Bali Bule Hunter

by Michael Powers

  “Ted near Trunyan tree,” Rial admitted quietly.

  Greg’s jaw dropped. “I thought that’s where they put their dead!”

  “He no dead,” Rial assured Greg. “Yanto bring bule to Trunyan for scaring.”

  “You’re sure?” Greg asked uneasily.

  Rial nodded, so Greg’s pulse began to return to normal.

  As the boat rental operator approached, Budi advised Greg it was best to negotiate a fee upfront, paying half or more when they returned from Trunyan. “I’ll offer twenty-thousand rupiahs or about twenty dollars to use the boat for the afternoon.”

  Greg nodded, thankful for Budi’s expertise. The boat guide, a wiry, weather-beaten man who appeared older than his thirty-five years, nodded pleasantly at Budi’s offer. He was happy for the work since there had been no other customers that week. Kersen had considered going fishing an hour earlier, but was glad he had stayed with his boats. As he led the group to his aluminum boat, he was embarrassed by his sandals. Held together with elastic bands and duct tape, Kersen decided to use the fare to buy new sandals on his next shopping trip.

  Everyone piled into the aluminum boat, propelled by a ten-horsepower motor. Greg and Liana sat next to each other on a padded seat facing Budi and Rial.

  “Now I’m experiencing native culture, Budi,” Greg quipped. “Fresh air, boating across a lake made by a volcano, visiting a village that dates back more than a thousand years. When I meet my new class in September and we tell each other what we did on our summer vacations, I’ll have the coolest story ever!”

  “Don’t forget to include your trips to Patar and Rainbow!” Budi laughed.

  Liana marveled at the playful way Greg and Budi sniped at each other, envious of their relationship. “Rial, how long is our boat ride to Trunyan?”

  Rial lifted a single finger, indicating one hour. The water spray chilled her skin, so Liana leaned against Greg for his body warmth. Instinctively, he wrapped his arm around her.

  Even though Budi realized it was silly to be jealous of his sister, it bothered him to see Greg touch her. Needing a distraction, he turned away to chat with Kersen.

  Rial sat stiffly, staring straight ahead, face expressionless. Passports, visas, and plane tickets to the States were within his grasp. Donny would be so happy. For the first time in his life, Rial felt he had something of real value to give Donny, besides his friendship. Calm on the outside, he was doing handsprings inside.

  As they approached the northern shore of Batur Lake, Greg spotted a jumbled collection of cinder-block homes on the right and a long, stone wall on the left, which he assumed surrounded the cemetery. The guide pulled the boat next to a rickety wooden dock, tossed a rope around a post, and cut the engine.

  “That wall around the burial ground is new,” Liana observed nervously. “Gate, too.”

  “Probably helps keep tourists like us away,” Greg speculated.

  Liana shook her head. “For centuries these people had nothing to hide. I wonder why they feel the need to hide it now?”

  Rial led the group to the gate, which was secured with a heavy wood plank. As Rial struggled to lift the plank, Greg grabbed one end and Budi grabbed the other. They laid the plank on the ground, and Rial swung the gate open. Greg, Budi, and Rial entered the cemetery, but Liana remained outside.

  Greg turned to Liana expectantly. “Aren’t you joining us?”

  “Tradition forbids women from entering the sacred burial ground without the permission of village elders,” she explained. “They have a deeply rooted belief that if a woman enters without invitation, there will be a disaster in the village....a quake or a volcanic eruption. I don’t want to cause any problems.”

  Greg was puzzled. “After coming all this way, you’re not stopping now because of some silly superstition, are you?”

  “I may not share their beliefs, but I must respect them,” Liana insisted. “I’ll just have a look around out here. You go ahead,” she urged Greg.

  “Okay,” Greg sighed, then turned back to Budi and Rial. “Let’s go.”

  They were surprised to see many bamboo cages, with bodies in various states of decay. The closer they got to the ancient Trunyan tree, the fresher the bodies were. Greg inhaled deeply through his nose. There was a sweet smell similar to incense, but no trace of rotting flesh in the air.

  “I’ll be damned!” Greg muttered. “Apparently there is something which masks the odor.”

  The bodies in the bamboo cages took on a familiar pattern. The faces and clothes were still intact. “Why are there so many old white guys here?” Greg wondered aloud.

