The Shape of Bones

by Daniel Galera

  The Hill

  ‘Looks like the sky’s going to cave in any minute now.’

  Bricky stopped with his foot on a rock and looked up, frowning. They had hiked the first two hundred yards of the trail up Police Hill, after crossing the Jungle. A compact mass of clouds covered the sky. The hot, hazy light they gave off seemed to be slowly cooking the plants. Even out in the open, the feeling was oppressive. Hermano looked at the clouds and calculated that it would be at least two hours before the rain came. Still staring at the sky, he said in a deep voice, imitating TV dubbing:

  ‘But what IS important is gravity!’

  Bricky chuckled and responded with the same diction:

  ‘Sully, remember when I promised I would kill you last?’

  Hermano added in a high-pitched voice:

  ‘That’s right, Matrix, you did!’

  ‘I lied.’

  ‘Aaaaaahhhh …’

  Laughter.

  ‘Anyone want a beer?’ asked Uruguay, who was carrying a cooler full of ice and cans of beer on his shoulder.

  ‘No.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘No, thanks.’

  ‘Can I have a sip?’ said Isabela.

  ‘Anything for you, babe.’

  ‘You don’t give up, do you?’

  Hermano didn’t answer Uruguay. They all knew he didn’t drink. He was walking with Naiara and Bricky. A little further back were Uruguay and Isabela, who was now taking a rebellious swig from the can of beer. Pellet brought up the rear, zigzagging as he walked, convinced he deserved someone’s attention.

  ‘Did I tell you guys I had datura tea in Riozinho?’

  ‘Shut your face and hold the cooler for me, Pellet.’

  ‘Do we have to go under the barbed wire?’

  ‘Yep, I’ll hold it up for you.’

  ‘You know there’s a datura tree at the Joker’s place, don’t you? The flower looks like a bell, like this. White. There’s a whole tree full of the shit in his garden. It’s the biggest trip ever, dude. A total head spin.’

  ‘The wire’s rusty.’

  ‘Can someone help me here?’

  ‘Go on, Horse Hands, give Naiara a hand.’

  Hermano helped Naiara under the barbed wire that Bricky was holding up for them. Her hand was so small and slender that he was afraid to hold it too tight.

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘We almost there?’

  ‘Want me to carry you, Isabela?’

  ‘Hands off me, Uruguay. Off.’

  ‘I’m just trying to help.’

  ‘Does this hill really belong to the army?’ asked Naiara. Her wavy black hair was pulled back in a ponytail. She was wearing a white top with spaghetti straps and denim shorts. On her feet, brown flip-flops with a padded thong. They were all in flip-flops, except Uruguay, who had on a pair of leather sandals.

  ‘It does,’ replied Bricky, ‘but they don’t use this part for anything. The barracks are on the other side. They ride horses and train over there.’

  ‘How are you guys going to get out of military service?’ asked Isabela breathlessly.

  ‘I’m not. I’m going to enlist.’

  ‘Bricky always has to be the black sheep.’

  ‘But I want to. The pay’s good.’

  ‘Good is learning how to use a gun,’ said Uruguay, stopping to put his empty beer can in the cooler and take out a new one.

  ‘My brother wants to enlist too,’ said Naiara. ‘We’ve got a second cousin who was in the army and he told us all kinds of stuff, and my brother thought it sounded cool. They dumped him in the middle of the forest with some other soldiers and left them there for a week with nothing to eat. They had to eat roots, grubs. Drink rainwater. After a week they threw them in a hole full of chickens and they were so hungry they killed the chickens with their bare hands and ate them raw. It totally grossed me out.’

  Uruguay opened the new can, letting a gurgling jet of carbon dioxide and foam escape.

  ‘What about you, Hands?’ said Naiara, hopping from stone to stone, trying not to step on the ground.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Are you going to join the army?’

  Hermano had never thought about it. In fact, he didn’t really understand what the others were talking about. He found the whole concept of the army weird.

  ‘Dunno. It’s still a while off.’

  ‘You should serve, Hands. “Strong arm, friendly hand.” ’

  ‘With those hands in the armed forces, the country’s sovereignty is guaranteed.’

  ‘Horse Hands is going to university, that’s for sure.’

  ‘The hell he is. Hands is going to be an actor. The sort that doesn’t say a word.’

  ‘Ha, tell me ’bout it!’

  ‘Those movies where the lead actor doesn’t say a thing.’

  ‘I’ve never seen one like that.’

  ‘Death Wish is like that.’

  ‘So is Cobra. If Hands pumped some iron, he could go to Hollywood.’

  ‘ “You’re a disease and I’m the cure.” ’

  ‘Or he could be a stuntman.’

  ‘That too. If he doesn’t kill himself on his bike first.’

  ‘I reckon we’re pissing him off.’

  ‘You pissed off, Hands?’

