by Dan Smith
It was clear that when the time came for me to take Dolores’s life, I would also have to take Kássia’s.
Breaking eye contact, I moved past them, going to the store for a bottle of water. There were two empties on the deck as if they’d helped themselves while I’d been sleeping and I cursed my tiredness. I couldn’t afford for them to hijack the Deus with sincerity and good intent in the way that Leonardo had hijacked it with murder and mania.
‘We can’t stop.’ Leonardo leaned forward and spoke with urgency. He kept his voice down so that his new guardian wouldn’t hear him. ‘My contact might have left already. If he’s not there, there won’t be any money.’
‘He’ll wait. He wants what’s in those crates.’ I took a bottle of water from the warm interior of the store and went back to sit with Daniella.
‘At least you managed to get some sleep,’ she said. ‘That’s good.’
‘Your breath smells of mint.’ I took a swig of the water, rinsed my mouth and swallowed. ‘You been talking to that woman?’
Daniella stood up to stretch her legs. ‘She came over before, when you were asleep. She asked me to talk to you, get you to let Leonardo have his clothes. Said he has no dignity sitting there like that.’
I shifted over and took the wheel. ‘What else did she say?’
‘Not much. She asked about Piratinga, about me, about you.’
‘What did you tell her?’
‘Nothing.’
I nodded and put a hand on the back of her thigh. It was warm and damp with sweat. ‘Do you think she’s right?’ I asked. ‘That I should give Leonardo his clothes? Maybe even cut him loose?’
‘No.’ She looked back at me with a serious expression. ‘Don’t let him go. I didn’t listen to you before when I should have. You said he was trouble and you were right.’ She let her gaze linger, then she turned and watched the river once more. ‘She’s OK, though. Dolores. I think she means well.’
‘Hm. Sometimes people who mean well end up making the biggest mistakes,’ I said. ‘If I cut him loose he’ll try to kill us all. How much dignity will she think he needs then?’
Daniella sighed. ‘There’s something about her, Zico. She’s so sure of herself. Who do you think she is?’
‘I don’t know. Someone from FUNAI, I suppose.’
Footsteps on the deck and Dolores came to stand beside us. ‘I’d rather not stop—’
‘And me.’ I looked up at her. ‘But if we have to, then we have to. No one ever listens.’ Beside me, Daniella moved away so my hand was no longer on her leg. She smiled down at me and walked to the bow, reaching her arms over her head and arching her back.
‘We can’t travel in heavy rain,’ I said. ‘If we can’t see the river properly, it’s not safe. Why does no one ever believe me when I say that?’ I watched the line of trees slipping past on the southern bank and remembered the nightmare we’d had when we were smothered by the smoke. I didn’t want to be blind like that again. ‘But Mina dos Santos is close now. Not far at all.’
‘Do you have business there?’ she asked.
‘Do you?’
Sister Beckett looked at me. ‘I have the feeling you don’t like me, Zico, why is that?’
I shrugged.
‘I was talking to Leonardo,’ she said. ‘He told me he recognised me. From a photograph you have in your pocket.’
I was surprised that Leonardo had made any connection. He had seen the clipping late last night, an hour that seemed so long ago now. He had seen the grainy picture only by torchlight and yet he had put the faces together.
‘Why would you have a picture of me in your pocket, Zico?’
‘You don’t want to believe everything he tells you.’
‘So he’s lying? You don’t have a photo?’
‘Leonardo is not a good man,’ I told her. ‘I know you think he’s suffering and that it’s your duty to release him, but he’s not a good man.’
‘I can see what kind of man he is. I can see what kind of man you are, too.’ She stared at me with those pale blue eyes that didn’t quite look at the same place on my face. Her glasses magnified her pupils, dark circles dilated wide to take in as much of the fading light as possible. ‘I’ve met many men like you.’
‘So you said.’ I took a drink of water and turned away from her. I leaned back and listened to the gentle spots of rain falling on the canvas above me.
