The Delirium of Negation

by Victor Mahn

  “I don’t know, Annand. It is a calling for me, something is calling out to me to do this. And I would need your expertise in navigating into the jungle. Not so far in, anyway; just within a mile from this camp. I know that we will not need to go far,” Rickety took on the drive.

  “Within a mile, Sir? That close?” Annand’s eyes narrowed to a questioning set.

  “Within a mile. Whoever dropped the baby on our camp’s doorsteps would not have travelled far, in the darkness of the jungle with the frequent rains that are hellishly cold. Especially before sunrise. Does it make sense to you, Annand? To walk out into the rain in the darkness with your dead newborn?” Rickety had poised to return the questioning look. Now let it sink into him, let him run these questions in his mind and seek out the rationale behind them. It must be true—within a mile.

  Annand cast his look downwards to the sandy ground. The truck trails were deeply set in this section of the camp, for the ground was concaved here, churning forth a puddle of mud right where they were standing. And they were near the entrance/exit of the camp. Just about where the baby had been found that morning. Baby. Bundle. Baby. Damn it, make up your mind!

  All of them, in a synchronous manner, heard some rustling of dried leaves some feet away. Since they were all feeling quite tense, getting into a jumpy state at the sound was not surprising. But their worries were soon allayed with the approach of a familiar figure: Private Dennis Wallstabber, from the rural county of Sussex, England. Even in the semi-darkness, the others could spot the uneven stubble at his chin. He also seemed to have his slouch hat on, fastened with a chinstrap that had begun displaying signs of excessive use.

  “Aye, wa’ddya ‘ave here?!” Magnus let out a clamour in the direction of the advancing Dennis; the fully-attired military man. “Who invited you to the party?”

  “A word of caution, friends,” Dennis said as he was measuring the comportment at the dilapidated Mercedes cargo truck. “Seems that you are planning on a night patrol. At the rate the Japs are turning up at the villages and dwellings – yes, dwellings, I know that I learnt that word from you only a few days ago, Maggie – you’d most likely be smelt out before you were seen.”

  “Yeah? You da expert in military quietness, eh, chum?” Magnus cast dark eyes on Dennis. The darkness seemed to deepen, and Rickety thought he must ease the mounting tension. He might as well disguise the seriousness of the matter at hand, with the Japanese squadron above and the ground forces below who were most likely staring into their camp right now. A light gale swept by, which he took as a sign to start talking.

  “You know something, Private?”

  Dennis turned to face Rickety, said, “Well, one of the local boys, Eshmail, who drops by every now and then to listen to the BBC, said that you guys,” he swept his gaze across all of them, “saw something that would have sent the Devil crying in dread. Happened this afternoon, I am told.”

  “Sshhh!! Not a word to the others on this, Den Ace, or it will be my boot in your jaw,” Magnus was quick to say, with which Rickety concurred - who would believe them, anyway? But with the murdered baby…

  Dennis rubbed his chin, seemed to have expected this sort of response from Magnus—especially from Magnus, the Gunnerman. “Yeah. Nice. Whatever. All I am saying is, you guys only know half the story. There’s another half that you are not aware of, yet.”

  “What’s that, Dennis? What half we do not yet know?” Rickety asked, his interest up.

  “The boy saw it, the thing that made the sound. Or scream, whatever. He saw the source of it; it was a creature.”

  “A creature? As in an animal?” It was Annand who asked, absorbed into the conversation now.

  “No, Sir. Not animal. Nor man, nor a Jap. ’twas something that we have heard the Irish call a bodach.”

  “A what?” Magnus scowled.

  “A bodach. A spirit, ghost.”

  “Ghostie eh?”

  “And that’s not all. There were two of them.”

  “Not one, but two, that it, boy?” Magnus seemed to enjoy this a little.

  “Yes, Chief. The boy seen both, the big ’un was what you heard, but there was what he described as a female version of it, running away from the first, as though even she was afraid of the first. A ghost afraid of another ghost! A curious thing, really, when you think of it.” Dennis said.

  “And where were ya, lad? Peeing ya pants at the corner of the ladies’ latrine, eh?” Magnus was now shaking with laughter. Annand let out a chuckle too, but not Rickety—he was staring squarely at Dennis.

  “What did Eshmail say exactly, Dennis?” Rickety sounded thoughtful. “I want it exactly.”

