by Dan Smith
Helena and I sat stiff on the time-worn sofa and Richard sat across from us, unspeaking. When he rose and went into the kitchen, Helena took my hand, but when he returned with glasses of sweet, black tea, she let go, as if reluctant for Richard to see. There was no sound from the bedroom except for the occasional suggestion of movement, and our own silence was amplified in the small room. Outside, the lake maintained its continuous but gentle assault on the shore.
‘You think he’ll come here?’ I asked after some time. ‘Danuri?’ I shivered, picturing Domino coming out of that darkened hut like a beaten animal, her face bruised and bloodied.
‘He doesn’t know who I am,’ Richard said. ‘Doesn’t know where I live.’
‘He couldn’t have followed us?’
‘I don’t think so. Not on the lake.’
I had watched the water when we were coming here, and I had seen nothing keeping pace with us. Fishing boats and passenger boats, the odd water skier, but nothing more.
‘Anyway,’ said Richard, ‘I have friends who outrank him.’ But I didn’t find his words reassuring. No one outranks violence. No one outranks the finger on the trigger. If Danuri knew where we were and he chose to act upon it, there would be no way to stop him. He had been there in the clearing that day when Alim had shot at Matt. I don’t think he would have cared if the bullet had found its mark, crashed through Matt’s skull and taken his life.
When Hidayat rejoined us, he moved with a jerk in his hip and I remembered what Richard had told me of his illness.
‘There’s very little I can do for her,’ he said without looking at any of us. ‘I’ve cleaned her cuts and bruises – they’ll heal well enough – but I think there are other injuries that will run far deeper.’
‘What kind of injuries?’ Richard asked the question that was on all our minds.
Hidayat shook his head and looked at the floor. ‘She wouldn’t let me examine her fully. Given our history, I can understand that, but I think there’s something she doesn’t want to share. Something the men did to her.’
‘You mean they …?’
‘Yes.’ He looked at me. ‘I’m afraid so.’
We fell into silence and I turned to stare at the closed bedroom door.
Later, sitting outside by the lake, beneath an avocado tree just beginning to flower, I looked across the water, wondering if any of the boats out there belonged to Danuri or his people. I still couldn’t help thinking about what he had done to Domino, and I couldn’t understand how someone could do such a thing to another human being. I didn’t know if he had laid his own hands on her, but he had surely ordered others to. He had told them to rape her and beat her.
I spoke to Helena, saying, ‘I can’t imagine what she went through.’
‘No.’
‘I can understand why she wants her brother. He’s all she has.’
‘She has you.’
I smiled a smile that had no humour in it. ‘No.’
‘You sure? The way you helped her—’
‘Because she helped me. And because, for a while, I thought maybe I was falling in love with her.’ I felt embarrassed saying it, but it was good to say it aloud.
‘And now?’
‘And now I don’t. I thought she was what I wanted to be. She was so free and I was so constrained. I thought she could teach me to be something else.’
‘You don’t need to be anything else.’
‘You can’t be something else. I can see that now. I didn’t need Domino or Kurt to teach me that.’ I paused. ‘Or maybe I did.’
‘You’re a good person, Alex.’ She touched my hand, traced a finger along the creases on my palm.
‘Am I? I don’t know. I’m an OK person. A bit stupid, I suppose. A bit weak, maybe.’
‘You’re a person who does the right thing. You just lost your way for a while. I did, too. It’s what that place did to us.’
‘Not that place.’ I turned to look at Helena, then I glanced down at our hands, the fingers entwined. ‘Those people.’
‘We should leave,’ she said. ‘Now.’
‘What?’
‘Take our things and go. Right now. Just stand up and walk away. No more Kurt, no more Michael, no more Danuri.’
‘What about Domino?’
‘What about her? You’ve done all you can. Hidayat will look after her now.’
‘I can’t expect him to.’
‘But he will. Ask him and he will.’