  They heard a muffled cry coming from the base of the Trunyan tree. Rial sprinted ahead. As he neared the tree, he screamed, “Donny! Donny!” Reaching the bamboo cage, he fell to his knees, grasping Donny’s hand.

  Budi and Greg raced to join Rial. Greg glanced at the bamboo cage next to Donny’s and saw his uncle. Kneeling beside the cage, he whispered, “Uncle Ted? Uncle Ted? Can you hear me, Ted?” He shook the locked cage, hoping to jar his uncle awake.

  “Donny say uncle no wake today,” Rial whispered.

  Greg reached through the cage, grasped Ted’s wrist and searched for a pulse. Ted’s skin was cold and he wasn’t breathing. Greg gently laid Ted’s wrist on his lap, closed his eyes, and allowed his tears to fall. “Sorry I didn’t get here sooner, Uncle Ted.”

  Budi placed his hand on Greg’s neck. “Greg, you did everything you could to find him, so don’t blame yourself. He may have died in a cage all by himself, but he knew he wasn’t alone in the world.”

  “I’d like to believe that,” Greg replied as he rose to his feet and wiped his face dry. “How’s Donny?”

  “Yanto left him here to die cuz he tried to help your uncle escape. He hasn’t had any food or water for almost four days.”

  “Did Rial know Yanto left Donny here in a cage?”

  “No, he’s as surprised as we are.”

  Greg felt a mixture of pity and anger for the teen who lured his uncle to Bali, then tried to save his life. With so many questions, Greg decided the best thing was to free Donny. “Let’s get him outa that cage, okay?”

  Budi examined the cage. “Bamboo is very strong and the padlock and chain are steel.”

  Greg inspected the chain. “The metal is strong, but I know how we can break it.” He searched for a melon-sized rock, then returned to Donny’s cage. “A couple good whacks should break the chain. Donny, slide as far away from me as you can.”

  Donny curled up in a far corner of the cage. Placing a few links of the chain on a flat rock, Greg slammed the stone down repeatedly. Sparks flew and tiny rock chips sprayed until a link snapped. He tossed the chain and padlock aside, then opened the cage door. Donny crawled to him, but was too weak to stand, so Rial and Greg helped him to his feet.

  Budi held a water bottle out to Donny. “Drink this, but small sips or you’ll choke.”

  Donny tried to take small sips, but was so thirsty the last half of the water disappeared in three gulps. Rial unwrapped some candy bars from Greg’s minibar and Donny devoured them in seconds.

  “Donny, the old men in cages,” Greg pointed, waving his arm back and forth. “Are they all men Yanto brought here?”

  Donny nodded, a torrent of words rushing from his small mouth. “Yanto want old men money. I don’t know he kill them! He tell me no one hurt. Moneyboy get rich bule come Bali. Then Yanto come hotel room while sleep. He make them sign many paper and get bank number and secret words. If they make Yanto angry, he beat old mens! We know he bring them Trunyan for scaring. Not know he leave to die. I never inside wall before. Very surprise see many cage.”

  Greg found the scheme too elaborate and brutal for an ordinary pimp. “All this to get at the money of a few old men?”

  “Old mens very rich!” Donny corrected Greg. “Yanto say they all millionaire, live alone, no family. He get more than five million dollar each bule. He say they no need so much money. Allah need money more than o
ld bule!”

  “That’s what he told you?” Greg sneered. “I bet Allah doesn’t see a penny of the money Yanto steals!” Greg rubbed his chin. “More pieces of the puzzle. Prey on wealthy old gays who won’t be missed. They live alone, probably travel a lot so friends and neighbors don’t worry about long absences. The Internet makes it easier to turn assets into cash, especially with the owner’s help. They get the old guys to sign power of attorney agreements. That way they can remotely sell assets, then transfer the cash into their own accounts anywhere in the world. And this place?” Greg snorted. “It’s perfect for their scheme! Don’t need to worry about bodies washing up on shore or being dug up by animals. Just hide them in plain sight where no one will question a decaying corpse in a bamboo cage. Yanto probably pays the village to let him use their cemetery as his killing ground. There’s at least fifty cages here with corpses. If Yanto is stealing more than five million from each, that’s a quarter billion dollars. Big money for thugs!”

