The Mourning Parade

by Dawn Reno Langley

  Everyone at the table glanced away once again, all in different directions as if avoiding each other’s eyes. The conversation was definitely over. Natalie fought the urge to ask for more clarification, but she knew she wouldn’t get it.

  Forty-Three

  Mrs. Darling loved to have everything just so, and Mr. Darling had a passion for being exactly like his neighbours; so, of course, they had a nurse. As they were poor, owing to the amount of milk the children drank, this nurse was a prim Newfoundland dog, called Nana, who had belonged to no one in particular until the Darlings engaged her. She had always thought children important, however, and the Darlings had become acquainted with her in Kensington Gardens, where she spent most of her spare time peeping into perambulators, and was much hated by careless nursemaids, whom she followed to their homes and complained of to their mistresses. She proved to be quite a treasure of a nurse.

  -J.M. Barrie

  Natalie wasn’t sure what had awakened her, but it probably had something to do with Sophie’s farts and Apsara’s wet trunk flapping in her face.

  “Seriously? When did sleeping with elephants become part of my chores here?” She flipped onto her side, shoving away the dirty, smelly blanket rubbing her cheek. She’d never felt dirtier or smelled worse, but she had to admit there’d been few moments in her life when she’d felt as happy.

  Sophie had taken on Apsara, the orphan, as though the little one were her own kin. No one at the sanctuary could believe the transformation in the old cow. Though Sophie had improved both physically and emotionally, Natalie hadn’t seen such softness in the elephant since they’d first met. If there were such a thing as pachyderm love at first sight, it had manifested itself in the relationship Sophie and Apsara had formed from the very beginning. Yet with the bond they had, Apsara still wanted—and needed—Natalie around. And Sophie had no problem sharing both her young charge and her human friend. Over the span of a few short weeks, the three of them became inseparable.

  Deep into the summer season, the relentless Thai sun burnt skins more quickly than a hot toaster burnt bread, so Natalie, Khalan, and Chanchai took turns feeding the infant elephant and covering her with a constant coat of sunscreen. She needed round-the-clock attention and feeding, one thing Sophie couldn’t do. Though she tolerated the mahouts when they invaded her space to feed Apsara, when the other elephants were around, Sophie acted like the proud aunt, sheltering the precocious baby and making sure to guard her against the other adult elephants.

  Natalie and Mali often sat and watched the herd as they encircled the baby in the mud pit. The two women entertained themselves by taking turns attributing human voices and commentary to the elephant group’s antics, dissolving in hysterical laughter on more than one occasion when their fabricated commentary almost matched the movement of the elephants’ mouths.

  Like any toddler, Apsara endeared everyone to her, and as the only baby at the sanctuary, the group spoiled her—and she loved it. The only cloud over the baby’s arrival was that Sophie would not let Seth—who’d postponed his departure date over the past couple of weeks—anywhere near Apsara. For some reason, Sophie didn’t trust him, and her determination to keep him away from the baby convinced Natalie that it truly was dangerous for him to stay. Sophie’s maternal instincts ruled her now, and Natalie knew better than to leave Sophie with someone like Seth, who couldn’t read her noises and body language.

  When the hour finally came that Seth meant to leave for good, Natalie joined everyone else in wishing him good fortune. She stood at the back of the small crowd as everyone said goodbye and felt torn. He had done nothing mean to her. She couldn’t fault him for doing his job, even though using her past as “color” for the show about Sophie truly ripped her in half. Still, he’d opened her up to the possibility of love, and that was something she hadn’t considered as an option for the rest of her life. That was a positive take-away. There would be times they might run into each other at conferences or seminars. He’d be a good friend.

  He climbed into the truck, and she reached for his hand through the window. “Can’t wait to see the show. Thank you, and I wish you the best.”

  He smiled, that same dazzling smile she’d noticed the first night they’d met. “You’ll be the first one to see the edited version. Hope you like it, Natalie.” His eyes searched hers for a deeper conversation, but finding none, he smiled resolutely.

