Milieu Dawn

by Malcolm Franks

A hand appeared and covered Catherine’s mouth, pressing firmly against her lips to suppress the scream. With nostrils flaring and eyes bulging in terror she watched, helpless, as another hand snaked out of the water and gripped the neck of the reptile. Tightening its hold, the masculine hand lifted the slithery mass from the boat and placed it on shore. The snake lay stilled, seemingly rooted to the spot. Then it moved, and glided away deep into the grass surrounding the river bank.

  Matt held a finger to his lips to urge Catherine’s continued silence, smiling to further encourage her co-operation. Despite the frantic beating of her heart she managed to suppress the intended scream. For minute after minute they listened to the soldiers searching the ground above them, without getting particularly close.

  After a while, the soldiers moved on, enabling Matt to pull his body out of the river and back into the craft. Instinct, and a latent reaction to fear, made her cling to his drenched frame. Her body trembled and he held her firmly.

  “It’s okay,” he soothed, “everyone’s gone.”

  “What was that thing?”

  “At a rough guess, Mamushi, I would think.”

  “Mam what?” she asked.

  “Mamushi; it’s a type of pit viper.”

  “Is it poisonous?”

  “Only if it bites you,” he replied casually.

  His words were enough for Catherine to tighten her grip.

  “What happens if it comes back?”

  “The snake won’t come back.”

  “But what if it does?”

  “Don’t worry, it wasn’t after you. It was looking for rats.”

  “Rats?”

  “They’re in plentiful supply. China has a massive rodent problem, because of the shortage of wildlife snakes. Snake meat is a delicacy in this part of the world. The people here catch them, either for food or to export to nearby countries like Japan. Some say they use the venom as an aphrodisiac.”

  “How do you know this?”

  “From the internet, you can’t turn up in a country and expect to find your way around without some research.”

  A rustling of grass brought the conversation to a temporary halt. Matt craned his neck so he could look to the river bank.

  “There you go,” he said, “I told you what he was after.”

  Catherine raised her head and looked to where the rustling noise continued. She saw the tail of the rat following the rest of its body into the mouth of the snake. With a sigh of relief she eased back down into the craft.

  “Were you not frightened?”

  “Absolutely bloody terrified, I thought it was going to bite me,” he admitted. “Still, all’s well that ends well. Now, it’s time to get some much needed rest.”

  There was a brief pause as Matt did his best to settle into some sort of comfortable position.

  “Are you sure it will not return?” she asked.

  “Catherine ...”

  “Alright, we shall rest. Even so, you must not let go of me.”

  Matt awoke from his brief slumber. The heat had him feeling like he was melting under the burning rage of the sun. Streams of salty liquid ran off his body in all directions and droplets of sweat had encamped on his face. He considered rescuing the water bottle from the sack until he realised Catherine was still asleep. She too was encased in perspiration. He watched as a line of water trickled from underneath the hairline above her ear. It streamed downwards and pooled into her clavicle, before overflowing the temporary obstacle and continuing its surge towards the cleavage revealed by her low cut bra.

  The image stirred at his senses. There was something about sweaty bodies and constant heat that made a man’s blood boil, prompting involuntary physical urges impossible to subdue. He couldn’t remain lying there, not with feelings like this and having Catherine so close. Easing her head onto the pillow of her perspiration swamped shirt, he slid over the edge of the boat into the river.

  “Where are you going?” asked her urgent voice.

  “Getting a wash,” he replied.

  Massaging the water in and around his scalp, he glanced across and saw her head rise above the rim of the craft. The golden yellowish hair looked lank and sticky, flattened to her head by the intense heat. He watched as the brassiere attired torso leant over the side and then the rest of her body followed as she slipped into the water.

  “It’s not much cooler in here,” she said in disappointment, rubbing water over her long arms, her shoulders and face.

  Matt had been impressed by the way Catherine coped with their situation. Nothing had fazed her thus far, not even the episode with the snake unnerved her for very long. She clearly had a strong mind, a powerful will.

  “When do we leave?” she asked.

  “We’ll wait for the sun to set, just to be on the safe side.”

  “Have we much further to go?”

  “A couple of days should do it with any luck.”

  “I don’t suppose you have any soap,” she said impishly.

  A quick shake of his head later and Matt had submerged under the surface, intent on fully enjoying the brief lull from pressure. He was conscious too, of the need to somehow cool the raging sensations pulsing through his body.

  On resurfacing, he could see Catherine struggling to climb back into the boat and swam across to help her. Once on board they settled back into their original prone positions to feast on an energy bar from the sack, washed down with a mouthful or two of warm water from the bottle.