I sighed and turned back to the lake. The late afternoon sun tilted and banked on its surface, rippling with the movement of the water. Far away, the black cliffs rose to a sky that drifted with the slightest wisps of cloud. ‘Part of me wants to do that. Just like you said. Get up and walk away.’
‘Then let’s do it.’ She gripped my hand tighter. ‘It’s the only way we’re ever going to leave this behind us.’
I imagined myself walking away and I knew it was what I really wanted. Something inside felt a duty towards Domino, but I told myself I had fulfilled that duty. I had repaid that debt. But it wasn’t just about debt. Domino had meant something to me. ‘I don’t know.’
‘What are you going to do? Keep hanging on to her? Let her control you for ever? Alex, you need to get away from her, get away from this whole place. We should leave just like we were going to. Don’t think about it too much,’ she said. ‘Don’t think so bloody much, just do it.’
‘You sound like Domino when you say that.’
‘I’m not her.’
‘I’m glad.’ I took my hand from hers and stood up. ‘You’re right. We should go. Domino will survive without us.’
‘Really?’
‘Yes. Really.’
As we walked back along the shore, it felt good to have reached a decision. Like the moment I had left the community, it felt right to be making progress again; to be making steps to leave. Only this time I wasn’t alone, and I had a new purpose.
Richard and Hidayat were both asleep when we went into the house, Richard sitting up on the sofa, Hidayat resting with his head on his shoulder. The creak of the screen door woke them and Richard stood up, blinking away his tiredness. Hidayat remained seated.
I watched them both, wondering how I was going to thank them for their help and explain to them that we were going to leave, but Richard just nodded at me. ‘You’re leaving,’ he said.
‘Yes.’
‘It’s the right thing to do.’ He rubbed his eye. ‘Hidayat and I were talking about it before.’
‘Don’t worry about her,’ Hidayat added. ‘We’ll take care of her.’
‘When she’s well enough, I’m pretty sure she’ll do whatever she wants,’ I told them. ‘She won’t stick around.’ But I couldn’t help wondering what she would do, how she would get back in touch with her brother.
I turned to Helena. ‘Let me say goodbye.’
‘She’s sleeping,’ Hidayat said.
‘I’ll be quiet,’ I told him, going over to the bedroom where Domino lay resting. ‘I just want to see her.’ I eased down the handle and opened the door just enough to look in. And I stopped. And stared. Then I turned to look at Richard.
‘Where is she?’ I asked. ‘Where the hell is she?’
42
Domino was gone. She must have left while Richard and Hidayat were sleeping. Slipped away while Helena and I were sitting by the lake, making our plans to leave. And I knew where she would be headed. ‘We have to go after her.’
Helena followed me outside and, together, we jogged along the shore until we were at the edge of the kampong, looking up at the hillside. We stopped and searched for any sign of Domino, but all I saw was the tips of the long grass leaning with the breeze, and the birds flitting in and out of the bushes, searching for the cicadas and crickets that creaked and hummed from somewhere within.
‘She’s gone,’ Helena said.
Behind us Hidayat struggled, dragging his foot, holding on to Richard for support as they followed us out of the kampong.
‘Let her go,’ Richard called as they neared the spot where we were standing. ‘It must be what she wants.’
‘I agree,’ Helena said. ‘Let’s just do what we were going to, Alex. If we don’t go now, we’ll never get away from here.’
If I had been able to see the truth in Helena’s words, I would have listened; I would have taken her hand and left, but instead I shook my head. ‘You saw what she was like. She could hardly walk.’
‘I have to agree with Alex.’ Hidayat spoke through laboured breathing. ‘She wouldn’t let me examine her properly. I don’t know the full extent of her injuries, but she was very weak. She might have got a few hundred yards and collapsed.’ The walk had been hard for him. He leaned against Richard, his body bent, the pain and effort clear in his face.
‘She might be out there right now,’ I said. ‘Lying on the hillside.’
‘So you want to save her again?’ Richard asked.
‘I have to.’
‘Then let me come with you.’
