NEVER-NEVER LAND

“Wait a second. Why did you just bow and call me Roshi?” I asked. I felt as if I had stepped into a Salvador Dalí painting.

“It means teacher,” Claire said quickly, trying to cut off one of the men who had bowed.

“No, it means Master,” said Jonathan, the oldest of the three, correcting her with an annoyed tone and a sideways glance.

Claire excused herself and herded the strangers into the next room. Through the wall came the sound of an agitated argument, low and heated. Then she came back alone.

“Sorry. We really need to get to Mount Shasta as soon as possible. Jonathan will drive us. We leave in an hour. If you want to wash up or rest a little, do it now.”

Her voice was sober and collected. She was not the carefree girl I had met in Boston.

“I may be suffering from partial amnesia, Claire, but I’m not a child,” I said coldly. “What’s going on?”

It was obvious that my amnesia was not the only thing keeping me in the dark. There were accomplices to my ignorance, and Claire, whom I had trusted, was one of them.

She sat on a sofa and asked me to sit beside her. She looked straight into my eyes, with a seriousness I had never seen in her.

“Roshi, during the last fourteen years, you saved many lives. I’m trying to save yours now.”

She looked down and took my hands in hers.

“My name is Claire. I didn’t lie to you about that. But I’ve known you for a long time, and we spent months looking for you after you disappeared from California. I know you have a lot of questions. But there’s only one person who can help you find the answers without putting your life at risk.” She held my gaze. “He’s a neurologist, and one of your students. He’s helped you before. This isn’t the first time something like this has happened.”

She stopped.

“What do you mean, something like this?” I asked.

“The seizures. But they’ve never caused you to lose years of memory. No one knows exactly how or why it happens, but the doctors call it TLE, temporal lobe epilepsy, and it strikes you during altered states of consciousness, in deep meditation.

“We need to get you back to Mount Shasta to see your neurologist, Reverend Dr. Xu Yun,” she said. “He’s the only one who can help.”

I stayed silent for a moment. “Can you tell me what this place is?”

“A tornado shelter turned safe house for orphans. It’s one of many across the country that belong to a larger organization. You co-founded it about eight years ago.”

“I see.” I let the words settle. “And the man following us? Who is he?”

“We’re not sure who he is.” She said it reluctantly, as if the news might trigger a seizure. “Only that he wants you dead.”

I took a deep breath and looked into her blue eyes. “So I assume you knew we weren’t going to Chicago on the C-train. That we were coming here, to Iowa.”

“Actually,” she said, “yes.” Her voice was steady. “I knew we were being followed in Boston, and that the assassin was probably watching us. So I got us out of the shelter fast, and I said ‘C-train’ loud enough to confuse anyone listening. It doesn’t mean cargo train, like I told you. It means Chicago-bound train. I hoped that if we were being spied on, the hunter would go to Chicago instead. I was worried when we boarded the Iowa-bound train, so I made sure no one followed us. I have no idea how he found us.”

I felt suddenly tired. I closed my eyes to rest, and the flashes came: quick snapshots of memory, passing through my mind’s eye. The moment I shoved a woman carrying groceries. The moment I looked back and saw him.

The lanky white man with red, spiked hair. The same man I had seen getting off the bus across from the Salvation Army truck.

“The thin man with red hair,” I said calmly, and opened my eyes. Claire had turned pale.

“Yes,” she blurted. “That’s the man.”

I tightened my grip on her hands. “Claire, just one more question. I’m a ‘Master’ of what?”

“That’s a little more complicated. But I’m sure you’ll know the moment we arrive at Mount Shasta.”

She let go of my hands slowly and rose from the couch. She was clearly in charge as she turned to the group.

“It’s time to go.”