Take A Vacation, by Lufia Metallium,
Rating: PG for implied violence
Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who or Chang Lee. They belong to the BBC. Credit is due to Gary Russell's wonderful novelization of the TV movie, for providing much needed characterization and background for Lee. ************************************************************************
"And have a good winter break," Mrs. Grayson said as the final bell rang. The students hastily shoved their lit. books into their backpacks and crushed around the classroom door. She smiled, shaking her head. "Oh, Lee!" She called the Asian boy back from the disappearing throng. "Can I talk to you for a moment?"
The eighteen-year-old turned, smiling awkwardly. "Yeah?" he asked, ambling back to her desk. He shifted his bag from one shoulder to the other.
"I just wanted to say how glad I am that you came back to school."
"Oh." He fidgeted, shoving his hands in his pockets.
"I'm very impressed with how hard you've been working," Mrs. Grayson continued. "I know it's not easy."
Lee smirked. "It's not so bad. And, I want to try college, I think, so I've got to get used to all this reading, right?"
"Indeed." She couldn't believe her ears. Was this the same boy who'd dropped out just over a year ago because of his gang? "If you keep on as you are, college will suit you fine."
His expression turned serious. "Any chance I can graduate on time? I could do nights.."
"Lee," Mrs. Grayson stood, moving around her cluttered desk. Lee was an adept reader of body language, she'd learned from observing his behavior in her class. If she stood next to him, as an equal, he wouldn't take offense at her next words. "Lee, I don't think that would be good for you, even if it was possible. You were out for a year. Cramming your junior and senior years of high school into just over a semester would crack even the most driven students. There just isn't time to get the credits that you need before June, and even if there were, the stress would send you to the loony bin. It'd send me to the loony bin. You'd burn out."
Lee frowned slightly, lowering his gaze to the floor. "Yeah, I guess." He then looked up at the clock, staring through the timepiece. "How about by next Christmas, if I do summer school too?"
Mrs. Grayson smiled. "If you keep up your newfound focus, I would say that is doable. But, term technically ends in January, you know."
"Cool." Lee smiled at her, a genuine smile, not the slight, amused grin he put on for the other kids in class. "Thanks, Mrs. G."
"Have a nice Christmas, Lee."
"Yeah, you too." He turned and headed out into the hallway.
Mrs. Grayson stared after him. "I hope he actually relaxes over break," she remarked idly.
************************************************************************
Two weeks without school. Every other kid in San Francisco was rejoicing in the idea of shoving books as far back into lockers as they'd fit and ignoring work for the holiday. Every other kid was looking forward to sleeping in, staying up late, and partying like it was 1999 all over again this New Year's Eve. Chang Lee, however, was dreading the once-longed-for slack time.
He walked quickly down the street, jacket pulled up tightly around him, trying to look less like himself. Unfortunately, someone always noticed him.
"Lee! Where've you been, man?"
Lee froze. He turned around, his false smile grinning at the other boy. "Hey Chin."
Chin had been a fellow gang member, back when he and his brother had run with the local gangs. He'd been initiated the same time as Lee, but had moved up the ranks much faster. The tall boy pushed his long black hair out of his face and wrapped an arm around Lee's shoulders. "Where've you been?"
"Nowhere," Lee said. "Had to go to school, that's all."
Chin looked at him, concerned. "They actually caught you? You got a parole officer and all?"
Lee just shrugged.
"You better come around, Lee. We need you. Something big is coming."
"Something big?" Lee asked, forcing himself to keep a light tone in his voice. An image of a blue box faded into memory, and a man called out a warning in his mind.
"Yeah, man, real big. The Reds have been real quiet lately, and we figure they're planning something. Word is they're gonna go all out this time, try full-scale war."
The Reds were the rivals of Lee's former gang. He shivered involuntarily. War meant massacre, on one or both sides. The warning grew louder. "So what are we doing?"
"We're gonna beat them to it, of course!" Chin said, smacking Lee on the shoulder. "We start it, we finish it our way, right? So, we need you back. Han's calling in everybody for war council. Tomorrow night, Rose Alley. You there, man?"
