A shuffle and a sharp cry returned her attention to Hatcher and the mahouts. Hatcher crouched next to Sophie’s leg, his hypodermic needle inserted right above the infected area. Sophie growled and trumpeted, tossing her head, but the mahouts caught her with their ankuses, stopping her trunk when it whipped dangerously close to Hatcher. Natalie gasped and started forward, but the mahouts waved her back.
“Move right,” Siriporn ordered her. He reappeared on Natalie’s left, but his eyes were not on her. Instead, his attention was on Sophie and he watched every nuance of the elephant’s body language. “Sophie nervous. She know Dr. Peter will stick needle in. See her left leg?” Siriporn spoke without taking his eyes off Sophie. One arm kept Natalie back; the other was flung wide to keep his own balance.
Sophie’s leg lifted, and she flicked it backwards.
“Damn!” Hatcher darted forward but not in time to complete the injection before Sophie moved away.
“Let me help!” Natalie said. “Pass me the needle.” She took a deep breath and shouldered her way in to squat next to Hatcher.
“Christ, no! She’s not a horse, Dr. DeAngelo,” Hatcher snapped. “And I don’t have time to train you right now. Get out of my way!”
Natalie knew that it was now or never. Either he had to accept her help, or she needed to book the next flight. She planted herself and grabbed a couple of disposable gloves, slipping them on her hands, before picking up the large bottle of antiseptic at Hatcher’s feet. The next time Sophie swung around, Natalie shot the infection on Sophie’s leg with a squirt of antiseptic, then got out of the way so Hatcher could inject the needle. He took her cue, stabbed the elephant’s leg with the hypo and injected it while the mahouts used every bit of their strength to hold Sophie in place.
Hatcher pulled out the needle after the medicine had been delivered and skipped out of the way the next time Sophie’s head lolled in his direction. Wiping his hands on his shorts, he stepped back and watched her as if pleased with himself. He glanced at Natalie and nodded. A simple nod, not a word of encouragement, but it was enough. At least he’d acknowledged her.
“How often are you planning to do this?” Natalie asked as they stood about ten feet away and gathered Hatcher’s medicines and needle packs into his bag.
“Every six hours, if she’ll let us. It’s gotten so that she knows why we’re bringing her into this building, and she’s truly afraid, but this is the only place that’s large enough to hold her so we can inject medicines and check her vitals. The worst part is she needs two rounds: one above the infection, another closer to her heart. Now that she’s had the first round, she’ll feel a bit of relief, and it’s easier to give her the second round. If we don’t get this infection under control, it’ll spread quickly throughout her system and we’ll lose her. Their skin often heals over the wound, so I’ve been trying to keep this wound open until the infection calms down.”
“Let me give her the next round,” Natalie said quietly, not taking her eyes off the mahouts.
“You’ve never done this . . . She’s unpredictable. No. I’m afraid I’m not going to let that happen.”
“Listen, I’ve given more rounds of antibiotics than I can count. Horses. Cows. And, yes, when I was interning, even a few elephants, and one time, a rhino that had the toughest hide of any animal I’ve ever shot.”
Hatcher opened his mouth to argue, but she stepped forward and put her hand on his arm. “I can do this,” she said quietly.
Without another word, he handed the hypodermic needle to her. The mere weight of it in her hand reminded her how much larger this animal was than the horses she regularly medicated. She felt a strength within that she hadn’t embodied for a very long time. A welcome feeling, she moved with it as confidently as she would respond to a horse she’d been riding for years.
With one eye on the mahouts, she silently synchronized her movements with theirs, as Siriporn had encouraged her. Any quick or jerky movement on her part would alert Sophie to her, and the elephant would swiftly lower her massive head or swing a heavy foot, could reach out her trunk and grab the nearest body part, then easily fling Natalie so far that every bone would be shattered.
