by A. T. Grant
“I’m so sorry that I’ve embarrassed you, as well as giving you such a scare,” David grovelled.
“Don’t worry. You’re right, of course; about Alfredo,” Laura whispered, matter-of-factly.
“Do you feel the same way?” David quizzed.
“I think so, although I know it’s crazy. We haven’t spent more than thirty minutes together. What’s even crazier is that life seems to have speeded up here. Everything before Muyil feels like the distant past.”
David readjusted his balance slightly on the uneven surface. “I know what you mean. I live more in a day here than in a month back home.” He gave Laura a serious look. “I wouldn’t presume to offer you advice, but I’ve always wondered what would have happened if I’d been more forthright about my feelings with Culjinder. We only live once, as the saying goes. As an Indian Christian, rather than a Hindu, Culjinder may even have agreed with me, at least on that particular point.”
“Life is complicated,” Laura articulated through a gentle smile.
“Yes, but that’s also when it can be most fun. I haven’t a clue where my life is headed at the moment, but I’m enjoying every minute of it. Shall we re-join the others? I believe we’re about to get wet again and, very possibly, eaten by crocodiles.”
Laura laughed. “I’ve no worries about crocodiles with you around, David.”
By the time they returned, everyone else was assembled once more on the wooden pier. Some were reaching precariously for the lifejackets, slung casually about each tin boat, alongside various items of drying clothing. Marcus, Cesar and Daniel were already standing in a line in the warm shallows and others were about to follow. Ethan jumped in first, breaking the crystal-clear waters with a loud, but slightly forced whoop. He waded back dutifully to help Jackie Morgan as she moved her good leg and then the bad gingerly into the lake. Lloyd and Hannah ran to the far end of the jetty, on the premise that it was a bit deeper, and made a point of jumping right on top of a shoal of multi-coloured fishes. Soon most were following Cesar, wading out to where the strong current cut a deeper channel as it headed for the canal. Next instant Cesar was floating and drifting slowly past the island. With various splashes and squeals others followed suit, floating on their backs, buoyed up by their lifejackets. Some held on awkwardly to soggy, wide-brimmed sunhats. Others let their toes protrude in front of them in the flow.
Back on the dock, Luis occupied himself helping Marcus and Daniel lash the boats together, so they could be guided down the narrow stream which marked the overgrown remains of the old Mayan canal. Laura only very reluctantly agreed to bring up the rear of the group floating unaided down this channel, having no great desire for another near drowning. She buried her own anxiety by reassuring David, as both struggled back into their lifejackets.
Alfredo stood indecisively watching the others float away. Now at least, thanks to his recent heroics, he was wearing more presentable clothing, although that too might be about to get wet.
Luis turned towards his brother, wondering at his sudden inertia. “Go, go,” he yelled. “Play your little tourist games.” He stowed the weapon quickly that Alfredo passed secretly to him, and gestured him away impatiently.
Alfredo struggled into his buoyancy aid, just in time to catch David in the stream. The absurdity of his situation struck him immediately. He threw his head back in the water, staring at a single con trail high overhead, and began to laugh. David did the same. Their very different worlds had each shrunk to a narrow waterway through reed and mangrove swamp. For the first time in a very long while Alfredo did not feel he was being pursued. A kingfisher flashed by and a moorhen croaked a protest from its nest, but no helicopter would ever find them here. The current grew even stronger as the banks narrowed and straightened, so that only gentle movements were needed to steer. Alfredo felt freer and more relaxed than he could ever remember. If only real life could be this simple.
Alfredo sent his hand arcing lazily through the water. It met another. For a few seconds the stray hand brushed easily alongside, then the fingers traced across his palm and entwined with his. He felt a sudden surge of happiness as he responded to their deliberate and sustained pressure. He took a deep breath, sucking in the moment, then spluttered as Laura used her other hand to send a wedge of water into his face. Alfredo found the bottom and stood up, coughing. Laura swung around in front of him and he drew her in. Both looked quickly behind. The support party managing the launches had yet to appear and, beyond Laura, David was drifting obliviously downstream. Alfredo pulled Laura closer, tugging at her narrow waistline. Hampered by their jackets, they had to strain to kiss but, once their lips met, neither could desist. Laura rode the wave of passion spreading from her core and shuddered. Alfredo reaction was beyond sexual. He felt as though his whole life had led him to this moment. For once, everything made sense. He was coming home.