‘Do you know who I am, Zico?’
‘You said your name is Dolores.’ I stared at ripples on the surface of the river. The rain was light, but there were circles appearing on every inch of water, emanating outwards, never-ending.
‘And that’s all?’
‘That’s all.’ I watched Daniella lift her face to the rain, making no attempt to come under the shelter. ‘It’s not getting any heavier,’ I said. ‘We should be OK. We’ll be in Mina dos Santos soon.’ I looked at Dolores. ‘It’ll be almost dark when we get there. I hope you have somewhere to stay tonight.’
‘There’s a hotel. Fernanda’s.’
‘More like a brothel.’
‘We can’t be too proud,’ she replied. ‘As long as there is a spot to lay my head, I will be fine.’
We looked at each other, our eyes searching for something that might not even be there.
‘Your journey is almost at an end,’ she said to me.
‘Yes,’ I replied. ‘It is.’
As I watched her, the shadow that cloaked me ruffled in the breeze, and I tried to not to feel Sofia’s judgement when I thought about what I had to do. I tried only to see that I was saving Daniella and the old man. Somewhere in my heart, though, I wondered if they would ever be free from threat; if a devil like Costa would ever release us.
Perhaps we could never be saved.
44
It was Daniella who first saw the figure stumble onto the shore.
The storm hadn’t fallen over the Deus like it had the day before. The sky darkened and thunder growled somewhere far away and unseen, but the worst of it had stayed over the forest and the savannah beyond.
The light drumming on the canvas continued for half an hour or so, but the sound was gentle and hypnotic. The soft patter mingled with the thrum of the engine and the wash of the river in our wake. Circles formed in the water before us; a million perfect rings that grew and grew until they became nothing. Clear droplets bulged and dripped from the holes left in the canopy by the fires, and in the places where the rainwater evaporated on the warm deck, steam lifted like spirits rising from the depths of the River of Deaths.
When the rain stopped, the clouds remained, hanging grey and low, taking the light and colour from the sky. It was an awkward atmosphere that gave the world a grainy hue, but Daniella took the wheel and pushed us on and on, deeper and deeper.
That was when she noticed the figure appear from the foliage, and called out to me, pointing.
I came to her side, followed the angle of her finger, then went to the bow to see the ghostly silhouette standing on the raised bank to our left, no more than fifty metres away. Behind, a band of trees stood tall against the dim sky, and above them a haze of black smoke thinned in the air. The smell of the wood smoke came to us as we nudged westwards, bringing the apprehension of another nightmarish journey through fire.
The shape stood like a ghost in the grey gloom, almost seeming to hover, like it might break up at any moment and disappear.
‘What is that?’ Sister Beckett spoke in my ear, her voice gentle and quiet as if there were some reverence required in this place. ‘Is that a person?’
We were coming closer now but the figure was still no more than a hazy outline against the trees, the shape shifting and moving with the shadows of the forest.
‘Mapinguari,’ Daniella whispered.
‘There’s no such thing,’ Dolores replied.
‘They say it killed a hundred cows on De Sousa’s fazenda last year,’ Daniella went on. ‘Ripped out their tongues and drank their blood.’
&nb
sp; I watched the dark shape and couldn’t help shivering at the thought of a creature that could blend with the trees or move through the forest without making a sound. Something that could make you dizzy and disorientate you in the chaos of leaves and vines.
‘Take us closer,’ Dolores said.
‘Closer?’ There was fear in Daniella’s voice. ‘No, we should—’
‘It’s moving,’ Dolores said, and we all watched as the figure that blended so well with its surroundings put a foot forwards and became real.
More than just a momentary vision at the forest edge, it stepped out towards the wall of the riverbank. It hesitated, then lost its balance and twisted, falling a metre onto the strip of white sand below.
‘It’s a person,’ Dolores said. ‘Someone who needs help.’
‘Maybe.’
