When Time is Cracked and Trees Cry_A mysterious novel that takes you deep into a Magical tour in the secrets of the Amazon jungle and the psychological depths of the human soul

by Nahum Megged

  I stopped reading again and raised my eyes from the text, barely able to contain my excitement. Who was it who had written these lines, William or me? It is possible William had never even existed and I had invented him so I could one day discover the secrets that are now revealed to me through him? And even if he did exist, perhaps I had decided to wear his likeness so I could, when the right moment presented itself, shed all disguises and return to being myself?

  There was a knock on the door, and a moment later Clara was beside me.

  “They answered immediately,” she said and handed me a paper containing just a few words. We know the man well. Don’t worry, he is close to us. We will provide more details when possible. I was shocked by the words just as Clara had been shocked to read them a few moments earlier. That official, a man of authority who ordered arson and even murder, was described in the telegram as someone “close to us.” It is possible the coupling of opposites had already begun. We looked at each other anxiously, and without saying a word, knew we had to find out the identity of that mysterious man, his motives, and his superiors.

  I closed the journal and left for the hotel with Clara to try and read the next chapter of the unfolding book of mysteries.

  17

  The World Before the World

  The skies did not look inviting. By the time we reached the hotel, storm clouds were on the horizon again. A policeman was standing by the front door with a weapon in his hand.

  “Sir,” he addressed me, “you can’t continue beyond this point.” I had never seen him armed.

  “Why?” I asked and pointed at Clara. “This lady lives in the hotel, and we are going to her room.”

  “She no longer lives here,” the policeman hissed. “Her belongings have already been packed, she can take them and look for another hotel.”

  “This is ridiculous.” I raised my voice angrily. “You know very well there are no other hotels in town. What is going on here?”

  Clara looked at us without saying a word, turning her eyes back and forth from the policeman to me as if she were watching a tennis match.

  “You see,” I turned to her desperately, “you are being driven out of your room. Something fishy is going on in the hotel, in other places too, I’ll bet.”

  “You can go inside to get the suitcases, but you’ll need to leave immediately after that,” said the policeman in less threatening voice.

  We moved a little forward and stood at the entrance. The lobby was full of armed men. I couldn’t tell if they were the rioters who had been having their fun early in the morning next to Yankor’s burned hut. The hotel manager stood next to them, looking panicked.

  “We came for Clara’s suitcases,” I told her, ignoring the armed men. She tried to answer me, but couldn’t utter a word.

  The brawny hoodlum next to me stepped in front of us. “I can’t let you pass!” he growled in a thick voice. “No one goes beyond this point!”

  The hotel manager was trembling from head to toe. I looked at Clara and saw that she remained calm, as if nothing happening around us had anything to do with her.

  While we stood, frustrated, in the entryway, the mystery man came out of his room, wearing a brown safari suit this time, as if he were about to take a guided tour in the jungle. He smiled at us and approached the armed gang.

  “Welcome,” he said, “your things are waiting for you, Mrs. Enriques.” This time, even Clara looked bewildered. He had used her real name, not the pseudonym she had provided to the authorities. The stranger took advantage of her shock and continued to talk. “No harm will come to you, so long as you behave yourselves. Take your belongings and leave this town on the first ship that comes along.”

  “And just who are you to give orders and determine what should or shouldn’t be done?” I dared to ask.

  He smiled again, enjoying his advantage. “You will find out yet. You should be thanking me for saving your lives by sending you away from here.”

  One of the armed men brought Clara’s suitcases. Quietly, as if she had just received them at the airport, she opened them to make sure all her possessions were inside. A journal was tucked between her clothes. She flipped through it then glanced at me, biting her lip in thought.

  After a minute, she turned to the man in the safari suit. “Did one of you put this journal in my suitcase?”

  “Me?” The man shrugged.

  Patiently, Clara continued to examine her belongings and papers. Her calm demeanor indicated that all her possessions were there. When she finished, she closed the suitcases again. We went out together. I carried her two suitcases, while she held the journal. Immediately after passing the policeman stationed at the door we stopped.

  Clara showed me the journal and the writing on the first page: Please continue to act as if you don’t know me and I am your enemy. I will contact you later on and explain whatever I can. George. Show this message to your friend and destroy this page.

  We went to Marina’s house in silence. An armed policeman stood at the door.

  “What is going on here? Are you afraid of something?” I asked the policeman with a smile, but he answered in all seriousness that he had orders to obey. Inside the house, the chief of police waited for us.

  “So, you’ve been kicked out of the hotel?” he remarked to Clara. “District instructed me to make sure you board the first ship that comes to town. It should arrive in about a week.”

  “Anything can happen in a week,” I said. “The world might come to an end.”

  The police chief nodded in agreement.

  “Looks like you’ve got another colonel on your hands,” I added. “Possibly more unpleasant than the last.”

  He nodded again and said, “And it will get even worse. There’s a battalion of soldiers coming on the ship you will be boarding. They plan to launch an attack at the heart of the forest.”

  “An attack against whom?” I asked.

  “Against anyone who is declared a rebel or an enemy,” he answered.

