7 minute read
"Ice Horse" Chapter 2: Aoji Zhang
The floor we hit wasn’t hard. Ben and I lay there for a moment, since we were still in shock. Finally, Ben and I got up, and Ben took out his flashlight. It turns out we were on a big blue cushioned mat. As Ben pointed the flashlight at the walls, we saw that the walls were lined with rock climbing holds. Luckily, Ben and I were skilled climbers, so it didn’t seem hard, but we didn’t know how climbing would get us out. Ben stepped closer and a boxing fist came out of the wall. It was booby-trapped! Ben volunteered to try out the wall while I searched for an exit. I saw a large vent, but no other exits. Ben was able to climb the wall without setting off too many traps, but that wouldn’t help us unless we got a screwdriver. He jumped from the wall, not wanting to risk the climb down, but that set off six traps. Something fell out of the highest trap: a screwdriver. I climbed up to take off the vent cover, giving Ben a break. I took out the four screws and tucked them in my pocket then took the cover off and dropped it beside Ben. I also jumped down in hopes that I could also trigger something useful. Nothing fell down, so I climbed up somewhere else and jumped. We slowly went around the whole room. Two other things fell out: a key and a box. The box was unlocked so we opened the box and inside were photos of a house, photos of us, and photos of our father. Ben and I weren’t quite sure what house was in the photo, but we assumed it was important. We climbed up to the vent, holding the box and key. I climbed inside the vent and then Ben passed me the box. Finally, I pulled him up. We crawled through the vent and made a left, then went up an incline, then a right, and an incline. Finally, we saw some light at the end of the vent. Once we reached it, I kicked off the cover and it clanked on the floor. I looked out and saw our workshop. The workshop was at the end of the courtyard. We got out and found that the room was messy, like someone was looking for something. The cabinets were open and the table had tools spread all over. We didn’t spend too much time thinking about it since we didn't know if the man was following us. We walked out of the shop; surprisingly it was sundown. We cautiously walked to the fence across the yard, and we attempted to open the gate’s lock. I used the key and thankfully it worked. The gate swung open and we were finally able to leave the property. Mysteriously, the man, the car he came in, and every trace of him coming was gone. As we walked down the empty street, we decided on a plan; we were going to find our father. But first we were going to pretend to be lost kids. We knocked on the front door of one of our neighbours' houses. Luckily the owner answered. A middle-aged woman stood at the door. I explained that we were lost after playing and we didn’t know how to get home. She invited us in and asked us if we knew our address. Ben said no but showed her the photo of that house. It was weird for older children to not know their own address, but the lady didn’t seem to care. She did something on a thin box that lit up, and then gave us an address.
Ice Horse
Chapter 2 of a story by Aoji Zhang, 605
How long have I been motionless in front of this ice horse? What a terrible fall he too must have had, but he was less fortunate than the poor thing. For now at least... The walls towering above me are solid rock, impossible to climb. Incoherent thoughts begin to flicker in my mind. Daylight is fading and yet multicoloured butterflies are fluttering around me, coaxing happy smiles from my lips. That’s it, winter is over, the velvety, green grass bursting through the white blanket. Poppies, buttercups, forget-menots and violets flaunting their desire for spring over our Mongolian mountains. But a grey veil soon falls on this vision and sends shivers through my body. No, no, winter is not over, I’m losing my mind and I might not see the next spring.,
How on earth did I, Battushig, a 17-year-old computer science student at the National University of Mongolia, find myself far from the excitement of the capital, Ulan Bator, only to die of cold in the Mongolian mountains? I focus on my last memories. A bumpy ten-hour bus ride to reach the steppe, followed by a two-hour walk to reach my family’s winter camp.
Continued from the previous page John, my father, was too proud of his traditions to ever use a
My stallion, Altaïr, instantly mobile phone. Fortunately, my recognizable by his coat of mother Kinzie managed to roast coffee with flecks of convince him to buy solar cherry red and his thick, glossy panels so they could have black mane, left the herd and power like most people. And a galloped towards me, whinnying satellite dish to follow the news loudly. Such an emotional – as well as soppy Korean soap reunion, him nuzzling against operas – on television! Ah, my my neck, pushing his muzzle father. He has more pride than into my chest, then turning and Genghis Khan! How will he react spinning like a puppy before when I tell him the incredible returning and placing his thing that happened to me? forehead on my shoulder, Thanks to the free online breathing noisily. I patted him, computer courses provided by embraced him, and spoke to the American University MIT in him softly. How I had missed Massachusetts and the project him! that I developed with the help of teachers and students at the Altaïr escorted me to the tipis, National University of Mongolia prancing happily. My three and throughout the online younger sisters rushed towards world, MIT has offered me a me, almost knocking me to the scholarship that will allow me to ground in their attempts to be join its ranks of students. Will I the first to jump into my arms. see the pride on my father’s My little ones had grown again. face, or will I be turned into a My mother, Kinzie, held me in motionless icicle, just like this her arms before telling me that frozen horse? my father had left for a meeting of horse breeders at Mount Is it night already? I can see the Altai. But he ought to have been first stars twinkling, and the ice on his way back. I remember my horse whinnies to greet them. I disappointment; I had so little hear you ride, and now he time! Then I see myself, being speaks to me. I rub my eyes with wrapped up in warm traditional my numb hands – the ice horse clothing by my mother, my feet hasn’t moved. All this must have protected by strips of felt rolled been hallucinations brought on up to the top of my ankles, by hypothermia. before sliding them into boots. She slips a bag of provisions “Batt! Hold on! We’ve come to over my shoulder once perched get you!” on Altaïr, then scatters a few drops of milk in homage to the A metallic clinking sound tears spirits of our ancestors to through the muffled silence of protect me. I wave to her and the mountains. Through the fog set off at a gallop to meet my in my brain, I can make out two father, to tell him the great bright spots slowly coming news. closer. I can hear voices encouraging me. A chain of points getting bigger and bigger now. Holding axes and ropes around their waists, members of my tribe approach me. My big brother, Gambat, head of the camp in the absence of my father, lifts me and strokes my face to help the blood start flowing again. With the last of my strength, I point to the horse trapped in the ice. The reflection of Gambat’s headlamp on the ice dazzles me. My brother almost drops me to his surprise. But he pulls himself together and I feel him fastening straps around me.
“Altaïr led us to you, you reckless thing!”
I think I manage to smile before completely losing consciousness.
