Chapter 5: Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5: THE WOMAN IN THE BACK SEAT

The rain came down hard over Chengdu, turning the streets into rivers of reflected neon. Old Ma pulled his taxi into the taxi stand outside Chunxi Road station, killed the engine, and lit a cigarette. The clock on his dashboard read 11:47 PM.

He'd been driving since three in the afternoon. His back ached. His eyes burned. But he couldn't go home yet.

Not after last night's fare.

The woman in the white dress. The way she'd vanished from his back seat before he even fully stopped the car. The cold spot that lingered on his leather upholstery for hours afterward.

He took a long drag and watched the rain streak across his windshield.

Thirty years in this business. Thirty years of night shifts, strange passengers, and things that shouldn't exist. He'd learned to recognize them by now. The way they didn't cast shadows under streetlights. The way their breath never fogged his windows in winter. The way they always paid with old bills, wrinkled and smelling of camphor wood.

But this one was different.

She'd gotten in at the usual spot — the corner of Kehua North Road, where the old apartment buildings cast long shadows across the sidewalk. She didn't speak. Didn't give him an address. Just sat in the back seat, hands folded in her lap, staring straight ahead.

He'd asked where she wanted to go.

"Just drive," she'd said. "I'll know when we get there."

They drove for forty minutes. Through the tunnel under Renmin South Road, past the lights of Tianfu Square, into the older neighborhoods where the buildings had moss growing on their walls and the street vendors sold stinky tofu from carts with squeaky wheels.

She finally spoke when they reached Jinli Old Street.

"Stop here."

He pulled over. Checked his rearview mirror.

The back seat was empty.

No door had opened. No shadow had moved. She was just gone, like smoke through a cracked window.

Old Ma crushed out his cigarette in the ashtray. The rain was letting up. Time to make some real money before shift ended.

He turned the key.

The engine coughed. Sputtered. Died.

"Come on." He tried again. Nothing. The battery light flickered weakly, then went dark.

He checked his watch. Five minutes to midnight.

A knock on his passenger window made him jump.

Old Ma turned. A woman stood outside in the rain, holding a black umbrella. She was young, maybe late twenties, with sharp features and wet hair plastered to her forehead. She wore a gray business suit that looked expensive, even soaked through.

She gestured for him to roll down the window.

He pressed the button. The window lowered with a groan.

"Are you available?" she asked.

"Car's dead."

"I saw you trying to start it." She smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "Maybe I can help. I know a bit about engines."

Old Ma studied her. Something about her voice was familiar. The way she held herself, too still, too controlled.

"Who are you?"

"My name is Lin. I need a ride. It's urgent."

"To where?"

"The Second People's Hospital. East wing. The morgue."

The rain picked up again. Fat drops hammered against her umbrella, creating a rhythm like drumming fingers.

Old Ma's hand went to the door handle. "Get in."

The car started on his first try.

Lin folded her umbrella and slid into the passenger seat. The smell of wet fabric filled the cab, mixed with something else. Something chemical. Antiseptic.

"You're not a spirit," Old Ma said.

"No."

"Then how'd you know to find me here?"

She buckled her seatbelt. "Because you're the only one who can take me where I need to go."

He pulled away from the curb, tires splashing through puddles. The streets were empty now. No other cars. No pedestrians walking dogs or hurrying home from late shifts.

Just him and Lin and the rain.

"The morgue," he said. "That's an unusual destination for this time of night."

"My sister is there."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. She's not dead."

Old Ma's hands tightened on the steering wheel. "The morgue keeps only the dead."

"Usually. But my sister went in three days ago for an autopsy. The coroner was a friend of the family. He called me tonight, said something was wrong. That she moved."

The traffic light ahead turned red. Old Ma slowed to a stop, even though no other cars were around.

"People don't move in the morgue," he said.

"My sister isn't people. Not anymore." Lin reached into her jacket and pulled out a photograph. She held it up for him to see.

The woman in the photo had long black hair, delicate features, and eyes that seemed to look right through the camera. She wore a white dress.

The same white dress as his passenger from last night.

"Is this her?" Old Ma asked.

"You've seen her."

It wasn't a question.

"Last night. She got in my cab. We drove for a while. Then she disappeared."

Lin's face went pale. "Where did she get in?"