  “But we aren’t enemies,” I said. “Not yours, nor the state’s… We need to think together and decide on the best course of action. Crucial things are at stake.”

  “You came here to look for the missing researcher,” the chief of police turned to Clara, “and this search is causing much trouble. It turns out that Mr. George is also interested in the researcher and his fate. What bothers me is that the instructions I receive from him do not always match the directives I receive from the district capital. I guess he is allowing himself a high degree of independence.”

  We said nothing.

  “We need to arrange temporary accommodations for you,” I finally said to Clara, “a place to lay your head. I suppose Marina would be happy to offer you her room, at least until her return.”

  When the chief of police left the house, the policeman keeping watch outside left with him. I guessed we weren’t the ones he needed to keep safe.

  I took Clara to her room. I left her unpacking her suitcases and returned to my own private book of revelations, Herbert, Sr.’s journal. Once again, I had the feeling someone had recently read it. It showed signs of handling on many pages. I settled down to read what was inside.

  Today I went out of the cave. I needed fresh air and space. I wanted to see what was going on in the forest after spending so much time delving into an unknown past. It was evening when I emerged. I had lost all sense of time while inside. Omauha’s mountain towered in front of me, and I thought that something was happening there, on the mountain, or maybe my eyes had adapted to the eternal dim twilight of the cave and invented sights of their own. I considered whether I should return to the huts of the tribe or try to get closer to the sacred mountain. Silence lay all around. I didn’t see any animals, other than a monkey that stood in front of me, behaving as if he were trying to make someone laugh. But who? A loud noise turned my attention to
an anaconda. His endless body coiled through the grass. There are many guards watching over the sacred place, I thought.

  I sat on one of the stones, struggling to decide where to go next. Xnen suddenly showed up and sat next to me. He scratched his head furiously, a telltale sign he had recently inhaled the gate-opening vihu. He continued to scratch his body and his head, his mouth dripping saliva and speaking words I couldn’t understand. When the mist in his eyes dispersed, he noticed me. “You’re out of the cave?” he suddenly asked, as if waking. “And you’re back from one of your flights? I answered with a question of my own. We sat quietly. He held his face with his hands and shook his head violently, as if a dreadful vision appeared before his eyes, one he’d rather not see. “Is it that terrible?” I asked. He nodded in agreement.

  Then he opened his mouth and spoke again. “Difficult days are coming,” he said. “Days written about in the book you spend all your time with. Omauha is testing the people of the forest, and not only the people of the forest. Many disasters are about to take place. Minare will sacrifice a part of her body, and a different Minare will copulate with the great god and together they will birth different times. But before the different times the god will go to the Tepoi of the gods and wait for the new birth.” “And you know what’s written in the book?” I asked when he had finished. “If you, one of the thinking men, do not know, how could I know?” he responded. “Because you have the power of flight and I don’t,” I answered. “Were you able to see anything during your flight? Did you hear the voices of the gods?”

  Xnen didn’t answer, his hands enclosed his face again. He gasped, sighed, and sobbed. Now and then, he exposed one eye, which stared at me, and immediately hid it again behind the shelter of his hands. The snake passed by me again, this time going in the opposite direction, as if completing another round of his shift. “Come back to the cave with me,” I asked Xnen. He rose with great difficulty. With much effort, he wobbled between the stones until we entered the sacred place. Inside the cave, the torch was blazing, lit by I know not who.

  The sculptures and paintings stared at us silently, longing to share their secrets, while I waited for the influence of the vihu to pass so I could speak with the shaman. After some time, Xnen pointed at a painting in front of him, which looked like a series of seemingly unconnected arabesques. Xnen traced a figure in them and said, “This is the one who arrives. And he has arrived. He is still lost in mists. He doesn’t know what was and what will be. We need him to feel well because he carries the one who has returned with him…” I couldn’t understand his words and decided he was still under the influence of his vihu flight.

  I carefully closed the journal. A sadness gripped me, the sadness of a sealed destiny no man can change. I remembered my children, and tears filled my eyes.

  I wanted to get out of the house, but Clara stopped me at the door and pulled me to Marina’s room. There, she showed me the last page of the journal George had hidden in her suitcase. Written in a stylized handwriting, were the following words: Congratulations on finding this message. Tonight, when everyone is shut in their houses, I will meet you where Yankor’s hut used to be. Tell your friend about this meeting, but come by yourself. He will wait for your return. Once you’re back, you may tell him whatever you think appropriate. I am in contact with the institute on a daily basis. Destroy this paper after you read it.

  “Will I fall into a trap if I go out to meet him?” asked Clara.

  I didn’t know what to answer. “He is a man of mystery and one cannot know his true intentions,” I finally said, “but the message you received indicates that he might be trusted. Let me know once you decide.”

  The doorbell sounded. Francisco handed me a telegram that had just arrived. My dear, I don’t know what happened, but the ship company just called to let me know they had to cancel my reservations on the next boat. I’ve decided not to change my plans. I will fly with my mother to the coastal city, hoping for last-minute cancellations that will allow us to book passage on the boat. If need be, we will wait for the next boat. Miss you. Marina.

