by J A Scooter
“I sat in the corner of the office with the girls, consoling them and begging them to go to their parents for help. They had to do something or both Mum and I would be dead.
“Hearing the rumble of armed vehicles approaching I fled to lie in the long grass, watching a number of armed scout cars arrive. Politely the police escorted the girls to the leading armored car and the convoy left.
“Earlier the girls had cuddled me and kissed me, begging that I leave with them, but I still had a job to do. I had to free my mother.
“Sadly, I watched the vehicles carrying my four little friends disappear into the distance before I faded into the shadows.
“Three days later I was heading towards the jungle clearing. To be frank, I was stupid and at the age of 14 especially with what had happened to me, I should have known better. Truthfully, my mind was busy planning to free my mother - nothing more.
“Without warning I was surrounded by members of the band. They quickly hauled me before a very angry Eui Si Soon who, screaming in Cantonese, demanded, ‘Where are the girls?’ I just smiled and shrugged.
“Bellowing, he repeatedly punched me in the stomach then ordered his men to throw my mother and me into the tiger cage.
“This was a most feared punishment as the tiger cage was a tiny bamboo prison so small two prisoners could only crouch side by side with their heads bowed. The gang kept prisoners in that cage until their wills were broken but usually twenty-four hours was long enough for that to occur.
“During the night when all was quiet Mum asked if the girls escaped safely and when I outlined what had happed she gripped my hands and sighed, ‘I’m so proud of you. You’re a man.’
“She went on to explain how Eui Si Soon had repeatedly raped and then blackmailed her by threatening her with his plan to kill my father and me. She explained how mystified she had been by the attack on the way to the Cameron Highlands and could only assume that one of the servants had revealed the family’s plans for a second honeymoon.
“It was while she drowsed with her head on my shoulder that I felt a small hand pushing some containers of darts into my hand and soft words welcomed me to adulthood. Without disturbing my Mother, I hid the containers in the waist tie of my sarong.
“At sun rise I heard the order, ‘Bring his mother.’ Astonished, I couldn’t believe what happened next. The leader ordered his men to strip her and to spread-eagle her by tying her to four stakes.
“When his men dragged me before him, he seemed to enjoy telling me of his plan. Gloating, he outlined his plans for us both. ‘Because you want to be a hero, every man in the camp will rape your mother repeatedly until she is dead. First, we shall flog you, and then ask you again about the girls. After that your mother will be dead.’”
The memory of this day was too much for Peter. Weeping openly, he turned to face the two pictures.
It was some minutes before he could continue, and Jennifer frowned at her family when they attempted to rise to go to his side. She ignored their murmurs of sympathy. Slowly she stood and moved beside him. Then she knelt with her arm across his shoulders.
There was a long silence until he faced Jennifer and nodded to show how much he appreciated her support. She returned to her seat beside her mother.
Having regained control of his emotions, he faced the family again.
“I shrugged the hands of my guards from my arms and as soon as we rounded the corner of the attap, I dropped to my knees and ‘poof’ one was dead. The second guard was still wondering why his friend hit the ground when ‘poof’ he also was dead. The man who had flogged me so mercilessly turned to flee but ‘poof’ a third time and he joined the others in death. The poison-tipped darts had acted instantaneously.
“I crawled under the attap to see what was happening and could see my mother naked, tied to the stakes. All the men were stripping and queuing up ready to take turns on her.”
Jennifer’s wail and her mother’s strangled cry of “Oh my god” didn’t stop Peter.
Oblivious of his surroundings and the family’s presence, his mind had taken him deep into the jungle, watching the preparations for his mother’s gang rape. He was totally unaware of the dismay, the revulsion and disgust the family was feeling.
“Suddenly I felt a nudge and my aborigine friend was beside me handing me more darts with a most gleeful expression on his face. ‘Today, ‘The Little One’ has become a man,’ he whispered.
