Crash Position

by Liz Woods

NINETEEN

  “Missy,” The voice was raspy.

  I never cried at school. When everyone had their immunisations, I was the only kid with a dry eye. I had always preferred to do my crying in a private where I could confidently bawl my eyes out loudly, without anyone watching. In public, I preferred to play the tough girl, holding it in as long as possible, until I fractured and collapsed in a heap behind a closed door. There were no private places in Kerobokan Prison, and my emotional wall that held back the violent tide of tears was nearing collapse. I had hoped to be out before it happened; or to wake up and be sitting in a cramped economy seat. Beyond my control, and with Tanya watching, the dam was soon to burst.

  “Missy!”

  The feeling of emotional nausea that I recognised as the impending collapse of the dam wall was rising. It passed my stomach and crept higher. My thoughts were rapid, and hopeless. The images of flying fruit came before me. The sickness rose up to my neck. My eyes welled.

  “Missy!!!” The Oklahoma accented voice ripped me from the tide. She was about fifty. Her hair, a brownish blonde mix tied back with the type of worn-out hair tie I used when I was little. I walked across the prison yard to woman, hoping she hadn’t called me over to hurt me.

  “Have a seat.” She said patting her thin hand on the grass.

  I knelt down beside her.

  “That’s a fancy looking sarong you got there.” She said, exhaling smoke.

  I looked at my dirty skirt, and chuckled.

  “I wish I’d packed something a little looser.” I said, shifting in the tight uniform, trying to find a comfortable position.

  “I’m Bev and this is Jen.” She said motioning to the woman sitting next to her with short hair and of a similar age. Sitting cross-legged, with a cigarette in her mouth, she lent over Bev and shook my hand.

  “Why are y’all dressed up like you’re heading to a board meeting?” Said Bev.

  “We’re an airline crew, and we’re in trouble.” I said bluntly.

  “No kidding. What’d y’all do? Kill the pilot?” Said Bev, causing Jen to choke on her own smoke.

  “Almost.”

  “Ohh.. No kidding. Someone got hurt eh?” Said Bev.

  “Yep. So what did you do?” I asked.

  “Nothing.” Said Jen.

  “Oh, we did so.” Said Bev.

  “No we didn’t. How many times are we going to have this argument?” Said Jen.

  “Until you realise you’re completely nuts!” Said Bev

  The two realising they had company, stopped and looked at me.

  “Sorry.” Said Jen.

  “You’ll notice, Jenifer is my more difficult other half.” Said Bev with a cheeky smile, prompting a dig in the ribs from Jen.

  “No problem.” I was used to awkward moments by now.

  “As you can tell, we disagree on the basics.” Said Bev.

  “Yes, well I’m not ready to play the felon who finds God behind bars.” Said Jen bringing her hands up in a ‘praise Jesus.’

  “So you knew each other on the outside?” I said, realising I was already talking like a pro.

  They nodded.

  “Yeh marijuana. We did it a few times and finally got busted.” Said Bev.

  “How much?” I leaned forward.

  Jen looked at me, her face indicating she was disturbed by my intrigue.

  “Just over eight pounds or four kilos, depending on which language you’re talking,” said Bev, “divided between the two of us,” she added.

  “Did you do it?” I asked.

  “Oh yeh!” Said Bev.

  “And we got fifteen years each.” Said Jen.

  “That poor Aussie girl over there says she didn’t even do it and she got twenty years.” Bev said, pointing to the women’s block. I couldn’t see who she was talking about but I knew who she meant.

  “Are you Aussie or British?” Said Bev.

  “Aussie. And no, I’m not a friend of hers.” I said light-heartedly.

  “Marijuana was our trade. And we say ‘marijuana’, not ganja or weed. Its not a weed.” said Jen.

  “You see dear, this is where we differ.” said Jen, stubbing out her cigarette,

  “You still don’t see my point do you, Jen? Like I said, if you’re gonna be driving my kid in the school bus then it is my business. And it’s not just an innocent green plant.”