  I invited Francisco inside, as the storm that had threatened since noontime announced its arrival with booming thunder. And indeed, the rain waited not a moment longer, and fierce torrents landed on the roof of the house all at once.

  “I guess this solves your dilemma about the coming meeting,” I told Clara. We went to the porch, all three of us, to see the water of the heavens and the water of the river coming together. The river overflowed and the porch was flooding. Francisco said something about his office remaining unattended and hurried out into the storm. Clara and I remained on our own.

  “I must thank George for forcing me to move in with you,” she said, leaning toward me, seeking my mouth with hers, pleading with it to yield to her kiss. I drew away from her.

  “We probably shouldn’t, Clara,” I said, “especially not now.” We continued to sit, unmoving, looking at the rain and lost in thought.

  Darkness had already spread its wings across the sky when the rain ceased. We both knew that the meeting with George would not take place that night. Since she had tried to kiss me, we had remained quiet, looking at the rain and the darkness closing in on us. I heard a crinkling noise, and a piece of paper was pushed under the front door. Curious, I picked it up and opened the door to see who had left it but was greeted only by darkness.

  The note was addressed to Clara. It wasn’t hard to identify the handwriting. I silently handed it to her. She took the note, read it, and turned it to me. Mrs. Enriques, the gods do not appreciate it when human beings interfere with their plans, and therefore have unleashed the storm. Nevertheless, I am determined to meet with you as soon as possible because the passing time does not benefit human beings. Go to the post office tomorrow morning. Call me. You don’t need a number, as the line connected to my room is the only private line in town. From there, I will guide you to the meeting place. Is it true that you forgot something in your hotel room? Please destroy this note as well. George.

  “He is serious in his intentions,” I said, breaking the silence between us. “You must go to Francisco tomorrow morning and ask him to connect you.”

  “I’m afraid,” said Clara, “and something in me whispers there is a good reason for the fear. My father taught me there are no coincidences. An accidental act implies a plan, and each plan necessarily involves an accidental act. I planned on finding Herbert, Jr., and found myself deeply involved in a struggle whose scope I do not know, but this struggle will determine the fate of the forest and my personal fate as well. I feel that George is saying our lives are in danger, and I sense that our fates have already been sealed.”

  I told her that we were the source of the fears. Our emotions could not be trusted, nor could divine decrees or claims of fate, but I did not truly believe the words coming out of my mouth.

  We parted and went to our separate rooms. When I closed the door behind me, an image from another world suddenly flashed into it. When my eyes steadied, I saw Yankor, motioning with his hands as if signaling me to be careful.

  “What should I be careful of, Yankor?” I asked.

  With his hands, he traced a track reaching its end, then he disappeared.

  After calming down, I turned to the mysterious journal again, but this time I ignored the page the spirit or spirits had opened and simply leafed through it, not to seek hints about the future, but simply to distract my troubled mind. Drawings that appeared to have been copied from rock paintings caught my attention. There were figures that reminded me of ancient paintings I had once seen, I couldn’t recall where. The drawings described the planting of a tree, a hunting trip, war. Very close to the bottom of the page, the following words were written. I entered an inner cave, I lit the walls with my flashlight and my breath was taken away. Revealed before my eyes were rock paintings that had been drawn many years prior to the arrival of the first white people in th
e forest, possibly prior to the coming of the forest inhabitants we know. The drawings reminded me of another place and another continent. I do not presume to be able to interpret the paintings, as I am not in possession of comparable data. All I can do is copy them and wait for assistance. This place has seen many waves of immigrants over the years. Today’s mining people, those who are seeking pasture for their cattle, and those seeking gold, diamonds, or trees, are merely the most recent migration wave.

  I showed the drawings to Xnen without telling him where I had copied them from. He looked at them and smiled. I realized he was very familiar with the cave system. As far as he was concerned, I had simply walked through an open door. “There were days,” he said, when Omauha, Minare, and the rest of the gods still hadn’t come into the world, because they had not yet thought of creating the Yarkiti and the rest of the forest tribes. The world was inhabited by animals that moved between the trees of the forest and the grass beyond the forest. These animals ate only grass and leaves, and every blade of grass or leaf that was eaten immediately returned to its previous state.

  “One day, one of the animals decided it was tired of eating the same food every day, walking among the plants, chewing leaves and grass and watching them grow again. The same animal, which looked like a giant monkey, held a plant between its teeth, didn’t eat it, but pulled it out of the ground instead. The plant immediately began to scream, ‘Why are you doing this to me? Why are you disturbing the order of things? Life is so good to us all!’ But the animal wasn’t deterred and continued to pull the plant until it was uprooted.

  “The air was disturbed by a sudden gust, and the uprooted plant changed its form until it too looked like a giant monkey. Lightning flashed and illuminated the two animals. The lightning struck at the plant that had transformed into a monkey and it changed form again. Now it transformed into two brown stripes, with two shorter stripes underneath and in their center something that looked like a little pumpkin. The monster born from the plant held the animal that had torn it from the soil and stuck the tip of the lightning, which is the arrow, into its body. When the monkey-like animal was dying, the monster born from the plant cut up its body and placed the pieces into its mouth.