10:40 By Kelvin P. Bik
10:40 Synopsis: Learned and self-controlled, a teen awakens to find himself inexplicably lost in a barren land. He is alone, or so he thinks. Many things are planned for him: by enemies he does not know and by friends he cannot recognise. How then is he to find a way home without knowing who he is or where he must go?
Text copyright © Kelvin Bik, 2014. All rights reserved. Cover design copyright © Kelvin Bik, 2014. All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. Unless otherwise indicated, all Scripture references are from the Holy Bible, English Standard Version (ESV) Copyright © 2001 by Crossway Bibles, a division of Good News Publishers. Quotations designated (NIV 1984) are from the Holy Bible, New International Version®, NIV® Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984 by Biblica, Inc®. All rights reserved worldwide.
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For my Father in heaven Hallowed be Your name forever.
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If I say, “Surely the darkness shall cover me, and the light about me be night,� even the darkness is not dark to you; the night is bright as the day, for darkness is as light with you. Psalm 139:11-12
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03 Joshua sat down on the kerb. He seated himself in a pool of lamppost light, and if anyone were around to see him then, he might have thought that Josh looked like a lost child. At 18 – almost 19, if you asked him – people still asked if he were say, 12 or at most 14. He was tiny in stature, his face exquisitely small, but perhaps it was his eyes that most worried people. He had, as he has been told several times by friends and strangers, eyes that stared into others’ with a childlike interest, a wide-eyed adoration, a look that disturbed some but strangely, attracted others. Josh privately thought that he might one day be beaten up for “staring” at others. He had read with increasing perplexity about local fights in recent years, all seemingly triggered by teens accusing strangers of staring at them. Words led to arguments, and then to blows, sometimes fatal, always ugly. Was that necessary, he had wondered? What were they so angry about? To be safe, he had chosen to rein in his behaviour, but even then, he found himself often staring at people and objects around him, the play of dappled sunlight on tree leaves for example, or the way that the wind would swirl and dance with yellow leaves in some obscure design that Josh sensed but could not fully explain, much as he wanted to. Those queer moments – queer because others thought so – had often stopped Josh in his tracks and brought a smile to his odd, almost sad countenance. His father had been a Christian – well, at least he returned to being one before he died – and though Josh wasn’t one himself, he had privately thought that Pa was probably right in saying that Someone designed the world and the strangely fascinating things in it. Josh made sure, however, that he kept that thought to himself. Ma would get upset if he mentioned God. It was hard enough hiding certain mementos of Pa from Ma’s eyes, and Josh wanted – with increasing desperation over the years – to keep some form of peace so that Ma wouldn’t get agitated, or at least too agitated. **** He was… alone. Why? It made no sense to Josh that the bus driver and the other passengers would abandon the vehicle. (“Was there anyone on board when I fell asleep?”) Even if it had broken down, wouldn’t someone had climbed to the upper deck to check if anyone was still there? Why would they have abandoned him? Was he so tiny that they couldn’t even see him properly? And wasn’t the driver supposed to abide by his vehicle at all times during service? Wasn’t he supposed to radio or call for help from the interchange or something? Then why was Josh alone? Where did everyone go? (“Aliens, maybe aliens, took them all. Or zombies.”) Where was he? He looked up and then around him, staring past the light into the darkness. The road he was on was definitely alien, and Josh felt certain – well, mostly certain – that he knew most, if not all the roads and streets that led home. If his phone were still working properly, he could 10:40 (By Kelvin Bik)
