The Collector of Names

by Miha Mazzini

  He screamed and rolled on the ground.

  He received two such strong blows that it sounded as if he had church bells in his head.

  He calmed down.

  He let the fluids flow from every possible opening in his body.

  "Now you know what happened," said Aco calmly, holding Raf's shoulders, "you know what it all looks like but you're wrong in thinking you know who did this. Wipe yourself and let's go. It's going to be a long night, there's a lot to do."

  Raf nodded, remembered the scene behind the bushes, collected himself, took a deep breath and wiped himself with his T-shirt, which was getting full of stains. He remembered his father, and a little observation Raf had made first about him and then about all the other men who put weight on around their waists and then stick their big stomachs out proudly: they can never finish a meal without dropping some of their food on their front. Always and everywhere. The memory of his parents was both calming and unreal. They were so grey and average, so boring that he suddenly realised what home meant. Home is where you feel safely bored.

  "Alright? Shall we go?"

  Raf got up and stumbled. Knowing that next to him was a man who knew what it was all about helped him.

  Aco hoped deeply that that was how Raf felt about him. If he was on his own he would die from fear, run away in a panic, but as soon as there was somebody who needed his help, he was able to control himself completely. He was a born soldier.

  The villa was silent. There were no more sounds of laughter. The dining room light was still on and when they walked round the house they could just about discern some light escaping through the nursery shutters.

  Raf hoped they would not have to go into the house. They stood in the middle of the meadow, waiting. It felt like a very long time.

  They heard some steps and then the door opened. Max stepped out, saw them and nodded.

  Raf nodded back, surprised at how casual their meeting seemed. As if they were somewhere else, at some other time.

  "Let's go," said Aco and pulled Raf by his sleeve.

  "I thought we were going in?" asked Raf, visibly relieved.

  "No, not yet. We don't know enough. Let's go to the woods."

  Raf noticed the old man watching Max as he joined them, unusually silent.

  "Max," said Raf, "hey man, why did you laugh like that earlier?"

  Max was looking at the top of his trainers and did not move a muscle.

  "Max?"

  Raf noticed the dark patches on the inside of Max's thighs, the traces of vomit on his chest and thought his friend was embarrassed so he stopped quizzing him.

  "Let's go to the woods," said Aco impatiently, waved Raf off in the direction he wanted him to go and waited for him to start walking. Max followed Raf and Aco went last. He stopped behind the first trees and turned back as if expecting something whilst not taking his eyes off Max for more than a few seconds.

  "He's scared of him," realised Raf. And at the time when Max was at his most harmless, just a small shadow, one of many amongst the trees.

  They waited for a long time, or that was how it seemed to Raf. He knelt, lent on a tree with his hips and felt something sticky on his T-shirt. How it frightened him! He took a long time to pluck up the courage to feel it was just tree sap.

  He looked towards the house. It was a beautiful night and the previous events seemed like a dream. He would wake up. The crickets and the moon would still be there but all the memories would be gone.

  Aco was hiding behind the tree next to Raf's and suddenly he took a sharp breath in through his nose as if he had a cold and was trying to keep the snot in. Raf expected to hear a breath coming out and when it did not, he bent forward slightly to get a better view of the figure in front of him. The crickets' song suddenly became strangely different or so it seemed to him.

  He looked towards the house. The door was already closing.

  On the veranda stood a small boy, who reminded Raf of a child prodigy, standing on stage waiting for a sign from the conductor. His suit, his bow tie and glowing white shirt, his eyes which travelled from left to right as if he was embracing the audience lovingly. Letting everybody feel that he was performing just for them. He even held something in his hand, but in spite of the moonlight Raf could not really make out what it was, though it did not look like an instrument.

  The boy turned his head towards them and Raf looked at Aco, who seemed to be frozen - he was so pale and motionless. He only moved when the boy's head continued its journey without stopping.

  Raf noticed with horror that Aco had produced a pistol from somewhere and was now pointing it at the boy. The barrel looked frightfully steady in the moonlight. Aco would not miss, he looked like a man used to shooting. His left hand was supporting his right hand which was resting on the tree trunk. He was going to kill the child, Raf thought, I must stop him. How could anybody be as calm as this crazy man he had only known for half an hour? I'll jump, now. Twigs broke under his feet as he got up.

  The finger on the trigger started to bend.

  Too late, said Raf.

  Something big flew through the air and covered Aco. At first Raf could only see a writhing mass on the ground but then Max flew away as quickly as he had flown in. Aco had somehow thrown him off and something small, barely recognisable flew with Max, quickly disappearing amongst the trees.

  The pistol.

  The child was saved, thought Raf even before he could feel surprised at Max's jump. His friend crashed on the ground, picked himself up straight away and looked around for another victim. He noticed Raf, who thought he looked like a dog, on all fours with sparkling animal eyes. Max took another leap. At first on all fours, panting, and then springing up and jumping onto Raf, knocking him down. Raf opened his mouth to shout for help but immediately felt somebody's tongue upon his.