David grabbed a stray branch to halt his progress, aware that he was now alone. He twisted his body around in the direction of the pair, to be afflicted by a momentary and unexpected pang of jealousy. “Oi - you two - watch out for the boats!” he hollered, as affably as he could manage.
Alfredo reluctantly pushed Laura away. He glared at his brother sitting on the bow of the first launch, blithe to his distinct look of disapproval. For once in his life it was he who was somebody’s hero. The couple toppled back into the current. They swam to catch up with David, who was now spinning clumsily from the end of the branch. They laughed, ejecting every ounce of tension from their bodies, as he let go and face-planted into the water. David couldn’t help but join in, between coughs and gurgles. Righting himself, he thought of Phoebe and smiled broadly at the heavens. Laura was just a friend. All three were still splashing and joking as the canal ejected them into the next lake.
After floating carelessly for so long, the weight of the world dragged at their clothing as they struggled out onto a muddy shore. It was carpeted with yellow, orange and brown butterflies. The children were chasing the salt-seeking insects across the clay, scattering them like confetti, only for most to land at once behind them. There was little shade, until the boats caught up and were dragged ashore, people sitting in the lee of their canopies. Marcus, Cesar and Daniel began re-erecting the marquees and preparing lunch. Laura joined them, running her fingers through Alfredo’s damp, curly hair as she left. Alfredo and David sat together on a large and contorted piece of driftwood. For a while they talked of fishing, but David was keen to make a point.
“It is good to see you two together. This sort of holiday is made for romance. I have only known Laura a short while, but I like her very much.”
Alfredo listened respectfully. He knew what David wanted to say. “I have known her for only a few hours and already I feel the same.” He picked up a stone and cast it into the new lake, the expanse of its waters disappearing into a distant fret. He wondered where the old Alfredo, the womaniser and gangster, had gone. Something had happened to him, something profound. It was impossible to articulate clearly what it was, but each step from the ruins to the campsite, to where he was now, had left him more and more convinced that everything before had been unreal. Both times he had entered the water he emerged feeling different, as though the more unfortunate aspects of his character had been washed away. He looked past David, down the beach towards his brother. Luis was standing with his hands thrust deep into his pockets, a fixed expression of deep concentration on his face, as though he was supervising the lunch queue. Alfredo felt a new and unexpected distance between them. Luis, for all that he loved his brother, was the past. He was the living link to Las Contadonas and the nightmare world he had been born into. Luis reminded Alfredo of duty, when what he wanted was freedom, not least from his own past sins. This life, which he had stumbled across by accident, felt far more vital and true. “You have nothing to worry about, David,” he declared. “I will be careful with her feelings and treat her well. If all we
have is today then I will still be very happy.”
Luis wandered over to the pair and David moved over to let him sit down. The brothers acknowledged each other, but neither spoke. David couldn’t help but study Luis’ scar. “You look as though you can take care of yourself,” he observed.
Luis shrugged. He was clearly tense.
“Doing this job, you must feel like you’re spoiling our fun,” David observed, “but you shouldn’t worry. I think everyone is more relaxed because we have extra people to help look after us. Due to my stupidity, Laura might have been in real trouble, if Alfredo hadn’t saved her. I supposed it’s important for wardens like you two to be lifeguards as well?”
Luis still said nothing. He was too angry with his brother to speak, and not at all impressed by David’s eulogy. At heart he was jealous: as Alfredo’s star was rising, his own seemed to be fading away. He also had a growing sense of foreboding that he may not get out of the marshes alive. He had spent half a lifetime fighting his way out of the swamp of his existence, but now the more he struggled the faster he was being dragged back down. There was something menacing about this place - it was a slime mould formed in a leaky seal between land, sea and sky - somewhere the certainties of these familiar domains might not apply. The helicopter had rattled Luis, although his little brother clearly couldn’t see past his own lifesaving theatrics. This time it was Luis who needed his brother’s support, but Alfredo showed no sign of being able to make sensible choices.
