Remo got him up across his shoulder in a fireman's carry and jumped onto a rock. There were other rocks by which he could make his way to shore.
After letting the driver down, he said, "Nice driving."
"Truck will dry off by winter," the driver said unconcernedly. "We walk rest of way."
"How far?"
"In rain, twice as far," said the driver.
"That's too far," said Remo. But there was nothing else he could do. They started off.
Heads down, eyes squeezed tight against the downpour, they walked more than an hour through slashing rain that quickly made agitated ponds in the arid plateaus. The thunder was constant. Fortunately the lightning was far to the north.
"Won't this rain ever stop?" Remo grumbled.
The driver shrugged. "We have saying-humans say that time passes. Time says that humans pass."
All at once the rain stopped. The lightning and thunder continued. The air had a cleanness to it that Remo, who'd spent most of his life in American cities, rarely tasted.
As he walked, Remo willed his body temperature to rise. Steam began escaping his clothes. After twenty minutes of walking, he was bone-dry.
"Tumo. Good," said the Tibetan approvingly.
"Tumo. What's that?"
"Lamas use it. Make body warm, dry off fast. You smart American."
"Not bad for a white eyes, huh?"
"What you talk? You not white eyes."
"What do you mean?"
"White eyes gray or blue. Your eyes good color. Brown."
"Someone must have steered me wrong," Remo muttered.
Somewhere in the middle of the night, they topped a rise and suddenly they were standing on the brink of an unexpected valley. There was a city down in the valley. Here and there people stood on the roofs of stone houses and the larger buildings.
They were black silhouettes against the intermittent lightning flashes. The electrical storm was coming in.
"Don't those people know enough to get out of the storm?" Remo asked.
"They cannot help themselves. Chinese make them do it."
"Make them do what?"
"Make them catch lightning."
"What do you mean-catch the lightning?"
"Chinese make examples of some Tibetans who displease them. If they catch lightning, they die. If they don't, they live."
The rumble of thunder drew nearer.
"What if they refuse?" Remo asked.
"Entire family killed before their eyes," said the Tibetan sadly. "Man who refuse get bill for bullets used to execute family. It is Chinese custom."
"Maybe it's time to introduce a new custom," said Remo, starting down off the plateau.
Chapter 22
It was written that when the Chinese oppressors confronted the Bunji Lama, the Lamb of Light did not resist them, but allowed herself to be taken by skyboat to the Drapchi Prison in Lhasa.
Not all of her train were taken to Lhasa. Only the Bunji and her immediate retinue. Some say the rest were driven back to the holy land. Others that they were divided into Indians and Tibetans. And as the Indians trudged back to their homeland, the rattle of guns punctuated by grenade explosions and screams smote their horrified ears. After which came a profound silence, and the air filled with the metallic scent of blood.
Being devout Buddhists, they held their anger deep within them and continued their homeward journey.
The truth was never learned. The scriptures recorded only that when the Bunji Lama returned to Lhasa, she arrived on the wings of a Chinese skyboat and no Tibetan who toiled in the fields or in the machine shops knew that the Buddha-Sent One had come at last.
SQUIRRELLY CHICANE took one look at her cell and said, "You have got to be kidding!"
She whirled and got up on her tiptoes, hoping to lord over the heads of the soldiers of China.
"If you don't get me better accommodations, the First Lady is going to hear about this. And don't think she won't."
"This best cell in Drapchi Prison."
Squirrelly looked at the cell again. It was a box. Stone walls. Drippings. Sand on the floor. Not even straw. No toilet. No running water.
"Does this look like the kind of place you'd throw a Bunji Lama, the Bunjiest Lama who ever walked the earth?"
The soldiers looked at one another, their glances unreadable. And unceremoniously shoved Squirrelly Chicane into her cell. The iron-barred door was slammed shut, and the key in the lock was turned. It took two grunting guards using all their strength to turn it.
After they had gone, Squirrelly took a deep breath and said, "Yoo-hoo. Kula. Can you hear me?"
"I am in cell."
Lobsang droned, "I am in a cell, as well. It is cold."
"Listen, we gotta escape."
"Escape?" Kula grunted. "Bunji, you insisted that we submit to these Chinese demons."
"And we did. Okay, I've got my second act now. But I don't like the accommodations. What is this bucket? Oh, peeew. It stinks."