  “Oh come on, and alcohol’s not the thing ruining lives?” Said Jen.

  Bev continued her argument. “And then when you lose your mind from abusing the stuff, it becomes my problem. It becomes the government’s problem. It becomes the taxpayer’s problem. Everyone’s problem!”

  “Ahh, Bev my dear,” said Jen with a sly look, playing with her lighter, “how many taxes have you paid lately?”

  “Oh shut up! You know what I mean,” said Bev, trying to light another cigarette. “Ultimately,” Jen said, exhaling smoke and turning her attention back to me, “you have to decide if what you’re doing is hurting people. And if it is, don’t do it. And if not, carry on. But if you hurt people, is it worth it?”

  “Speaking of paying, are you getting that phone organised?” Interrupted Bev.

  “Yes, yes.”

  “Phone?” I said.

  “You can buy anything in here. Technically we’re not even allowed to smoke but we’ve paid our dues,” said Bev, “we’ve made a home here. We do what we can to make it as liveable as possible. I guess it’s not like other prisons.”

  From what little I knew of prisons, Kerobokan was different. There was a tennis court and lush green lawns juxtaposed with raw sewage and suicide attempts. Tourists posed for photos by the front signage, and some of them paid the guards for guided tours, underscoring what I already knew about Bali–everything could be bought. Bev and Jen told me the secrets of Kerobokan, the social structure and the tails of break out attempts, riots and pointed out how much each of the guards cost to keep secrets and ignore contraband.

  “I hope they don’t keep you here too long, missy,” said Bev, “I don’t know how you managed to end up here, but hey, if you were born in another time you could’ve ended up somewhere worse.”

  “I guess so,” I said, lost for anything insightful to add.

  “That’s the problem: yours and ours. You have no war to fight. In my father’s day, they went off, saw horrible things and had a reason to be happy when they got back. Now you’re cushioned in the nest until you leave and you’re thrown out suddenly trying to work out what the point of it all is,” Bev said, pausing a moment to light another cigarette, “it’s not your fault, I actually pity your folk. Then you end up doing something stupid and end up in a place like this.”

  “Maybe this is our war. And these will be our war stories.” I said.

  “Yeh, that may be.” Said Bev, nodding her head pensively.

  “What’s your war? You look too young to have gone off to any great battle field?” I said to Jen, looking her straight in the eye.

  “Well, probably this. The marijuana trade was our great cause and I guess it was the war we fought. The reason I call marijuana by its proper name, is because of the medical benefits it serves. To someone terminally ill, it’s just as precious as morphine. But it comes with the stigma. I just think it deserves to be respected.”

  “School bus!” Bev interrupted.

  “In the medical context!” Jen clarified. “Anyway, war is different on a case by case basis. One man’s war is another man’s walk in the park. Being stuck in prison can be just as bad as someone stuck in a prison of their mind. There are people I know back home in worse condition than us. They’re in situations that will never let them free. Addictions, bad marriages, eternally miserable.”

  “How do you wake up and want to live everyday? I don’t mean to be rude.” I said, suddenly noticing how forward I was being.

  “That’s ok. We have a project everyday to complete. We have work to do.” Said Bev.

  “Work?” I said, trying to shield my
eyes from the sun.

  “We help girls to read. Teach basic hygiene, and a few other things.”

  She talked one girl out of a suicide the other day. I’m very proud of you for that.” Said Jen.

  “Thanks Kitten.” Said Bev. “If we see something we can do to help. We don’t just stand by.”

  “I’ve stood by too many times lately, I think.” I said.

  Bev nodded her head. “Sometimes we have to make sure we don’t stand by and watch our own destruction either. Or we won’t be any help to anyone.” She said as I looked over at the other crew standing with their arms crossed trying to fit within the narrow shadow of the building.

  “Who is that you keep looking at? She the headmaster or something?” Jen asked, motioning with her head towards Tanya who had not sat down once since we arrived.