Lee's mind whirled. "Can't, I've got to see my parole officer," he lied. "I'll be there as soon as I can get away, but I can't look like I've got somewhere to go, you know? He'll get suspicious."
Chin nodded. "Right, right. Be there as soon as you can. Council starts at 9, man. I'll fill you in if you miss the beginning." Before Lee could agree, Chin had let go of his shoulder and slid down a nearby alley.
Lee sighed. He shifted his backpack again, then continued on his way home. The Doctor's warning echoed through his head. "Next Christmas, take a vacation. Just don't be here."
"You were right, Doctor," he muttered, hurrying up the steps to his little apartment. "I don't want to be here." He unlocked his door and slipped inside quietly. He hadn't made any plans to get away yet; it was still several days until Christmas itself. Apparently, the Doctor hadn't meant the actual day, just the period around the holiday. So now, he had less than twenty-four hours to find a ticket out of town, without his gang buddies knowing. He had to be gone before the meeting, or they'd come looking for him. Han wouldn't let information like Lee had wander the streets without insurance that it wouldn't be used against them.
His small suitcase was half-full when it hit. Lee sucked in his breath, throwing his head back as pain exploded behind his eyes, filling them with white light. Various, half-formed images floated through the radiance, trying to make themselves clear. Lee saw a gun, bullet shooting from the chamber, and empty black eyes. He could hear screaming, but it was muted, as if he was hearing the sound through several walls, or underwater. As quickly as the attack came, it left, leaving him doubled over, breathing shallow gasps.
"What the hell?" he managed to say between breaths. He tried to shake his head, but that just made him dizzy. He reached out for his bed, and noted that his hands were shaking. His eyes burned, and his head throbbed in pain. Last time his eyes had hurt that badly was New Year's Eve last year, when the Master had shoved his head into the column of light inside the Cloisters.
"This is just crazy," he said, the sound of his own voice making him feel calmer. He had to get away, very, very far away. He looked over at his passport, lying on his desk next to his schoolbooks, and managed a faint smile.
************************************************************************
The next evening, San Francisco time, Lee was walking the partly cloudy streets of downtown London, his suitcase rolling along beside him, looking for a hotel. He'd packed as quickly as he could, stuffing his schoolbooks, his clothes, and all his important belongings into his suitcase. He wasn't a pessimist by nature, but it wouldn't hurt to be careful, after all. And, how could he find a new place when he got back if his credit report was burning in a hollowed-out building?
"You'd figure there'd be at least one hotel with a vacancy," he muttered. He'd been up and down most of the main streets, either in a cab or on foot, and had yet to find a room to crash in for the next few days. Catching the flight from San Francisco had been easier. Standby wasn't so bad, if you were willing to stay up late and camp out by the desk.
"Finally," Lee said, noticing a "vacancy" sign outside a smaller hotel down a side street. He jogged toward the building, assessing it critically as he headed up the steps. It wasn't in the best condition, but it wasn't as run down as some places he'd seen in his eighteen years. The brick exterior looked badly in need of a cleaning, and some of the roof tiles were missing, but it wasn't strewn with litter, and there weren't any bums parked outside the doors.
A young redhead looked up at him as he entered, a bell rigged to the door announcing his presence. She put down her magazine and folded her hands on the desk, waiting for him to come to her before she asked, "Can I help you?"
"Yeah," Lee said, smiling. "Sign says you've got a room?"
The girl nodded, her eyes narrowing. "For how long will you be staying, sir?"
"Uh," Lee floundered. He hadn't actually thought that far ahead. "At least a week. Through the New Year, if you've got the space free."
The girl opened a large, dusty blue ledger and scanned the scripty writing. "Fourth floor, very tiny space, though. It's still free."
"How much?"
"Fifty pounds daily."
Lee pulled his wallet out of the back pocket of his jeans and thumbed through the bills. He handed her a fifty-pound note. "Cash is good, right?"
