Black Buddha

by Richard Waters

‘Stretch, you could have been set up you idiot. That’s what they do here; the dealers go straight to the plain clothes cops and tell them, then you’re out of pocket five hundred quid or you’re in jail.’ I shook my head and cursed, that’s all I needed, being arrested with Stretch. I wasn’t a connoisseur, but I reckoned a stash that large would have cost at least fifty quid back home.

  He punched me on the arm and I nearly fell over with the strength of it. ‘What is it with you? Yer coiled tight as a spring. You need ter relax lad.’

  ‘I wish I could tell you.’

  He looked at me with his palms held outward. ‘There is something bothering you int there? Go on mate, spill the beans.’

  I hesitated, seriously considering how to deliver my confession, and for a second our eyes met. Now was the time to come clean and tell him he needed to steer clear of me if he ever wanted to see his daughter again. But he was six foot seven and I needed a giant in my corner, anyone who might help me live a little longer to put this puzzle together.

  I put my head in a sink of cold water. ‘I’m sorry, it’s too…’

  ‘Well, you tell me whenever you like. We’re going to be mates long after this trip. I’m your pal now.’

  ‘Thanks.’ I said, my eyes flicking away from him. ‘How long have you been up?’

  ‘Two hours. Can’t help it, I always wake up early in the mornings… ever since I were in the forces mate.’

  ‘Why did you leave?’

  ‘Pissin’ about. They gave me me marchin’ orders.’

  Seemed like a pattern with him. ‘Why?’

  He laughed to himself, ‘I was caught avin’ a wank into the officers custard as a dare!’

  I don’t think he was making it up either. Now and again you come across people lucky enough not to care what other people think; some people call them sociopaths, but in his case he just hadn’t grown up. ‘You’re a liability.’ I said.

  ‘Anyway,’ Stretch continued, ‘this morning I went out for a walk to see the sunrise and I’m wanderin’ about near the bridge when this bloke comes up and offers me the weed out of the blue.’ He threw me his towel to wipe my face on; it smelt like it hadn’t been washed since his arrival in Asia. ‘Well, who am I to turn down the ‘ospitality of these kind people, so I gave him what I ’ad on me, musta been about quid’s worth. Daft sod didn’t even question it.’

  We walked down Highway 13 toward the town. I caught sight of Zig and Kristen outside a café. My skin looked like it was changing colour, at least on the outside I looked as if I’d joined the traveller’s circuit.

  ‘Do you have any bacon,’ I asked the café owner hopefully.

  I settled for an egg sandwich. There were some farang at the table beside us, they wore straw hats and their arms were ringed in Maori tattoos. One of them had ears pierced with wooden hoops like a Masai warrior; his lobes extended to the size of my palm. The other traveller had an ivory bone through his nose. Hardcore outsiders. Eventually though, they’d have to go back to their middle class lives, those bones and piercings would have to go too. But good for them, at least they were individuals, even if they looked like idiots.

  Stretch looked at them in disbelief and giggled, ‘Are humans on the menu today?’ They pretended not to hear him and looked the other way. The friendly giant told the others his little stash secret while I gazed down the street; muddy-faced children helping their mothers carry woven baskets.

  Zig and Kristen looked much younger in the light. I figured them to be about twenty. Stretch must have been thirty-five, but it was hard to tell; the way he goofed about he could have been a teenager. He took a long slurp of his banana smoothie, theatrically plonked it down on the marble table, burped and laughed, milkshake crested around his upper lip like a comedy moustache. ‘Did you know today is a Monday?’

  We looked at him as if he’d discovered America. I’d completely lost track of time. James laughed, seemingly more relaxed with me now, he’d stopped giving me those furtive glances. I wasn’t sure why.

  A Lao woman wandered by with a shallow rattan basket, ‘You want somefing special?’ she said.

  We looked into the moving mass of beetles. She placed a filthy finger in the middle of them and withdrew one, its wings buzzing as she flicked its head. Then she put it on her tongue and crunched it between her teeth, smiling at our revulsion.

  ‘Like I said, this place is weird. I’m supposed to be at work today.’ Said Stretch.

