previous. At that very moment, a beam of yellowish light slashed across the subterranean chamber, instantaneously brightened up part of the room. It was Lang the night guard, holding a flashlight in his left hand.
“Wong, it’s me,” Lang said in mandarin, “Don’t worry, I will take a look at the power room now.” He handed the flashlight to Wong and flipped open his cell phone. Harnessing the faint light that radiated out of his tiny LCD phone screen, Lang aimed the light beam at the marble floor and he was happy with the result. He gave Wong a thumbs-up before heading back into the darkness.
Wong beamed the yellowish flashlight on his own face and shouted “Everyone, please come here. Be careful.”
Specks and spots of lights started to appear all over the underground chamber and the dispersed light points gradually closed in at Wong. People had realized that their mobile phones could be used as mini torches, guiding them to gather around Wong who was holding on to the only decent light source in the cold, dark and eerie chamber.
“What happened? Is this normal?” Howard asked Wong.
“Don’t worry sir,” Wong said with a smile while he counted how many tourists were standing around him, “the lights will be back in a few minutes. Is everyone here?”
Mr. Chan’s eight year old son Pete was sobbing and tears were flowing down his rosy cheeks.
“Daddy, I’m scared.” Pete uttered.
“Hold onto me tight son, it’s just a blackout.” Mr. Chan assured his son and he tightened his hold on him.
It all happened gun-shot-quick. A loud crashing sound erupted and Pete’s heart went up into his throat. Many including the men yelped at the top of their lungs.
Everyone turned towards the direction of the deafening crash and all of a sudden a human figure came dashing out from the dark. Squeals and screams broke out among the tourists who thought that some kind of animal was leaping onto them. Unexpectedly, it was Lang, the Chinese night guard who almost scared the wits out of everybody.
Lang was sweaty and almost out of breath. “Sorry, I knocked down one of the statues, it is too dark” He looked at Wong and stammered in local dialect, “Wong, this is bad, the main power switch was fried…we need to take the elevator up.”
“Where is comrade Zhang and comrade Chen?” Wong asked.
“They have gone back. I am the only one here.” Lang answered.
“Damned,” Wong muttered to himself. He gestured to the tourists and said in mandarin, “Okay, please follow me closely. We are going back now.”
Realizing that some of the tourists do not speak Mandarin, Wong further elaborated in English, “No power and lights here. It is dangerous. We must go back. Come, please follow us to the elevator.”
The tourists were fuming but at the same time fully aware of the unfavorable circumstances that they were in. They could hardly wait to get out of that cold and lifeless place. In fact, most of them were glad that all the discomforts of this trip were going to end soon.
In a single line, the tourists tailed Wong and Lang along the narrow passageway leading back to the construction elevator. Wong was walking at a slower pace than before as it was complete darkness in the passage and he relied on his flashlight to beam the path ahead. Occasional exchange of grouses could be heard among the group but Wong simply paid no attention as there were other things that had preoccupied his mind.
CHAPTER 8
The hail storm struck with furious intensity. Within minutes, the wind was screaming through the dilapidated army bunker windows at more than forty knots, lashing them with stinging pellets of hail.
In sharp contrast, deep down underground, in the western annex of the legendary General’s Tomb, there was this unnerving calmness in the air and all was morbidly quiet.
The tourists were standing outside the elevator shaft and they were all looking up. A couple of emergency lamps around the elevator shaft were