The Beach

by Alex Garland

  ‘I saw.’

  ‘Playing football! None of them thinking to check up on Christo!’

  ‘Well, I think after Sal’s speech everyone’s trying to get back to…’

  ‘Even before Sal’s speech they were staying away… But if it was Sal in here… if it was anyone else… Apart from me…’ He hesitated, looking blankly at Christo, then laughed. ‘I don’t know. Maybe I’m being paranoid… It’s just it’s so weird. Hearing them outside, wondering why they don’t come to check up…’

  I nodded, although actually I was only half listening. His confinement with Christo was obviously getting to him and he clearly wanted to talk about it, but I had to bring up the subject of the raft. Sammy and Zeph would have covered the sea between the two islands before nightfall – a conservative estimate I’d worked out with Mister Duck by halving the time it had taken us to make the swim. At the earliest, that meant they could start the journey across the island tomorrow morning, and could conceivably reach the beach by tomorrow afternoon.

  Christo stirred, distracting us both. For a second his eyes opened, clearly focusing on nothing, and a line of dark bile ran out of the corner of his mouth. Then his chest heaved and he appeared to slip back into unconsciousness.

  Jed wiped away the line with Christo’s sheet. ‘I try to keep him on his side but he always rolls back… It’s impossible. I can’t tell what I should be doing.’

  ‘How long will he be like this?’

  ‘Two days at best… It might coincide with Tet.’

  ‘Well that’s perfect. It’ll be the perfect birthday present for the camp, and maybe it will help Karl snap out of his…’

  ‘Help Karl?’ Jed looked at me curiously.

  ‘Sure. I think half the problem is that no one can talk to him in his language. I think if Christo was talking to him then…’

  Jed shook his head. ‘No,’ he said quietly. ‘You don’t understand. Christo’s not getting better.’

  ‘You just said, in two days…’

  ‘In two days Christo will be dead.’

  I paused. ‘He’s dying?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘But… How do you know?’

  Jed reached out and took hold of my hand. Confused, I thought he was trying to console me or something, which got on my nerves, and I pulled my hand back. ‘How do you know, Jed?’

  ‘Keep your voice down. Sal doesn’t want people to find out yet.’ He reached out again to take hold of my hand, and this time he held it tightly, drawing it towards Christo’s stomach.

  ‘What the fuck are you doing?’ I exclaimed.

  ‘Shh. I want you to see.’

  Jed pulled back the sheet. The entire area of Christo’s stomach was almost jet-black, as black as Keaty’s.

  ‘Feel there.’

  I stared at the skin. ‘Why?’

  ‘Just feel.’

  ‘I don’t want to,’ I protested, but at the same time I felt my arm relax. Outside I heard the football bouncing near the entrance of the tent, a regular thumping that rose and faded like passing rotor blades. Someone cheered, or screamed, and someone else chuckled. Through the canvas, short bursts of conversation sounded sing-song and foreign.

  Gently Jed guided my hand until it rested on Christo’s torso.

  ‘What can you feel?’ he asked.

  ‘It’s hard,’ I muttered. ‘… It’s like rock.’

  ‘He’s been bleeding inside. Bleeding badly. I couldn’t be sure until last night. Or I knew… I think I knew, but…’

  ‘That thing… it’s a haemorrhage?’

  ‘Uh-huh.’

  I nodded respectfully. I’d never seen a haemorrhage before. ‘Who else knows?’

  ‘Just you and Sal… and Bugs too, probably. I talked to Sal today. She said nobody can find out. Not after we’ve started to get things back to normal. I think she’s mainly worried about Étienne hearing.’

  ‘Because he wanted to take Karl to Hat Rin.’

  ‘Yes. And she’s right to worry. Étienne would insist we took Christo to Ko Pha-Ngan, and it would be for nothing.’

  ‘You know that for sure?’

  ‘If we’d taken him the day after the attack, maybe two days after, he might have been OK. And I’d have taken that chance, even if it meant losing the beach. I think Sal would have too… But now… what would be the point?’

  ‘No point…’

  Jed sighed and stroked Christo’s shoulder before pulling back the sheet. ‘No point at all.’

