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In Country

 

We set off immediately after breakfast: half a bar of chocolate each and cold noodles, soaked in most of the water from our canteens. There wasn't any point in hanging around. We needed to find a freshwater source, and according to Mister Duck's map, the beach was on the other side of the island.

At first we walked along the beach, hoping to circle the coast, but the sand soon turned to jagged rocks, which turned to impassable cliffs and gorges. Then we tried the other end, wasting precious time while the sun rose in the sky, and found the same barrier. We were left with no choice but to try inland. The pass between the peaks was the obvious goal so we slung our bin-liners over our shoulders and picked our way into the jungle.

The first two or three hundred metres from the shore were the hardest. The spaces between the palm trees were covered in a strange rambling bush with tiny leaves that sliced like razors, and the only way past them was to push through. But as we got further inland and the ground began to rise, the palms became less common than another kind of tree — trees like rusted, ivy-choked space rockets, with ten-foot roots that fanned from the trunk like stabilizer fins. With less sunlight coming through the canopy, the vegetation on the forest floor thinned out. Occasionally we were stopped by a dense spray of bamboo, but a short search would find an animal track or a path cleared by a fallen branch.

After Zeph's description of the jungle, with Jurassic plants and strangely coloured birds, I was vaguely disappointed by the reality. In many ways I felt like I was walking through an English forest, I'd just shrunk to a tenth of my normal size. But there were some things that felt suitably exotic. Several times we saw tiny brown monkeys scurrying up the trees, Tarzan-style lianas hung above us like stalactites — and there was the water: it dripped on our necks, flattened our hair, stuck our T-shirts to our chests. There was so much of it that our half-empty canteens stopped being a worry. Standing under a branch and giving it a shake provided a couple of good gulps, as well as a quick shower. The irony of having kept my clothes dry over the swim, only to have them soaked when we turned inland, didn't escape me.

 

After two hours of walking we found ourselves at the bottom of a particularly steep stretch of slope. We virtually had to climb it, pulling ourselves up on the tough fern stems to keep us from slipping down on the mud and dead leaves. Étienne was the first to get to the top and he disappeared over the ridge, then reappeared a few seconds later, beckoning enthusiastically.

'Hurry up!' he called. 'Really, it is amazing!'

'What is it?' I called back, but he'd disappeared again.

I redoubled my efforts, leaving Françoise behind.

The slope led to a football-pitch-sized shelf on the mountainside, so flat and neat that it seemed unnatural in the tangle of the surrounding jungle. Above us the slope rose again to what appeared to be a second shelf, and past that it continued straight up to the pass.



Étienne had gone further into the plateau and was standing in some bushy plants, gazing around with his hands on his hips.

'What do you think?' he said. I looked behind me. Far below I could see the beach we had come from, the island where our hidden rucksacks lay, and the many other islands beyond it.

'I didn't know the marine park was this big,' I replied.

'Yes. Very big. But that is not what I mean.'

I turned back to the plateau, putting a cigarette in my mouth. Then, as I patted down my pockets looking for my lighter, I noticed something strange. All the plants in the plateau looked vaguely familiar.

' Wow,' I said, and the cigarette dropped from my lips, forgotten.

'Yes.'

'...Dope?'

Étienne grinned. 'Have you ever seen so much?'

'Never...' I pulled a few leaves from the nearest bush and rubbed them in my hands.

Étienne waded further into the plateau. 'We should pick some, Richard,' he said. 'We can dry it in the sun and...' Then he stopped. 'Wait a moment, there is something funny here.'

'What?'

'Well, it is just so... These plants...' He crouched down, then looked round at me quickly. His lips had begun to curve into a smile, but his eyes were wide and I could literally see colour draining from his face. 'This is a field,' he said.

I froze. 'A field?'

'Yes. Look at the plants.'

'But it can't be a field. I mean, these islands are...'

'The plants are in rows.'

'Rows...'

We stared at each other.' Jesus Christ,' I said slowly. 'Then we 're in deep shit.'

Étienne started running back towards me.

'Françoise.'

'She's...' My mind was filling with too many thoughts to answer the question. '...Coming,' I eventually replied, but he had already passed me and was crouching over the slope.

