist, shiny lips with a handkerchief that quickly covered her mouth as her glance landed on the horse-faced young man’s mess. “No problems here?” she asked in a muffled voice.

Gao Yang didn’t feel like answering, and Fourth Aunt was incapable of it, so it was up to the horse-faced young man: “No p-problem, even if I f-fuck your old lady!”

Terrified that she was going to hit the young man, Gao Yang spun around to look at him. But the policewoman just turned and walked away, her mouth covered by the handkerchief.