Everyone laughed.
‘Are you a guide for a long time?’ asked Carla. I got your ad in the paper and were the only one who asked me cheapest price, but we barely had time to talk well.’
‘You’re right! We should have talked more. I’m a guide for a quite long time. I know this wood as if I were part of that. Its trees, its caverns and waterfalls’.
‘Yeah, Carla told us that tomorrow we’re going to climb a waterfall. I’m so curious as hell!’ said another girl who was wrapped in a blanket and drinking a glass of wine.
‘Damn it, man! I think we should listen to some records. This is looks like a burial’
‘No! Nothing about sounds! The nature can’t be understood this way. If you want to enjoy and understand it, don’t bring modernisms here. I’ve seen people camping with TV, minibar, radio, many idiots. And then, instead of enjoying the nature, they get stuck as if they were in the city. No! With me not!’
‘But... Everaldo, not even music in a low tone!? There’s no one around!’ ‘I think Marcio is right, things are getting so boring! Said Carla.
‘Let’s do that like this then: a series of jokes, each one tells one joke, what do you think?’ Said the man looking at the young guys. It was concluded that none of them was older than 25 years old and everyone was past fifteen.
Not after so long, everyone told a joke happily, as the time rolled by. Potatoes step by steps were being eaten up. Some of the guys had problems in getting the jokes, but soon they learnt how to do that.
However, some were already feeling asleep, and started going in their tents.
So there left around the camping fire, four guys.
Carla, Everaldo the guide, Marcio and Ana Carolina.
‘And now? Anyone else knows a joke? Asked Everaldo.
Everyone shook their heads negatively.
‘Tell us something about your time as a guide! You might have passed through many strange situations, probably! Said Carla.
‘Yeah! Like those horror stories! Werewolves and things like that!’
The guide lowered his head down and raising his eyes, he made that kind of face which scared the boy and girls beside him. And with the flames reflection in his iris it was as if his eyes were on fire.
‘Do you really want to hear that?’
‘Of course! I’m not sleepy!’ Said Carla.
‘Neither do I!’ added Ana Carolina.
‘Here we are! Let’s do that!’ said Marcio eagerly,.
The guide threw a piece of wood on the faire and the sparks went up in the air.
‘Well, I’ll tell you a story! But this is not a simple story, it’s something real.’
‘If it’s something good, you may tell.’
‘It depends on what you call good for you!’
‘Well! In a good story there must be, blood and beating. Otherwise that will become like a made up fictional story!’ said Marcio having a sip of wine.
Carla was with a corncob in her mouth.
‘I did not know that it was so good! ‘Huhumm, you may start, I’m listening.’
‘You’re going to stuff yourself!’ Said Ana Carolina, laughing.
‘well, the story started on December in 1989. In a city camping of Santos – São Paulo. The camping owner got surprised by the smell which came from the cottages. It was a foul, really disgusting smell. The police was called and found a dead body of a 23 years old girl all shredded. As the police checked looking at the registries, to see who was the last guy using the cottage, they came up to the name of Francisco de Oliveira.
The guide stopped talking and grabbed a bite of corncob which he had in his hand. And took his breath away.
‘Bullshit! Only this?’ said Marcio.
‘well, I was only taking a breath.’ The police made a research based on the portrait that the owner of the camping did, and when the case reached in the newspapers, a lady called the police saying that Francisco de Oliveira was her son. But who had disappeared twenty days ago from now. And the drawing of the portrait was shown to her, and although she found that drawing badly done, she said that it looked like to her son indeed and confirmed that he had gone out for camping by the seashore. She did not know how to pinpoint the local. The police thought that they had already sorted that case out. They were mistaken. Ten days after the girl who was found in the cottage, a camping neighbor from São Vicente, found another dead body in an advanced state of decomposition. In fact, there was little left of the flesh of the corpse. Through one chain around his neck, the police found out that, that was Francisco Oliveira. The real one, for on the report, they discovered that the young man has been dead seven days after the girl’s death of Santos. The guy who killed him, had taken his documents pretending to be the one. Through Francisco de Oliveira old photos, they observed that he was a common type of person. His physiognomy, height, physical constitution was equal to thousands of people, anyone could pretend to be him.’
‘But nobody saw anything? I mean, someone who walked with him, during the days that this guy Francisco was camping at São Vicente?’
‘The police said that the killer was a very clever guy, who probably used to meet with Francisco only at night.’
‘Why only at night?’ asked Carla.
‘Francisco was gay.’
‘Gee! That’s a good one.
‘Yeah, from then on, things never stopped to happen anymore. In the Easter of 90 another girl was found dead. She was inside a tent at Peruíbe camping. Another camper said that he noticed that the girl did no longer turn up, and resolved to look inside the tent. There was a dead body under the blankets. He wondered it, because it was a sunny day. He called her, but she did not move. So then, he realized the body stiffness. There was no breathing sign at all. Some flies started getting in the tent. Surely, they did not get in before, because it was all closed. The police and the fire department were called. No one could tell that they had seen a movement in the girl’s tent. Everything had been done in the sullen night. While everybody who was there, were all married. And the wives confirmed that all their husbands spent their nights together by their sides. So, they started thinking to those guys who had left in the two last days. Five boys were single. Each one of them had come and left separately from one another. They consulted the addresses on the entry form. Then they found out that, two of the addresses were non-existent.