The girl's voice dripped sarcasm. "Never, sir. We hate cash." She tugged the note from his hand and slipped it into a drawer beneath the tabletop. Turning, she pulled a yellowing silver key from a wooden peg rack behind her. "Four-oh-four, Mister."
"Chang. Lee Chang." He decided to westernize the name to make it easier on her record keeping. If, for some reason, they had to page him, the staff wouldn't be confused as to his surname.
"Up the stairs, Mr. Chang. We don't have an elevator, I'm afraid."
Lee grinned gamely. "No problem. I need the exercise. Thanks, miss."
************************************************************************
Christmas was a quiet affair for Lee. He hadn't been expecting any gifts at home, so going away for the holidays hadn't been too much of a heartbreak. He hadn't gotten any sort of presents since the year before his parents had been killed. He stayed in his cramped room for most of the day, not really having the clothing for a cold Christmas, as he found London's holiday to be. The black and white leather jacket that served him well in San Francisco last holiday wasn't quite warm enough for the slush and fog of England, especially not over a thin t-shirt.
By the end of the day, however, Lee was feeling restless. He'd spent Christmas like he'd spent most of the days, studying for school. He'd meant what he'd told Mrs.Grayson; he wanted to graduate as soon as possible. Given his poor grades his first two years in high school, it was doubtful he'd leave with any sort of honors, but he wanted to bring up his GPA as much as he could. He was serious about college too. The Doctor's gold dust would only get him so far on his own. And, it wouldn't be long before the people in his neighborhood started wondering how he always managed to have some cash, even though he wasn't working, and he wasn't running with one of the gangs.
Deciding it was worth the blue fingers, Lee pulled on a second t-shirt over his first, and shrugged into his jacket. He zipped it up all the way. Tucking his key into his wallet and slipping both into his back pocket, he headed out and down the narrow staircase toward the hotel lobby. The redhead was sitting at the desk, sipping from a cup of steaming eggnog. She glanced up at him as he entered.
"He lives," she said sarcastically. She waved him over, and dropped a bar of chocolate into his hand. "Merry Christmas, Mr. Chang. From the staff."
Lee blinked, but smiled in thanks. "Merry Christmas to you too," he said. "Is the weather okay to walk around in outside?"
She shrugged. "Should be. Cold as anything, though."
Lee nodded, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets as he turned and headed out into the slush. He shivered as a blast of cold air hit him. "It's never this cold in California," he muttered, turning onto the main street. He walked quickly, but at a reasonable enough pace that he was able to admire the shop windows. All the stores were decorated for the holiday, trim lining the windows, bells hanging over the doors, and snowmen and angels displayed in the sills. Lee smiled at the prettiness of it all. "It's never this festive in California either."
He stopped short outside a diner, his eyes being pulled back to a newspaper kiosk. Christmas. Whatever was supposed to be happening in San Francisco would have gone down either last night or sometime today. Would it even make the London papers? He pulled out his wallet, plucking a one-pound coin from the zippered bit, and plunked the coin into the machine. The handle was ice against his bare hands as he opened the latch and pulled out an equally frozen copy of the Times. He folded it and tucked it under his arm, determined to continue on his walk. After a few more blocks, however, Lee felt frozen inside and out. He double-timed it back to his hotel, smiling in relief as the heat bombarded him when he stepped back into the lobby.
"You were gone longer than I thought you'd be," the receptionist said, glancing over at him. "I didn't even give you twenty minutes."
Lee shrugged. "What time is it, anyway?"
"Almost seven. You were out there about an hour. Cook's serving at eight." She drained the dregs of her eggnog.
"Thanks." Lee nodded, heading back upstairs. He unlocked his room, slipped inside, and shut the door immediately behind him. He was being too paranoid, he knew. Years of looking over your shoulder would do that, he supposed. Here, thankfully, there wasn't much to worry about.
He sat down on his bed, wrapping himself in his comforter, and spread the paper out in front of him. He flipped through the pages quickly, scanning for any international news from the U. S. The headline was at the bottom of page twenty-two, with Associated Press given as the only byline.