  ‘Where?’ asked Zig,

  ‘Blackburn. Told me boss I was only going to Pattaya for two week.’

  ‘But that’s in Thailand.’ said James.

  ‘I know, funny int it? I rang him this morning from the telephone exchange, I says, “John, guess what mate?” he says, “What Stretch?” I says “I’m gonna be late for work.” He says “Where are you, stuck in traffic?” and I said “No, I’m in fookin’ Laos, so I’ll not be turning up today!”

  We all laughed. ‘When will you go back?’ I asked.

  He looked at me blankly, ‘When me money runs out, which means I’ve got another couple of months yet… Who knows, I may go back to Pattaya, me mate’s got a bar there called The Bulldog.’

  ‘Chav.’ I said.

  ‘Ponce.’ He replied,

  ‘Touche´.’ I smiled.

  ‘How long have you got, Alain?’ asked Kristen.

  ‘I don’t know, maybe another month. I’d like to go to Thailand eventually, see the beaches everyone goes on about.’ I had no intention whatsoever of going to Thailand but I needed to come up with something.

  James leant in for his penny’s worth, ‘I don’t know what people see in it, everything’s overpriced, they’re just after your money. Thailand twenty years ago, that was different, but now…’ he shook his head. ‘It’s places like Laos that make the trip, anything can happen out here. Don’t you think Alain? Thailand’s turned into an adult Disneyland.’

  I didn’t say anything.

  ‘Nowt wrong with Disneyland pal, took me nipper there once.’

  ‘You’ve got a baby Stretch?’ said Zig with disbelief,

  ‘Not so much a baby any more, she lives with her mum, we’re not together these days… she’s called Zoe, but I call her wombat.’ His face darkened a shade. ‘So, is anyone ready to go on to Luang Prabang?’ I said hopefully.

  ‘There’s no bus today,’ answered James flatly, ‘It was this morning and we missed it. Next bus is tomorrow so we’re stuck here whether we like it or not.’

  ‘Well I like it!’ said Stretch. ‘And I’ve got a plan.’

  Over the road some farangs were hiring inner tubes to go rafting on the river. We watched them climb onboard a utility jeep and drive away.

  ‘Why don’t we do that?’ said James with an uncharacteristic spring in his voice, ‘it’d cool down our veins, it’s boiling.’

  ‘Why the jolly hell not!’ parodied the big man clapping him amicably on the shoulder. ‘That were my plan actually. We can take the weed with us too, perfect!’

  After the jeep deposited us ten miles upstream, we sat on our inner tubes in the searing heat, our feet submerged in the shallows while Stretch prepared a joint of unnecessary proportions. He did the worst impression of Danny the Withnail hippie I’ve ever seen, Skip would have been horrified. I was trying to be on my guard but it seemed so peaceful; the river, the chirrup of birdsong, the jagged mountains above us like a scene from some Chinese silk painting. Surely a few hours off paranoia duty would be okay?

  He passed me the jay and I took a hit. ‘Bloody hell,’ I coughed, ‘what is this? Tastes like skunk.’

  We cast off into the swollen river, our feet cooling in the green water. It was perfect, but within no more than a few minutes the furniture was moving in my brain; the trees dipping in the river turning a chemical green, Stretch’s face c
hanging shape, Kristen’s sweating body iridescing as if it was covered in pearls. I tried to focus on her but I was seeing double, two lovely mermaids glistening on a rubber tube. Any more of this and we’d be too skulled to move. I could hear Stretch and Zig laughing at something, sunshine pouring into my eyes as if through a lens of crystal. Then as we floated around a broad bend of the river, jungle topped by black limestone cliffs, I heard a base line.

  I took another hit, smoke galloping through the boulevards of my mind like Yunnanese horsemen. The music was thumping now, I didn’t know if I was imagining it. It sounded like Leftfield, an old 90s anthem. I tried to count backwards, how old was it? I got as far as 2000 then became distracted.

  ‘You okay mate?’ asked Stretch laughing, his voice echoing. I managed to nod my head and look at him, he was as stoned as me. ‘I’m fine, Jolly Green Giant.’

