The Panic Zone

24

Kunming, China

Long before the sun rose Li Chen woke in the shack where she lived with her husband and son.

She began her day by lighting the stove.

Under the dying moon she stepped from her house that was shimmed tight against others in the village. She walked down the worn path to the water pipe where she washed, then brought water home for tea.

Her husband, Sha Shang, stirred, grunted a greeting then left to wash. After Li made their lunches, she made tea and breakfast: congee, which Li prepared in the rice cooker. While Sha joined the other men for their morning smoke, Li looked upon her three-year-old son, Pan Qin, asleep on his cot. Under the lamplight she drank in his flawless face and skin. One little foot stuck out from his blanket. Li traced the tiny birthmark on his ankle, shaped like two hearts touching.

It symbolized her eternal bond to her son.

Pan was her reason for living and dreaming.

Li and Sha were young peasants from the country when they married and migrated to the city two years ago. A cousin with city smarts got them this shack, while Li and Sha hoped that one day they would qualify for a modern apartment downtown with a private toilet, running water, bedrooms and a separate kitchen.

This was their dream.

When breakfast was ready, she teased Pan’s hair until he woke. He kissed his mother, then, droopy-eyed, went outside to pee. His father smiled and called him a good soldier.

Dawn was breaking when they finished breakfast.

Sha kissed Li and Pan, climbed onto his bicycle and rode off to his job at a brick factory across the city. After Li tidied up, she and Pan set out for her job in the market. They had a long walk out of the village, which was in Kunming’s Xishan District.

The sun peeked over the horizon, illuminating the smoggy haze that blanketed the metropolis, as the crammed bus took Li and Pan to Kunming’s bird and flower market.

They walked by streets of old two-story shops with tiled rooftops, then to the market with its exotic smells like roasted chestnuts, fried duck heads, kebabs and other barbequed meats.

There were stalls with water tanks where live eels threaded amongst each other. The eels fascinated Pan as did the vendors selling parrots, turtles and large insects.

There were artists selling paintings, carvings, crafts, clothing, fabrics and jewelry. Farmers were selling corn, potatoes, onions, tomatoes, bananas, lemons and pungent goat cheese.

Li operated a small stall, selling spices.

Pan usually stayed with her all day.

While the market was popular, it was also a center for criminals, drug dealers, gangsters and child stealers. Like other working-class parents in the market, Li knew that the child traffickers kidnapped boys to sell to wealthy childless people who wanted to carry on the family line at any cost.

Li always kept a close eye on her son. She never let her guard down with him in the market. If Li had to step away, she entrusted Pan to a friend in a neighboring stall.

Lately, she’d grown increasingly comfortable with the young man and woman who’d appeared a few months back to conduct research on children in the market. At first Li was uneasy as she was not yet a legal migrant. But the researchers didn’t care about her status. Their concern was collecting data on her son for a special government hygiene study.

The man and woman visited Li’s stall every week and gave Pan a medical examination, swabbing his mouth, pricking his finger for a blood sample, making notes, taking his picture. They’d asked Li about his diet, bloodline, allergies, and similar matters.

Li was happy that Pan was getting personal medical care and was growing friendly with her regular visitors, even coming to depend on them. There were times when she left Pan with them while she stepped away from her stall for a brief errand.

The market was busy all morning. She’d wanted to buy Sha a present. His birthday was coming and there was a carving of a tiger that would be perfect for him. Li knew the artist and he’d offered her a good price.

By afternoon, the market crowds had increased.

Li was relieved when the medical researchers arrived.

“Good afternoon, Li. May we please examine Pan today?”

Li invited them into her stall.

“Would you watch Pan and mind the stall for me, while I run a quick errand?” Li asked them.

“Certainly.” The young woman smiled. “We’ll be right here.”

Li kissed Pan, who gave her a wide grin because he knew that whenever his mother left, she returned with sweets. She moved through the market crowds to the vendor with the tiger and was disappointed. The artist who’d promised her a special price on the tiger was not there. A grumpy old man who wanted triple the cost was tending to the stall. Li bartered with him before the old crook relented.

Happy, she started back, stopping to get sweets for Pan.

As she neared her stall, alarm pinged in her stomach.

It was empty.

She went inside and looked around, puzzled and afraid.

What was going on?

She asked her neighboring vendors, who shrugged.

“It’s been so busy, Li. We’ve seen nothing.”

No sign of her son. No sign of the researchers.

“Pan!”

Her mouth went dry, fear slid down her throat and devoured her hope that he would appear.

“Pan Qin!”

Li left her stall, scanning the area, searching the faces of small children, running through the crowds screaming for her son. Her mind swirled. She didn’t even have the names of the researchers, no cards, no documentation.

Nothing.

“Pan!”

The minutes bled into a half hour, which became an hour. Time swept by without a trace of her boy. The other vendors passed on the word, some sent people to Li’s stall to help search the market.

The whole time Li accused herself.

Why weren’t you watching your child?

Why did you trust him to strangers?

How could you be so stupid?

Two police officers came by and Li pleaded to them, told them about the medical researchers, the government’s hygiene study.

“We know nothing of any study,” one officer said, while his partner relayed details on the radio.

“There is no such study in the market,” he said.

Li screamed.

This was a nightmare. She had to wake up. Yes. Sha would be waking her any moment now and she would tell him of her bad dream and she would go to Pan’s cot and hold him so tight and cry tears of joy.

As the sun sank and the market crowds thinned, Li remained in her stall praying for Pan’s return. Word got back to the village and Sha was alerted. He raced to the stall, his face a mask of disbelief.

Li collapsed in his arms.

“Kill me! Kill me for what I’ve done. I’ve lost our son!”

Sha only held her and stared at the empty market as a misting rain descended on them.

All night long, Li and Sha walked the abandoned streets, their voices echoing as they called out Pan’s name. They never stopped because they could not bear to go home, could not bear to face his empty cot and the devastating truth.

Their little boy had been stolen.