The figure moved again. Shifting, crawling, sitting upright, pushing to their knees, then falling flat again, arms to the side, face down, prostrate in the sand.
‘We should help.’ Sister Beckett was like an irritating insect in my ear, always with something to say. ‘They need our help. We have to stop.’
‘I thought you wanted to get to Mina dos Santos before nightfall.’
That is a person,’ she said. ‘And they need our help. If that means we’re late getting to our destination, then so be it.’ She stared at me, defiant, daring me to contradict her. ‘For God’s sake, Zico, I know you’re better than this.’
‘You don’t know anything about me,’ I said, both hating and respecting her at the same time.
‘But you have a heart. Anyone can see that. It’s in your eyes when you look at Daniella. We have to help. It’s the right thing to do.’
The right thing.
I turned to Daniella and drew a finger across my throat. ‘Cut the engine.’
There was an odd stillness that hung over this part of the river. No birdsong, no breeze. Even the insects were quiet in the unsettling stillness as we cut silently through the water.
When we were stationary, and the anchor was in place, I handed the rifle to Daniella and told her to keep it pointed at Leonardo the whole time I was off the boat. If he looked like he was a threat, she was to shoot him.
‘Where?’ she asked, taking the rifle and resting it across the back of the seat to aim it at Leonardo. ‘Where should I shoot him?’
Leonardo twisted in his seat, tugged once at the plastic cuffs and raised the middle finger of his free hand at me. ‘Punheteiro.’
‘Wherever you like.’
She nodded once and turned away as I went back to the bow, drawing my pistols.
‘You don’t need those.’ Dolores gave me a disapproving look.
‘You don’t know that.’ I held them high and climbed down into the river. The water was chest deep and I kept my pistols over my head as I waded ashore, holstering them once I was there, and going straight to the body on the sand.
The naked woman did not react to my approach.
She did not make any sound when I knelt beside her and spoke. There was no resistance from her muscles or her flesh when I touched a hand to her shoulder. And when I put my fingers to her neck, there was no pulse beneath the dark skin.
I put both hands under the dead woman and braced myself before rolling her onto her back.
Then I saw the horror of what had been done to her, and I reeled away from it, drawing my pistol.
Sofia’s face leaped into my mind, searing itself in my vision like hot iron sears an image onto cattle hide. For a moment, it was my sister who lay on that beach, and I saw with a terrible clarity the things I had seen so many years ago in the favela.
‘No.’ The word escaped me before I could stop it.
‘What is it?’ Dolores spoke from the boat.
I shook the vision from my mind and pointed my pistol towards the trees. I held up my spare hand, making rapid movements, encouraging the nun to be quiet.
‘What?’ she asked again. ‘Is everything all right?’
I turned in her direction and put a finger to my lips, then stood and backed towards the river.
Closer to the Deus, I spoke without turning around. ‘We should leave now.’
‘What’s going on?’
‘She’s dead. We should go.’
‘We have to do something.’
‘There isn’t anything we can do.’
‘We can’t just leave her there,’ she said. ‘And maybe there are other people who need our help.’
‘He’s right.’ Some of Kássia’s first words. ‘We should go.’
‘Listen to your friend, Sister Beckett. Whatever happened to this woman, it wasn’t an accident. You don’t want it to happen to you.’
As if to punctuate my remark, a dull, flat report came from somewhere amongst the trees.
A single gunshot that started a rush of activity in the forest.
45
The birds panicked. Unsettled from their perches, they spilled upward with a flurry of wings, and the grey sky was clouded with the darting movements of coleiro, uirapuru, woodcreepers and flycatchers. They hung in the air for a moment, then descended on the trees once more, searching for safety. Other unseen creatures were startled, too, breaking for deeper cover, crashing through the forest in a sudden explosion of sound and movement.
Then nothing.
Numbed silence.
Everything was still.
Daniella was first to fracture the spell, calling my name from the boat. ‘Zico.’
I’m coming to check on her,’ Dolores said, close to the gunwale behind me.
