Tiger by Jeff Stone Page A

responsibility to direct the efforts of others. All he could do was sit back and watch.
    Ying felt something brush against his nose and woke instantly, lashing out. But there was no one there. Small rocks and bits of dirt were raining down on his head, a steady stream that quickly turned into a rushing river. Ying managed to roll off to one side and curl into a ball as the river became a tidal wave of debris, and the sky opened above him.
    Commander Woo leaned his squat, powerful body over and stared down into the huge hole. The soldier who had been helping him dig lay on the floor of the escape tunnel, atop a mound of earth. The soldier pushed aside his broken shovel and stared up at Commander Woo framed in the early-morning light.
    “Are you all right down there?” Commander Woo asked the soldier.
    “Yeah, yeah,” the man replied, groaning. “I
told
you we shouldn't have dug in this spot! I had a feeling the tunnel was—”
    “Shhh!” Commander Woo urged in a harsh whisper. “Not so loud! Major Ying is probably stilldown there somewhere. I don't want him to hear us.”
    “Relax,” the soldier said. “If Major Ying was—”
    A section of the mound next to the soldier's head suddenly exploded, giving way to a perfectly formed eagle-claw fist. The fist clamped down on the man's throat. Four long fingernails sank deep along one side of his larynx. A razor-sharp thumbnail sank in on the opposite side. The fist squeezed until sound no longer came from the soldier's mouth. Then the claw abruptly released. The soldier scrambled off the mound, trying desperately to cry out for help. He was unsuccessful.
    The entire mound shifted, and Major Ying rose from the rubble like a dirty phoenix. He leaped onto the highest point of the mound, then leaped again and soared up through the hole, his arms spread wide. He landed in front of Commander Woo, who took several steps back.
    “What do you think you are doing?” Ying asked, shaking his head violently. Dirt flew in every direction.
    Commander Woo cleared his throat. “Digging a hole, sir.”
    “I can see that, you imbecile.
Why
are you digging?”
    “We need to bury the dead, sir.”
    “Bury the dead?” Ying said, leaning toward Commander Woo.
    “Yes, sir,” Commander Woo replied. “We should bury our fallen soldiers. We should bury the monks, too. We need to respect the dead.”
    “And when do you think you will have time for this?” Ying asked.
    “We have already begun, sir.”
    “I can see that! It will take you and the men days to dig enough holes.”
    “We know, sir,” Commander Woo said hesitantly. “But the men think it's worth it. They are willing to put in the extra effort required. They are afraid.”
    Ying scowled and the creases in his face deepened. “Afraid of what?”
    “We discovered something earlier. Something very disturbing.”
    “Like what?” Ying asked.
    “One of the bodies is missing,” Commander Woo said nervously. “One of the fallen monks. Actually, not just any monk—the Cangzhen Grandmaster.”
    “WHAT?” Ying shouted.
    “I know, sir,” Commander Woo replied. “It is hard to believe, but it's true. The men believe the body went in search of its head.”
    “That's ridiculous,” Ying scoffed. “Headless corpses don't just get up and walk away.”
    “That's exactly what I told the men! If you ask me, I think some other ghosts came along and took it.”
    “WHAT?” Ying shouted again. “Have you lost your mind?”
    “Sir, there is no other possible explanation,” Commander Woo said. “We have had at least two sentries at every gate since before you went down into the tunnel. Tonglong positioned the sentries himselfbefore he left. No living creature could have possibly gotten in and then back out again without us noticing. It had to be spirits. Without a proper burial, the souls of
all
these men will become hungry ghosts here in our world instead of moving on to the next life. We must be respectful. Who knows what