  We sat in silence for a minute or two, watching Christo’s shallow and irregular breathing. It was strange that, once explained, it was obvious to me he was dying. The smell I’d noticed on entering the tent was the smell of encroaching death, and the waxy appearance of Jed’s flesh was from living in death’s proximity.

  This thought jolted me and I broke the silence bluntly. ‘Zeph and Sammy built a raft. It was what they were doing behind the tree-line. They’re on their way.’

  Jed didn’t even blink. ‘If they make it to the beach,’ he said. ‘They’ll see Christo die. Everything here will fall apart.’ And that was all.

  Secrets

  I walked close to the longhouse entrance, past where Sal sat talking with Bugs and Jean, and continued along to the beach path. At the first corner I stopped, leaning against the fin of a rocket-ship tree, and lit up. Sal appeared when I was about an inch from the filter.

  ‘Something is up,’ she said immediately. ‘What is it?’

  I raised my eyebrows.

  ‘By the way you walked, by the look in your eye. How do you think I know? So spit it out, Richard. Tell me what’s happened.’

  I opened my mouth to reply but she beat me to it.

  ‘They’re on their way, aren’t they?’

  ‘… Yes.’

  ‘Fuck.’ Sal stared into middle distance for a few seconds. Then she snapped back into sharp-focus mode. ‘What’s their ETA?’

  ‘Sometime tomorrow afternoon, if they don’t get scared off by the dope guards.’

  ‘Or the waterfall.’

  ‘Or the waterfall. Yeah.’

  ‘Their timing is unbelievable,’ Sal muttered. ‘Absolutely unbelievable.’

  ‘It turns out they were building a raft.’

  ‘Building a raft. Of course they were. They had to be doing something…’ She clutched her forehead. ‘I’m taking it for granted you know about Christo.’

  I thought for a moment, then nodded. I didn’t want to get Jed in trouble, but when Sal was in this mood it was-dangerous to lie. ‘You don’t mind me knowing?’ I said nervously.

  ‘No. The thing about secrets is you can’t keep them unless you tell at least one other person. It’s too much pressure. So I knew he had to tell someone, and I was fairly sure it would be you…’ She shrugged. ‘… Seeing as you have your own secrets to keep, I figured that this way we’d keep all the secrets together in one little bunch.’

  ‘…Oh.’

  ‘Yes. It is clever, isn’t it? Unless…’

  I waited.

  ‘Unless the person you told about our guests wasn’t Jed. After all, Jed already knew, so it was hardly telling him a secret…’

  ‘… Hardly relieving the pressure.’

  ‘Quite,’ she said casually, but watching me pretty close. ‘So did you tell anyone apart from Jed? Keaty maybe… Or Françoise? I certainly hope it wasn’t Françoise, Richard. I’ll be extremely upset if you told Françoise.’

  I shook my head. ‘I didn’t tell a living soul,’ I said firmly, thereby excluding Mister Duck.

  ‘Good.’ Sal looked away, satisfied. ‘To tell the truth, I was worried you might have told Françoise. She’d tell Étienne, you see… And you haven’t told Françoise about Christo either?’

  ‘I only found out about Christo twenty minutes ago.’

  ‘If Étienne finds out about Christo…’

  ‘I know. Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone.’

  ‘Fine.’ Her gaze lapsed back into middle d
istance. ‘OK, Richard… It looks like we have a slight problem with these rafters… But you don’t think they can possibly get here until tomorrow?’

  ‘No way.’

  ‘Absolutely sure?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Then I’m going to sleep on this. I need time to think. I’ll give you my decision on what we do about them in the morning.’

  ‘Right…’

  I hung around, unsure as to whether I’d been dismissed or not. A full minute later, Sal was still gazing into nothingness, so I slipped away.

  Black Cloud

  I felt I could use some time to think myself, so instead of going back to the clearing I headed down to the beach. I had complicated thoughts about the way things had developed over the course of the day, and I wanted to clear them up in my head.

  The way I saw it, there was something that both Sal and Jed hadn’t picked up on. Whether the rafters reached the beach or not, there was still the question of Karl.