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use the GPS to pinpoint the exact street, or at least help him gauge where he was, maybe even ascertain what had happened. He looked up into the night sky. A few stars shone weakly, overcome by the artificial street lamps. He wished he could navigate via the stars, but he could at most recognise Orion’s belt or the Big Dipper. None of those constellations seemed visible though, much less provide any direction, not that he would know how to use them even if he could find them. If only things stayed constant, he thought, or at least remained visible, then he might have a chance of finding his way. The air smelt faintly of haze, as it had for the past few days. It was also slightly cold. “My jacket,” he thought, unzipping his bag to find it. The sound seemed louder than usual, tearing through the night. It wasn’t there, his windbreaker. “Sarah,” he thought to himself. He had passed it to his course-mate earlier when they were in the freezing editing suite. They were crazy, said the studio technician who mumbled about how students should just go for a proper vacation instead of coming back and working late in the first week of the semester break. Then again, the man had been kind enough to stay late to lock up the studio, though he dismissed it, saying that he had to maintain some of the much abused devices. Then again – yes, Josh was trying hard to kick his habit of using the expression – perhaps it was only Sarah and Josh who were fanatic about starting early for their final year in the polytechnic. Trusted seniors, long graduated, had warned them to begin the race even during the holidays. They wouldn’t have expected though that the young couple – pair, Josh corrected himself – would start that early. Sarah had asked for his windbreaker, Josh recalled, and he had hesitated mostly because of his size; he had feared that she wouldn’t feel comfortable in it. But it fitted her snugly. Recalling her thankful smile, Josh felt a slight flush that warmed his cheekbones. He pushed aside the feeling. “Is she safe?” he wondered. Catching himself, he smiled. What was he thinking of? He was the one who was lost in that bizarre, God-forsaken place. Absently, Josh rubbed his ankle to relieve the pain. His hands felt better now, though they stung still. It was his ankle that throbbed, as if someone had struck Josh. “How am I to go home?” he asked himself. “Walk? With this ankle?” He looked toward the end of the bus, straining to see any vehicular lights approaching. “Surely, there must be some car or taxi somewhere,” he thought. Yet the silence disturbed him. It reminded him of the long Chinese New Year breaks he hated when most shops closed their shutters and even the roads became deserted. Even then, Josh thought, the streets were never as dead as that particular road. If there were some distant hum of traffic, he would feel so much more assured, he felt, but that silence, that inexplicable quietness, stirred some hidden fears in Josh, such that he shuddered suddenly. He subconsciously wrapped his arms around himself. “It’ll be okay,” he told himself. “Everything will be fine.” 10:40 (By Kelvin Bik)
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He, Joshua Chan, was a survivor. He would pull through. He must. “Would Ma be worried? If only I could call home,” thought Josh. Then again, Ma might be asleep already. Josh was never certain these days when she would sleep and rise. She had grown so tired of late, and so absent-minded. Sometimes, like tonight, Josh would go home late due to projects, but Ma hadn’t realised he had been out the entire day. His grandma, whose flat Josh and his Ma lived in, might wait up, but – Josh shook his head – most probably not. She had work early tomorrow. Josh had offered to take up more part-time jobs to help support the family, but Po-po, as Josh called his grandma affectionately, had disapproved. The 60-year-old matriarch had already been displeased when Josh started giving tuition to kids when he was in secondary school. “You are a student,” she said in Cantonese. “Your job is to study. Your Ma and I will take care of money.” He wanted to obey, but the sight of his grandma, a tiny, wrinkled figure in her stained but always washed, neatly pressed cleaner’s uniform, as well as his Ma with her pallor and dark eye rings saddened him. He had studied hard after Pa died, earning bursary after bursary to help fund his studies as best as he could, but everything, as Po-po liked to complain, was so expensive these days. If only… Josh stopped himself. Nothing would change. Nothing could change. Pa was gone. They could only move on without him. They had to. He had to. He picked himself off the kerb, and strapped on his oversized backpack. He would walk home.