"Violence in California ends in twenty-three deaths, more injuries," Lee read, the words sounding unbelievable in his ears. "Jesus." He closed his eyes, swallowing down the bile that had risen into his throat. And he hadn't even read the article. He took a deep breath, and looked back at the paper.
"Police in San Francisco, California say a gang war erupted at about 11pm on 24 December. Only two of the city's twelve known street gangs were believed to have participated. The violence erupted in Chinatown, when one of the members from one gang allegedly attacked a member of the other. Twenty-three people, all between the ages of sixteen and twenty-four, were killed in the attack, and close to thirty more were wounded. Police are questioning those aggressors/victims listed in stable condition by San Francisco General Hospital."
Lee shoved the paper down to the floor angrily. The article had been sparing in details, but his mind could fill in the rest. Chin had said they were making the first move. The Reds fought back, and everyone was caught in the crossfire. Although the paper hadn't said where the attacks happened, Lee figured it was around Rose Street. The area was traditionally his gang's territory, hence the meeting in the alley a week ago, but the Reds had been trying to move into the area for ages now. Most likely Han had stationed people there until one of the Reds happened through, and turned it into a massacre. He'd staged it well, considering it made the English papers. Once the libraries were open again, he'd have to check the Examiner and the L. A. Times for more detailed information.
The pain hit him again as he was wondering if the libraries were open on Boxing Day. The white light exploded behind his eyes, and sent a flood of images with it. The gun was clearer this time, and the screaming could have come from next door for all Lee knew. Faces flashed in front of him, Han, Chin, Lei, Meilin, and a dozen others from his gang, and easily a dozen people who had to be Reds. Some of the faces were twisted, frozen in cruel mockeries of expression. Some were surprisingly calm and slack. Heartbeat monitors sounded behind some of the images, flat-line wails behind others. Police sirens and ambulance clarions screamed alongside gunshots, and motorcycles zoomed through pistol smoke.
It disappeared as suddenly as it had attacked, just like before. Lee was suddenly thrust back into the real world, staring blankly at the beige carpet on the floor, covered in cold sweat, and breathing heavily. He suddenly didn't feel hungry anymore.
Rating: PG for implied violence
Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who or Chang Lee. They belong to the BBC. Credit is due to Gary Russell's wonderful novelization of the TV movie, for providing much needed characterization and background for Lee. ************************************************************************
"And have a good winter break," Mrs. Grayson said as the final bell rang. The students hastily shoved their lit. books into their backpacks and crushed around the classroom door. She smiled, shaking her head. "Oh, Lee!" She called the Asian boy back from the disappearing throng. "Can I talk to you for a moment?"
The eighteen-year-old turned, smiling awkwardly. "Yeah?" he asked, ambling back to her desk. He shifted his bag from one shoulder to the other.
"I just wanted to say how glad I am that you came back to school."
"Oh." He fidgeted, shoving his hands in his pockets.
"I'm very impressed with how hard you've been working," Mrs. Grayson continued. "I know it's not easy."
Lee smirked. "It's not so bad. And, I want to try college, I think, so I've got to get used to all this reading, right?"
"Indeed." She couldn't believe her ears. Was this the same boy who'd dropped out just over a year ago because of his gang? "If you keep on as you are, college will suit you fine."
His expression turned serious. "Any chance I can graduate on time? I could do nights.."
"Lee," Mrs. Grayson stood, moving around her cluttered desk. Lee was an adept reader of body language, she'd learned from observing his behavior in her class. If she stood next to him, as an equal, he wouldn't take offense at her next words. "Lee, I don't think that would be good for you, even if it was possible. You were out for a year. Cramming your junior and senior years of high school into just over a semester would crack even the most driven students. There just isn't time to get the credits that you need before June, and even if there were, the stress would send you to the loony bin. It'd send me to the loony bin. You'd burn out."
Lee frowned slightly, lowering his gaze to the floor. "Yeah, I guess." He then looked up at the clock, staring through the timepiece. "How about by next Christmas, if I do summer school too?"
Mrs. Grayson smiled. "If you keep up your newfound focus, I would say that is doable. But, term technically ends in January, you know."