One of them called by José Aparício dos Santos gave a S. Paulo address. Such an address never existed. The camping owner said that he had an evil face. He used to walk on his own, never laughed and he seemed to be always afraid. And the other boy was very polite, handsome, very cheerful that everyone remembered of him well, for he easily made friendship with people around him. He had given the name of Alexandre Mattos and his address was Mongaguá, at S. Paulo coast. They could not localize the address. Later, it was discovered that the guy named by José Aparício was wanted at São Paulo for stabbing a man in a bar. He was arrested but denied the camping crime. As for Alexandre Mattos, despite of making sketch no one knew about him anymore.
‘But didn’t he have to show his documents to enter the camping?’
‘Many camping owner ask, but that’s not a mandatory, since you provide all your personal information. Then, according to the owner himself, the boy was of such a kind of sympathy, hardly to be suspected of.’
‘A wolf in a lamb’ skin.’
‘Exactly!’ said Everaldo getting another corn making it hop from one hand to another and then blowing to cool it.
‘And they never caught him?’ asked Márcio.
‘Hey boy, the story is long. They knew that he was the same guy because he used to leave marks on all his victims.’ He put a pinch of salt on his roasted corn.
‘Which mark?’ asked Carla.
‘he used to cut the index finger from them all.’
‘Tell us more! And what about after the 90 Easter? Did he begin attacking again?’ asked Ana Carolina curiously.
‘According to the poli
ce he seemed to be travelling along Paulista coastline heading to South. But in December 1990 he contradicted this opinion. On paranese mountain range, boundary with São Paulo, a young man’s body was found with the similar signs, one more of the Camping Killer’s job. In fact, it was some hunters who had found the body, when the dogs on a moonlight night sniffed the corpse. The decomposing state was advanced. The coroners gave some 20 days ago for young man’s death. It happens that, only the Coastal policing was aware with the Killer’s existence and his operation ways. Few days later in a thermal waters spa, far away about 120 kilometers from Cambará at Paraná, another body was found. After informing all the authorities they came to a conclusion that, it was the same guy who had acted on the coast. The dead boy in the thermal waters had informed his parents that he was going for camping with a friend who he had met in a bar.’
‘Even the parents warned him that could be dangerous, things like that, for he barely knew that guy. But you know, right, you young people whenever you put something in your mind, nobody else takes that from you. The dead boy was too much independent. The police came to know that he sometimes used cocaine, and frequently smoked marijuana. But nothing of this helped the police. The sketch made of the suspected guy, matched with the picture of the dead guy who was found by dogs.’
‘But how did they make the sketch? Did the dead’s parents know the Killer?’
Everaldo smiled.
‘No!’ he drank a sip of wine and threw another wood on the fire, ‘they got information from people in the bar. Although there was lots of contradictions and many said of not remembering about that, they could draw the same Picture.’
‘The man was a chameleon!’ said Carla, ‘Ew! That really scares’ And she trembled thinking.
Ana Carolina laughed and Márcio added.
‘What’s even worse is that he was not a man! As the legend said, he was a young man who could not be more than 18 years old. And soon they invented a series of stories.
‘Did he attack again?’
‘He always did! The police kept constant vigilance to unknown people in the environs where the last murders happened, but they could not get anything. They also knew that they had to wait for another Holiday season to catch the Camping Killer.’
‘So he only attacked on holidays?’
‘Exactly! When people leave home in searching for Peace and tranquility or even running away from monotony of the modern world. And sometimes they are more susceptible and open to new relationships and friendships.’
‘And then? Did the police catch him or not?’
‘well! The police never divulged the exact numbers of deaths he’d done, some said to be about 20 others 30. At the ‘94 carnival he almost took a false step.’
‘How did this happen?’
‘He went to end up in a Santa Catarina campsite. The campsite owners when asked about the guy, they said he seemed to be a simple and quiet boy. He was always by himself. He’s none of speaking too much. They said, he had a problem on his right leg and about half an hour used to go out for a walk on the beach. They realized that, it seemed he felt pains in his leg. He sometimes remained for hours in front of the camping bar looking at the sea waters. He really seemed a very sad boy, said the Cooking lady of the Campsite. As you’ve said he was a Mrs. Chameleon. He used to assume an acquired personality with enormous facility. Then he decided to go and dance carnival in a club. There was Cristina. She was 37 years old and had separated from her husband less than a year. She observed that handsome boy in a white t-shirt and shorts who was sitting at a table with a leg stretched on a plastic chair in the bar. On the floor the leather sandals were out of his feet. She smiled at him, and he replied with a nod. she didn’t pay attention at all, but soon she looked at the place where the guy was he no longer was there. Suddenly she saw him beside her, anchored on the doorframe of the club. A glass of whiskey in his hand. Looking over everyone as if he was searching for someone. Cristina tried to draw his attention. She really didn’t know how to do that. The boy seemed to be much younger than him. She started to dance and when she came back the boy was no longer on the door. She looked outside. There he was under the fine drizzle that fell, having his drink as if nothing else mattered. He ignored the cold and the fine rain. Late at night Cristina saw that her friends had already gone out, and beside her there was the strange boy. He smiled at her and offered her from the glass to drink.’
