Veracity

by Mark Lavorato

  Mikkel snickers, shakes his head. "Shit, Joshua. Is that what you think - that I wanted this? That I'm finally, perfectly... happy seeing you like this?" He pauses, apparently thinking about what to say next, but I don't let him say it.

  "Tell me, what should I think? My bones are broken; I can't do anything, any harm, yet you've still tied me to a tree. Do you understand what that implies? I'm tied to a tree, Mikkel. I mean - that's a pretty deliberate action. It's hard to accidentally tie people to trees. So, as the leader, if you didn't want this, I wouldn't be here. I'd be dead. And you know that."

  His voice is quiet, and he speaks to the ground, "Yeah, well... that might be true. But... it's not that simple." He kicks at a rock that's imbedded in the soil. The rock doesn't move.

  "It hasn't been easy, you know. None of it - nothing has been easy. And you, you haven't exactly been..." he waves his hand through the air at a loss for words and never completes the sentence. Instead, he shakes his head, turns around, and takes a few steps away from me. I know that he wants to tell me everything, stories about the crew's hardships, stories about his own, but Mikkel knows that words have a tendency to either magnify or belittle, and he's looking for the ones that do neither. I admire that, and wait for quite a while before he speaks.

  "When we woke up that morning - after you'd escaped - none of us were really surprised at what happened to Knut and Toivo. In fact, I think most of us thought they deserved it. I mean - you did what you had to do, and I can respect that. But... with Onni..." Mikkel pauses. My stomach churns at the mere mention of that name. I'd always been so removed from the reality of his dying, or at least the particulars of it. I want to interrupt him; I want to stop him from even beginning. I want him to listen to how ashamed and regretful I was, how sorry I am. And I want that to be enough, even though it wouldn't be. But I stop before I say anything. I am the perpetrator here, and I know that everything that comes out of my mouth will either sound insensitive or hypocritical. No. It isn't my turn to speak. It's my turn to listen. I owe Onni at least that; in fact, I owe everyone that.

  I watch the back of Mikkel's head as he begins. "You should know, he told us over and over again that you didn't mean to cut him, that it was all an accident. But to be really honest with you, on a ship, with no chance of outside help, the questions of how, or why, or if it was intentional or not, don't really matter. What mattered was that his stomach was slashed open. That's all... and that we had to deal with it.

  "For the first couple of days, I actually thought it might heal. We did everything we could think of for him, took shifts keeping the wound clean, propping him up, making him comfortable. You should have seen the crew. They were great; so concerned, so eager to help. And I think it was the fact that we were all so focused on it, so intent on bringing him back to health, that really pulled us together. We were dedicated to it; every one of us wanted it so badly. But... still, despite everything we did, despite how careful we were, and after boiling and disinfecting everything that ever touched him... the infection still came. Little by little, he got worse... and likewise for his pain."

  Mikkel turns his head as if wanting to look at me but doesn't.

  "So, we decided to head to the closest land. I'm not sure what we thought we were going to accomplish with that - maybe we thought we'd find the shore littered with medical supplies and somehow save Onni with a few clean bandages - I don't really know. But looking back, I think it was probably just something, we had to try and do something for him, and there was clearly nothing we could do for him on the ship." Mikkel finally turns to me. He has a painful smile on his face. "We just headed to a coast, to some random shore. Can you believe that? After all the trouble the Elders went through to find us the safest point to disembark, after everything they'd weighed out, what did we do? We ignored it. It was a stupid move.

  "We didn't have detailed charts of the coastline we came to, only a few large scale maps that confirmed that there weren't any ports nearby, but also indicated a few beacons, which of course didn't function anymore, and were probably only there in the first place to hazard ships away from the area. Yet, when we sighted the coast, everyone was jumping up and down on the deck. We thought we'd made it, thought we were safe. I mean - we knew it wasn't going to be an ideal coastline in terms of landing, but we thought we'd at least be able to find some way of getting close enough to shore to access it. And who really knows, we might have, if we'd even made it through the first night. We got hung up on a shoal just after dark, and the ship started taking on water right away.

  "One of the first things we did was start the engine to try and drag us off, which, I'm sure you can imagine, only caused more damage. We stayed there for days, hoping that maybe a swell or the tide would lift us off, hoping to at least get within swimming distance, but nothing happened. You have to remember that you took the only raft, and without it, it seemed hopeless.

  "So... helping Onni wasn't exactly the most important thing anymore; we had to worry about surviving, and that was all we worried about. Besides, he was only going to get worse, and there wasn't anything we could do about it. And soon, he'd stopped sleeping, stopped talking, stopped listening, he just sat there and stared ahead, groaning to himself with these long, airy moans. It was unbearable.

  "So... eventually..." Mikkel stops for a moment. He's staring into the trees, and keeps this glazed expression as he speaks, his voice distant. "Eventually we had a meeting. We decided that the only chance we had was to inflate every plastic bag on the ship and try to swim ashore, which obviously meant leaving Onni behind. We timed it so that we'd swim with the tide, and we put a few light essentials inside the inflated bags, like maps and some clothing, and tied the knives to our bodies. Everything was prepared, and one by one, we said goodbye to him, even though he didn't hear us. I'm sure he wasn't taking anything in at that point. He was just... blank, staring forward, groaning.