‘I’ve checked her,’ I said, ‘and I’ve seen enough dead people to know there’s nothing you can do,’ I kept my eyes on the line of the trees. ‘I’m coming on board and we’re leaving.’
I backed into the river, moving to where the water reached my knees before I realised Dolores was behind me. She had climbed over the side of the Deus and was wading past me, coming ashore.
‘Christ, woman.’ I grabbed at her T-shirt, halting her progress. ‘What don’t you understand? We have to leave. It’s not safe here. Not by a long way.’
Dolores whipped around to stare at me. ‘Get your hands off me, Zico. Right now.’
I hesitated, then made a show of releasing the cloth that I’d bunched into my fist.
‘You may not care for other human beings, Zico, but I do. I intend to help this woman and see to any others who may need it. If you wish to stay aboard the boat, then so be it.’
I gritted my teeth and watched her walk onto the sand, Kássia following close behind.
‘She wants to get killed,’ I said, but Kássia ignored me.
I stayed where I was, watching them go to the woman, then I continued back to the Deus, climbing the tyres and telling Daniella to start the engine.
‘We can’t just leave them, Zico. You have to stay with her.’
‘No, we have to get away from here. We don’t know who did this or how many of them there are.’
I could feel my own sense of urgency building. I wanted to bolt, like the animals and birds of the forest had bolted from the gunshot. I had to keep Daniella safe, and that meant taking her away from here as quickly as possible. This was why I hadn’t wanted her on the boat.
‘What if something happens to them?’ Daniella left her place at the wheel and came to where I was climbing aboard.
‘It’s not our problem.’ I jumped over onto the deck and headed for the wheel.
‘You don’t mean that, Zico.’ Daniella stood in my way.
‘Yes I do.’ I put out a hand to move her aside. ‘If she wants to get herself killed, that’s not our problem.’
Daniella resisted me, saying, ‘Zico, you can’t—’
‘Why do you care so much about her? You don’t even know her. My job is to protect you and this boat, not them.’ I tried to pass around her but Daniella grabbed me, pulling me so I had to look at her.
‘You can’t just leave them.’ Her expression stopped me dead
. She couldn’t believe I was going to abandon Dolores and Kassiá on that remote beach. It was a monstrous and cowardly thing to do. I could see it in her eyes.
‘Zico’s right,’ Leonardo said. ‘We should leave them. I would.’
I tore my eyes from Daniella’s and looked down at Leonardo.
‘Don’t listen to him,’ Daniella said. ‘You’re not like him.’
I looked over at Dolores and Kássia on the beach.
If I left them, there was a chance they would disappear just as Costa wanted. I would have my money and my land. Daniella and the old man would be safe.
All I had to do was leave. Right now.
But it didn’t feel right. It didn’t feel right at all.
I wasn’t like Leonardo.
When I turned to Daniella once more, I knew I was going to do the right thing. That’s what Dolores had said. The right thing.
‘Start the engine,’ I said, taking Daniella to one side so that Leonardo couldn’t hear us. ‘Keep it running. I’ll go bring them back. And pick up that rifle. Don’t take your eyes off him again.’
Daniella nodded. ‘I promise.’
‘You’re making a mistake,’ Leonardo said as I returned to the gunwale and swung my leg over. ‘I would leave them.’
‘I’m not you,’ I told him as I climbed back down into the water.
Daniella started the engine and the Deus coughed into life as I waded through the shallows and went to where Sister Beckett was kneeling in the sand.
Kássia stood beside her, watching the line of trees.
The naked woman was lying exactly as before, white-eyed to the sky, mouth open, tongue back in her throat. Grains of sand decorated her lips like tiny jewels, catching the flickering of the falling sun that managed to pierce the cloud from time to time. The wound in her neck was not a clean cut, but ragged as if someone had sawed at it with a blunt blade. Her arms bore angry scratches that broke the skin from shoulder to elbow. Her fingernails were broken, her thighs ripped and bruised.