  We burst into hysterics, technicolour giggles leaking into the river. Kristen and Zig looked bemused, while James looked away. Despite the fact he was sweating he still had his shirt on. Then it occurred to me he hadn’t touched the stuff. In my distorted state his narrow head looked bescaled and reptilian… I saw a black tongue flicker from his mouth and hurriedly looked away. This stuff was surely laced with something.

  ‘Tell me about the bloke you bought this off Stretch?’

  But Stretch started singing the jingle from the Jolly Green Giant advert. I had to hold my hands up and plead with him to stop, tears in my eyes, lungs bursting. Monkeys wandered out onto the broad limb of a frangipani and looked down at us, picking at one another’s coats and chattering. Macaques? I wondered. ‘They can be aggressive, avoid eye contact with the males,’ I mumbled to myself. When I looked at them again they started to turn into children. There were perhaps a dozen of them hidden in the branches watching us carefully.

  You’re imagining it… and besides, I told myself, the river is no longer green; bits of it are pink and blue. So what’s unusual about kids in trees? You’re stoned… go with it.

  On their foreheads were black symbols, their eyes dead and flat. They wore rags, their faces filthy as beggars. I closed my eyes and focused instead on the Leftfield track. They weren’t there really, and those weren’t snakes drawn on their foreheads. They were monkeys. Monkeys.

  Then Stretch ruined it. ‘Al, that tree is growing kids!’

  They clambered through the branches to get close to our path, not a sound, nor change of expression on their faces. They sat on their haunches, watched us as we drifted beneath them. Then the children of Jai-Dam opened their mouths and smiled; thirteen flickering serpent tongues.

  Stretch screamed. So did I.

  Mercifully, we instantly left them behind, the river speeding us on. All around us now was jungle, sprawling tendrils and impenetrable cover; in my dopey haze I imagined the bones of MIA’s fertilizing the forest floor, the sweat of rotting ooze. I desperately needed to get my head straight.

  ‘Did you see them kids, James?’ said Stretch, a splinter of panic in his voice.

  ‘I didn’t see any kids, no. You’re stoned that’s all, high-grade skunk does that to you.’

  ‘But… but we were so close to them, you must have seen… in the tree?’ He said almost pleading.

  ‘There were no kids in the tree. They were monkeys.’

  Their voices sounded small and faraway, as if we were in a tunnel.

  To put us both back on track I said, ‘I saw them Sean, you’re not going mad. Did you see what was painted on their faces?’ I added just to check my own sanity.

  ‘Snakes… mean-eyed little bastards.’

  As I scanned the treeline I saw the puffshot face of Carabas swinging from a noose, his body flayed of skin. I closed my eyes and paddled the tube to face the other direction.

  Jungle gave way to fields and the sky opened up bringing with it a release from our bad trip. The air was humming with dragonflies, the scent of burning hay carried on the southern breeze. We were going to be okay after all. And the rave music was really close now; people… normality.

  ‘Who sold you the weed, Stretch?’ I asked again,

  ‘Some bloke by the river with a fancy tattoo.’

  I dragged myself up onto my elbows but kept slipping down on the inner tube, ‘What kind of tattoo? Sean, you listening?’

  ‘Same as them kids we saw, snakes I think. James, why don’t you take yer shirt off?’

  James ignored him.

  ‘We have to get out of here,’ I said quietly.

  ‘What?’ asked Kristen, as a current caught her and sped her forward. The music was deafening now. ‘I said, we have to get out of the river.’ But none of them heard me.

  We floated around another bend arriving at the source of the base. An army of flesh bounced up and down on bamboo-scaffolded platforms, bodies painted greens and blues. Fifteen years ago I might have enjoyed this but even stoned it seemed wrong, the perfection of the jungle and mountains ruined by the incessant noise. Too stoned to disembark we floated on past the rave, past out opportunity.

  I don’t remember how far we’d come, just that by the time I heard the first gunshot the current was too strong for me to get to shore. I bolted up and nearly capsized. 20 feet ahead of me Stretch had fallen off his ring, was flailing around trying to catch his glasses before they sank. I watched his tube drift soundlessly away and paddled over quick as I could.