I took another pipe of death. Poof! The first man in the queue, dead, pitched forward on his face.
“Poof! The second one fell sideways, but it wasn’t until the fifth fell that the others realized they were under attack. They fled, screaming, with the ‘wings of death’ in those little darts following them.
“Suddenly I heard that bastard’s voice above me. Eui Si Soon was standing on the verandah above my head. ‘The bitch isn’t worth it’ and a shot rang out.
“My Mother was shot through the head and I was covered in her gore, with her blood and parts of her brain over my face and in my hair.
“Stupefied, I lost consciousness and, when I did regain power over my mind and body, I was with the aborigines who had cleaned me up and supplied not only a fresh sarong but had laid beside my body a rice sack containing all the accoutrements of death.
With the sack slung over my shoulder, I left my friends. My hatred and my anger overpowered my reason and my sorrow. I began stalking that bastard and his band of scum. They learnt what terror was.”
Peter’s eyes were red and the family felt the terror the men had felt.
Even Eric and Andrew, hardened farmers as they were, recoiled from the tone of voice, that whip lashed into their souls.
Andrew’s mind returned to the night Peter drove out of the garage with the dummy beside him and he shuddered. That night, those men didn’t stand a chance.
“I stalked them. I picked them off one - two, and sometimes three at a time. First, it was the one in the lead, then a straggler. Sometimes it was one of a group. I killed them in the latrines or as they sat eating. Nowhere were they safe. It was as easy as shooting ducks.
“I garroted them in their beds as they slept. I used the silent death,” and he patted the cigarette box of bamboo darts, “Or I shot them. I beheaded, I castrated, I bled some to death and I hung some. The methods of death were many and varied.
“Terror was with them 24 hours of the day and fifty-three men died. I felt no remorse. I felt nothing. I was unfeeling - a zombie with only the thought of death in my mind.
“But then I became so confident that for the second time I grew careless. Accidentally, I came face to face with Eui Si Soon and saw him reach for his pistol.
‘So? You’ve come to join your slut mother, eh, ‘Little One’?’ were his words
“He should never have paused to speak as my dart hit him in the throat. His pistol fell to the jungle floor unused.
“However before I could move, or rejoice in my victory, I had a Kukri at my throat. At first, I felt that my life had ended when the band of Gurkhas captured me.
“They had been following the fleeing band, witnessing the killing of my tormentors, and the boss’s death. They had taken aim on him as he reached for his pistol then paused while I killed him.
“For two months I was hospitalized being checked for diseases. During this time, the Gurkhas treated me like one of their own. The British officers wanted to hand me back to the RAAF, but the soldiers were unhappy at the thought, so the officers allowed me to sleep in the barracks, to march with the troops and to carry arms in the uniform of the Sixth Brigade of Gurkhas. I took part in their training exercises.
“Finally I was returned to the Air Force, but was such a trouble maker they soon sent me back to the Gurkhas. I had grown to love them and their way of life.
“At the RAAF School, I fought with everyone. They teased me about my slut mother. Unable to treat the girls charitably, all I could think of was that bastard servicing my mother like a stallion with
a brood mare.
“Back with my beloved Gurkhas I accompanied my platoon on a mission in the jungle at the back of Malacca, and through good luck, was able to save thirty-two of my platoon from a communist ambush.
“They thought I was unbelievably brave because I disguised myself as a Malay urchin, loudly singing the ‘Negara Ku’ - the Malaysian National Anthem - when I strolled nonchalantly into the arms of the attackers who had my friends pinned down.
“To be frank, I didn’t even consider I would die, but why would I have worried? My family was gone, and late at night I often prayed that the Angel of Death would soon arrive to collect me. I really had no reason to live.”
Peter grinned maliciously and his new family recoiled in horror.
“The killer was loose again and quietly but slowly I took care of the attackers. When I called my friends they couldn’t conceive of what I had done except that I had used the Kukri I was wearing under my sarong to remove all thirty of the dead men’s ears in the manner of the Gurkhas.”