  *

  Ana had no difficulty finding the house her uncle had described in his note. The place was right but the time was not. She looked at the name-plate on the door. If nothing else she could at least find out Luka’s surname. The thought that it was strange that there was a name-plate on that door only and on no others she had passed on the way came to her very casually and did not really take a proper form. It was logical: the villagers all knew each other and name-plates were quite unnecessary.

  On Luka’s door it said:

  DOOR: WOOD

  BOUGHT ON:

  INSTALLED ON:

  At first, she was surprised at the age of the door, then recognised the writing, which she had already seen on the tea-cup she had drunk from earlier, and then she wondered about the man who stuck labels on every object, however insignificant and common it was.

  She would knock on the door and see. She hoped he would not have a label with his name and birth details on his forehead.

  She was trying to guess what his reaction would be. She had a few scenarios and her favourite was the first one: Luka waves his arm, telling her all about her uncle’s madness and tells her to stop worrying and go to bed. It would not matter to her even if he slammed the door in her face or shouted at her. She would not mind at all.

  Luka was obviously a light sleeper. Immediately after the first two nervous knocks of her knuckles on the wood a light came on in the window above her head and an old, thin and wrinkled man with a nose like an eagle’s grumbled at her.

  "Aco sent me," she said.

  "Alright, I’m coming," he groaned and closed the window. From the length of time he kept her waiting, Ana concluded that the old man was not in any hurry. He did not open the door fully, just enough to have a good look at her. Maybe he was trying to hide his funny pyjamas with their wide vertical stripes?

  She handed him Aco’s letter.

  He opened it and read it, moving his lips with a whisper

  -AND!

  Weird, Ana said to herself in astonishment. All her imagined scenarios disappeared like a puff of smoke.

  The man became like a blowfish. He straitened up, threw his should
ers back, spread his arms so that the door crashed against the wall, took a deep breath into his lungs and in an overflowing mixture of relief and enthusiasm roared:

  "ACTION, AT LAST!"

  *

  Max suddenly realised just how much he loved his father. He was nothing without him, he did not even have a name. He had had to come that far, he had had to wait all that time to realise it.

  Father!

  A son’s love for his father!

  He kissed and hugged him tightly.

  Became one with his father.

  Father!

  I’m coming, here I am!

  I’m yours, father!

  Father!

  *

  Raf would have thrown up this time, too, if there was anything left to throw up. He turned on his side, choking and struggling for breath. Above him stood Aco who had kicked Max a few metres away and was now observing him as he slowly got up again, groaning.

  "It’s started," said Aco without sounding worried or frightened. His fear had only showed when he looked at the child and earlier, behind the shed, when Raf had told him about the villa. Raf said:

  "He nearly killed me. I couldn’t breathe!"

  "With a kiss," added Aco and Raf was not quite sure if he just imagined the ironic smile on his face.

  Max was on his feet again.

  "How much I love you!" he said opening his arms wide.

  In two jumps he was beside Aco, leapt onto him and knocked him down. He attached himself to Aco’s mouth. And a second later he again flew up in the air. The old man seemed well versed in the martial arts, noted Raf.

  Aco wiped his mouth on his sleeve.

  "We’ve got to tie him up otherwise he’ll cover us both in his saliva."

  Max was up again.

  "Father! FATHER! Just a kiss, father. What’s bad about that? Just one kiss?"

  "Here he comes, watch out," Aco got ready.

  Max opened his mouth, stuck out his tongue and jumped. The old man received him with a kick between his legs, a knee-blow on his chin and a fist in his ear. It sufficed.

  Aco jumped over to Max lying on the ground, and folded both his arms behind his back

  "We’ve got to tie him up," he shouted to Raf, who had only just got up, "take off his trousers!"

  Raf did as he was told and when he finally managed to pull the jeans off the unconscious Max, he caught a worried look on Aco’s face.

  "You’re a bit clumsy," said Aco.

  Raf nodded willingly. What else could he do? With resignation, he accepted Aco’s expression of displeasure at having such a companion.

  "We’ll manage."

  Aco pulled a fishing knife out of his pocket, cut the jeans into strips and used them to bind Max.

  Max started gurgling and Aco turned him on his side and gave him a good blow on the back. The captive blew a balloon of blood onto the pine-tree needles and Raf groaned.

  "It’s alright, he just bit his tongue," Aco comforted him. "I hope he’ll be able to talk. We’ve got to wake him up."

  He started hitting him and after a while Max opened his eyes and immediately recognised the person leaning over him.

  "Father!" he breathed.

  *

  Ana had to knock on Adriano’s, Bruno’s and Miro’s doors. She surprised herself by never mixing up or forgetting the instructions given to her by Luka. They were all sleepy and bad tempered when they first opened the door and then became full of energy as soon as they heard Luka’s message which Ana conveyed to them word by word:

  "Action, boys!"

  She soon realised she was gathering the whole team who had been sitting on the bench at her arrival. She did not wait for them to get dressed but returned to Luka’s house. The light was on inside and the door was open. She did not dare go in and waited outside in the light from the naked bulb, around which moths immediately started flying. Suddenly, something moved on the wall and one of the insects disappeared. Ana stepped nearer and only after a thorough inspection discovered some lizards, sitting on the stone, their colour matching that of the background, making them impossible to spot. She moved away in revulsion.