  "The crew were getting ready on deck. They were quiet. Everything was quiet. I was the last one to say goodbye to him. But after I did, I found that I couldn't walk out of the room. I couldn't just leave him like that, Joshua. He was in so much pain, and who knows how many days he would've suffered; what he would've gone through - and alone?" Mikkel looks at the base of a tree, pursing his lips shut, trying to stop them from trembling. He doesn't cry, but his words are quavering. "He bled a lot."

  Silence. There is nothing to say, nothing that could even start to fill in the hollow space that is inside us both; that unimaginable void that was created by taking the life from someone we loved. I understand how Mikkel had suffered, and for this, I want to utter the words 'I'm sorry', but find I can't; I choke on their appalling inadequacy. I can't think of anything appropriate to say, and realize that nothing is appropriate at this moment, that everything falls short, every feeling, every word, every certainty of remorse; even the silence seems tactless, clumsy, and I'm relieved when Mikkel finally breaks it.

  "When I came on deck, the crew looked at the blood on my clothes, but they didn't say anything; nor have any of us mentioned it since. Instead, we all just jumped into the water and started swimming for our lives. It was all there was left to do.

  "It took us most of the day, and for quite a while during the swim, I really thought we wouldn't make it. By halfway we were spent, and when we stopped, we became desperate and fought for the larger bags to rest on. Sometimes the fighting was so charged I thought they were going to draw their knives. Most of the bags burst during the struggles, and we lost almost all of the maps and clothing. We nearly lost Niels, too. We were almost there, but he couldn't swim anymore, and every one of us left him for dead, except Aimil, who somehow managed to help him through the last little bit.

  "Once we reached land it took us quite a while to recover, and we were lucky to find a ruined community nearby, which had everything we needed in it, including some crop food growing on its borders. We stayed there on the coast for a couple weeks, fishing and gathering other foods.

  "I
spent a lot of my time thinking about Onni, and I'm sure that I seemed quite miserable. But I wasn't alone. Everyone was miserable. And I guess that's where it all started, out of a need for something to focus on, something to help sidetrack their minds. Because the more free time they had in this state, the angrier they became; and obviously, every bit of anger they had was directed at you. And within a month, everything imaginable had become your fault: their almost drowning, Onni's death, the reason they were on the ship in the first place, Solmund, even Peik - it was only a matter of naming the hardship, and instantly, you would turn into the cause.

  "I knew how ugly it was, how adolescent and pitiful. And for a while, I really thought about putting a stop to it, but it had quickly grown into something that seemed essential to them, something they needed. I remembered poor Solmund, and I thought that, if there was always going to be a scapegoat anyway, then I should be happy it was someone who was removed and out of harm's way, someone who could never be injured, simply because he was already dead. And that's what you have to understand, Joshua, that I believed, without a doubt, that you were dead. I was positive of it.

  "After you'd escaped, I studied the maps, the wind direction, the relief of the peninsula that you were supposedly drifting toward, and I could see that, even if every single factor was in your favour, you would still be killed. From what I could make out, the main current was pounding into a steep cliff. To me, the chances of your surviving were almost nil."

  "You were right," I say, feeling like I'm interrupting. He turns to look at me, nodding, glad that I've verified this long held suspicion of his. "I only made it by the skin of my teeth. It was just blind luck."

  "I knew it," he says, sounding frustrated that such blind luck should exist in the world, and looks back into the trees. He carries on speaking after my words seem to have sunk in.

  "So, anyway... we started looking for you. And I thought of it as a blessing, as a simple way for the crew to use their frustrated energy on something productive. And in the meantime, we were getting to know a bit about the landscape, developing some useful skills, and even discovering a few things about our ancestors - all of them, beneficial things. And that wasn't all; because for some reason, all of this combing the ground for clues and spending the evenings looking over the few maps we'd managed to find or had salvaged from the swim, and having these ordered discussions about where you might be, really managed to pull them together again. They had a mutual goal they were working toward, and that was enough for me. So I stopped worrying about it and just let them have their imaginary chase, knowing that eventually their enthusiasm would dwindle. I was sure that, once they'd spent more energy than it was worth, they would have to let their ideas of revenge go. Then, about a week ago, we came across one of your footprints.

  "And I just... I couldn't believe it. I couldn't believe my eyes! I was wrong the whole time. You were alive. You'd actually made it. And man! I wish I would've known that, because everything would have been different. I would have found something else, some way to point their energy in another direction.

  "And do you know what's crazy? In the last weeks leading up to that day, the crew were even beginning to settle down a bit, slowly becoming disinterested, distracted by other things. But when we found your tracks, everything changed. They'd become unreasonable, fixated on catching you. At first, they were just screaming and yelling, running around, jumping up and down, praising themselves; but they soon became serious, making spears, analyzing the maps, planning. The only thing they could talk about was you. You, and what they were going to do when they caught you.

