Island of the Ancestor

Daniel
Eng Zisuey works at a combined resort and religious shrine. An American, he majored in drama and has a great job. He portrays himself on stage as one of his own ancestors reborn, because his benefactor, Eng Sen, used ancient DNA to clone him. When some worshippers have a tragedy, Daniel wants out. Then he learns Eng Sen does not consider quitting to be in the job description.

~~~~~
Excerpt ~~~~~

Eng Sen staggered to his feet
on stage left, sweating heavily; now his silk suit was rumpled and his tie askew. He snatched the cordless mike clipped to the robe of a priest. He wheezed as he spoke into the mike.

“I am Eng Sen, owner of this
island,” he said harshly in Cantonese. “This temple is here for all of you, for all of us, for the whole Eng clan!”

“It’s here to steal your
money!” Daniel shouted, now holding his mike.

Eng Sen waved the acolytes up toward Daniel. “If this man has betrayed your trust, he has betrayed me as
well! I have been fooled, too!”

The crowd shouted angrily in many voices, confused.

Daniel saw the acolytes
hoisting up onto the dais. He summoned dignity and authority into his voice.

“I am Eng Zisuey,” he intoned
in Cantonese. “I am the Zhou Xian of this clan. I’m a man, not a ghost!”

Several acolytes got their
footing on the dais. Daniel dropped the mike and fled stage right; behind him,
the crowd roared again. He skipped down a staircase, then flung off the
flapping white undertunic.

Daniel ran down the hall in his shoes and underwear. Leitch would not be at his dressing room door so early
in the ritual. Ahead of the acolytes, he palmed open his dressing room door,
slipped inside, and palmed it shut.

He knew Personal Security had key access to his dressing room and house. Grabbing a shirt and pants, he palmed open the tunnel to get his passport from his desk. Then he realized some
guards could be headed there already.

With the clothes under his arm, he yanked open the door to the balcony and stepped out into the cool,
humid evening air. He closed the door softly and vaulted over the wooden rail
of the balcony to the cushion of pine-needled ground. In deep shadows, he paused to dress.

Daniel heard voices shouting
inside his dressing room. Warily, he moved down the rough, uneven mountainside
in the darkness. Leitch had never hidden his contempt for Daniel, and might
relish the chance to have his men brutally punish the privileged Original
Ancestor who had now endangered the salaries of them all.

Daniel had to get off the
island.

***

At midnight, Daniel neared
the docks, gasping for breath and slimy with sweat. Peering around a corner, he
saw Personal Security officers where they usually did not patrol. Eng Sen had
not sent a general alert to island security; Grandfather wanted Daniel brought
back quietly.

“Dan,” a woman whispered
behind him.

He whirled, ready to run
despite his exhaustion.

“I thought you might come to the docks,” Meilin whispered in English. “I’ve watched for you. I live nearby.
You may sleep on my couch.”

Daniel studied her. Then he glanced at the Personal Security guards around the corner. If she wanted to turn him in, she could call them.

“All right. I can’t leave
anyhow. No wallet or passport.”

Meilin pulled him out into
the street by his arm and raised her voice. “You lousy drunk! You’ve shamed our entire family. Come on!”

Playing
along, Daniel weaved and staggered against her, keeping his face averted from
the Personal Security guards. No one stopped them.