Natalie knew that, and because that image was as real as the hairs standing up on her forearms, her sense of timing became as natural as any other animal’s. Part of that sense came from years of working with horses and connecting with a hoof one too many times. She knew several clients who had lost family members because of accidents with horses. That horrible knowledge taught her to be cautious, quick and alert to the signals animals telegraphed before they reached what she called the red zone. Besides, no heightened physical danger could be as horrifying as sitting alone and thinking of her boys. Her sons, her lost loves. Her body and her mind now belonged to this one elephant rather than to her own self.
As soon as the mahouts caught Sophie’s attention and the large gray head began to swing in their direction, Natalie plunged the foot-long hypodermic into Sophie’s upper leg and delivered another round of the antibiotics into her system. The elephant bellowed and lifted her leg, but Natalie skirted out of the way, twirling like a ballerina. Sophie’s leg and trunk missed her by a mere two inches. Sophie bellowed again, but this time, it was born of frustration rather than surprised pain. She wasn’t used to being caught off guard. The mahouts caught her head with their short wooden prods and diverted her attention.
Hatcher stood aside, a shocked expression on his blond-whiskered face.
From the corner came the sound of clapping. Natalie had forgotten about Anurak and Decha. The boy gave her a big grin, and Decha, as if he knew what had happened, yelped and wagged his tail. Sophie roared and charged forward, but she couldn’t go far.
Natalie sprinted to Anurak, lifted him off his feet, and ran with the dog and child out of the building and into the sun. Sophie was still trumpeting when Natalie, out of breath, stopped by a monkey pod tree and leaned against it. Decha held his cast straight out, his tongue drooping from the corner of his mouth in a lopsided dog grin. Anurak looked at his dog, then up at her, and silently began to laugh. Suddenly, she realized that the boy and his dog had made a game of taunting Sophie, and if it continued, one of them could be Sophie’s next victim.
“You’re going to have to stop doing that,” she told Decha, shaking a finger in his face, “and you, too,” she told Anurak as sternly as she could. “Stay away from Sophie, okay?”
She wondered if either of them understood.
__________
There are so many humans Sophie cannot see them all. They flash by in colors like the sun and the river. Though she hunkers her head down, leaving her peripheral vision open to see those flashes of color and people, those brief warnings of danger, she concentrates instead on using her other senses to determine the direction the men are moving.
First, they’re in front of her, and she can see their scowling faces and the swirls they create when they pass in front of her or wave their arms like the river birds. Then they hover behind her legs like flies do after she rolls in the mud.
Some of the men flit to her right, and one has zigzagged behind her left hip. She’s surrounded. Her heart starts beating more quickly. She needs an escape. She must find a way out of this rapidly-tightening circle.
The woman is to Sophie’s right, her voice calmer and lower than the mahouts. She holds herself straight and wide, and she’s taller than the men. They listen to her. They watch her, and so does Sophie, because the woman is trying to control the yellow dog. In and out of the woman’s legs, the dog weaves, in and out. Then he’s dashing in and out of Sophie’s sight, charging forward to bark, then pulling away when the boy who doesn’t make sounds grabs the dog’s ruff. The woman commands the dog, yelling at it the way mahouts yell at Sophie. The dog sits and stares directly into the woman’s face, and it’s clear the dog understands and will obey her.
Sophie cannot
be sure. She cannot trust.
The elephant slams down her back feet, lifts her front leg up and, growling, slams it down. She’s afraid. She’s telling them: do not come near.
The yellow dog is unpredictable, and though Sophie can see him sitting at the woman’s command, it is the dog she must watch. He is the danger. His claws ripped the skin of her leg, split it open to burn anew. She must not let him close enough to do the same again. She will kill him if he hurts her again.
Sophie’s ears twitch, begin to flare out. She flaps them, a sure sign she is threatened. The woman calls to the dog as if she senses what Sophie feels. Then she pulls the boy and the dog to the side and talks to them before turning to the other humans with a voice that sounds like a growl. She flails her arms, gestures for them to leave, pushes against them. She looks over her shoulder, says something to Sophie, but the words are lost. Sophie cannot hear them above the men’s yells. So much noise. So many voices.