  “I’m sure it’ll be fine,” she replied and withdrew her hand as the truck started. She stood with the rest of the group in the road as the truck left them in a cloud of dust, and she remained there when everyone else dispersed for a long while before heading back to Apsara’s pen.

  It was days later when Natalie glanced out at the pouring rain from inside the enclosure and told the tiny elephant, “Seth got out of here just in time.”

  Though the baby couldn’t understand what she said, she had started to understand the word for “come,” and whenever they walked, Natalie repeated, “Ma, ma, ma.” Whether she came because she had learned the word or because she was playing, Natalie couldn’t tell, but at least Apsara responded.

  Sophie spent most of the day with the calf, rescuing the little one when she slipped on the slope into the river and making sure she didn’t wander off when it was time for her feeding. She’d become a wonderful surrogate mother, though she had nothing to give to Apsara from her dry teats.

  Sophie now stood outside the enclosure, clearly enjoying the soaking that the afternoon rains provided. She lifted her trunk occasionally to the roof, knowing exactly where to place herself to get the steady runoff. She drank as though her trunk had become one large straw. It wouldn’t last much longer, according to what Natalie could see of the sky. By the way the dark clouds moved quickly over the mountains, the rain would stop for at least a couple of hours. But it never stopped for long during rainy season, which made everything at the sanctuary slippery and moldy. At least Natalie didn’t need to worry about Apsara getting sunburnt.

  As she awaited the end of the storm, Natalie fed Apsara and ran over her chores in her mind. Next week, she would conduct the monthly dog clinic that she and Peter used to do together. She mentally reviewed what meds she had on hand and planned what inventory she’d need to replace after the clinic. She also made note to order replacement parts for the large freezer and talk to Andrew about what he wanted her to accomplish while he was in Africa. He departed next week for almost three months, which left her in charge of the sanctuary until she was ready to go home. Originally, her year would have ended next month, but since no one else could take over in Andrew’s absence, she agreed to stay until his return. Maybe by then, Apsara would be more stable and the other mahouts could take on her feedings and care.

  Andrew had been in regular contact with his people in Africa, asking for advice, especially regarding the ingredients for Apsara’s formula, and for the warning signs to watch for that might indicate the calf was on a rapid downhill slide. He reminded Natalie that caring for infant elephants was risky, at best, but Natalie refused to think about how she would deal with the sudden death of baby Apsara.

  The rain stopped as Sophie came toward the fence. Somehow she sensed that Natalie had waited for a pause in the rain to walk with Apsara, and Sophie wanted to tag along, though she thought she led the pack.

  Apsara skipped ahead, giving karate-like kicks as she chased birds and tossed her trunk. The rain had invigorated her senses, evoking happy squeaks. Natalie couldn’t help but smile at the little girl because everything was always new to her. She could sit for hours exploring Natalie’s face with her bristly little trunk, then she’d be off down the road, mock-charging whoever might be coming the other way. Sophie, on the other hand, moped along, in a way that made her appear blasé and indifferent.

  At times, Natalie thought of Sophie as lifting one eyebrow when she looked at the world, like a French gallery owner might look askance at a beginner’s imitati
on of a Monet water lilies painting. Like the gallery owner, she had seen it and experienced it all, but she, too, was enamored by the happy baby elephant frolicking before them.

  Content and preoccupied by her thoughts, Natalie had almost tuned out her surroundings, so Sophie’s abrupt right hand turn caught her off guard. Then she saw Apsara trotting in the same direction, and when Sophie’s big rear end shifted, Natalie could see why both elephants veered off the path.

  Decha and Anurak trotted toward them. Apsara did her happy dance, tripping on her feet and tooting an imitation of Sophie’s much louder trumpeting. Sophie, not happy at all, would never be friendly with any dog, and barely tolerated Decha. The only reason she didn’t trample the yellow mongrel was because Apsara played with him as though he were another baby elephant. Usually Anurak gravitated directly to Apsara and would press his face right against the elephant’s head, but today he headed for Natalie, his bare feet slapping against the muddy path. The closer he got, the more evident that he was upset.