Peter noticed Elizabeth’s shudder at this detail and Jennifer’s reaching to hold her mother’s hands. He concluded that his story had been too vivid but after all it was his history and he had not told the family of all the degradation he had endured. His love for their daughter had driven him to tell them his history - the words, the pictures in his mind and the smells.
He wondered what would have happened had he told them of the taste of cleaning his teeth with bamboo, scraping his tongue, the feel of scrubbing his skin with sand before bathing in a jungle stream. Should he have mentioned the dangers of the jungle from snakes, tigers and elephants? What about the smells of burning flesh to remove the leeches and the days of eating leaves to kill hunger pangs? Should he have mentioned begging in the markets just to keep alive?
No! He decided he had told them more than enough.
“I think I should stop,” he said as he stood. “I am so sorry Elizabeth, Eric and Andrew for the pictures I drew. Jennifer knew part of my story but I know it must have come as a shock to you. I should not have made you listen to my outlining all the horrors and trauma of my life.
Unable to contain herself any longer, Elizabeth rose to hug Peter.
“Yes a shock, but we’re so proud of you because, well, look at you now! However, I feel that the story is not complete so continue. You must get this all out in the open. It must be left behind.”
Peter looked at his watch then pulled Jennifer to her feet.
“My love, I’ve asked you twice to marry me. All those years ago, at this time, my mother died. In memory of her and my father, I’m asking you once more to marry me. I’m a trained killer with a horrific background, but you’ve taught me to use my heart for love. In spite of my myriad failings, will you still marry me?”
Before answering, Jennifer studied his face and ran a finger down his scar.
“You fool, Peter. You’re a big fool. All that’s in the past and I don’t see a killer here in front of me now. I see a wonderful, loving man who’s mine from now to eternity. Yes, I’ll marry you - and don’t bother asking again, you idiot.”
Pulling his face down to hers, she kissed him so passionately he had to gasp for breath.
Slowly, giving himself time to recover his equilibrium, Peter moved to the plaque. Unsheathing one of the two Kukris, he read the inscription,
To Honorary Major of the 6th Gurkha Brigade,
Peter O’Brien.
Let no man be fooled
‘The Little One’ is a man to be feared.
Jennifer wasn’t surprised when he nicked his thumb before replacing the blade.
“Yes, I am ‘The Little One’,” he admitted, “But don’t be mistaken about its meaning. I was the youngest Honorary Major of all time. I was sixteen, and I was given that honor simply because I didn’t value my life and risked it to save my friends.”
Andrew could restrain himself no longer.
“Well, Peter, you haven’t changed much over the years. You risked your life to save Jennifer and for that we are most grateful.” Andrew’s sincere thanks cut across the story. “Show Mum your bullet scars.”
Ignoring the comment and refusing to show anything more than his naked back, Peter smiled and, once again squatted then, continued. “Look at those knives, look at the blow pipes and see death. Feel my back and sense my hatred, my anger and despair. See all my scars, look into my heart and know you’re a dead man if you touch my family.” Peter’s eyes swept over Jennifer and Elizabeth then the two men.
Each of the family shivered, knowing that those few words rang with truth. Months later, those words ‘You’re a dead man if you touch a single member of my family’ would scorch their hearts.
“News of my promotion and my so-called exploits were soon known in KL and I was escorted to a mansion where I was re-united with my two Tamil sisters. Their father couldn’t do enough for me, and enrolled me at Saint Francis Xavier’s College in Penang to finish my secondary education.
“As I was the only Matt Selah - European - in the college, I became a celebrity, but I took no notice at all, remaining a loner.
“Already, I had found that as soon as I made a friend, the friendship was very quickly swept away by my refusal or my inability to let go of my past and I was alone yet again.