Sophie grunts, shuffles backward.
Too many humans.
She raises her rear foot, turns it like a small radar. Lowers it to a hairsbreadth above the ground. Dust clouds skitter on the earthen floor, particles really, tickling her sensitive foot pads. She knows without turning her head that the human behind her is moving away. It was a man, the mahout who rides the young female with the high-pitched trumpet that shakes the palm leaves whenever she shrieks. He moves up the road, joining the man who smells of red meat. As they disappear into the dust, they talk loudly, throwing their words to the ones left behind.
The woman continues to move around the circle, speaks to each man, to every mahout who had been around Sophie. The woman sounds angry. She growls like a jungle cat. Urgent. Commanding.
She speaks to each of them, one by one, until she has reached them all, and the waves of her fury appear stilled. They leave, the men, disappearing into the trees like gibbering monkeys, chattering and pushing each other until they are well out of sight.
Only then, when all sound vanishes into the tree branches and she no longer smells the man smell close by, does Sophie feel she can totally lower that rear foot. She settles it down so gently not even one speck of dust is disturbed.
The boy and the yellow dog hug the woman’s shadow, following so close on her heels that she stumbles. She lets loose with a sound, but she laughs. It’s a sound of relief after what could have turned tense.
And, still.
The dog eyes Sophie, and she stiffens, immediately alerted. Vigilant. They stare at each other, daring the other to make the first move. Sophie thinks of the pain. If the dog moves, Sophie will lift him with her trunk and slam him to the ground.
When the woman speaks to the boy, the dog cocks his head, pants with a long pink tongue and wags his stiff sliver of a tail. The woman points toward the dwellings up the road where the others live, and the boy and dog follow her command, sprinting away through the low, sour bushes that lead to the river.
Relieved that the dog is gone, but unsure whether everyone has left, Sophie raises her head, lifts her trunk, scents the air. Only the woman is still here. She stands near Sophie’s head, gazing off into the direction of the river. She reveals no anxiety, no tensions, no rage. She breathes deeply and with regularity. Sophie can sense the beating of the woman’s heart.
She settles her rear leg back to the ground, satisfied. It’s safe.
The woman is safe. She has not caused any harm. She will not hurt Sophie.
But Sophie knows: being alone is always safest.
She looks toward where the sky meets the mountains and watches the last of the sun’s appearance for that day.
Thirteen
Until he extends his circle
of compassion to include all
living things, man will not
himself find peace.
-Albert Schweitzer
The little, red truck pulled up to the sanctuary’s main building and the driver hopped out to let down its back gate. Surely they aren’t all supposed to fit in the open back, Natalie thought as everyone moved forward to climb aboard.
Ten people had gathered to take the excursion to Damnoen Saduak, the floating market. Mali told her that the trip would take at least two and a half hours one way. Natalie squirmed at the thought of being crammed onto the truck’s bed, sitting on a hard plank seat with ten other people, on this hot and sunny morning. Even after a couple of months at the sanctuary, she still wasn’t used to the relentless shirt-drenching heat. Surely six would be the maximum allowance in the back of the truck, but no, everyone piled in, giggling and teasing and squeezing onto the plank seats like schoolchildren on their way to a fun field trip. She climbed in behind the last of the group, unable to resist smiling at the delighted faces surrounding her.
On the way to the market, Natalie shifted from side to side, unable to get comfortable, but no one else seemed to have the same difficulty. They teased each other, chatted to their friends, or like the teenager to her left, hung their heads over the sides of the pickup, relishing the breeze, however hot and wet.
About an hour into the trip, she realized she might as well relax and enjoy the ride as everyone else was, so she did. She concentrated on the warm wind in her face and purposely took a couple of long and deep breaths, forcing herself to relax and to find the good in the situation. She was with happy people. The day sparkled with Thai sunshine and clean air. She was embarking on another adventure, and it would be fun.
Her mouth eased into a smile.
