By Krysta Tawlks
If it weren’t for the street dog lazing near the curb, Daeng might have caught the songtaew heading north. The red truck teetered to a crawl as passengers leapt from the open back. Daeng lurched forward and stumbled, knocking his tall, cylindrical cargo pack off balance. The songtaew accelerated, kicking up dust in its wake.
“Ay-ah!” He nudged the dog aside. As he adjusted the pack’s hover-tech settings, he noticed the battery icon flashing yellow. So, that’s why it’s been hanging low. Groaning, he boosted the pack higher.
The cargo lurched to one side, and a soft grunt sounded.
His gut tightened, gripped by urgency and an old feeling he couldn’t name. The tranq shot was starting to fade. Not good. Restless catches made civilians uneasy. He needed lodging. Fast.
He hurried down the soi, side-stepping a low-tech roti vendor carting raw dough drops and margarine spread. He weaved past jagged rows of street diners, the salty scents of moo daeng and egg noodles squeezing his stomach.
At the corner, a vacancy sign flashed above a lodging station. A woman greeted him in the lobby with clasped hands grazing her chin. Considering his high-ranking profession, her wai should have reached her nose, but Daeng ignored the slight.
He yanked his pack towards the kiosks, knocking her elbow. Turning, he glimpsed a red tattoo on her neck. A bondservant—the lowest rank. Apology not required.
“Kaw tod, krub.” He apologized anyway.
Another bondservant greeted Daeng with a wai reaching his nose and led him to his room. “Complimentary dinner is in ten minutes,” he said, holding Daeng’s gaze.
The servant’s bold expression contrasted with the white splotches dabbing his face. Grease burns, maybe. Probably got rescued from the streets.
A faint rustling cut the silence.
Damn tranquilizer.
“Are there chargers nearby?” He’d charge, then dose the catch a second round.
“There’s one in the eating area,” the man said stiffly.
Daeng hoisted his pack onto the charging pad and nabbed a stool.
He traded glances with a middle-aged woman in a business suit. She straightened her neck and beckoned a bondservant boy balancing a tray of steaming cups. The boy chattered as he walked. He laughed from his gut.
He’s so…carefree. That old, unnamed feeling stirred again.
“Welcome! And thank you for your service.” The woman held two drinks as her feet whispered to him. Taking a seat, she placed a cup near his wrist. “This tea’s for you. It’s a blend of cha dam ron. But it needs cooling, so be careful na.”
His fingers clenched the cup, the red liquid quivering. “Kap kun, krub.”
“You’re welcome.” She nodded at his cargo pack. “I hope he’s worth the trouble.”
“A girl, but yes. She certainly will be.”
Her eyebrows lifted above her frown.
Daeng flexed his jaw and offered his excuse. “Remember na, they’re criminals.”
“What’s her crime?” Legally, as the owner of the inn, she had the right to know.
“Runaway bondservant. Hasn’t completed her contract yet.”
Two servants brought out panang curry and rice. The scent of sweetened coconut wafted to his nose. He took a bite. Chili singed his tongue.
“What’s her name?” Her eyes tightened.
“Sorry, P’krub. I don’t learn names.”
She pulled out a pen and two notepads, one blue and one red.
Daeng watched her thumb through the blue notebook’s pages. “What’s that?”
She paused on a blank page and printed the words Girl #24. “It’s a list of names… and numbers if I don’t know the name. I pray for them.”
“Why?” Bondservants chose their station willingly to avoid a life of poverty and crime, so praying for one now seemed… irrelevant.
“I pray for their safety,” she clarified.
Daeng relaxed his face to mask his confusion. “Aren’t there laws to protect servants from harm?”
She tugged back the sleeves of her blazer. Swirling scars wrapped around her arms. “Not for sadistic masters.”
His gut lurched. “How’d…?” He recalled the bondservant with the burned face.
“Drink your tea na, and I’ll tell you.” Her smile strained against her teeth.
He lifted his tea, matching her guarded gaze. His other hand clasped the gun at his side. For the span of a breath, he considered pretending he hadn’t seen the glint of metal at her hip.
A muffled cry startled the woman. As she turned to his pack, he saw the crimson mark along her neck.
Daeng jumped to his feet. She snapped out her gun as he flicked his weapon ready. He edged backwards, his loaded arm unwavering despite his pack flailing against the charging wall. He tapped a code and released the hatch. Reaching inside, he dragged a slender, barefooted girl onto the tile floor and pushed his muzzle against her cheek.
“Mai! Mai!” She twisted against his grip, a tranq dart still stuck in her neck.
That sick feeling climbed to his throat. He struggled to breathe, his arms weakening. Sensing an opportunity, the girl ducked down. His grip slipped to the tail of her shirt, the fabric stretching. A crooked welt cut between her shoulder blades.
Her, too?
The woman stood now, grimacing. Tears beaded in her eyes. “N’ka, where is your guilt?”
Daeng knew she’d pull the trigger even if it meant her death.
A quietness took over as he pushed the gun against his neck. “If anyone asks”—he took a long breath, possibly his last—“this was self-defense.”
Daeng awoke on the outskirts of town, a tranq dart still in his neck and a red notebook tucked in his hand.
That sickening feeling—guilt, she’d named it—had evolved into something else. A deep burning. A call for change.
He leaned over the dirt, floating prayers like lanterns to the sky, and clasped his hands against his brows—the humblest of all wais. He stayed there, remembering the faces of his bounties, including Girl #24. When the last face seared his mind, he opened the notebook to a list of names.
All of them… masters.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Interesting interweaving of Thai culture and sci-fi elements.
Thank you! It was very enjoyable to write :)
A sobering look at the reality some parts of the world still face. Well-written!
U’m glad you picked up on that thanks!
Spectacularly written, Krysta. Deeply vivid and immersive and heart-wrenching.
Thanks Beka!
This narrative packs a lot into a short story. Very nicely written.
Thank you! It’s hard to get it all into 1000 words sometimes!
I loved the culture! I did get a bit confused at times, but it was well worth it for this compelling story.
Thank you!
I like all the colors you used! That was very vivid.
Glad you enjoyed it!
Dang. Heart breaking and yet ending with hope. I love it.
Thanks friend :) I hope the new version was satisfying :)
Phew! What a story. I will have to give it a reread (after I’ve let it digest a bit) so I can catch everything that happens…
But it’s so vivid, and I love it!
Thanks for reading!
Obviously written with first hand knowledge of Thailand. It did feel a little like Mandalorian and it took me back to Thailand.
Do I spy a Matrix reference? I definitely got a cyberpunk vibe from this story.
I didn’t realize that!! Wow! Haha!
I love this SO MUCH! Hard hitting truth wrapped in fun sci-fi vibes. And the cultural immersion was done extremely well! Made me a bit homesick.
Did you used to live in Thailand?? What part?
Awesome! Glad you see the connections!
So much packed into this short story. I took a second read. Powerful and moving. Loved the Thailand setting.