"Kehua North Road."

"My sister died on Kehua North Road. Hit by a delivery truck. She was crossing the street to buy medicine for our mother."

The light turned green. Old Ma pressed the accelerator, but the car didn't move. The engine revved, whined, then went silent.

"What's happening?" Lin asked.

"I don't know."

He tried the ignition. Nothing. The dashboard lights flickered once, twice, then went dark.

A cold draft swept through the car, even though all the windows were closed.

"She's here," Lin whispered.

Old Ma looked in the rearview mirror.

The woman in the white dress was sitting in the back seat.

Her skin was the color of moonlight. Her eyes were black, no pupils, no irises, just empty darkness. Her lips moved, but no sound came out.

"She says she's sorry," Old Ma said, surprising himself.

Lin turned around slowly. "Can you hear her?"

"I can feel her."

"You never told me you could do that."

"You never asked."

The woman in white raised her hand and pointed. Past Lin, past the windshield, to something on the road ahead.

Old Ma followed her gaze.

A figure stood in the middle of the intersection. Tall. Male. Wearing a long coat that seemed to absorb light. His face was hidden in shadow, but Old Ma could feel him staring at them.

"He's watching," Old Ma said.

"Who?"

"I don't know."

The woman in white opened her mouth, and this time, sound came out. A low moan that rose in pitch until it became a scream.

The windshield cracked. A spiderweb of fractures spread from the center, blurring the figure in the intersection.

"Make her stop!" Lin shouted.

"I can't."

The screaming continued. The car shook. The streetlights above them flickered and died, plunging them into darkness.

Then silence.

The woman in white was gone.

The figure in the intersection was gone.

The streetlights came back on, one by one, casting pools of yellow light on the wet asphalt.

Old Ma's hands were shaking. He gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white.

"She's gone," Lin said, her voice hollow.

"For now."

"What did she want?"

"She was trying to warn us." Old Ma turned the key. The engine started smoothly, like nothing had happened. "About him."

"The man in the intersection."

"Yes."

Lin was quiet for a moment. When she spoke again, her voice was barely above a whisper. "I've seen him before. At the hospital. He was there the night my sister died. Standing in the parking lot, just watching."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because I didn't know what he was. I still don't."

Old Ma put the car in gear and drove through the intersection. The hospital was only a few blocks away now. He could see its lights in the distance, red and white, blinking against the rain-scrubbed sky.

"I think he's the one sending the spirits to me," Old Ma said.

"Sending them?"

"Last night was the first time. But it's been happening more often now. Spirits flagging me down, getting in my cab, leading me somewhere specific. I thought it was coincidence. But it's not."

"What does he want?"

"I don't know. But I intend to find out."

He pulled into the hospital parking lot. The east wing was dark, all its windows black except for one on the third floor.

The morgue.

Lin got out of the car. The rain had stopped, leaving the air heavy and damp. She looked up at that single lit window.

"She's up there," Lin said. "Waiting for me."

"Be careful."

"Come with me."

Old Ma hesitated. He'd been to hospitals before. Never for good reasons. The dead always found him there, drawn to him like moths to flame.

"I don't think I can help."

"You already have." Lin reached into her pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. "Here. This is for you."

He took it. Unfolded it. Saw a hand-drawn map, the streets of Chengdu marked in careful detail. A red circle around the location of a building he didn't recognize.

"What is this?"

"The place where my sister worked. Before she died. She was a researcher. Studying something she wasn't supposed to find."

"Studying what?"

Lin looked at him. Her eyes were wet, but she wasn't crying.

"The boundary between life and death. She said there was a crack in it. A hole. And someone was using it to send things through."

Old Ma's blood went cold.

"The spirits."

"Yes. And worse." She pointed to the map. "Go there. You'll find answers."

She turned and walked toward the hospital entrance. Her footsteps echoed in the empty parking lot.

Old Ma watched her go. The door swung open, swallowed her inside, swung shut.

He looked down at the map in his hands.

The building was marked in red ink. A single word written beside it in Chinese characters:

归墟

The Abyss.

The car's engine idled behind him. The headlights cast long shadows across the wet pavement. And somewhere in the darkness, the man in the long coat was watching.

Old Ma folded the map, put it in his pocket, and got back in the taxi.

He had a new destination now.