  ‘Yeah, he doesn’t like being the centre of attention.’

  ‘Hands is pissed off. He’s crappy.’

  Laughter.

  ‘Ever seen a baby’s face when it’s taken a crap?’

  ‘He’s going to keep his mouth shut and pretend not to hear us until we stop.’

  ‘But we’re never going to stop, just to see what happens.’

  ‘Nothing’s going to happen. He’s going to stay quiet and crappy.’

  ‘He’s walking faster to get away from us.’

  ‘I ran home with the bag of datura flowers and thought I’d invite Chrome Black to come have the tea with me. But the last time he didn’t drink much, so it hardly had any effect, and he was a pain in the arse, saying I was talking to people that weren’t there and doing stupid things. He just sat there on his skateboard, rocking back and forth and laughing at me, and I didn’t know why. So I thought “Fuck Chrome” and decided to go to Riozinho by myself. Solo. Hey, have you guys ever noticed that even Chrome’s teeth are kinda black?’

  ‘Fuck, Pellet’s going on about datura tea again,’ groaned Bricky.

  ‘Just ignore him.’

  ‘My mum calls that flower “angel’s trumpet”,’ said Isabela. ‘When I was little she told me it was so poisonous that if I got anywhere near one I’d drop dead on the spot. You didn’t even have to touch it, just being close was enough. I used to dream about the tree and wet the bed.’

  ‘Have you guys seen that movie where the tree rapes a woman?’

  ‘The Evil Dead. The one with the book made of human flesh.’

  ‘So I got my backpack ready, took the bag of flowers, a bottle of cachaça, and a brick of weed I’d bought from Agenor, and caught the bus to Riozinho. I took some alcohol to start a fire and a pot to make the tea in. And a two-litre bottle of mineral water. I just wanted to go away somewhere and get shit-faced, you know? But when I got off in Riozinho early that afternoon, the place was full of campers and day-trippers. There were people swimming in the river and some fugly chicks roasting their arses in the sun, covered in gnat bites. Horror show. I tried several different places along the river, but whenever I found a nice spot there’d be a bunch of dickheads having a barbecue and blundering about in the water. You know the ones who look like they’re drowning when they try to swim? So I thought “Fuck this” and headed for Canastra Hill.’

  Pellet’s story was a monologue that didn’t require his listeners to respond – or even exist for that matter. The prevailing theory was that the weekend in Riozinho had nuked most of Pellet’s brain, sparing only the part that controlled vital functions and the neurons that stored memories of his experience on Canastra Hill. He was thin and wiry and didn’t look
built to handle all the substances he claimed to consume. His blond hair was clipped in a bowl cut. Every now and then someone got a fright when they turned around and found him staring at the back of their neck, gesticulating.

  The trail was getting steeper now. The clouds seemed closer to their heads. Not a leaf moved and the birds had all disappeared and gone quiet. The most distinct noise was the sound of buses accelerating on avenues miles away.

  ‘There’s a trail that goes from the dirt road in Riozinho up to the top of Canastra Hill. It’s about a three-hour hike. It’s fucking high – any of you ever been? It’s like three of this hill here, stacked on top of one another. It’s all dense forest. The trail’s insane. Hardly anyone goes there. Some parts are almost vertical. You’ve got to hold on to vines as you go, sort of rock climbing in places. But I didn’t give a shit. I needed to chill, you know? And if there’s a place in this world to chill, it’s up on Canastra Hill. I put my backpack on, got my tent and went. You shoulda seen all the mosquitoes on the trail. Mud everywhere. When the mosquitoes came swarming at me I’d get ten, fifteen bites in a matter of seconds and sometimes I’d slip in the mud. It was sick. I tied a T-shirt round my face and the bastards managed to bite me through the T-shirt. Mosquitosauruses. I was such a wreck after every mosquito attack that I’d have to sit on a rock for a few minutes and smoke a joint. I almost put my weed supply in jeopardy ’cause of the little motherfuckers.’

  ‘You avoiding me, Isabela?’

  ‘You’re like a rash today, Uruguay.’

  ‘I just want to talk. You don’t know how much you need me.’

  ‘Oh, God.’

  ‘Jesus, Uruguay.’

  ‘Hey, Hands, there’s a horsefly on your back.’

  Hermano stopped and swatted his own back with the T-shirt he was holding. The fly flew away.

  ‘Thanks, Naiara.’

  ‘If one of them gets you, the blood from the bite attracts others.’

  ‘When I got to the top the sun was setting. Awesome view. Not a soul for miles around. I found a part of the hill where the slope looked to be less than forty-five degrees and pitched my tent. I picked a spot with a kind of wall of bushes, with grass and bamboo underneath. If I tripped over, the bushes would stop me rolling all the way to the bottom. A dude’s gotta think of everything. I pitched the tent and sat there a while, just having a puff and drinking the cachaça. To put a shine on things.’