‘Wow! You tell this story in so many details!’ said Carla.
‘That’s to give more Thriller! You’re not afraid, right?’ He asked getting the bottle of wine filling in the glass.
‘Of course not! Keep on! It’s Carla is who is afraid!’ Said Ana Carolina.
‘well, they started to kiss to each other and exciting. Cristina told the police that he was very... how to say... exciting... different... he spoke things that she had never heard. At the beginning she could not believe. She was already a grandmother, and a boy in her son’s age was kissing and hugging her. Then he kept saying strange things to her.’
‘What strange things?’
‘when they went out from the club for a walk on the sand, they looked so horny, by alcohol, by the contact... those things of a man a woman... then he started saying that he would take her in his tent and would make her to cum more than ever. She felt herself again in those time when she was younger and dated her old husband whom she lived with 21 years and knew only traditional sex. This news excited her, made her dream. But the boy avoided talking about himself. Then they rolled themselves on the wet beach sand, with lots of rubbings and no penetration, for, he’d warned her that he had no condom (which made her to believe in his good intentions) they decided to get back at the club. Midway they stopped in a bar with a live music. There he presented his name as Jair, and gave his phone number. Cristina was still afraid. She did not know how to explain the reason of that. Maybe because of his jokes saying that he would rip her neck off and then gave a smile. It was a mixing of wish and fear. As if something bad was about to happen. They intended to meet the following day. In the morning the woman called the number he had given. When they met at night and she said that had rung to the boy’s mother, she did notice anything strange on him. It’s that the families did not know yet that Jair’s body lay on stream near a hill 30 kilometers away from there. She could even ask Jair’s mother if his son’s leg Jair was better, which the Lady had said no. Everything was working out to make one more victim. So as they walked towards the camping she had told him that as she was afraid had confided to a friend of her what had happened last night. And she said her friend had seen him last night and found him “handsome”. This spoiled his plans. It was already two o´clock a.m. and at the camping everyone would have been sleeping. He could enter there without anyone noticing. But this story of a friend frustrated his plans. He invented an excuse saying that, perhaps the camping owners would not allow women entering with single guy in the middle of dawn. If they caught him with her they could kick him out. Cristina, thought a bit strange that sudden change from him, and decided to get back feeling bad. He said he would stay at the camping because his leg was aching a lot. She’s been kind, but he insisted that they could never see each other again. She thought that the dream was over. She was even carrying a box of condoms in her purse, since he had said that hadn’t any. He said her that his night had come up to an end and he would go home. He even tried to joke with her saying that he really felt so sorry, but he could not kill her that night. She quickly got away walking from there scared.
‘Ew! That guy was really very strange!’
‘Well Carla! The guy is a killer, he could not be like everyone!’
‘Instead! The great Killers of the story, are common people like us. At an instant they’re with us on the other they’re in their destructive vision.’ Said Everaldo, ‘they’re always clever. As if they were above of what’s good and evil.’
‘Keep on. And then? She got away from there, what happened next? Did he fo
llow her?’ asked Márcio.
‘No! In fact Cristina went home, but as she arrived there she realized that her key was missing. It was with her sister who was still in the club. She had to get back there. And as she arrived there, she saw the same guy Jair holding another girl under an area that protected them from the fine rain. She hid herself avoiding to be seen by him. At the moment mistreated him mentally as an animal. She thought of that banal phrase “men are all alike”. Hidden, she reached her sister almost crying, then she got the key and went back home. She slept crying and woke up at two o’clock p.m. with the telephone ringing. It was her sister calling to know if everything was alright. She said yes. From there they exchanged into gossips about the dancing, it came up to audience the disappearing of a girl. A strange foreboding took hold of her. As if she’s been taken to something weird she went up to the police station and said she’d like to see the disappeared girl’s picture. With all the details she told the police where they could find the girl. In fact at the number eight cottage, everything was closed. The owner was angry because the tenant had gone away without paying anything. He had left during the night. And hadn’t given him the key. The police broke in the door and under a bunk bed they could see the toes of a human foot. They realized that the right hand index finger was missing.’
‘Fucking hell! The guy did it again!’
‘Yeah! And we could say that Cristina was the only one who could escape from his demoniacal hands.’
‘And then? What happened next?’ Asked Carla.
‘The death trail continued. There was death every holidays somewhere in the country. He was moving constantly along the coast and hills.
‘And he was never found?’
‘The police found a body last year and according to their Analysts it was the Camping Killer’s body. Nobody complained about it. That could just be another poor man, but he was categorized as the Camping Killer. Even nowadays in the places where these crimes occurred, when people are camping they hear frightful howling and everyone says that, the killer’s soul has still been out there wandering about.’ Everaldo looked around himself. The three figures were trembling of fear.
Ivair Antonio Gomes Page 3