  His hands gesticulating wildly, he grunted and squeaked, the only sounds he could make, and frantically pulled on her hand, pointing again and again, as if demanding she come with him.

  “Okay, okay, sweetie. Let me take Sophie and Apsara back to the pen. They’ll only be in the way.”

  Anurak and Decha followed them back down the road, waiting impatiently while Natalie got the elephants settled. Anurak danced from one foot to the other, pantomiming the whole time, though she still couldn’t understand what he tried to tell her.

  Hand-in-hand they ran up the road, sliding in the mud and almost falling several times. When they rounded the corner by the clinic, Anurak grabbed her arm and pulled her inside, pointing to the medicine cabinet. She got it now: there had been some sort of accident.

  “What do I need? I have no idea what’s happened. Goddamnit, I wish you could talk.” She grabbed the bag she always kept packed, knowing it contained a tranquilizer, some antibiotics, bandage materials, and a splint. “Do I need something else? Crap, you couldn’t tell me even if you

  knew . . .”

  Anurak’s dark eyes widened and his brow knit for a moment, then he brightened as if he’d had a brilliant idea and ran to her desk, grabbing a pen and paper. In seconds, he’d sketched something, then held it up for her to see.

  Her heart stopped.

  A cobra.

  She grabbed some syringes and a bottle of the anti-venom always on hand from the fridge, shoved them in her bag and the three of them flew out the door.

  Forty-Four

  Courage is not the absence of fear, but

  rather the judgement that something

  else is more important than fear.

  -Ambrose Redmoon

  Natalie was out of breath when they reached the rice fields. In the distance, she heard screams. She fought to grab another breath, forced herself to keep running.

  Christ.

  She knew the results of a snake bite, knew what to do, but what would happen if she had to deal with the cobra itself? She hated to admit it, but unlike most of her veterinary colleagues, she’d always had a deep fear of snakes.

  The impossibly green marshes stretched out to the mountains beyond, a natural boundary. In the distance, a group of thatched huts rose above the fields on wooden poles set deep in the rice paddies. A small group of people gathered near one of the huts, several of them wearing the bamboo bucket hats that the rice workers wore to keep off the sun. Probably members of Anurak’s family. She followed the boy through the water-logged rice paddies. Anurak lived on the outskirts of the fields and would have been working with them today, which is probably why the edges of his pants were still wet when he came to her.

  She kicked off her sandals and continued wading down the paths between the paddies, keeping to the mud as much as possible and watching closely in front of her for the telltale squiggles that the big snakes made. Her heart beat hard in her chest, and the sun blurred her vision. Within a few moments, she saw that one of the people was a blonde man dressed in Western clothing.

  Peter Hatcher? When did he come back, and what the hell is he doing in this rice paddy?

  “Oh, thank God, Natalie!” He shouted to her, his hand over his eyes like a visor. “I hope you brought the anti-venom. It’s Anurak’s dad!”

  She held up her bag. “I have it.” She waded into the calf-deep water toward Hatcher. Behind him, Anurak’s mother cradled her husband in her arms. As Natalie drew closer, she saw Anurak’s dad struggling for air, though Hatcher had tried to open an airway with a homemade tracheotomy. She jogged the last couple of steps, then bent to check on the man.

  “I have no idea where that damn snake went,” Hatcher whispered to her. “Watch yourself.” He pulled open her bag and grabbed one of the vials of anti-venom, plunging the needle into Anurak’s dad’s arm. Immediately, he began breathing more easily.

  “Get him out of here!” Hatcher told the men. Then he said something in Thai. Immediately, they hoisted their friend up and scurried toward dry land. Natalie and Peter started following, but the sound of heavy breathing stopped them in their tracks. A deep growl followed.

  “Fuck . . .” Hatcher pointed to his right.

  An impossibly long, angry cobra, its burnished tan and black body raised, its yellow and white hood wide, coiled only two feet away from Hatcher.

  Natalie’s breath caught when the cobra struck. So quick. Hatcher cried out.

  A struggle, some splashing, and he screamed again.

