We Meet Again

Dang Heng’s phone was grasped between his hands in desperation. Blood was running down his neck and shoulder, staining the surrounding snow and white shirt he was wearing. His fur was slick with running red, chilling him further in the cold.

Not a fatal hit. He won’t heal from this quickly.

The phone was the main concern.

Shattered and broken, the screen was hanging off the main body of the phone, slashed in the metaphorical neck, head dangling downwards like a corpse. Dragged along by a desperate man, one who kept every last bit of information in that sad, destroyed little rectangle that fit in his pocket.

Looking around the area; nothing seemed familiar. Miles of white surrounding the road he was on. A plow had recently come through however, piling the snow surrounding the street. It wasn’t baren wasteland, that was something he navigated often. This was what March would have referred to as Buttfuck Nowhere. Nothing left to do though but start walking. He slipped his spear back onto his strap and started moving. Keeping his tail close to him, hoping his fur would keep him warm regardless of the wound gushing in the crook of his neck and down his arm.

At least snow isn’t falling anymore, he thought to himself.

The scene he was leaving was just as bright red as the shirt on his body. Multiple victims, guilty of the crime of kidnapping him, threatening his life. They kept his spear in the vehicle. That was a bad idea for them.

Keep moving, please just keep moving.

His eyes were getting blurry, unable to pay attention fully to where he was going. They had passed a gas station earlier. Someone had mentioned filling up before they continued onward. Maybe if they had gotten out to get gas and checked on him they would’ve tightened his binds fast enough to still be alive. Maybe they would have noticed his tail was more than just a tool for wagging, it was nimble and sly.

It was coming up on the horizon. A splash of color, a warm orange filling his blurred vision with color instead of white nothingness. The gas station. It was close enough now to see the sign. He wasn’t able to read it, the words pulsated with every beat of his heart, something that made him feel even more dizzy than before.

He was glad for his resilience, even if his soul didn’t feel it. His body kept him moving long after his heart just wanted to lay down and rest. Then he saw it, sitting just outside of the gas station and close to the road.

A pay phone, he could call for help.

He entered the box, taking rest for a moment from the chilled wind and wet snow. It was still freezing in here but his hot breath would warm it up in a moment. He glanced down at the number pad and hovered his fingers over the digits.

His bloodied hand tightened around the broken machine corpse beside him. He came to rely greatly on it. He never bothered to remember the phone numbers of anyone, let alone March or Mr. Yang. The numbers were blurring he could barely even tell what order they were in. He picked up the phone and listened to the dial tone.

“Please insert 25 cents to make your call. Please insert 25 cents to make your call. Please insert 25 cents to make your call.”

Repeating over and over again. He was so dizzy that it barely sunk in the first five times. 25 cents. He looked down at his clothes, wishing for just a moment that he was some normal guy, one that didn’t have to scavenge the booth of the pay phone and would actually just have some spare change on him.

He put the phone back on its handle and dropped to the ground, feeling his hand over the wet, dirty carpet that covered the floor. A few coins, someone must have dropped them while making a previous call. He struggled to read what they said before giving up and just shoving whatever would fit into the machine.

“Thank you, please dial the number you wish to call. Outer planet calls are not yet available on this machine. Thank you, please dial the number you wish to call. Outer planet calls are not yet available on this machine.”

Outer.. planet…?

March wasn’t on this planet. She was on the Star Rail. Everyone was. He went alone to pick up some items. To find something about his past that escaped him. Then he was the one left escaping. Running away just like he always did.

He felt his body shuddering, moving on its own as he gripped the phone so hard it turned his knuckles white. His fingers danced back over the numbers, hovering.

Anything, remember anything, any number of any person on this godforsaken planet.

They moved on his own, his body remembering a number his brain had long forgotten. It was the only one of those four numbers that may have stayed the same. The rest long changed or deactivated. One was dead.

It was ringing.

Would he pick up? Would he bother with a unlisted number that could be any bum salesperson? Would it even pop up on his phone?

“Hello? Who is this.”

It was a soft, gentle but strong voice. Familiar but terrifying. Dan Heng didn’t know if he had the courage to respond to this phantom of his past.

“Hello?”

He had to. It was the only large coin he had found on the ground. It was the only number he could remember.

“Jing Yuan, it’s me. Dan Heng.”

“Dan Heng? What are you doing calling on this number? You sound horrible.”

He let himself release a huffing laugh, breathless from his racing heart rate.

“I feel horrible. I’m in a bit of trouble right now. You’re the only number I know.”

Silence on the other side, shuffling. He could hear Jing Yuan’s voice whisperingly speaking to someone nearby. The cheap plastic phone couldn’t pick it up.

If he comes to arrest me, taking me somewhere, sending me back to the Star Rail… anything is better than bleeding out here in the snow. He didn’t care what came next at this point. Anything.

“Yanqing found the pay phone you’re calling from. You’re about an hour from where we are, we’ll be there shortly.”

Click

“Please insert 25 cents to make your call. Please insert 25 cents to make your call.”

The call was gone. He put the phone back on its hook and dropped to the ground, leaning on the freezing glass. Blood was still flowing down his arm, pooling around him like a moat. He felt his eyes get heavy and close.

Jing Yuan was coming. He could rest. He trusted he was honest.

————————————————————

Loud knocking on the glass. He didn’t want to open his eyes. They were so heavy, the light outside was so blindingly white he couldn’t do it. Another firm knock.

“He’s in here!”

It was muffled and he didn’t recognize the voice. He slowly opened his eyes, blinking away the blindness from the snow. A young child, probably somewhere around 12-14 was looking in, cupping their hands around their face to look in at him. Jing Yuan came up beside the child and opened the glass door, shocked at the sight before him.

“Dan Heng? What the hell did you get yourself into.”

He glanced around, trying to see what he did. The phone booth was covered in blood, the floor, the glass, even the phone itself was caked in it.

“I’ll clean it up…”

His eyes closed again, this time too strong for him to push back open. His ears twitched, listening as Jing Yuan instructed the child to open their car while he carried him. The larger man picked him up effortlessly, careful to make sure he didn’t reopen the wound that had finally closed.

“Never thought I’d see you again. At least, not looking like this.”

“I’ll hurry up and die soon. Don’t worry.”

“You look like you’re well on your way to that. Let’s hold off for a bit. Are you still on the Star Rail?”

He nodded, feeling a sigh of relief from Jing Yuan. He felt himself get lowered into the backseat of the car, laid down lengthwise across the whole backseat.

“Yanqing, call Mr. Yang of the Star Rail. Let him know we have one of his. We can’t bring him back home with us.”

“Why not? He should get to a doctor.”

“He doesn’t need a doctor, he just needed to get out of the cold. He’s a wanted criminal anyway.”

“Is that why we came alone?”

“You didn’t have to actually come. You could have just called in the army. Why?” His voice was shaky, it sounded so pathetic to himself.

“You called my personal phone. Only friends have that number. I’d hope you’d still see me as one.”

“Thank you, Jing Yuan.”

“Let’s just get you home.”