  I’ll put it another way. Sal and Jed were stuck on the worst-case scenario. They were thinking in terms of what would happen if the rafters reached us. Zeph and Sammy would arrive, probably during Tet. Everyone would go crazy and freak out about the secrecy of the beach being compromised, and unless I got to Zeph and Sammy first, I’d be in a lot of trouble too. The morale that had been revived by Sal’s stirring speech would be completely destroyed. Not only that, there’d be the difficulty of explaining to outsiders why we had one insane and one dying Swede with us. It would be a catastrophe.

  I, however, was thinking in terms of the rafters not reaching us. In the back of my mind, the reason I’d been half looking forward to Zeph and Sammy’s arrival was the challenge of stopping them. And, I was fairly confident, the challenge would somehow be met. The point was that it had to be met. The consequences of them succeeding were far too serious. I didn’t know how we’d manage it, but with Sal on the case my instincts were that we wouldn’t fail.

  So this left not a worst-case scenario to consider, but a medium-case one.

  The rafters never reach us. The beach is never aware they even tried. The Tet celebration gives us a fresh start for the new year, and we would cope with Christo’s death the same way we’d coped with Sten’s. But what about Karl? Karl wasn’t about to die. He was going to stick around indefinitely, a constant reminder of our troubles, an albatross around our necks.

  This bothered me a great deal.

  I bent over, peering at Karl’s yellow face through the palm-tree fronds of his shelter. He was painfully thin. Even though he’d accepted food recently, flesh had fallen off him over the past week. Already his collar-bone stuck out so far it looked like a suitcase handle, as if you could pick him up by it. He’d probably have been light enough if I’d wanted to try.

  Lying by the gap in his shelter – the one that gave him a clear view over the lagoon to the caves – was a coconut-shell half-full of water and a banana-leaf parcel of rice. What was left of the rice, I noticed, was browning. From this I guessed it was the parcel Françoise had left him yesterday, dried out from a day in the sun. It suggested Françoise hadn’t replenished the supply. I contemplated the possibility that this was a new therapy tactic – ignoring him so he’d be goaded into signs of life – but I doubted it. It was more likely that, gripped by the camp’s sudden upbeat brand of madness, Françoise had simply forgotten. I remembered my conversation with her the day before. She’d seemed concerned about him back then. It was interesting how quickly Sten’s funeral had turned everything around.

  ‘Karl,’ I said.

  Maybe it was hearing his name, or maybe I was tricked by a breeze disturbing the palm fronds and playing the shadow slits across his head, but I thought I saw him move. I chose to take this as a reaction.

  ‘Karl, you’re a fucking albatross.’

  I wasn’t much bothered that he couldn’t understand me. In a way, for Karl’s sake, it was probably a good thing.

  ‘You’re a black cloud.’

  This time Karl did move. No doubt about it. He made a little jerky movement forward, like he was stiff from having sat still so long. Then slowly he reached out of the shelter and picked up the coconut-shell.

  ‘Hey,’ I said. ‘Drinking. That’s good.’ I rubbed my stomach. ‘Mmm.’

  He took a tiny sip – it couldn’t have done more than wet his mouth – and put the shell back in its place. I glanced over. There was still a gulp of water left in the bottom.

  ‘You left some. Aren’t you going to finish it up?’ I rubbed my stomach again. ‘Mmm-mm. Very delicious. Aren’t you going to have a little more?’

  He didn’t move. I watched him for a short while before shaking my head.

  ‘No, Karl. You aren’t. And that’s my point. You’re going to keep going like this for days. You’ll get so thin and weak that you won’t be able to drink even if you want to. Then we’ll have to force-feed you or something and this shark business will end up hanging over us for weeks… Maybe more!’

  I sighed and, as an afterthought, kicked down his shelter.

  ‘Get sane, Karl. Do it in a hurry. Because Christo’s going to be dead soon.’

  Shh

  To confirm my fears about the black cloud, when I did return to the clearing I found it causing trouble. Françoise, Étienne and Keaty were sitting in a circle, and Étienne and Keaty were repeating the argument I’d heard them have before.