  “That thing you said yesterday.” she said. “The bit about the local people and others farming the environment of snakes, doesn’t that make you think?”

  “Think, about what?”

  She hunched her shoulders.

  “These Milieu people, they may have a valid point. Once all the reptile wildlife is gone, what will they turn to next? And when and where will they stop?”

  The thought had crossed his mind. It was a scenario being repeated the world over. And the ever increasing numbers of humans on the planet only accelerated the destruction of the world’s natural reserves, living creatures or not.

  “Yes,” he agreed. “They do have a point. But their method of dealing with the problem is entirely wrong.”

  “Unless we reduce human levels on the planet, or at least restrict them, then how else can these matters possibly be managed?”

  “Being Devil’s Advocate again, Catherine.”

  She smiled.

  “You know what I mean to say. Each day the human race multiplies uncontrollably, adding to numbers that cannot be sustained. What you have seen in China is enough evidence of this. Poverty is an outcome of over-population, there are insufficient resources to meet every need.”

  “You agree with them?” he said in surprise.

  “I agree measures must be taken. The leaders of the world, particularly those in the West, choose not to view this matter with the same urgency as I do.”

  “You can’t murder billions of people from a pre-determined list made up by overpaid public officials. What gives them the right to decide who lives and who dies? What about their own genetic fingerprints. And have they never committed a human error, or held an opposite political view.”

  “So what would you do?” she retorted tetchily. “You are the moral crusader living amongst us, Matt. Tell me what your solution would be?”

  Her temper caused him to pause, reflect on her words. He knew Catherine did not have the same colour heart as these villains, but she had a point. Over-population was already at breaking point, and he had no answers of his own.

  “Would ridding the world of all these Milieu conspirators make enough of a difference, buy the world a bit more time?” he asked dryly.

  She drew in her breath.

  “Can you not be serious?”

  Now he started to laugh, encouraging her to respond in like fashion. Once the humour had run its course, they lapsed back into silence.

  “It is a big problem, Matt,” she eventually said.

&nb
sp; “Yes, it is,” he agreed. “And I’m damned if I know the answer to it all.”

  “Well, now you have found sympathy with their cause perhaps we should just give up and agree to live here on this river. There are plenty of rats to keep us well fed.”

  Her witty remark made him laugh loudly.

  “Whilst the proposition has its merits,” he said. “There are other people to consider.”

  “People such as who?” she asked.

  “The folks back home in Victoria. People like Martha and Gerhardt. They will soon reach the age these Milieu villains determine as unworthy. And Rosa Cain too, for daring to fight back against them before. As Johannes would say, they are the best of people.”

  Catherine decided to lay quietly with her own thoughts.

  “Are there many left?” he asked. “Who are still beyond the realms of the Authorities?”

  “The Milieu people, you mean?”

  “Yes,”

  “A small number,” she said. “Why do you ask?”

  “There’s only one way to end this thing, once and for all.”

  “How would you end it?” she asked.

  “Find out where they are and kill them all. Will you help me, Catherine, to trace them?”

  “Yes,” she replied after a pause. “I will. I will provide you with their locations.”

  Shadows were beginning to emerge and lengthen across the river. The sun had at last begun to slowly set.

  “Thank you, Catherine,” he said. “Come on,” he then added putting his shirt back on. “Let’s see if we can get you closer to home.”

  The night had passed quicker than he expected. It helped another full moon was in place and the river had widened on this stage of their journey, pushing them ever more quickly through the water. Little had been said, Matt insisting any noise travelled far through darkness. Instead, Catherine had contented herself with sitting quietly and dangling her arms over the side. The air remained humid, such that she would retrieve handfuls of water from time to time and use it to wipe away the stickiness from her skin.

  Once the sun began to rise, Matt looked purposefully for another suitable place to stop and rest. The shape of a small island emerged from the brightening sky, right in the middle of the river, which parted to left and right of the small piece of land mass.

  He paddled straight to it. After helping Catherine to land, he covered the boat with foliage cut from a nearby gathering of bushes. Though the low hanging branches of the single tree offered some shade from the rising sun, they could not shield them from the sweltering humidity. After washing at the shore they resumed the daily ritual of laying close together, resting weary heads on the soggy pillows of sweat-soaked shirts. At least they were released from the confines of lying within the cramped and suffocating boat. Space, a precious commodity, was all around them.