“My Tamil father made certain the Catholic priests trained me in all the European sports and past-times. He arranged to have my voice trained. I’m grateful for that training now but, God, how I hated those lessons with the priests!”
Peter then turned to Jennifer and then to Elizabeth as if seeking their forgiveness, “I was not perfect, however. Candidly, I was a problem - a real curse when it came to women.
“I could talk to my twin sisters when it was about living in the jungle, yet I became objectionable and horrible when the conversation was about anything else. I was more than an irritation - I was a constant, antagonistic, irascible pest.”
“As soon as my education at the college was completed, I was shunted off to the Singaporean family of the Chinese twins. Again, I was alone with strangers and any friendship I could have built with my Indian friends was shattered.
“The Singaporean Police quickly discovered my presence and they enrolled me at Nanyang University where everything was in Cantonese or Mandarin with occasional lectures in English. The police used me as a secret agent because the University was a hot bed of communism.
“It made no difference to me, as I was still a Matt Selah - an outcast - still a loner.
“I had completed my First Year Exams when I saw a picture of a Singaporean Cabinet Minister with an article about his exploits.
“The Cabinet Minster and two of his bodyguards were dead within the week. The article hadn’t included all the facts - that the three had taken their pleasure of my mother, and my flogging that night had been particularly severe.
“Before my second year at Nanyang University, all those who had used my mother were dead and ‘The Little One’ slept soundly, possibly never to be reawakened. I passed the final exams and was the first and only Matt Selah to be dux of that University, passing my subjects with honors.
“Perhaps they should have offered a university medal in the faculty of ‘killing’ and I wouldn’t have had to study so hard.” Peter’s hoarse laughter here was both bitter and harsh.
After a long pause he continued.
“Yes, I earned extremely high degrees with honors, simply because I had no other life. I couldn’t socialize; I couldn’t even be happy - not even with my two families of twin sisters.
“There was no way at all I could mix with women, and I regarded everyone with great suspicion. I was an outcast – an extremely dangerous loner.
“My Tamil and Cantonese Fathers must have talked over my problem and agreed between them that I needed some training in the softer side of life. They packed my things and put me on a train to Butterworth where a limousine picked me up.
“The two burly guards accompanying the driv
er allowed no nonsense. Next, I was ushered into a mansion in Bukit Mertajam and left there. I noticed the gates were closed and the two brawny guards stood waiting for me should I attempt to leave.”
The women looked relieved that the horror had passed and seemed almost delighted that the topic had changed now Peter was telling of his return to civilization.
Even Andrew was silent wondering just how the story would end.
“A meal was on the table in the dining room and I ate well - no cutlery so I ate in the Malay fashion - right hand only, after I poured water from the ornate silver teapot in the center of the table over that hand and flicked the water to the floor. I knew hidden eyes were watching me through the ornate filigreed paneling walls, which definitely belonged in a harem.
“The meal hadn’t finished when I collapsed on the floor, realizing, as I lost control, that I’d been drugged.
“Suffice to say that after two months of being trained in the subtle arts of pleasuring a woman, I was made to realize the truth of the favorite quote of the bordello in whose care I found myself,
A Woman
Be very careful if you make a woman cry,
Because God counts her tears.
Woman came out of a man’s rib,
Not from his feet to be walked on,
Not from his head to be superior,
But from the side to be equal.
Under the arm to be protected
And next to the heart to be loved.
“Eventually I left Asia to return home to Australia, but was Australia home? I hadn’t seen it since I was five years old and now, as I returned, I’d lived the life of six adult men in one.
“Financially, I was a multimillionaire thanks to the largesse of my two Asian fathers who had given me huge bank accounts. They seemed to think I had done something wondrous in saving their daughters.
“However, money was nothing compared to the empty space in my heart. In fact, money seemed to pour into my coffers from everywhere. Dad’s insurance and retirement benefits were huge and then there was Mum’s money as well. There was money aplenty but it meant nothing to me.