  ‘What’s the big deal?’ Keaty was saying, at the same time as he played his Gameboy. ‘He’s taking water. That’s good, isn’t it?’

  ‘Good?’ Étienne scoffed. ‘Why is it good for him to take a little water? Nothing is good about his condition. Karl should not be here. This is obvious to me, and I cannot believe it is not obvious for everybody else.’

  ‘Give it a fucking rest, Étienne. We’ve been over this a hundred ti… Oops.’ He paused, frowning in intense concentration. Then his body slumped and he let the Nintendo drop to his lap. ‘One five three lines. I was going fine until you distracted me.’

  Étienne spat in the dust. ‘So sorry. How could I distract you from a computer game because our friend is in need of help?’

  ‘Wasn’t my friend. Hardly spoke to him.’

  ‘Does that mean you do not care about his problems?’

  ‘Sure I do. I just care about the beach more. And you should too. OK. Now this time I’m going for the record, so I don’t want any more of these bullshit distractions.’

  Étienne got to his feet. ‘What would be a real distraction for you, Keaty? Please tell me. Then I will pray I never have to see it.’

  The question went unanswered.

  ‘Sit down, Étienne,’ I said, in an attempt to lower the temperature.

  ‘Remember what Sal was saying at the funeral. We’ve got to get over all the difficulties we’ve had.’

  ‘Difficulties,’ he echoed coldly.

  ‘Everyone else is making an effort.’

  ‘Really? I am surprised to hear that you find it an effort.’

  ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

  ‘It means maybe I do not know you any more, Richard. I recognize your face when you walk towards me, but when you are close I recognize nothing in your eyes.’

  I took this as some French saying he’d translated. ‘Come on, Étienne. This is stupid. Remember Sal’s…’

  ‘Sal,’ he interrupted, ‘can fuck herself.’ Then he marched away in the direction of the waterfall path.

  ‘Actually,’ Keaty muttered thoughtfully, not looking up from the tiny monochrome screen, ‘I doubt even Sal could manage that.’

  A couple of minutes later Françoise also left. She seemed annoyed, so I guessed she didn’t feel the same way as Étienne.

  When Keaty had finished his Tetris high-score attempt, I finally got the chance to ask him what he felt about doing the Rice Run with Bugs. He said he was pretty relaxed about it. He also said it had been a bit of a shock at first, but he’d come round to the idea if it was for the benefit of
the camp. Aside from being a decent conciliatory gesture, he wanted to make sure we had some good stuff brought in for the Tet festival.

  I wanted to talk more about Tet, but Sal wanted the Rice Run over in one day so they were getting a very early start and he needed to turn in. I sat alone for twenty minutes or so, polishing off a bedtime joint, then I decided to turn in too. With Zeph and Sammy on their way, Keaty wasn’t the only one with a heavy day ahead.

  I stuck my head into the hospital tent on the way back to the longhouse, thinking Jed would appreciate another look in. But as soon as I saw inside, I wished I’d stayed away.

  Jed was fast asleep, lying next to Christo. Christo, however, was semi-awake. He even recognized me.

  ‘Richard,’ he whispered, then muttered something in Swedish and made a gurgling noise.

  I hesitated a moment, unsure of whether I should be talking to him.

  ‘Richard.’

  ‘Yes,’ I whispered back. ‘How are you feeling?’

  ‘I feel very bad, Richard. I feel very bad.’

  ‘I know, but you’ll be better soon.’

  ‘Stars…’

  ‘You see them?’

  ‘Phos… phos…’

  ‘… phorescence,’ I finished. ‘You can see it?’

  ‘I feel very bad.’

  ‘You need some sleep.’

  ‘Sten…’

  ‘You’ll see him in the morning.’

  ‘My chest…’

  ‘Close your eyes.’

  ‘Hurts…’

  ‘I know. Close your eyes.’

  ‘Very bad…’

  ‘Shh now.’

  Beside him, Jed stirred, and Christo fractionally turned his head. ‘Karl?’

  ‘Right there next to you. Don’t move or you’ll wake him.’

  He nodded and at last his eyes shut.