"Cool." Lee smiled at her, a genuine smile, not the slight, amused grin he put on for the other kids in class. "Thanks, Mrs. G."
"Have a nice Christmas, Lee."
"Yeah, you too." He turned and headed out into the hallway.
Mrs. Grayson stared after him. "I hope he actually relaxes over break," she remarked idly.
************************************************************************
Two weeks without school. Every other kid in San Francisco was rejoicing in the idea of shoving books as far back into lockers as they'd fit and ignoring work for the holiday. Every other kid was looking forward to sleeping in, staying up late, and partying like it was 1999 all over again this New Year's Eve. Chang Lee, however, was dreading the once-longed-for slack time.
He walked quickly down the street, jacket pulled up tightly around him, trying to look less like himself. Unfortunately, someone always noticed him.
"Lee! Where've you been, man?"
Lee froze. He turned around, his false smile grinning at the other boy. "Hey Chin."
Chin had been a fellow gang member, back when he and his brother had run with the local gangs. He'd been initiated the same time as Lee, but had moved up the ranks much faster. The tall boy pushed his long black hair out of his face and wrapped an arm around Lee's shoulders. "Where've you been?"
"Nowhere," Lee said. "Had to go to school, that's all."
Chin looked at him, concerned. "They actually caught you? You got a parole officer and all?"
Lee just shrugged.
"You better come around, Lee. We need you. Something big is coming."
"Something big?" Lee asked, forcing himself to keep a light tone in his voice. An image of a blue box faded into memory, and a man called out a warning in his mind.
"Yeah, man, real big. The Reds have been real quiet lately, and we figure they're planning something. Word is they're gonna go all out this time, try full-scale war."
The Reds were the rivals of Lee's former gang. He shivered involuntarily. War meant massacre, on one or both sides. The warning grew louder. "So what are we doing?"
"We're gonna beat them to it, of course!" Chin said, smacking Lee on the shoulder. "We start it, we finish it our way, right? So, we need you back. Han's calling in everybody for war council. Tomorrow night, Rose Alley. You there, man?"
Lee's mind whirled. "Can't, I've got to see my parole officer," he lied. "I'll be there as soon as I can get away, but I can't look like I've got somewhere to go, you know? He'll get suspicious."
Chin nodded. "Right, right. Be there as soon as you can. Council starts at 9, man. I'll fill you in if you miss the beginning." Before Lee could agree, Chin had let go of his shoulder and slid down a nearby alley.
Lee sighed. He shifted his backpack again, then continued on his way home. The Doctor's warning echoed through his head. "Next Christmas, take a vacation. Just don't be here."
"You were right, Doctor," he muttered, hurrying up the steps to his little apartment. "I don't want to be here." He unlocked his door and slipped inside quietly. He hadn't made any plans to get away yet; it was still several days until Christmas itself. Apparently, the Doctor hadn't meant the actual day, just the period around the holiday. So now, he had less than twenty-four hours to find a ticket out of town, without his gang buddies knowing. He had to be gone before the meeting, or they'd come looking for him. Han wouldn't let information like Lee had wander the streets without insurance that it wouldn't be used against them.
His small suitcase was half-full when it hit. Lee sucked in his breath, throwing his head back as pain exploded behind his eyes, filling them with white light. Various, half-formed images floated through the radiance, trying to make themselves clear. Lee saw a gun, bullet shooting from the chamber, and empty black eyes. He could hear screaming, but it was muted, as if he was hearing the sound through several walls, or underwater. As quickly as the attack came, it left, leaving him doubled over, breathing shallow gasps.
"What the hell?" he managed to say between breaths. He tried to shake his head, but that just made him dizzy. He reached out for his bed, and noted that his hands were shaking. His eyes burned, and his head throbbed in pain. Last time his eyes had hurt that badly was New Year's Eve last year, when the Master had shoved his head into the column of light inside the Cloisters.
"This is just crazy," he said, the sound of his own voice making him feel calmer. He had to get away, very, very far away. He looked over at his passport, lying on his desk next to his schoolbooks, and managed a faint smile.