Just as the silence stretched toward embarrassment, Alfredo pointed into the haze of early afternoon. Luis jumped up. He too had seen the glint of sunlight that meant another boat approaching. Pulling his brother unceremoniously upright, he led him quickly back to the main party. They passed Laura on the way, but neither acknowledged her presence.
Laura was returning with food, and handed one plate carefully to David.
“What was that about?” she quizzed.
“No idea, but I assume they’ve seen something suspicious.” David panned across the lake, which must have been twice as large as the last one. Nothing caught his eye.
“Poachers, I suppose,” concluded Laura, drolly.
“How exciting! Perhaps we should eat up quickly?” David couldn’t help but sound a little nervous.
Both sat and watched with expressions of mild bemusement, as the rest of the group did indeed swing into action. Within minutes the gear was stowed and the metal launches were back in the water, outboard motors growling. Marcus waved Laura and David over, and guided everyone aboard and onto a seat. They were all going to visit one of the islands of dense rainforest protruding from the reed-beds, he advised. The canoes would be left in a small creek behind the beach, so they could be picked up later in the day. As the small flotilla sped away at a much greater speed than before, the children shrieked with excitement. They waved back at Laura and David, as their own boat shot ahead. Full bellies and growing indigestion, caused by the sudden and unexpected rush had intensified the general levels of perspiration. All savoured the welcome rush of fresh lake air on their faces.
David turned around to follow the intersecting patterns of wake carving up the water behind them. Beyond the strip of sand where they had stopped for lunch, another speedboat was clearly visible. David watched it, suspiciously. It seemed to be travelling equally fast, and in their general direction. Despite telling himself firmly that there were many other plausible scenarios, he panicked at the possibility that there really might be poachers approaching, and grabbed Laura’s arm.
“David, I’m so sorry,” she apologised, “I didn’t mean to worry you back on the beach. I’m sure it’s just another boat load of tourists.” Nevertheless, she shouted to Daniel, their pilot, above the roar of the motor, and then pointed back beyond his left shoulder. Daniel throttled down, reached for a pair of binoculars, turned and took a long look.
“Poachers? David joked to Daniel, as light-heartedly as he could muster.”
Daniel shook his head, still assessing the situation.
“Shouldn’t we get going, just in case?”
Daniel shook his head again and was about to explain himself when Cesar’s boat settled alongside. For some reason Cesar seemed upset with Daniel. An argument ensued in loud and rapid Spanish, which David did not even attempt to follow. Only the word peligroso stood out, as he knew that it meant “dangerous”. Daniel finally shrugged sullenly and opened the throttle. He would not explain the conversation or even make eye contact, and David felt anything but reassured. Even Laura looked uncertain.
Unexpectedly, the three motorboats slowed again and turned into a network of narrow, marshy waterways. These were punctuated by the occasional dead tree, and by clumps of bushes which had become traps for rotting vegetation. Immediately the heat returned, accompanied by an increasing number of persistent flies. People began to squirm in discomfort and mop their sodden brows. One or two, having cast around unsuccessfully for anything of possible interest, started to complain. The network of bifurcating channels became steadily more complex and more overgrown. The lake disappeared from view completely and the noise of insects and birds replaced that of the rush of wind.
Cesar’s boat got stuck. Immediately he and Marcus were in the water on either side, levering it through a gap with as much concentrated energy as if their lives depended on it. Clouds of bugs descended upon exposed limbs, and tiny crabs scuttled down from their reedy perches and disappeared underwater.
“Wherever we’re going now had better be bloody good,” Darryl commented loudly, only half in jest.