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04 Joshua lost count of how long he hobbled along the roadside pavement. He was accustomed to telling time with his phone, and had long forsaken his ancient watch which still lay with its strap cracked from overuse in his bedroom desk drawer. Being ever careful, Josh kept his phone always charged, but with no power outlet along the path, it had long given up the ghost. The sun had risen some time ago, yet the journey never ended. The road rolled indeterminably forward, up and down hills that Josh had never seen. He found himself looking back, hoping to catch a glimpse of a vehicle coming along — “The wheels of the bus go round and round,” he hummed – but no one was on that road, save him. The growing day’s heat was a blanket that Josh could not throw off. Though he walked in the shade of roadside trees whenever he could, most of the time he was forced to soldier on in the glare of the sun. Dead grass and leaves were everywhere, he noticed. The authorities had said days earlier that February, the past month, was the driest in Singapore since 1869 – yes, curious how the oddest figures and facts embedded themselves in Josh’s mind, David used to jest – and that no change could be expected till later in the month. Was it really yesterday that he had been in school with Sarah? “Ash Wednesday,” Josh recalled. He had looked it up on Wikipedia after Sarah showed him her church’s devotional journal for its congregation. Ash Wednesday marked the first day of Lent, a 40-day period of fasting and prayer till Easter Sunday; that year, it fell on March 5, but for some reason, Sarah’s church started its count a week later on March 12 instead. Sarah hadn’t known why, but Josh had found out – through the almighty internet, haha! – how the Catholic Church’s Lent was actually a 46-day period that excluded in its final calculation the Sundays, which were regarded as feast days. “So yours must be a Protestant church,” posited Josh cheerily. Sarah had frowned a little. “I think so,” she said hesitantly. She was beautiful even when she frowned, thought Josh. His own brows furrowed, as if mimicking her expression for an instant. He smiled then, a wide, silly grin that he chose not to squash. No one was around to catch him after all. “Ashes to ashes, dust to dust,” Josh said as his feet landed inevitably on the heaps of death-white and yellow leaves everywhere. Stepping on the leaves made strangely satisfying crunching sounds, and though Josh was exhausted and in pain, he could not help but make deliberate moves to crush the leaves, as if by so doing, the noise might drive out the surrounding silence. “I never knew,” he spoke aloud, “that silence could be so unnerving.” No, wait. He smiled wearily, recalling his initial experience in his school’s radio studio. His radio production lecturer had pushed him and his course-mates into a claustrophobic recording room, where the cushioned walls soaked up sounds and smothered the teens into an awkward, tinnitusinducing silence. “Only in this environment can you hear for yourself your real voice. Every nuance, every enunciation, every single breath,” said Mr Barnabas Wong who was always commenting cheerily about how wrong they were about the true qualities of their voices. 10:40 (By Kelvin Bik)
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Barney the Dinosaur, as the class called him behind his back, had pulled Josh aside once and in earnest, advised, “Listen to yourself, young man. Can’t you hear that your voice is quiet but warm?” He continued, “Yours is a voice I’d put on a late night programme so that those night owls will call in and talk about their pain and needs. It’s like one of those Christian fathers calling people to repent and be loved by God.” They had both laughed at that, he remembered, Mr Wong like a sad but cuddly clown and Josh with his typical snorts. “So please, please, PLEASE, stop recording those pop voiceovers. Just be who you are,” Barney – Mr Wong, Josh meant – ended with a smile. Josh had not known if he should nod or shake his head at that advice. Quiet but warm? Christian pastor? Ha! That didn’t cut it in the world. It didn’t with his classmates, most of whom listened to RnB and Korean pop. And oh, all those bizarre songs about “getting it on all night”. Josh didn’t consider himself a prude, but some of his mates did. They always joked about Josh’s “holiness”, albeit mostly – Josh hoped – in a good-natured manner. “Wah, you’re more ‘Christian’ than those Christians,” they said. “Those Christians” were a small clique of about five students in their mass communication course. Josh didn’t have anything against them. Neither did the others really, that was as long as the Christians “kept their values to themselves” and “didn’t yak about their faith all the time”. But it was strange how often that group gathered in some quiet corner of the campus and prayed for God knew what. It was curious too how they seemed to speak another language with terms and phrases known only to them and their kind, as if they were secret rebels plotting to overthrow the world. Of the five, one person stood out for Josh, at least in the beginning. Sarah Wong – no relation to Barney – wasn’t the leader. Neither was she “chio”1 as the guys put it. She wasn’t ugly, to be fair, but Josh had seen other girls far more conventionally beautiful, especially in their course which was known on campus for hot chicks, sizzling hunks and over-the-top fashionistas. Sarah wasn’t silent too, just not as loud and vocal like the others. Whether with friends or by herself, she seemed quietly joyful, as if she knew something that the rest didn’t. Josh wondered at times what her secret joy was. If only he could find out, then he could show it to Ma and perhaps she could finally smile again. And perhaps, just perhaps, he too might finally get to rest.
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Singaporean/Malaysian slang for hot, sexy or good-looking
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