  ‘Do we go right or left here?’

  ‘Left. We’re almost there.’

  ‘I lit a fire before it got dark. If I moved even a short distance away, everything disappeared. Pitch black. There was no moon. A strong wind started up. Good thing I’d piled up plenty of firewood. After two or three joints, I got the munchies. But I’d thought of everything. You gotta plan. Trips like this aren’t worth it if you don’t plan ahead. On the way there the bus had stopped at a fruit stand in Morungava and I’d bought a huge hunk of yellow cheese. It must have weighed four or five pounds, the cheese. When the munchies hit me, I attacked the cheese. I ate half of it. You can’t be low on energy if you’re going to drink datura tea. Planning! If you guys ever drink datura tea, plan it all ahead of time. Take it from me.’

  ‘Somebody make him stop.’

  ‘So I made the tea. I filled a can with alcohol and set it on fire so I could heat the water in the pot. When I went to put in the flowers, I saw that they were kinda wilted and ugly. I’d always used perky, white flowers before. I was afraid the tea would be weak, that it wouldn’t work well with the flowers all wilted like that. So I used the whole lot, double the amount I’d used before, and gave them a good squeeze just to be sure. And then I drank that shit. Knocked it all back in one go. It was only after I’d swallowed it that I realized it tasted stronger than usual. It was like dirty water, boiled potato skins, something like that. Kinda gross, to be honest. I squatted by the fire and waited for it to hit me. I had a bit of cachaça and rolled another spliff to pass the time. And nothing happened. I reckon a half hour or an hour went past – I didn’t have a watch on. Nothing happened. I’d smoked half my weed and there was only an inch of cachaça at the bottom of the bottle. I could hear the branches of the trees swaying in the wind, a scary sound that only reminded me that that was no place for people. There were just spiders, monkeys and snakes in the forest. And the tea didn’t take effect. I began to think that wilted flowers don’t work. All I’d done was drink dirty water. I didn’t have any cigarettes, a Walkman, or anyone to talk to. Then something dawned on me. The other times I’d had the tea, I’d always had someone with me. Usually Chrome Black. And it was the people around me who’d told me that I was really shit-faced, that I was acting like a retard, that I’d put my bike on my bed so my mum would think I was asleep, that I’d laugh for no reason, that I’d ask for a cigarette every thirty seconds even when I had a lit one in my mouth, that I talked to people only I could see, that I’d take pieces of fruit and crush them in my hand, that I tried to do Michael Jackson’s moonwalk forwards. But to me, everything had seemed completely normal. In other words, everything that had looked crazy to people who hadn’t drunk the tea was real and normal to me, until the people watching me convinced me that it was the effect of the tea. It doesn’t make you dizzy or queasy or anything. Things are just a bit blurry and you get kinda uncoordinated. But here’s the thing: it fucks with your head. You reckon everything’s perfectly normal until someone shows you it’s not. But this time, up on Canastra Hill, there was no one around to describe the shit I was doing. When I realized, I panicked. The more normal I felt, the more I imagined the absurd, dangerous things I was probably doing, without anyone there to tell me. I was shit-scared. I was afraid I might kill myself without realizing it. I curled up in a fetal position near the tent, determined not to move till morning, till it wore off.’

  ‘Has he got to the part with the dog?’

  ‘Nope. But he’s almost there. I’ll let you know, Naiara.’

  ‘Now we just have to go round these bushes.’

  ‘I didn’t know what to do. I started lighting up one spliff after another and went through the whole brick, hoping it’d calm me down. Made no difference. Could be I’d already smoked it all and was just hallucinating that I still had some. The fire was burning down and I didn’t have any more wood. Or maybe there was firewood right under my nose but I thought there wasn’t ’cause of the tea. I couldn’t be sure of anything.’

  ‘Here we are.’

  The six hikers came to a huge rock bulging out of the hillside like scar tissue. It was warm and covered with whitish lichen in several places. Naiara and Isabela sat down first, side by side. Uruguay set his cooler down carefully and sat next to Isabela. Pellet sat a short distance away from the others, but kept looking from one to the next as he talked. Bricky and Hermano remained standing, admiring the view that took in the slick mirror of the Guaíba and much of Porto Alegre’s urban sprawl. The cloud cover dramatically reduced the intensity of the colours, like a photograph that hadn’t been fully developed. There wasn’t a single sliver of blue in the sky.

  ‘I closed my eyes and started to pray for someone or something that could interact with me, tell me how I was acting. I went inside the tent, but instead of feeling protected I freaked out even more. It made me even more aware that I was alone. And, fuck, maybe I wasn’t even in the tent. It might’ve been the tea tricking me. I’d have been happier if someone had appeared out of nowhere and told me I wasn’t in the tent, but rolling down the hill with exposed fractures in every limb. That would’ve been better than being all alone up there not knowing.’