Steve Zacharias, best known for creating the Revenge of the Nerds classics, releases his debut novel - a thriller about a teenage spy from China who finds herself in the middle of a twisted nuclear conspiracy.
Li Zi, seven years old, was awakened by the sound of a baby crying in the distance, outside of her orphanage hut. She was lucky. Her bamboo mat had been placed under one of the few open windows that allowed air to enter and provide some relief against the extreme heat and humidity. The other girls were still asleep. She saw the Mistress, her mouth was wide open, snoring her awful snore as she did every night, loud and constant, until Zi was so exhausted she would eventually be forced to fall asleep.
The Mistress was strict and sometimes mean. She had the care of over thirty girls who had been abandoned by their parents, usually their fathers. The orphanage had been built by the people of the village, mostly the mothers. It was built to house fifteen girls, but more and more girls came, from tiny babies to little children and girls of all ages, too many girls to manage, everyone needing something, most receiving nothing. There was never enough to eat and the food was disgusting.
Seizing the moment, Zi climbed up the bamboo lattices that held the structure together and snuck out of her window.
Once outside, she was able to hear muffled cries coming from the neighbor’s hut. She saw the husband, Chan, hurrying to the river carrying a small bundle. Zi often heard Chan berating, sometimes even beating his sweet wife, Nyan. Zi thought that Chan was a harsh, irritating, and inconsiderate person. What was he up to now?
A brave barefoot girl, Zi followed him carefully down a dirt path. She saw the water buffalo grazing on the tall grass next to where the chickens and pigs had been fenced in. She looked at the Qinkou Village gates. They were decorated with vicious-looking dogs and angry-looking birds. She arrived at the river, where there was a smaller bamboo and thatch-roofed hut. It smelled rancid inside. It was the smell of a thousand years of Chinese Hani farmers. The orphans used the hole in the center of the dirt floor as a toilet.
Chan hurried into the water, about one hundred and fifty feet upstream.
Zi hid in the trees and peered through the branches as he put a small handmade blanket under the water, held it there, and waited. After a moment, he unwrapped the blanket, released whatever it held, and watched it float downstream carried along by the strong current.
When it floated by, Zi gasped. It was a dead, newborn baby girl. She tried to grab her, but it was too late. She felt terrorized, confused, and helpless.
Unbalanced and shaky, she sat down on the edge of the river, looked up at the moon and the stars and wondered why this baby had to die before she had a chance to live. Gathering her strength, she slowly walked back to the orphanage and wondered what her destiny would be as she quietly climbed back into the open window.
Li Zi, seven years old, was awakened by the sound of a baby crying in the distance, outside of her orphanage hut. She was lucky. Her bamboo mat had been placed under one of the few open windows that allowed air to enter and provide some relief against the extreme heat and humidity. The other girls were still asleep. She saw the Mistress, her mouth was wide open, snoring her awful snore as she did every night, loud and constant, until Zi was so exhausted she would eventually be forced to fall asleep.
The Mistress was strict and sometimes mean. She had the care of over thirty girls who had been abandoned by their parents, usually their fathers. The orphanage had been built by the people of the village, mostly the mothers. It was built to house fifteen girls, but more and more girls came, from tiny babies to little children and girls of all ages, too many girls to manage, everyone needing something, most receiving nothing. There was never enough to eat and the food was disgusting.
Seizing the moment, Zi climbed up the bamboo lattices that held the structure together and snuck out of her window.
Once outside, she was able to hear muffled cries coming from the neighbor’s hut. She saw the husband, Chan, hurrying to the river carrying a small bundle. Zi often heard Chan berating, sometimes even beating his sweet wife, Nyan. Zi thought that Chan was a harsh, irritating, and inconsiderate person. What was he up to now?
A brave barefoot girl, Zi followed him carefully down a dirt path. She saw the water buffalo grazing on the tall grass next to where the chickens and pigs had been fenced in. She looked at the Qinkou Village gates. They were decorated with vicious-looking dogs and angry-looking birds. She arrived at the river, where there was a smaller bamboo and thatch-roofed hut. It smelled rancid inside. It was the smell of a thousand years of Chinese Hani farmers. The orphans used the hole in the center of the dirt floor as a toilet.
Chan hurried into the water, about one hundred and fifty feet upstream.
Zi hid in the trees and peered through the branches as he put a small handmade blanket under the water, held it there, and waited. After a moment, he unwrapped the blanket, released whatever it held, and watched it float downstream carried along by the strong current.
When it floated by, Zi gasped. It was a dead, newborn baby girl. She tried to grab her, but it was too late. She felt terrorized, confused, and helpless.
Unbalanced and shaky, she sat down on the edge of the river, looked up at the moon and the stars and wondered why this baby had to die before she had a chance to live. Gathering her strength, she slowly walked back to the orphanage and wondered what her destiny would be as she quietly climbed back into the open window.
