Ghost on the Run: Supernatural Thriller

By Stefan Struik

Going to hell. Not the most flourishing prospect when it comes to dying. For the Singaporean martial arts champion Zachary Lim there seems however little else to do. But he refuses to accept his fate. Despite all measures of the hell-visor, he managers to escape to earth to settle a few things before he has to get on the subway to hell. An albino angel named Lucy decides to assist. She is fascinated by the fiery Zachary although she is the last one to admit this. She even risks becoming a fallen angel, losing her wings.
As a sort of afterlife version of Bonnie & Clyde, they both must ensure to stay ahead of their pursuers. Meanwhile Zachary is trying to get in touch with his mother and his girlfriend through the chubby medium Chow. Zachary’s killers however are doing everything to prevent this from happening. A few questions remain: why is Zachary supposed to go to hell and what is his Korean girlfriend up to?

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Oct 17, 2013
• ISBN: 9789810781989

Book preview

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PROLOGUE

The last breezes of sunlight touching the red tiles on the temple wall for the last time. For a few minutes, the baby boy on the floor of the courtyard will experience the mysterious ceasefire between day and night for the first time in his life with his own eyes. Thick smoke curls up from a giant copper incense urn. Dozens of burning and burned incense sticks rub each other, stuck in the sand of the pot. The smoke is filling up the small courtyard of the Chinese temple. Next to the urn lies the baby boy, naked, hardly any older than a week or two. Only a deep red silken cloth separates the young life from the bare stone floor. The baby doesn’t cry but looks up with his big black –almost angry – eyes, absorbing the twilight as if it’s his last.

A human shape wrests itself from the smoke and walks slowly towards the child. The smoke doesn’t change course; it looks as if the figure is passing right through it without touching it. Grief and determination seem to struggle for attention in the eyes of the handsome Chinese guy in his late twenties. His body must be the result of hundreds of training hours. The barefoot, muscled man, dressed only in loose white linen trousers, kneels next to the young creature. There is a certain acquiescence to be felt in him; a certain tranquility, but also a certain sadness. He holds his right hand above the baby, who still doesn’t make a sound but only stares with almost unnatural concentration at the good-looking face of the man.

I know you can see me. He pauses for a moment. You know who I am, don’t you? Somehow you already know.

His dark eyes cross those of the baby boy. For a moment they are the only ones that matters in the world for each other. He caresses the boy, stroking his hair. But his words seem to contradict his behavior. I took the lives of others but I don’t know if I can take yours.

SEVEN MONTHS EARLIER

1 THE FUNERAL

The sound of thunder echoes through the sky but the battle has not been decided yet. Not a single drop of rain has been released. The damp heat is taking its toll on the hundreds of people along both sides of the road. Traffic controllers are observing the swarming crowd in order to keep the road clear.

A Honda van with huge side windows and heavily decorated with flowers passes by very slowly. Inside the van lies a traditional, expensive Chinese coffin made of mahogany, with three half-round humps surrounding the round middle part. On top of the casket lies a small bag made of mourning cloth with raw rice and coins in it. On the front of the van, bordered with white roses, is a big portrait of the handsome, well-trained Chinese man.

The car is followed by an entourage of people but most of the attention goes to the two ladies walking in the center right behind the van: a middle-aged Chinese woman, dressed in black, with her head bent. Disbelief is written in her eyes. Awareness has one foot in the door. She knows. She tastes it. But she won’t let it come much further than the front door of her mind. She is flanked by a beautiful Korean woman in her late twenties who is looking straight ahead, hiding her eyes behind dark Prada sunglasses while her hair is dancing around her face in a rich range of ebony. Her skin shines almost like porcelain while her lips are full and red. With her enchanting appearance and her beautiful black dress covered with small pearls, she draws almost more attention from the bystanders than the funeral van. Not even the dozens of journalists who are waiting at the entrance of the cemetery can resist the urge to point their photo and TV cameras at her from time to time while international anchors are reporting in front of their cameramen.

The cacophony of male and female anchors trying their best to overcome the applause of bystanders: Welcome back to Singapore…Welcome back to the Choa Chu Kang cemetery for the funeral of Zachary Lim…. Michelle, we’re taking a look live at the arrival of his mother and Park Eunji, his girlfriend, who is dressed in an astonishing black dress with white pearls…

An editor in a broadcast van can see how his anchorwoman is struggling against the noise of the large music band that is walking between the first relatives and the rest of the funeral procession. With the intention of scaring the ghosts and demons, the musicians are present, loud and clear, playing a bizarre mix of Chinese melancholic ballads. They are all wearing white shirts, black ties and a contrasting yellow baseball cap.

The anchorwoman struggles: The dress was made … She pauses and hold a finger to her ear piece: I’m sorry… Can you still hear me, Jenny? The noise is now deafening.

2 CUSTOMS

It’s very busy at the checkpoint of the Malaysia-Singapore border at Woodlands. A traffic jam. Loud honking of an older, yellow, metallic Volkswagen Beetle when another car suddenly and quickly switches lanes in front of him. The dented, battered Beetle carries one bumper sticker with the text ‘Don’t worry what people think, they don’t do it very often’ and another one with ‘Fat people are hard to kidnap.’

In the car is a short Chinese Malaysian man, who must weigh at least 200 pounds while he probably not reaching much more than one meter seventy. He is dressed to kill, at least that is the effect he’s hoping for but it’s clear that he’s gained quite a few extra pounds after he bought the black suit. Chow Kok Leong is shouting comments from behind his steering wheel. Oh no, no, no, come on!