  The magnitude of the scheme overwhelmed Greg. He was simultaneously shocked and angry. Not certain what his next move should be, he kept poking around. He inspected several cages, then shook his head in disbelief. “None of these corpses appear to have bullet or knife wounds. Looks like every one of them died of dehydration!”

  “How can you tell?” Budi asked.

  “There’s no blood on their clothes, and their skulls are intact. I wrote a paper in college about the ethics of removing life support; essentially allowing a person to die of dehydration. A person can live without food eight to twelve weeks, but five days without water will kill most of us. The mouth, the eyes, the skin all become dry as the body diverts water to vital organs. Then there’s dizziness and headaches as the blood thickens. Blood pressure drops and the heart rate rises. The body goes into shock. Most people die of strokes or heart attacks, but by that time they’re usually in a coma. It’s a hideous way to die.” Greg felt enormous contempt for Yanto. “This sort of cruelty is diabolical. What kind of people could do something like this?”

  Glaring at Rial and Donny, Greg asked, “What was Yanto doing with all the money he got from rich bules?”

  They both shook their heads. “We think money for poor peoples on Sumatra,” Donny insisted. “Yanto say we so lucky. Have nice room, food, motorbike, sometime new clothes. All we do is chat with bules and have the sex. Many worse job. We think Yanto help poor. When I hear Yanto talk with Mr. Ted at hotel I think maybe we bad people. Follow Yanto to Trunyan to be with Mr. Ted. Yanto catch me and lock in cage.”

  “Yanto bad man!” Rial screamed. “Hurt Donny. Kill many bule. Not for Allah! For Yanto!”

  Donny and Rial conversed rapidly in Bahasa, with Rial alternately hugging and scolding Donny.

  “I think the boys are getting the full picture,” Budi observed quietly. “What now, Greg? Take your uncle’s body back to Denpasar?”

  Greg lowered his head to hide his tears from Budi. “Yeah, I’ll take him back to California and bury him next to my mother.” Tears streamed down his cheeks. Greg was no longer able to speak. He sat on a boulder, pulled a neatly pressed handkerchief from his pocket, then wiped his eyes and nose before continuing. “When Mom was diagnosed with cancer a few years ago, Ted took such good care of her. He turned our little house in San Diego into a hospice, paying for nurses, equipment, medication.......everything she needed so she could die at home in her own bed. He spent several hours with her a couple times a week, taking her for wheelchair rides by the ocean…reading to her until she fell asleep. A few days before she died, Mom asked Ted and I to promise we’d take care of each other.”

  As tears poured down Greg’s cheeks, Budi sat next to him on the boulder, rubbing his back to console him.

  Greg gazed at Budi, lips trembling. “I didn’t read all the e-mails Ted and Donny exchanged, but I read enough to know Ted was no pedophile. Ted intended to help Donny and Rial finish their education, then get jobs. That decent, generous man didn’t deserve to die this way. I won’t rest until the people who did this to him are dead or in prison.”

  Greg’s anger and sadness moved Budi so deeply, he began to share Greg’s feelings. He felt a sudden urge to rip Yanto’s heart from his chest and stuff it in his mouth. “I’ll help you find and punish them!” Budi promised.

  “Thanks,” Greg murmured as he rose. “I think we’ll need to come back. We can’t all fit into the Kijang. Besides, this is a crime scene. I’ve watched enough TV cop dramas to know local police will want to conduct an investigation before releasing the bodies. They’ll have quite a mess on their hands....identifying all these people....notifying loved ones....preparing bodies to be shipped all over the world. The officer at the U.S. Consulate said he needed evidence of a crime, so I want to take him pictures of this grizzly scene.”

  Reluctantly, Greg snapped a few shots of his uncle, then began wandering from one bamboo cage to another, taking shots at various angles. He stood on a boulder to take a wide angle lens shot of dozens of bamboo cages. “I’ve never seen anything like this,” Greg sputtered. “Budi, I think this is worse than a lone serial killer. This is a highly organized plot to kill for profit. What if there are more operations like this all over Asia? There could be thousands of young guys working out of Net cafes, luring wealthy men and women to their death in schemes just like this. We need to do something to stop this!”