************************************************************************
The next evening, San Francisco time, Lee was walking the partly cloudy streets of downtown London, his suitcase rolling along beside him, looking for a hotel. He'd packed as quickly as he could, stuffing his schoolbooks, his clothes, and all his important belongings into his suitcase. He wasn't a pessimist by nature, but it wouldn't hurt to be careful, after all. And, how could he find a new place when he got back if his credit report was burning in a hollowed-out building?
"You'd figure there'd be at least one hotel with a vacancy," he muttered. He'd been up and down most of the main streets, either in a cab or on foot, and had yet to find a room to crash in for the next few days. Catching the flight from San Francisco had been easier. Standby wasn't so bad, if you were willing to stay up late and camp out by the desk.
"Finally," Lee said, noticing a "vacancy" sign outside a smaller hotel down a side street. He jogged toward the building, assessing it critically as he headed up the steps. It wasn't in the best condition, but it wasn't as run down as some places he'd seen in his eighteen years. The brick exterior looked badly in need of a cleaning, and some of the roof tiles were missing, but it wasn't strewn with litter, and there weren't any bums parked outside the doors.
A young redhead looked up at him as he entered, a bell rigged to the door announcing his presence. She put down her magazine and folded her hands on the desk, waiting for him to come to her before she asked, "Can I help you?"
"Yeah," Lee said, smiling. "Sign says you've got a room?"
The girl nodded, her eyes narrowing. "For how long will you be staying, sir?"
"Uh," Lee floundered. He hadn't actually thought that far ahead. "At least a week. Through the New Year, if you've got the space free."
The girl opened a large, dusty blue ledger and scanned the scripty writing. "Fourth floor, very tiny space, though. It's still free."
"How much?"
"Fifty pounds daily."
Lee pulled his wallet out of the back pocket of his jeans and thumbed through the bills. He handed her a fifty-pound note. "Cash is good, right?"
The girl's voice dripped sarcasm. "Never, sir. We hate cash." She tugged the note from his hand and slipped it into a drawer beneath the tabletop. Turning, she pulled a yellowing silver key from a wooden peg rack behind her. "Four-oh-four, Mister."
"Chang. Lee Chang." He decided to westernize the name to make it easier on her record keeping. If, for some reason, they had to page him, the staff wouldn't be confused as to his surname.
"Up the stairs, Mr. Chang. We don't have an elevator, I'm afraid."
Lee grinned gamely. "No problem. I need the exercise. Thanks, miss."
************************************************************************
Christmas was a quiet affair for Lee. He hadn't been expecting any gifts at home, so going away for the holidays hadn't been too much of a heartbreak. He hadn't gotten any sort of presents since the year before his parents had been killed. He stayed in his cramped room for most of the day, not really having the clothing for a cold Christmas, as he found London's holiday to be. The black and white leather jacket that served him well in San Francisco last holiday wasn't quite warm enough for the slush and fog of England, especially not over a thin t-shirt.
By the end of the day, however, Lee was feeling restless. He'd spent Christmas like he'd spent most of the days, studying for school. He'd meant what he'd told Mrs.Grayson; he wanted to graduate as soon as possible. Given his poor grades his first two years in high school, it was doubtful he'd leave with any sort of honors, but he wanted to bring up his GPA as much as he could. He was serious about college too. The Doctor's gold dust would only get him so far on his own. And, it wouldn't be long before the people in his neighborhood started wondering how he always managed to have some cash, even though he wasn't working, and he wasn't running with one of the gangs.
Deciding it was worth the blue fingers, Lee pulled on a second t-shirt over his first, and shrugged into his jacket. He zipped it up all the way. Tucking his key into his wallet and slipping both into his back pocket, he headed out and down the narrow staircase toward the hotel lobby. The redhead was sitting at the desk, sipping from a cup of steaming eggnog. She glanced up at him as he entered.
"He lives," she said sarcastically. She waved him over, and dropped a bar of chocolate into his hand. "Merry Christmas, Mr. Chang. From the staff."