  Then it started to rain, lightly at first, before gathering in intensity. Rivers of rainwater streamed either side of their prone bodies, forcing them ever closer to avoid the increasing deluge.

  “Oh come on!” he muttered loudly. “Give us a break, for God’s sake.”

  His lament made her giggle and laugh. He turned to look into her bright, green eyes, alive at the humour she found in his irritation.

  “You do not possess an umbrella in the rucksack then,” she quipped and he found himself smiling at the cleverness of her wit.

  Despite the rain the heat continued to scratch away at their skin, boiling the blood and saturating their bodies in heavy perspiration. Matt struggled for a comfortable position, first moving to one side then the other, his frequent effort mirrored by Catherine’s constant movement. He thought he’d found the ideal position, once. It didn’t last for very long. Matt returned on to his side, bringing him face to face with his companion.

  Her eyes squinted and she half smiled. Perspiration rolled down the flesh of her arms and dripped to the soil. He blinked and looked up to the sky, then returned his gaze to the figure lying close beside.

  “I should check your ankle.”

  “Okay,” she said with a smile.

  Matt sat up and she lifted her foot onto his lap. Gently, he undid the bandage and inspected the injury.

  “We’re missing something you know,” he said as he set about unwinding the bandage.

  “Missing what?”

  “There’s something that doesn’t sit right with me, about these Milieu people still being free.”

  “What do you mean?” she asked.

  “We know they held powerful positions, and must therefore have had friends in high places. But that alone shouldn’t be enough to keep them from the law. They have to be getting help from elsewhere, from person or persons who have yet to be tied to this thing.”

  “Ouch, that hurts,” she complained as he pressed at the edges of the bruising.

  “Sorry,” he acknowledged, and then proceeded to quietly set about re-applying the bandage around her ankle.

  Matt’s mind turned to another matter. He wondered for a while before taking the plunge.

  “I was sorry to hear about Eva-Maria.”

  Catherine didn’t respond.

  “I liked her. A lovely girl, with a great future …”

  She turned her head away sharply, visibly upset. He could see welling moisture and anger in her eyes. There was to be no discussion.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

  Catherine remained silent. Matt returned to dressing her ankle, wishing he’d never raised the subject. Now there was an unpleasant tension between them.

  “It was the early hours of the morning,” she suddenly said. “Eva-Maria’s broken body was discovered by tramps in an alleyway. The smell alerted them. She had been hidden from view because of the waste from a dustbin that had been tipped over her.”

  Matt held his breath.

  “The murderers had raped and sodomised her,” Catherine said slowly. “After they had satisfied themselves they burnt and bit Eva-Maria, all over her body. Then they urinated and defecated on her skin. Finally, they beat her … using baseball bats.”

  The graphic description caused Matt to flinch. Catherine was struggling to contain her emotions. He didn’t know what to say. Tears began to fall from her eyes. She scooped some away, before giving up the unequal struggle. Matt was sure it was his job to comfort her in some way. Instead he was rooted to the spot.

  “I could not recognise my own daughter’s body …the only way her identity could be properly determined was through DNA sampling.”

  Matt felt sick to the stomach.

  “These vicious and evil people, Matt,” she cried. “These people who will never be caught … they would not allow me to look upon her face one last time … I could not recognise her face.”

  Catherine broke down. Matt could only wonder how she had managed to cope thus far. His heart went out to her.

  “I want to kill them, Matt. Kill every last one of them, kill them all.”

  He could sit and observe no longer, her heartbreak arrowed into his soul. Matt lifted her foot away and sank to the ground. She turned to meet him and buried her head into his waiting arms. Matt had no idea how long she broke her heart. As her tears flowed, he grew angry.

  He had saved Eva-Maria’s life once, and for what. To be brutally sexually assaulted and then even more brutally slain. Such forms of life should be forcibly removed from the face of the earth, he reasoned. Irrespective of what it took. Matt knew he would gladly kill them all. Though this would not return Eva-Maria to the bosom of her mother, the world would surely be a better place. There was no room in society for vile beasts masquerading as human beings.

  Catherine’s tears gradually subsided. She had needed to cry this despair from her heart for far too long, he realised. Matt had provided inadequate comfort, but at least he was there at the right time. It pleased him he was able to support her, when she most needed someone.

  “I am sorry,” she said.

  “Ther
e is nothing for you to be sorry about,” he whispered. “God knows, Catherine. If it were in my power I would gladly rid the world of the low life who committed this atrocity, right here and now if they were before me.”