  From time to time she could hear rattling noises, the slamming of drawers, the odd curse in a quick dialogue between a man and a woman coming from inside.

  She knocked on the door. No answer. She knocked louder.

  Luka opened the window and looked at her:

  "What?"

  He was not in his pyjamas any more, judging by the arm holding the shutter. He had put on some sort of green hunting shirt.

  "Could you tell me what’s going on?"

  "Action, what else."

  "I mean with my uncle?"

  "He’s the boss. He’s much cleverer than I, and after what happened

  (what?)

  much braver too. Didn’t he tell you anything?"

  "No."

  "Then I can’t tell you anything either. A conspiracy, that’s us."

  He was about to go back in when she stopped him pleadingly:

  "Please, tell me at least if it’s something serious?"

  "Serious? Why the hell do you think I’m running around in the middle of the night? And Aco too?"

  He closed the window, leaving her to wait.

  *

  Alfonz was walking around the woods with his friend in his arms, explaining to him his very special attitude to trees.

  *

  Aco and Raf were watching the child who was by now quite far away on the beach, right next to the sea and suddenly it occurred to Raf just what it was he had been clutching all that time. The cuddly elephant from the nursery.

  "We’ve got to find the gun, all is not lost yet!" said Aco.

  He started desperately rummaging through the undergrowth and the thick layer of pine-tree needles, looking behind tree trunks. Once he stooped swiftly to pick up something black, but it was only his beret, which had fallen off his head during his fight with Max. After Aco gave him a sharp look, Raf joined him in his search even though he was not quite sure what he was supposed to do if he found the gun.

  But he was spared that trial. The darkness on the ground was thick and impenetrable and their search was futile. Aco stopped, pressing the palm of his hand onto his forehead.

  "So this is it. This is it." he said. Raf did not know what he meant.

  The child was still on the beach staring at the horizon, all the time in the same direction. Whilst searching for the gun Aco kept looking at the child and when the boy slowly walked off along the beach out of sight Aco stopped.

  "He’s going to the campsite," said Aco. "If he keeps walking along the sea that’s where he’ll end up. We’ll cross the island and we’ll have at least half an hour, maybe more, advantage over him. It’ll do. In the meantime, we’ve got to find out as much as we can about how to destroy him."

  "Destroy him?" Raf moved away from Aco.

  "Yes, of course. We can’t kill him."

  "Well, I should hope not."

  Raf was not sure if he really understood the joke.

  Aco nodded:

  "He’s been dead for a long time and I was there when he was dying. Now we’ve just got to destroy him. And before that we’ve got to find out as much as we can from this one."

  He pointed to Max who was lying there, his tongue pointing up into the air, as if he were licking an invisible ice-cream.

  "Father, just a little kiss!"

  Aco sat on Max’s stomach, put his hands on Max’s shoulders and pushed him down. Max was trying to lift himself up, desperate to kiss the figure above him.

  "Just a little kiss, a little kiss, that’s not much, just a little kiss!"

  The captive was lifting his head and reaching for the face above him with his tongue. Saliva stained with blood trickled from the corners of his mouth.

  "You’ll get a kiss," said Aco, "You’ll get one. You just have to tell me something before."

  "I will, father, I will!"

  "Did you see the child?"
r />   "Yes, I did. In that room, in the dark. You weren’t there, father, and I was scared. I’m not scared now. Just a little kiss!"

  "You’ll get it. What did the child say?"

  "Mama, he said. That was the first thing he said. But mothers don’t matter, just fathers! Mothers come and go! That’s what they’re like!"

  "Mama? And then?"

  Max, in between pouring out his emotions, finally managed to tell them what had happened to him in the villa. He did not forget to mention how the boy did not have to open his mouth while he spoke and Aco asked him to repeat that bit twice.

  Slowly, Max started losing the plot more and more and talked only about love and kissing his father. He kept jerking forward with his tongue out, trying to lick his interrogator, until Aco got up and moved away. Max writhed on the ground, tirelessly repeating his litanies.

  Raf watched him and after a long absence that cynical voice which had been so active on the ferry but had then vanished, as if it had returned to the mainland, reappeared. He remembered their form-teacher’s words spoken during the final celebratory speech. He had asked them to look at each other as that was the last time they would see each other as they were then. Next time they met, a few years later, they would be different, something would have happened to them. It’s true, said the little voice. Just look at that body on the ground, remember Alfonz’s face, remember yourself. Who would have thought that you would become like this in just a few days.

  Aco came over to Raf and said to him:

  "It’s time to talk."

  *

  Ana realised how everything she had done in her life had been guided by rules and reason. At the same time, she knew that that was the way which suited her best, but she still wondered when the last time was that she had done something instinctively, under an impulse, on the spur of the moment.

  Her instinct was telling her to leave. The whole night she had been waiting, the whole night. Some strangers came and told her to wait. Just like that.

  She knocked on the door firmly and decisively.

  "What now?" the window opened.

  "Will you take me with you when you go after my uncle?"

  Luka looked at her in astonishment.

  "But how, you’re a woman?!?"

  She swallowed thickly.