Lee blinked, but smiled in thanks. "Merry Christmas to you too," he said. "Is the weather okay to walk around in outside?"
She shrugged. "Should be. Cold as anything, though."
Lee nodded, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets as he turned and headed out into the slush. He shivered as a blast of cold air hit him. "It's never this cold in California," he muttered, turning onto the main street. He walked quickly, but at a reasonable enough pace that he was able to admire the shop windows. All the stores were decorated for the holiday, trim lining the windows, bells hanging over the doors, and snowmen and angels displayed in the sills. Lee smiled at the prettiness of it all. "It's never this festive in California either."
He stopped short outside a diner, his eyes being pulled back to a newspaper kiosk. Christmas. Whatever was supposed to be happening in San Francisco would have gone down either last night or sometime today. Would it even make the London papers? He pulled out his wallet, plucking a one-pound coin from the zippered bit, and plunked the coin into the machine. The handle was ice against his bare hands as he opened the latch and pulled out an equally frozen copy of the Times. He folded it and tucked it under his arm, determined to continue on his walk. After a few more blocks, however, Lee felt frozen inside and out. He double-timed it back to his hotel, smiling in relief as the heat bombarded him when he stepped back into the lobby.
"You were gone longer than I thought you'd be," the receptionist said, glancing over at him. "I didn't even give you twenty minutes."
Lee shrugged. "What time is it, anyway?"
"Almost seven. You were out there about an hour. Cook's serving at eight." She drained the dregs of her eggnog.
"Thanks." Lee nodded, heading back upstairs. He unlocked his room, slipped inside, and shut the door immediately behind him. He was being too paranoid, he knew. Years of looking over your shoulder would do that, he supposed. Here, thankfully, there wasn't much to worry about.
He sat down on his bed, wrapping himself in his comforter, and spread the paper out in front of him. He flipped through the pages quickly, scanning for any international news from the U. S. The headline was at the bottom of page twenty-two, with Associated Press given as the only byline.
"Violence in California ends in twenty-three deaths, more injuries," Lee read, the words sounding unbelievable in his ears. "Jesus." He closed his eyes, swallowing down the bile that had risen into his throat. And he hadn't even read the article. He took a deep breath, and looked back at the paper.
"Police in San Francisco, California say a gang war erupted at about 11pm on 24 December. Only two of the city's twelve known street gangs were believed to have participated. The violence erupted in Chinatown, when one of the members from one gang allegedly attacked a member of the other. Twenty-three people, all between the ages of sixteen and twenty-four, were killed in the attack, and close to thirty more were wounded. Police are questioning those aggressors/victims listed in stable condition by San Francisco General Hospital."
Lee shoved the paper down to the floor angrily. The article had been sparing in details, but his mind could fill in the rest. Chin had said they were making the first move. The Reds fought back, and everyone was caught in the crossfire. Although the paper hadn't said where the attacks happened, Lee figured it was around Rose Street. The area was traditionally his gang's territory, hence the meeting in the alley a week ago, but the Reds had been trying to move into the area for ages now. Most likely Han had stationed people there until one of the Reds happened through, and turned it into a massacre. He'd staged it well, considering it made the English papers. Once the libraries were open again, he'd have to check the Examiner and the L. A. Times for more detailed information.
The pain hit him again as he was wondering if the libraries were open on Boxing Day. The white light exploded behind his eyes, and sent a flood of images with it. The gun was clearer this time, and the screaming could have come from next door for all Lee knew. Faces flashed in front of him, Han, Chin, Lei, Meilin, and a dozen others from his gang, and easily a dozen people who had to be Reds. Some of the faces were twisted, frozen in cruel mockeries of expression. Some were surprisingly calm and slack. Heartbeat monitors sounded behind some of the images, flat-line wails behind others. Police sirens and ambulance clarions screamed alongside gunshots, and motorcycles zoomed through pistol smoke.
It disappeared as suddenly as it had attacked, just like before. Lee was suddenly thrust back into the real world, staring blankly at the beige carpet on the floor, covered in cold sweat, and breathing heavily. He suddenly didn't feel hungry anymore.