  He grabbed my arm and tried to catch his breath, his weight dragging us both down. ‘I think I’ve been shot! Hold onto us, mate!’

  ‘Try and calm down, or we’ll both drown. Sean!’ I barked, my mind clearing.

  ‘Alain help! I can’t fookin’ swim!’

  His leg was sheeting blood, the wound an angry red eye. I took hold of his head and pulled it toward me to stop him drowning, swimming on my back and trying for the side of the river. I lost sight of Kristen and James. Zig waited with Stetch’s ring, holding onto a submerged tree against the current of the river. When it exploded with gunshot he let go with a scream and paddled quickly away.

  ‘Kick your legs, for god’s sake…’ I said to the big man. We were moving quickly, unless there was more than one sniper in the trees, we’d soon be out of range. I started thinking about the children in the trees and Thai thug who’d sold Stretch the weed… the Jai-Dam seemed to be everywhere.

  A mile or two downstream, we lay on a sandy inlet to regroup. Kristen was crying, Zig tried to console her but all she could do was shake her head and point at Stretch’s shin. Meanwhile, James was quiet, glancing at me suspiciously. I cursed myself, knowing I should have levelled with them when I had the chance.

  ‘I think it were them kids,’ said Stretch, clutching his leg,

  Zig looked as if he was going to cry. ‘Why would someone do this to you?’

  James was smelt my desperation like a dog scenting a bitch. ‘Maybe it wasn’t Stretch they were going for?’ He let the sentence hang cruelly in the air. I said nothing, my heart drumming in my chest.

  Stretch looked over at me.

  To the south the river flowed on toward Vang Vieng; we were currently in the back of beyond. Like it or not our best bet was to get back on the Nam Song and ride the tubes. Kristen stopped sobbing and articulated my thoughts. ‘They may be watching us here, I think we should move.’

  ‘This dangerous enough for you, James?’ said Stretch bitterly.

  I looked at my watch, ‘It’ll be dark in another three hours. Sean, you can take my tube and I’ll hang on the back of it. Maybe there’s a minibus we can catch out of here this evening.’

  ‘Don’t you listen? There is no bus on a Monday. We’re stuck till the morning.’ said James.

  I tried to ignore him. ‘Come on, it’s our best hope,’ I said, ‘we’ll be back at the guesthouse before you know it… okay?’

  The Swedes nodded m
utely and looked back at the river as if it was something poisonous. James pushed past me with his bony shoulder, ‘I think you’re not quite who you appear,’ he whispered. Stretch was smoking a cigarette, I don’t think he heard,

  ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

  James looked back at me with a loaded expression before slithering into his tube. The water was changing colour, taking on an oily essence with the deepening of the sky. ‘I’m tired of answering your questions,’ he said, ‘I think it’s your turn now, don’t you?’

  It seemed to take us forever to get back, despite the swift currents. At one point the river widened and lost its pace, in the dimming vermilion we seemed but small figures under an alien sky. The four of us floated separately in a hopeless effort to break up our target. Finally, we forded a fork in the river and dragged the rings onto the land, Stretch limping and shivering. For the first time in two days he was quiet. Further downstream I could see the bamboo footbridge. Farang sat watching the sunset by a low-ceilinged bar called Jaidees, Hendrix floating over their heads. Nobody noticed us as we wandered past, maybe they thought the blood on his leg was paint.

  We walked through the market, it was empty now but for a few stalls selling goats’ heads; they looked like freakshow exhibits. James kept his distance from me. We paid the inner tube men a few thousand kip for the loss of their tube.

  In the quickening night, a chill mist wrapped around the mountains, we huddled in the guesthouse, lit a candle and considered our game plan. Stretch lay on the bed, a cold towel around his shin. We’d taken him to the hospital to get cleaned up. They hadn’t even asked how he was injured but carefully cleaned the wound and snipped away the loose flesh. You could see the bone but it was more of a severe graze than a hole. The bullet had skimmed the surface.

  ‘I think we should leave and go to Luang Prabang tonight.’ said Zig. He looked at me apprehensively in need of my endorsement.

  ‘According to James there’s no buses, Zig. I suppose we could try and pay someone to take us there.’ I offered.