‘No,’ I told him. ‘Helena will come with me. We’ll find her. Together we’re strong enough to bring her back. You stay here with Hidayat. In case she comes back.’
He knew what I was saying. Hidayat needed Richard right now.
‘Will you come with me?’ I asked Helena. ‘I can’t leave her out there like that.’
Helena closed her eyes and turned away.
‘Please.’
‘And then we leave?’ she sighed.
‘And then we leave.’
Richard was reluctant to let us go alone, but there wasn’t much he could do, so I shook his work-hardened hand and thanked Hidayat for all his help. I was surprised when Hidayat dismissed my offered hand, instead putting his arms around me and hugging me, but I returned the gesture with a deep feeling of friendship and gratitude.
‘I came here to have a good time,’ I said to Helena as we made our way up the hillside in the darkening afternoon. ‘I did it to see something different, to be someone different.’ We continued walking, the sound of our feet beneath us, the breeze in the grass ahead of us, the trees looming closer. ‘I thought Domino …’
‘You thought she was part of that,’ Helena said.
‘Yeah.’
‘She is. Was. But that part’s finished now.’
‘Maybe.’
‘Well, almost finished.’ Her words came in heavy breaths, the effort of hiking. ‘You found the truth of this place quicker than anyone. It took me too long to realise it wasn’t what I wanted, and it was you who made me realise it. I got stuck here. I didn’t leave quick enough like you did.’
‘And now I’m coming back again.’
‘Yeah, but once we’ve found Domino, we can go wherever we want. Together.’
I looked at her, studying her face. She was tired, heavy bags under her eyes, a strain in her expression. Her hair was untidy, her clothes unwashed and dirty. ‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘Together.’
She nodded. ‘Come on. Let’s pick up the pace, get this over with.’ She quickened her steps, lengthened her stride, and I did the same to keep up. ‘She can’t have got that far.’
‘What if we don’t find her?’ I said. ‘What if she’s out here somewhere and we can’t find her?’
‘We’ll find her.’
‘But what if we don’t?’
‘We’ll have done what we can.’
We continued up the hillside without stopping, and by the time we were among the trees, the muscles in my legs were burning. It was hard to believe that Domino could have made it all the way up to the clearing. ‘We can’t have been away from the house for more than an hour,’ I said. ‘She might have half an hour on us, but no more.’
‘She’s obviously stronger than she looked.’
Coming into the clearing, though, everything was forgotten.
I was shocked to see such destruction. As if a force of nature had passed through, touching only the things that were not natural to this place. Where the kitchen had once stood, now there was just debris and deadwood. The uprights were torn down, pulled from the ground and thrown aside. The roofing was strewn across the far end of the clearing. A mess of palm fronds, wooden crosspieces and tarpaulin littered the once clear ground. Michael’s building work had been solid, but not solid enough to withstand the corrupting strength of those who had determined to destroy this place.
Amidst the remains of the kitchen, there were the sundries of everyday life in the community. Aluminium plates and cups, spoons and forks, cooking implements, pans, tins and packets of food. Bottles of water smashed and split, rice scattered like confetti.
At the opposite end of the clearing, the longhouses had vomited their contents through their small trapdoors. Mats, thin mattresses, their possessions thrown out into the wilderness to pay for the deeds of the person who had founded this place. Kurt had given these people a new home, a new way of life, a separation that I had considered for myself, and he had ultimately led to its destruction, leaving them all with nothing.
Among the clothes and the personal effects, among the mattresses and the mats, among the trappings of a simple life, the most horrible thing. Half-buried beneath their own violated belongings lay the bodies of people I barely knew. And as I stared at the limbs that protruded from beneath the mattress closest to me, I remembered what Kurt had said. That these people had no one to come looking for them.
Except, perhaps some of them did. Perhaps, like Sully, someone would come looking for them, but would find only this.
Beside me, Helena was speechless. It was a moment for which there were no words. We stood, side by side, at the edge of the clearing and considered the devastation before us. This had been Helena’s home for longer than it had been mine. I could only feel a fraction of what she felt.