'She's not there!'

'But she was just behind me.' I jogged to the ridge and looked over. 'Maybe she slipped.'

Étienne stood up. 'I will go down. You look here.'

'Yes... Right.'

He began slithering down the mud, then I saw the yellow flash of her T-shirt in some trees further along the edge of the plateau. Étienne had already slid halfway down the slope and I threw a pebble at him to get his attention. He swore and began making his way back up.

Françoise had come out into the plateau, tucking her T-shirt into her shorts. 'I needed the bathroom,' she called.

I waved my hands frantically, mouthing at her to keep her voice down. She cupped a hand by her ear. 'What? Hey! I have seen some people further up the mountain. They are coming this way. Maybe they are from the beach, no?'

Hearing her, Étienne called from down the slope, 'Richard! Make her be quiet!'

I sprinted towards her. 'What are you doing?' she asked, and then I'd reached her and was pushing her to the ground.

'Shut up!' I said, clamping my hand to her mouth.

She tried to squirm out of my grip and I pressed harder, bending her head back on her shoulders. 'This is a dope field,' I hissed, carefully enunciating each word. 'Do you understand?'

Her eyes bulged wide and she started snorting through her nose. 'Do you understand?' I hissed again. 'It's a fucking field.'

Then Étienne was behind me, pulling at my arms. I dropped Françoise and, for a reason I still don't understand, I lunged for his neck. He twisted behind me and wrapped his arms around my chest.

I tried to struggle but he was too strong. 'You idiot! Let me go! There are people coming!'

'Where are the people?'

'On the mountain,' Françoise whispered, rubbing her mouth. 'Higher.'

He looked up to the second plateau. 'I can't see anyone,' he said, easing his hold on me. 'Listen. What is that?'

We all went silent but I couldn't hear anything except blood pounding in my ears.

'Voices,' said Étienne quietly. 'You can hear it?'

I strained to listen again. This time I found it, distant but getting clearer.

'It's Thai.'

I choked. 'Fuck! We've got to run!' I clambered to my feet but Étienne dragged me back down.

'Richard,' he said, and through my fear some part of me registered surprise at the calm expression on his face. 'If we run we will be seen.'

'So what do we do?'

He pointed to a dark copse. 'We hide in there.'

 

Lying flat against the earth, peering through the mesh of leaves, we waited for the people to appear.

At first it seemed that they would pass us out of sight, then a branch cracked and a man stepped into the field, close to where Étienne and I had been standing a few minutes before. He was young, maybe twenty, with a kick-boxer's build. His chest was bare and etched with muscle, and he wore military trousers — dark-green and baggy, with pouches sewn into the legs. In his hand was a long machete. Slung over his shoulder was an automatic rifle.

I could feel Françoise's body pressed against mine - she was trembling. I looked round, somehow thinking I might calm her, but I could feel the tightness in my face. She stared at me, eyebrows raised as if she wanted me to explain. I shook my head helplessly.

A second man appeared, older, also armed. They stopped and exchanged a few words. Though they stood more than twenty metres away, the curious looping sound of their language carried perfectly over the distance. Then another man called out from within the jungle and they set off again, vanishing over the ridge, down the slope we'd originally come from.

 

Two or three minutes after their sing-song chatter had faded away, Françoise suddenly burst into tears. Then Étienne started crying too. He lay on his back and covered his eyes, his hands bunched into fists.

I watched the two of them blankly. I felt in limbo. The shock of discovering the fields and the tension while we'd been hiding had left me empty. I just knelt on the ground, sweat running from my hairline and down the side of my face, and thought of nothing.

Finally I managed to gather my wits. 'OK,' I said. 'Étienne was right. They didn't know we were here, but they might find out soon.' I reached for my bag. 'We've got to leave.'

Françoise sat up, wiping her eyes on her mud-streaked T-shirt. 'Yes,' she muttered. 'Come, Étienne.'

Étienne nodded. 'Richard,' he said firmly. 'I do not want to die here.'

I opened my mouth to speak but couldn't think what to say.

'I do not want to die here,' he repeated. 'You must get us out.'

 



Date: 2015-02-03; view: 718


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