  Budi nodded sympathetically, fearing Greg’s imagination might be running wild. He remained silent, not wanting to contradict his friend. Wandering around the burial ground, Budi gawked inside the bamboo cages. As he imagined what it would be like to die slowly from thirst, he thought he could see pained expressions on their faces. Budi suddenly changed direction, and bumped into an arm sticking out of a cage. The hand snapped off like a twig from a dead tree and fell to the ground. Slightly spooked, he choked back a scream and scurried toward Greg.

  “Why don’t these bodies have any maggots?” Budi asked Greg. “Dead animals always have maggots crawling all over them.”

  “Liana said there’s something about the aroma that keeps everything but the birds away. Insects lay eggs which become maggots, so I guess the Trunyan tree aroma keeps bugs away. Anyone who can bottle that smell will make a fortune selling it as mosquito repellant!”

  Greg grabbed a stick and poked at the hand which snapped off when Budi brushed against it. “The Trunyan tree is on a slight rise, so rainfall is carried away from the center of the burial ground, draining outside the walls. The human body is about eighty percent water. These corpses bake in the sun every day, and what the birds don’t eat eventually turns to dust. The rain, heat, high humidity, and that strange smell all combine so decay occurs very slowly.”

  Budi was amazed by Greg’s extensive knowledge. “I bet you could make a fortune on one of those TV quiz shows!”

  Greg smiled faintly. “You’re not the first to suggest that. If I needed or wanted the money, I suppose I might consider doing something like that.”

  “Sorry it turned out this way, Greg. I was hoping we’d find your uncle at Rainbow some night, dancing with a cute young Bali boy.”

  Greg smiled at Budi. “Everything has an upside. I met you on this trip.”

  Budi fingered the Kijang keys nervously. “Will you keep in touch, once you get back to San Diego?”

  “Of course, Budi. We’ll text and Skype daily. We can spend holidays and vacations together. We’ll take turns visiting each other. We have a whole year to plan how we’ll spend next summer together,” he promised.

  Budi appeared doubtful. “I’m afraid you’ll always remember Bali as the place your uncle died and never want to come back.”

  “I don’t blame Bali for my uncle’s death. It’d be stupid for me to write off this entire island paradise just because there’s a few thugs like Yanto.”

  “Know what I like best about you, Greg?”

  “Either my chest hair or something a few inches lower?” Greg guessed.

  Budi shook his head griml
y. “You’re the first bule who wanted more than sex from me. I want you in my life more than a few days.”

  “Tell me something, Budi. You’re attractive, talented, funny, sexy, smart, and have your own business. There must be thousands of attractive, successful bules who’d like to settle down with you. Has there ever been anyone like that before?”

  Budi nodded, then glanced around the cemetery. “Sure we have time for this?”

  Greg shrugged. “I’d like to know if it doesn’t take too long.”

  “Two years ago I met a bule who said he was from Chicago,” Budi began. “Michael was the hunk of my dreams. Tall, lean, blond; just like you. Said he was thirty-five and retired after selling his ad agency to some big company. He was living in a villa on Nusa Dua and drove a black Mercedes convertible. I fell madly in love for a month, then he disappeared. Turns out he was renting the car and villa. I called all the phone numbers on his business card and sent an e-mail to the only address I had for him. The e-mail bounced and the phone numbers were disconnected. One of my friends told me some bules pretend they’ve just moved to one of the popular gay vacation spots, get a local boy to fall in love with them, then disappear without a trace when the vacation’s over. They never go to the same place twice. In Asia, there’s Pattaya, Phuket, Redang, Cebu, Boracay, and Bali. Then they work Europe for a while, and move on to the Americas. We have a name for guys who create a fake identity for a month, then disappear. WESL....white English-speaking liars. Michael was a WESL.”

  Greg was shocked. “Why would anyone do that?”

  “They don’t want moneyboys because they’re afraid of disease and theft. They know the attractive, healthy local guys all want long-term relationships, so they make us believe they’re here permanently. They want safe intimacy without any real commitment.”

  “That sounds so heartless. Did you ever hear from Michael again?”

  Budi shook his head, lower lip protruding defiantly. “No, but I pray for him. I pray one day he’ll feel as much pain as he caused.”