I watched as she moved forwards into the clearing. She went without direction or purpose, her head turning this way and that, the movement slow and deliberate, her brain absorbing the information her eyes were feeding it as if trying to suck it through a dense sponge. Nothing getting through, just snatches.
She stopped in the centre of the clearing, beside the stone table, and she eased herself to the ground, sitting with her back hunched, pulling her knees to her chest and staring at the place where the bodies lay.
I went to her, squatting beside her and putting my arm around her. I looked to the spot she was watching and wondered how many were buried beneath. It would need a large hole, out there among the trees, to bury these children of Toba.
‘Why did they do this?’ Helena said. ‘Why would someone do this?’
I opened my mouth, about to tell her what else I had seen when I found Sully’s shrine – the shallow grave, a secret burial – but something stopped me. Helena didn’t need to know. All this, right here, was enough. Instead I shook my head and kept quiet, wondering whose body was out there in the unmarked grave, whose death had led to this terrible retribution.
We sat like that for some time, the evening folding in to embrace us, the temperature dropping, and I kept my arms about her.
‘We should get moving,’ I said. ‘We’ll look inside, see if there’s anyone there.’
So we headed over to the longhouse that had been our lodgings and, in the fading evening light, I could see a number of bodies, many of them almost completely hidden beneath the contents of the longhouse, just an arm or a leg visible, and I was reminded of the crash that had brought me here. But here, only his lower half covered by the odds and ends, was Jason. He was lying on his side, his head pulled back, his throat cut so that I could see the meat inside his neck. The blood was dry, and there were flies around the wound.
I stopped, my eyes on the injury, deadened by what I was seeing, as if it were unreal. Like a special effect, a movie wizard’s dummy with fake blood and gristle. Jason wasn’t Jason any more; he was just a carcass. It’s all we are when life is gone: bones and blood and meat. No one is any different then. In the end, we are all the same.
�
��We have to know,’ I said, more to myself than to Helena. ‘We have to know.’ And I began moving the debris, shifting it, dragging it, throwing it aside as I uncovered the remaining bodies. Helena was silent and immobile, watching my struggle before coming to my side.
Together we uncovered them and, even though we could see who they were, we rolled them over so their faces were toward the night.
‘What about the others?’ I said, when we had finished. ‘Where are they?’
‘Maybe they got away.’
‘That’s good,’ I nodded. ‘That’s good.’
Alban’s tufty blond hair was matted with soil and leaves, his shirt thick with the blood that had spilled from his throat. His dull grey eyes were wide and staring, his bloodied and beaten mouth open in a silent scream, his broken teeth twisted and shattered in dry gums. There was no sign of Evie, perhaps she had escaped or perhaps she was elsewhere, but Morgan and Chris were there, eyes rolled high, limbs twisted, bodies broken. The three metal rings had been torn from Morgan’s lower lip, leaving a ragged tear that complimented the other marks on her face where rings and studs had been ripped away. Eco had received the same care and attention at the hands of his murderers. And Freia was there, too: Freia who had encouraged me to join the group when I had felt alone; Freia who had first come to help me carry the pig when I had stumbled; Freia who I had seen in Ambarita. Now she was dead. Her baggy T-shirt torn and bloody, her face so broken it was unrecognisable. Inhuman.
There was no serenity in their deaths. No dignity. No closing of eyes, no gentle sighing of escaping life. No paradise.
43
The longhouse was empty. Everything was cleared out. The men had been thorough in their destruction. Everything inside had been gutted and removed, but the building itself was left intact. Michael’s work was not all in vain. Something had made the men stop short of demolishing the buildings. Whether it was because they were unable to destroy such craftsmanship or whether it was because they lacked the tools to do it, I couldn’t guess. If it was the former, it would be worse – that they could bring themselves to disfigure and murder the people they had left outside along with the detritus, but not to disfigure wood and paint and nails.