The End of a Nightmare
Lin Kang was born to a family of carpenters.
His father, and his father's father, and his grandfather's father had all been carpenters. His mother was a farmer's daughter, their family moving from village to town as the country progressed towards industrialization. A farmer's prospects dwindling; entire families forced to move in search of greener pastures, so to speak.
It was inevitable that Kang would follow in his father's footsteps, as the man had dictated it be so the day he was born. Whether his name was given to him in the hopes of a long and happy life, or the flourishing of the forests, whose bounties his livelihood would largely depend on, is something he still wonders about.
That said, by time he was 20 years old, his father had already taught him much of the craft. While Old Man Lin wasn't what you might call 'properly educated', he and his family had honed their craft through sheer experience. Definitely something even an academic course could truly impart on a person.
As such, when the government men came with a proposal for a new building, a set of offices where they may do whatever it is government do without the common rabble getting in the way, Lin Kang's father was brought in. Kang's father brought him to the meeting along with some of their peers to begin planning out the work.
Again, while they might not have gone to a college, or a university, or even completed a basic educational course, they were at least competent enough to do their job, and to do it well. That, and to recognize a safety hazard of a building when they see one.
It then stands to reason why these people protested the already proposed plans the government gave them. They'd merely be brought in to actually put it together, with little input to be given. It certainly did not help that most of the materials they were forc— I mean, requested, to use were questionable or subpar at best and downright lethal at worst. After all, using rusty nails isn't exactly conducive to proper construction, nor to general health and safety.
Now, while it may not have mattered that this was being done in the name of "conserving valuable resources" or "recycling" in mind, what
did matter was that the Lin's and the rest of the townspeople didn't really have much of a choice. When the government men ordered, you obeyed.
And so, it was practically an inevitability that, month's after the building had been finished, it collapsed. Or more specifically, part of it did, then the another segment, followed by the rest as load-bearing column after load-bearing column collapsed in on themselves like a trail of dominoes.
That those same government officials had gone down with the building was not much comfort. Indeed, it was the exact opposite. After all, someone had to take the blame, someone who, preferably, was still alive. So when more government men came to take their pound of flesh, their attentions fell upon the carpenters and workers involved in the construction.
The only bright side was that not all of them would be taken. No, only some. It would've been too much to deprive the town of much of its workforce, not if the government wanted people to do the heavy lifting for them.
It was then that Lin Kang made up his mind. He knew what his father was working up courage to do, to say.
So he said it first.
"It was me. I replaced the materials."
It was a flimsy statement. A few well-placed questions would've revealed it for the lie it was. Why did he replace them? To sell them and make more money? To whom? Where's the money? What did he do with it?
But no, there would be no questions. This wasn't about justice, or balancing rights and wrongs. This was about keeping up appearances. Everyone else knew that. Could see it. And Lin Kang was offering to take the bullet.
Whether his neighbors and fellow townsmen were quiet because they were afraid, or shocked, or both, he didn't know. But his father seemed to have gone paler and older in the moments since he took his eyes off him and made the statement that sealed his fate. It would hurt his father, yes, for years even, but Kang knew it was the right thing to do, the familial thing.
His father was strong from all the years of work, but Kang did not know if he would survive what was to come. But not him. He was young yet. He had built up his strength from all the work as well. He was healthy. He could survive.
In only a few seconds after he'd spoken up, a few others had done so as well. Young men, like him, who knew what would come next; eager to save their friends and neighbors from the consequences. All the while, the others closed or averted their eyes, fists clenching, as armed men came forward with a gesture from the government man in charge.
Lin Kang, 20 years old, carpenter apprentice, would not be seen by his family for 5 years…
—————
Kang stepped out of the clinic's threshold and into the bright afternoon sunlight. The recent events had been a blur to him. He'd been deep into a regular "rehab" session when a guard came in to the dimly lit room and asked his "therapist" to step outside.
He must've stayed strapped to the rack for about half hour before someone came in, released him, then brought him back to his "quarters". As confusing as that had been, it only became more confounding in the following days.
He'd been scrubbed down, given a fresh change clothes and then ushered into a truck with a few other inmates. It was only when they were being ushered into the clinic that he learned what happened. What was happening…
A new leader, some fancy speech, and all of a sudden, he was being set free.
He looked at his hands. Worn, ragged… the same way he felt. He could picture the bruises and cuts all over his body. The bites from the rats… the fleas and mites. Miraculously, he'd been given a clean bill of health. At least, relatively.
Wasted muscles, some slight malnourishment, nothing to serious. Not like the amputations some of the others had had to undergo. No shattered bones, or ruptured organs. No extensive infections or poisonings like his less fortunate colleagues suffered, and would ultimately die from.
No. Lin Kang had survived. Somehow.
In a way, he had been lucky. He should've been executed. Stealing from the country was little different from treason. But for some reason, he'd been brought to the camps instead.
Perhaps they'd felt sorry for him, knowing he'd willingly taken the fall. Or maybe it was to justify some propaganda slogan. The government unwilling to "lose another young mind to the evils of capitalism". Whatever the case, he didn't have much left in him to care. He wasn't the same young man that left town years ago.
He felt older. He
was older, physically. But his mind, his soul, felt older still. His thoughts turned, as they often did back in the camps, to his family. He had not heard from them since he left. There were no letters allowed, to "safeguard" their minds from subversive influences. No news given to "protect" them from any and all distractions from the outside world. And so, he had gone years without even knowing if his parents still lived.
Did he have any new siblings? His parents were somewhat old already when he left, but not
that old. Or perhaps they were already dead. Maybe his town had suffered some unknown catastrophe and had disappeared from the map.
So many questions. So many things he did not know. How he felt, for one. About what happened. About these new changes, his freedom. About this new leader he knew practically nothing about. Regardless, he did know
one thing.
He was coming home.
...