One moment he places his hands in frustration against his cheeks, and the next moment he bounces his flat left hand a few times against the steering wheel while turning down the window. He reaches out and starts shouting in despair at the car in front of him, who suddenly has trouble moving. Hello! Are you doing this on purpose or what?!

The man has finally reached the booth with the customs officer but is having difficulties finding his passport.

Chow is almost exploding. He raises his hands up to the ceiling. Oh please! Just give it to him! There are people out here who actually want to cross the border!

3 DRAGON TATTOOS

A young Chinese kid is dressed in a white Taekwondo outfit; his eyes are fixed on the horizon. This is his tribute. A few years ago, he was sitting in front of the television in a food court with hundreds of others when Zack pulled his gold medal at the Olympics; the first gold medal ever for Singapore. He decided then to start practicing Taekwondo and to become the ruler of his schoolyard. The kid is now surrounded by dozens of other Taekwondo fighters, also walking up in the funeral procession. The strongest of them are holding up huge flags in all different colors and with Chinese signs. It’s their hero they are bringing to his grave. Fighting like him; being like him; that was always their biggest goal. Always looking forward to his next match. But they never thought about the possibility that there wouldn’t be a next match anymore.

The musicians have passed, so the journalists can continue with their messages. You’re not dealing with one of the greatest sportsmen of Singapore anymore, you’re dealing with someone’s personal grief. / Can you imagine, Jeffrey: you’ve not only lost your husband but now also your son. / Thousands of people have gathered outside the Choa Chu Kang cemetery, feeling compelled to say goodbye in person. / Three time world champion, gold medalist at two Olympics! No one could have expected him to die so soon.

Two Chinese men, both dressed in black suits and black shirts, are standing in the crowd, silently observing the tumult around them. One of them is huge; almost two meters tall with arms like oil tanker cables. It is a small miracle that he found a jacket he could fit into. His colleague is branded by a scar from his hairline to his left eye corner; the result of a street fight with less than pleasant consequences. At least he can tell the story. His attacker was not so lucky.

Just above the collar of their shirts is a tiny Chinese dragon tattoo; only the tip shows of another small tattoo hidden below their collars. They are watching the funeral van as it passes by, their eyes focused on the coffin as if they want to be assured that Zack is really inside.

Many young women in the crowd are carrying small handkerchiefs to wipe their tears. While others applaud when the funeral van passes, they encourage themselves in hysteria: some scream, others weep and, once in a while, one of them simply collapses. Zack was their idol. Bigger than any K-pop star or Chinese actor.

But somehow they are missing out on the strange phenomena unfolding in front of their eyes: the deceased himself is walking barefoot among the group of Taekwondo fighters. He is dressed in the same Taekwondo outfit as the pupils, the outfit that made him world famous so it should not be difficult to recognize him. But there is definitely something unreal about him. Not so strange, when he is supposed to be dead and lying in his coffin. But Zack doesn’t feel insulted that his fans are not observing him. The only woman he is interested in right now is his mother. And when he discovers her in the front of the procession, he walks faster, passing a group of youngsters holding up huge paper models of a Mercedes S300 and a Bugatti. Before them three Taoist monks, dressed in yellow robes with purple collars, are walking; their hair is covered with a small black cap, crowned with a decorated golden knob. One of them is holding up a joss stick, almost one meter long, that is spreading its smoke along the route. When Zack marches beside them, the stick threatens to extinguish. A fellow priest is apparently prepared for this state of affairs. He quickly gets a box of matches, and lights the stick again. The whole procedure hardly delays the procession. Again Zack doesn’t reveal any interest in what happens. His eyes are focused on his mother while he passes the musicians, who also have no clue who is walking beside them.

4 SINGAPOREAN POLICE

Chow starts to sweat. Despite his air conditioning, sweat drops are running across his face. He is desperately trying to find his way but discovers to his horror that the street is blocked by Singaporean police agents. A lot of people are passing the road block, walking, umbrellas in their hands.

One agent walks up to the car. While lowering his window, Chow launches an unhandy offensive. Officer, I have to be at the funeral of Zachary Lim.

The agent is not impressed. Everybody does, sir. I’m sorry, you have to park your car somewhere else and walk.

Cannot. Already late lah. Let me pass.

Thunder in the sky announces the coming of heavy rain. One police agent is looking at the sky while another police agent is gesturing to his colleague to get the Beetle out of the way. The agent at Chow’s car is getting impatient. Let’s get one thing straight, sir…

Kok Leong can’t resist it. His old gay defense system takes over and his reply is fast and bitchy. One thing maybe, darling, but not me.

The police agent is clearly irritated by this comment. Go back! Now!

Kok Leong puts his car in reverse and manages to hold back any further remarks, mumbling only a soft Okay, Okay.

5 THE GRAVE

The anchormen are still trying to keep the public interested, although the most important part of the procession already has passed them and there is not much to see on the street. They are not allowed to film inside the cemetery but their professionalism keeps them going. There are rumors that there must have been at least one other person present in his hotel room in Kuala Lumpur at the moment of his death. But this, as well as a possible drugs overdose, has been denied by government officials.

Suddenly lightning shoots through the air, which has turned a threatening dark grey. The first raindrops loosen themselves from the clouds and start their competitive race downwards. As always in nature, there is only one that wins the competition. And that one chooses the classic Chinese coffin as the final platform for a splashing finish. The closed coffin has been taken out of the van. Two thick wooden sticks are placed across the coffin and tied up to it with ropes. Four strong men in white shirts and black ties are standing by, each at one of the ends of the sticks. When they pick up the coffin, everybody else present suddenly turns away. With their backs turned to the grave, they won’t have to witness how the coffin is now slowly lowered into the grave. Some of the participants of