Both Marcus and Cesar emerged with legs plastered in mud and grappled their way back on to their separate vessels. Ethan made a joke at Marcus’ expense about shaving his legs, but was totally ignored. As they continued, small trees began to replace the reeds and the way got shallower. The increasing amount of cover only added to the oppressively humid atmosphere. Cesar jumped in again, this time to free weed from a propeller. Slowly, they edged closer to the dark green island which was their goal, heralded by increasingly raucous avian cries. All at once the swamp released them. They slipped from light into deepest shade and from noise into profound stillness. Tall rainforest trees rose overhead and cast a thick blanket of leaves between them and the watery world they had come to know.
A collection of rotten wooden posts scarred the silt-strewn bank onto which each launch glided. Cesar jumped ashore first. He immediately started probing the thick fringe of ferns that bordered the little clearing, looking for a pathway. Suddenly he leapt backwards as something large was disturbed in its lair and went crashing away through the trees. Recovering his poise, he poked around cautiously for any more wildlife, then began to clear the way with long, lazy strokes of the machete he had used to remove Felicity’s leach the day before. Nobody seemed keen to follow, and some looked positively spooked. Laura pushed David forward, partly to relieve her own anxiety. She hadn’t the slightest idea why they were visiting this island, and was secretly fuming, both because she hadn’t been briefed by Marcus and because Alfredo now appeared to be ignoring her too.
“Come on, let’s explore,” she instructed.
Cesar looked surprised, but stood aside for the pair and handed the long knife to Laura. “Here, use this if you need to clear any more sections of the path. Don’t worry about the animal: it was almost certainly just a pig. If you can’t find the way turn around and come straight back. I must stay to help everyone else ashore.”
“Where are we going?” David enquired.
“You will soon see. This island is called Ceneal,” advised Cesar. “It is a sacred place for some. If I am honest, we shouldn’t really be here,” he added, conspiratorially. “The main site is only a little way off and well worth the trouble.”
Laura strode purposely off into the trees, more determined still to regain some control of the situation. David reluctantly followed. Laura
held the heavy and unwieldy machete well away from her body. Her wrist soon ached from the weight of it. The ground became bare as the cover overhead grew ever denser and the trail indistinct. The pair was about to give up when David noticed an old section of rope slung between moss-covered tree trunks. It marked a steep and unappealing ascent, littered with projecting roots, spikey ferns and loose boulders. Laura did not hesitate. Slipping and sliding and grabbing cautiously at the frayed line, it brought them finally out onto a narrow, heavily forested crest. The ridge stretched away from them in each direction, in a gentle sweeping inward curve half obscured by trees. A little-trodden summit track weaved between the trunks.
“Look.” David had taken a few cautious steps down the far slope, to stare into the deep bowl encompassed by the ridge.
Laura leaned the machete against a large protruding rock which appeared to mark the start of the downward path, and followed David. Having nearly plunged the machete into her foot during the ascent, she was in no mood to play with it further. Through a gap in the greenery their situation became clear. They were in an old, overgrown, volcanic crater, its centre consumed in water. The surface was so far removed from any breeze that it appeared like glass, reflecting a dark image of the sky, almost as though it were a portal into night. There was barely a sound to be heard around them on the rim, beyond their own heavy breathing. Nothing external seemed to penetrate this space. Both felt the weight of time hanging there, unmarked, as though still waiting to resolve itself into cause and effect. They could be at any point in human history, or before, or beyond. Then Laura noticed the construction clinging to a more open section of the ridge to their left. Its bright coral limestone blocks caught the afternoon sun, the contrast enhanced by the dark volcanic backdrop, so that it almost seemed to be floating between earth and sky.
The structure drew the pair around the rim, out of the forest and into the full heat of the day. Its surface was an expansive open platform, set just below the ridge line, accessed by a short flight of stairs cut into the loose volcanic bedrock. Also cut into the bank was a tall, curved, marble back-wall. It was covered with deep, but heavily weathered carvings. A series of wide limestone steps led down to the lake, some missing altogether, and others leaning precariously down the slope. From the top of the wall, Laura could just see over the ridge. A scattering of similar green islands punctuated the marshes for as far as the eye could see.