Mali sat next to her, cradling a sweet grass basket on her lap as if it were a baby. “I’m hoping to find a woman who sells rare spices,” she told Natalie over the truck’s rattle. “Different farmers come every week, so I’m never sure who’ll be there. They all work out of ruea hang yao, you know, those long-tailed boats.”
“I’ve seen photos of them,” Natalie said. “They’re quite colorful.”
“Tourists love them,” Mali said, holding her basket tightly as the little truck sped around a corner. “Usually I don’t even go on these excursions, but it’s hard to get the spices I need for Tom Yum Hed and Gang Ped Fug Tong Mungsavirat. Andrew loves my soups and vegetarian curry.”
At the other end of the bench seat, Hatcher hung his head out over the side of the truck like a dog and watched the scenery race by. He’d mentioned yesterday that he had an appointment with someone he called “the old medicine man,” a person who regularly supplied him with vitamins that the sanctuary vets mixed in with the elephants’ food on a daily basis. Most of the powdery mix was calcium, Hatcher told Natalie, and the mixture was adjusted for each elephant. He had yet to share exactly what the other vitamins were, which she found odd but not unusual for him. He liked keeping secrets.
Opposite him, Karina sat with her knees together, feet planted securely on the floor. Her thin lips pressed firmly into a straight line as she watched the mahouts’ wives teasing each other like a disappointed school marm. Every time Natalie saw her, she shook her head at the thought that she was Andrew’s sister. They couldn’t have been more different if they’d come from planets on the opposite end of the solar system. From the first moment Natalie had met her, she had never smiled. But Natalie felt willing to bet her last dollar that Karina was a bit sweet on Peter Hatcher from the way her eyes softened whenever he came near.
They’d make a good match. Natalie smothered a giggle at the thought and looked over her shoulder at the verdant jungle and jagged mountain peaks they passed through. Surely there were times when this part of Thailand appeared dim and unattractive, but even during the rainiest of days, she found something marvelous that took her breath away. Thailand and its people and its animals filled her heart with their natural splendor, and she couldn’t imagine any other place that would come close to its beauty. With a sigh, she luxuriated in the view and the need to do nothing at all but enjoy it.
The road twisted and turned thr
ough sky-high trees wound up in climbing vines, past terraced rice paddies sculpted like stair-steps against the mountainside. Occasionally, the dense jungle separated, and she’d spot the blue river snaking its way alongside the road, or a small hut selling local products like palm oil or bananas. The air smelled green, heavy with the scene of dirt and mango, spicy live cloves, and a faint muskiness like patchouli.
Soon the scenery became less jungle-like and more civilized. Small huts with cars and trucks parked in the driveways dotted the road. Open-air shops sold produce, honey, coconut art, and Buddhist statues. Traffic thickened and the occasional stoplight gave Natalie a chance to check out the small towns they passed through. Streets lined with car shops and supermarkets; small, vibrantly-decorated temples next to taxi offices emblazoned with neon signs. Women shouldering baskets full of orange sweets they sold to passersby. Sleek ninja motorcycles competed for parking spaces with Vespas. And every once in a while, a reminder of home: a 7-Eleven sign or a red-white-and-blue Pepsi banner.
They’d been in the truck for nearly two hours when the driver pulled into an Esso station complete with a 24-hour store and a Burger King. Natalie stretched her arms above her head and yawned as she followed Mali to the restrooms. A group of schoolgirls discharged from a tourist bus raced in circles around her, their ear-splitting shrieks reminding her how quiet the sanctuary was, even on its noisiest days. She’d take elephants bellowing over teenage shrieking any day of the week. Though she could understand very little of what the girls said, it was easy to tell that they were flirting with some of the boys who had streamed off their companion bus in a much more leisurely fashion. She watched their interactions.
Across the sidewalk, Hatcher stood outside the store, a cold drink to his lips, his eyes focused on the same group of flirting pre-teens. He caught Natalie’s eye, shook his head as if commenting on the silliness of young love, and smiled.
The Mourning Parade Page 10