  "I was quiet the night we found your footprint. In fact, I don't think I said anything. I could only think about what was going to happen, and if there was anything I could do to stop it. I went to sleep early and heard Knut begin one of his little whispering frenzies, and already by the morning, the group dynamics had changed. Everyone was watching me, just waiting for me to say something that would prove Knut's suspicions to be true. They were ready to pounce, Joshua. And only then did I realize that this 'harmless' thing that I'd let build and build, had grown into something completely explosive, something that could have been turned around on anyone, at anytime - even me.

  "So the only thing left to do was to surprise them by snatching a map and suggesting a few things that would improve the chances of finding you. I knew that any influence I had was slippery. I mean - I was still their leader, but Knut had managed to seriously undermine me with only a night of talking, and any open confrontation with him would've ended with them justifying what they'd already begun to think: that I really wanted to protect you, to stick up for you, just as I had done before.

  "No, there couldn't be a confrontation. So the only option left was to follow along and keep an eye on things from a distance. Which is what I've been doing for the past week, standing in the background, waiting for a chance to take control again. And obviously, with all of these new factors involved, and everything that we'd thought and planned changing into something new, today is the perfect opportunity to set things right.

  "I mean - this is the turning point of everything! It must be the most unique opportunity that anyone has ever had throughout history. Imagine it! Imagine the possibility of having a fresh start, to begin every single thing on the right foot. It's here, now, right in front of us. The crew are combing the valley as we speak. They're spread out, travelling alone, and they should only meet up for the first time just before they arrive here, which was my intention - to give them as little time to whisper as possible. And while they're gathering as much information as they can, I've made sure that they're unarmed. That way, if any of these people should see them, they won't appear to be much of a threat or a..."

  "What people?" I interrupt. But I already know it's useless. Apparently, Mikkel and the crew had backtracked after I was knocked unconscious. Which only made sense. They were far too thorough to let my self-defeating tactic of running toward them go uninvestigated.

  "The people in the next valley," he says, sounding a little confused, as if this was information that we'd already established earlier in the conversation, and he was wondering why I'd forgotten it. "The people who made the firepit that your tracks pass by and come back to - the ones who made the hunting camp you found." He raises his eyebrows waiting for a response. I don't give him one. "Well, the crew are gathering information about them." Mikkel stops, still watching me curiously. I feel like a child who's just been caught doing something he shouldn't, and when he begins to shake his head at me, in what seems like utter amazement, I look away.

  "I can't believe you," he says, sounding as amazed as he looked.

  "What can't you believe?" I mumble, defeated.

  "I can't believe that you spent all that time alone, and that you're still exactly like them, that you're still indoctrinated, still brainwashed with all that shit. I can't believe that you haven't figured out a single thing on your own."

  "As a matter of fact, you're wrong," I say, perking up a bit to defend myself. "You're completely wrong. I've learned a lot of things on my own. You'd be surprised."

  "Like what - that the Elders were right after all? Wow. Some epiphany."

  "No. And that's one of the things I've figured out; that the Elders weren't right. They were guilty of oversimplifying things - like we all do."

  "So... you've figured out that the Elders were wrong, yet, for some reason, you were hoping that we wouldn't find out about the people in the next valley? In fact, judging by your reaction right now, I wonder if you were trying to keep us from finding out. Which would explain why you were running in the wrong direction to start with. You were trying to lure us from the firepit."

  "I was."

  "Why?"

  "Because... well, first of all, you're putting words into my mouth. I don't think the Elders were wrong; actually, I think they were mostly right. They were wrong in the way that you and I are wrong, because they only saw one side of the story, and it was only th
at side we were shown. And that's the whole point: even the Elders - people who were dedicated to the truth - could still only see one side of it. Can you grasp how important that is? All of us as human beings, certainly myself included, are only capable of seeing one side of a story. It's like the crew with me, or you with the Elders, or one of the historical cultures with their 'enemies'. We don't see the world, Mikkel; we see a rendition of it that suits us.

  "And you know, I think when we look at animals we consider them to be fairly simple creatures, maybe even shake our heads at how primal they seem. They eat, sleep, reproduce, and live according to their instincts. And because we build roads and towers, we're confident that we're superior to them, better somehow. But what I've realized is that we aren't; we are exactly like them. In fact, we are those animals. The only difference between us is that they are living according to their instincts, and we are living according to our own individual illusions, which happen to conveniently hold that our instincts are always right. No, stop smiling and really think about it: the only difference between the 'foolish' animal world and us, is that we have the capacity to fool ourselves."

  "You know something? I was smiling because I don't think you heard what you just said. I mean - I couldn't have thrown away the Elders' argument better myself. You said that we were exactly like the other animals, and that, even though we think we're better, we're not. And I agree. But to me, the fact that we are the same makes us just as much a part of nature as they are. If what you say is true, then we have as much a right to live as any animal does. Nature, which we are a part of, automatically finds a balance between the things living inside it. So we should just let it find that balance, no?"

  "That sounds logical, but it isn't - only because we can't trust ourselves to see what is balanced. We will inevitably step recklessly outside of that 'natural harmony' that you speak of, and suddenly, miraculously, see it as balanced."