  “I blame her for being here. And myself.” I said.

  “Even people like her, you gotta help sometimes.”

  I admired the way they were so comfortable to pick at each other’s faults but never be offended. It was not too far a stretch to say that they enjoyed their time here. They struck me as the type of backpacker who never got old, always wanting more adventure, to visit places that weren’t yet trendy and overcrowded. Lucky for them, Kerobokan was the most exotic destination in the world. Grittier and more bizarre than anything a prepaid adventure tour could ever offer.

  A guard called us in and left us in a cell to wait until our mystery visitor was ready to see us. I was called in first. I hoped I could bring back some good news for the other crew. Inside the interview room stood a suave Middle Eastern man in a suit that was far to warm for the stagnant humid air. Beside him, a more suitably dressed white man who had taken off his tie and laid it on the table, now that he had some privacy.

  I sat down with my arms crossed, still not sure who the men were.

  “Mr. Abdullah and I have been have been working through the night with the Indonesians to work this out.” Said the white man.

  “We had to wake the Sheikh too. He wasn’t so happy when he received my call.” Said the Middle Eastern man.

  “I’m sorry. Who are you?”

  “I’m Charlie Haynes. I run the airline’s legal matters, and Mr. Abdullah is third cousin to the Sheikh, and chief strategist for Elhalia.” Said the white man, spreading his papers across the table.

  “I suppose I have a duty to ask you how you are coping. Are you?” Said Mr. Abdullah. “I can’t wait to get back to the compound and have a decent shower.” I said.

  “You aren’t going back. The government has declared you persona non grata. You can never go back. You’re going home. The company will pack your things and ship them to you.” Said Haynes.

  “But, what about..”

  “You’re lucky to be getting even that! You could be facing the death penalty, were there not such a need to cover this up.” Said Mr. Abdullah

  I shut my mouth.

  “Your captain however is not so lucky.” Said Haynes looking at his papers. “As the highest legal authority on the aircraft, he is being held responsible. The Indonesians need someone to blame.”

  “And quite frankly, so do we!” Said Mr. Abdullah.

  “They thought it was terrorist activity, and they might still wish to construe it that way. Said Haynes. Abdullah nodded in agreement.

  “The aircraft notified the airport of a medical emergency,” said Haynes, “but the details were sketchy and thus, suspicious. Meanwhile, one of your business class guests was using wi-fi to notify his people that there was something wrong on board. You can see how the imagination would go to work there.”

  “Guess he didn’t want to turn off his electronic devices.” I said.

  “This is not funny, young lady!” Said Mr. Abdullah.

  “He’s right!” Said Haynes. “Killing diplomatic envoys, and a cousin of President Biliato… You’ve created a diplomatic incident. This is the kind of thing that war’s are fought over. Could you imagine if you did this aboard an airliner of a state that was on unfriendly terms with Indonesia? You are lucky not to face a firing squad!” Haynes stopped, needing to inhale deeply. “And the other one, the cabin leader Ms. Balfour. Well she was found with one hell of a lot of drugs in her bags. And on her person too.” Haynes said, checking his paperwork. “So, a deal has been struck, to save face. Your airline and the state it represents wants to avoid embarrassment and will ship you off quietly.”

  “But your liberty is not condition free.” Mr. Abdullah interrupted.

  “Yes,” said Haynes, “you must all keep your mouths shut as long as you can. I say as long as you can, rather than forever, because I know that it’s not possible to keep an incident like this quiet forever. Stay quiet until you are safe. And until this dies down.”

  I felt the suffocating tide retreating.

  “The Indonesians want to save face as well. They could have used a private jet or military aircraft to ferry the envoy around on their South East Asian Tour. But they chose a commercial carrier to give the impression of cost cutting, to give the impression of being in touch with the voter. And they chose an airline from an ally state. Now looks like a massive error of judgment by the government. You see the vested interest in mitigating the damage done.”

  I nodded my head. “Yes, I won’t say a word.”