  Natalie’s legs zippered through the watery rice paddy toward where he now leaned forward as though he were about to plow into the shallow puddles of water.

  Was the cobra still holding on? She caught him by the arm, pulled with all her strength and heard another hiss nearby.

  Whirling, she saw a flash, and heard Sophie’s roar, then her angry trumpet.

  In the sunlight, Sophie sprinted down through the paddies toward her. How did she get out? A shadowy figure sat atop her shoulders. The sunlight blurred for a moment, then the person came into view. Long skinny legs, a glossy brown head of hair. Huge smile.

  Danny! Natalie lost her grip on Hatcher’s arm. His groan pulled her from the unbelievable sight of her son on the back of her elephant and grounded her in the moment. She grabbed Hatcher’s arm again, instantly realizing she couldn’t move him.

  “You’ve got to stand, Peter. Stand. Then, lean on me. We’ve got to get out of here!”

  She frantically worked with him until she could get him to stand, his face white and his legs wobbly. To her left, Sophie, still trumpeting, wrestled with something Natalie couldn’t see. She shaded her eyes.

  Danny. Where’s Danny? A trick of the light through the rushes alongside the rice paddy. A wish on Natalie’s part. A visit from beyond. Whatever Natalie saw was no longer there. She shook her head and concentrated on Peter.

  He struggled to get to his feet, mumbling something about the anti-venom. Natalie checked his hands quickly, found the needle he’d been using on Anurak’s father, and quickly shoved it into Peter’s right arm, hoping beyond hope there was enough still left in the vial to stop the venom. At least to pause it. The cobra bite on his upper left arm looked way too close to his heart. She had to get him back to the clinic. She called for Sophie. She came immediately, her bulk casting a shadow around them.

  “Nung long! Sophie, nung long!” Natalie yelled.

  Immediately, Sophie lowered her head to the ground as Natalie had commanded. Together, Natalie and one of the rice workers pushed and pulled Peter’s body until he lay over Sophie’s lowered shoulders. They slid him down so he was cradled against her neck, then Natalie commanded her to stand up, and Sophie did.

  __________

  Loog khen! Sophie, loog khen!” the woman says, so Sophie rises.

  A strange buzzing fills her ears. Her legs are unsteady, but she slowl
y lumbers down the road, the man’s inert body slumped over her neck. She holds her head erect. She needs to hold him in place, knows that he cannot hold on, so she moves carefully when she feels him slipping. They pass under the cashew trees. The only sound: the birds overhead. Slowly. Carefully. Finally, the white building is in sight. She lifts her legs a little higher, walks a little more quickly.

  The woman yells something. Two men run inside.

  Then the woman is by her side and orders Sophie to lower her head to the ground. All the elephant sees is the woman’s face. All she hears is the woman’s voice. She ignores the tightening in her chest as her legs stiffen, and she lowers her head, feeling the man slide over her forehead, past her eyes, landing in the curl of her trunk. She stays perfectly still until the woman and two male humans take the man off her, and she tries to stand. Sways. Finds it difficult to catch her breath. Forces her good leg straight.

  Then she stumbles.

  __________

  Glancing up to scold the elephant, Natalie notices the bites. Multiple bites. All around the healing scar on Sophie’s leg. She’d been bitten by more than one snake. Bad enough the big cobra had still been agitated enough to attack, but Sophie must have disturbed the nest. Oh God, no. Baby cobras didn’t know how to temper their release of venom like the adults did. The chances of dying from multiple baby cobra bites could be much higher than dying from an adult’s single bite. And God knows how many of them had bitten the big elephant. “Jesus.” Natalie looked into Sophie’s eyes, silently begging her to wait for a few moments while she cared for Peter. “I’ll be right back, ol’ girl,” she said softly.

  Turning to the volunteers now rushing around, Natalie shot quick orders. “I need more antidote, a clean bed, a bowl of hot water and fresh towels, and someone get some anti-venom for Sophie, too. Load it in a super large syringe, and as soon as I get Peter set, I’ll be right out to take care of her. Now, go!” The students stood around her in wide-eyed shock. “Go, for chrissakes! Go!”