  He meant every word. She knew he did. Catherine glanced at his face and offered a subdued smile. A bead of perspiration ran from her temple and meandered slowly down the side of her face. Catherine held her steady gaze.

  “Make love to me,” she whispered.

  Matt blinked furiously, trying to decide whether she had really said what his mind thought she had said.

  “That’s grief and the heat talking, Catherine,” he replied slowly.

  “Maybe,” she said, without a hint of emotion.

  “You’re upset, Catherine. The heat isn’t helping you to think straight. It has a way of getting under the skin, distorting the senses. What you’re feeling right now are false emotions, they aren’t real.”

  “They feel real enough to me.”

  He shifted uncomfortably.

  “No,” he said, after a pause. “I won’t let you do anything that can only lead to regret.”

  Catherine blinked at his words, looked briefly away, and then returned her gaze. Only seconds passed. It felt much longer.

  “Besides,” he added, “I understood you to be a lesbian.”

  She pushed her lips up to his. So close he could feel her breath upon his face.

  “Not all of the time,” she said.

  “It’s a very bad idea, Catherine,” he said firmly, even though his body had erupted and ached with desire.

  This was the wrong time for him to be suffering for his involuntary celibacy. Catherine was in a vulnerable state as was he, for different reasons. Her green eyes darted away from his face, a form of acceptance to his gentle rebuff he believed. Matt was wrong.

  “Make love to me,” she said again.

  It was the gentle resting of her hand on his naked stomach that overpowered his ability to think straight. He should have knocked it away. The fact he didn’t said everything about the impulses now taking hold of him. His mind and body raged in conflict. One tried to suppress rampant emotion, the other demanded sexual release.

  Catherine’s hand slipped under the elastic rim of his sodden trousers, the fingers not having to stretch far to complete their search. She folded them tight. Her touch evaporated whatever remained of his self control. He found it impossible to prolong the one-sided battle against the energetic surge inexorably building inside his body.

  He nudged gently at her shoulders and she sank down on to her back. Reaching to each side of her waist he gripped tightly at the top of her trousers and pulled them down her long slim legs, dragging the French styled underwear along with them. By the time he had freed her feet from the garments she had already disposed of the white, frilly brassiere. He planted his hands to the soil on either side of the body beneath him, and lifted his knees from the ground so she could tug away his trousers.

  Neither had the impulse to indulge in foreplay, harbouring only the raging desire to satisfy a basic instinct. Feeling the urgency of his movement, Catherine pressed the palms of her hands against his back and whispered into his ear.

  “No, wait.”

  Gritting his teeth, Matt fought against the overwhelming sensation, though he did not have to wait long. Soon they had arrived at the same point and, with a final athletic surge, sent their minds spinning wildly off into oblivion.

  Matt could do no more than allow his body to collapse onto his partner, feeling breathless and drained. Every muscle of the body had seemed to tighten to the point where it was ready to snap. Every nerve end felt as though it had shattered into innumerable pieces. And every last ounce of energy had been spent.

  For several minutes they lay quietly, motionless, neither having the strength or the inclination to move. Matt’s mind was a blank, empty of all thought save the realisation they had not made love to each other. They had merely satisfied a primal need, indulged in a vigorous and unstoppable act of lust. He felt her fingers touch the back of his head and gently stroke the nape of his neck.

  “Feeling better?” she gasped with closed eyes.

  “I don’t know, I can’t feel any part of my body,” he gasped back. “And you?”

  “Oh yes,” she replied, “much, much better.”

  As his senses returned, the repercussions of their physical act began to play worryingly on his mind.

  “Catherine ...” he began, raising his head.

  Immediately, she held a finger to his lips. Her green eyes opened and smiled with a knowing wisdom.

  “No,” she said. “I do not regret this. Nor will I allow you to regret it either.”

  She could see the concern in his anxious eyes.

  “This will be our secret, the unseen bond we shall never mention to others.”

  “You make it sound like a blood tie,” he replied.

  “It was but a moment in time, one which must be forever hidden from the view of the rest of the world. Should our relationship ever be tested in the future, then that is the time to remember this moment. It is the seal on our friendship, the unbreakable pact. Promise me you will always think of it in this way.”

  Her gaze never shifted from his face. She clearly meant every word. Catherine had not sought to elicit any form of lover’s commitment from him. This was much deeper, more an oath of loyalty.

  “I will,” he heard himself say. “You know I will.”

  “Good,” she replied, pecking the tip of his nose with her lips. “Now I feel as though I could sleep forever.”

  And so they slept.

  Chapter Twenty Four

  Silent Exit