  “Well…” Dennis squinted his eyes, his head on the side, the tell-tale signs of recollection of sounds or auditory memories, something which Rickety picked up in his NLP classes; it was also proof that Dennis was not creating this memory falsely. “He said that the female spirit was gliding away from the first at a tremendous speed. It had its mouth open, flung downwards as wide as possible, as though about to scream, but no scream. Maybe she did scream, but got drowned in the racket that the bigger one was creating?”

  For the duration of the conversation, Limbuang had been silent, observing, studying, determining, under the cover of darkness, and under the huge tamarind tree in which they heard the terrifying sound that afternoon. But it was safe now, he had his reasons to believe that. It is safe here, under the very tree that spirit was floating about. It has left now, but I feel the kernel of its being.

  Limbuang saw the men from the spot where he had stationed himself since the afternoon. The weather was not as forbidding as it had been the past several weeks, and so he could walk easily about the place, making sense of it all, spiritually. The men started walking toward him now, though still oblivious to him being there. It was the youngest one who was jarred by his presence under the fate-filled tree.

  “Whoa! What?!” Dennis exclaimed, white with panic.

  “Ha! Quite a sight indeed!” Magnus was next.

  “Limbuang, what are you doing here?” Rickety asked.

  As if he could comprehend the words, Limbuang answered by pointing to his chest then pointed to all of them standing opposite to him. I would like to follow you lot.

  “What? No way, man! We can’t have a civilian on a recon exercise!” Magnus said, a cunning look on his face as he locked eyes with Rickety.

  “I am pretty sure he knows what we are up to, Maggie,” Rickety responded as he looked back toward Limbuang. “Maybe he could halve the time for us.”

  A long pause, then, “Maybe, maybe,” Magnus shrugged, “Maybe he will carelessly step on a mine and transport us all to the afterlife.”

  “Enough talk about death, huh, Maggie?” Rickety’s eyes glared with intensity. He meant what he just stated, that he had had enough talk about dying in this jungle.

  “Man, whatever.” Magnus looked away, unsure of the situation. “Dah more dah merrier, I suppose.”

  Annand-Sri spoke after several minutes of them continuing their unsanctioned nocturnal campaign, with Camp 12 about three hundred metres behind them. “I see something up there,” he pointed to the right toward some low bushes. He then made the hand signal for them to stop moving. Some moments passed before anyone knew what to do next, but they all held their weapons at the ready.

  “Where, Annand?” Dennis asked, as softly as he could manage.

  “There, Sir,” Annand mouthed the words, did not dare utter them.

  Then they saw it: a piece of white fabric swaying in the distance.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  The Emperor Meiji had originally been given a different name: Mutsuhito. His Imperial Majesty had reigned as the 122nd Emperor of Japan—a monarchy founded in 660 BC. Being the oldest continuing monarchy in the world, it has origins which are tied to heroic fables. The lineage of emperors has been thought to be directly descended from the sun goddess, Amarestu-ōmikami. Though the first fifteen emperors were proclaimed to be legends
, with few factual details known about them, every monarch of the Imperial House of Japan sits on the Chrysanthemum Throne at Kyoto.

  Meiji’s father, Emperor Kōmei, was the last of the royal lines to be under the Tokugawa Shogunate—the last feudal military system in the islands of Japan, the focal point being Edo, the former name for Tokyo. This shogunate commenced in the year 1600 and ended with the death of Kōmei. Meiji was the driving force in opening the doors of Japan to world trade, particularly with the West, revolutionising Japan from a feudalistic state to one of capitalism during his reign.

  The Emperor Meiji was a true visionary. Though he ascended the throne during his teenage years, he already held a firm concept in his mind of the direction that his nation and people should take. Amongst other radical changes he saw fit to make – the abolishment of the order of the Samurai and the introduction of prefectures, replacing that of the Han system of land owned by renowned warrior families – he espoused the Rising Sun flag as the war flag of the Imperial Japanese Army.

  The flag outlines Japan as the ‘Land of the Rising Sun’, represented by a red circle slightly off-set in the centre of a white background, with its sixteen rays. The entire schema brings forth the notion of the sun, and the empire’s (and the Emperor’s) connection to it.

  On another front, it portrayed Japan’s march toward realms of material and worldly gains, and its aim to become a superpower of the seas surrounding it. Several major wars had been declared, engaged, and won by the Imperial Japanese Army under the Meiji reign. And it forged Japan, akin to a blacksmith moulding a Kitana, to a sovereignty of brains, brawn, and thew.

  The flag is noticeable on all military vehicles: ships, tanks and aircrafts. The Allied were not alien to the image, as every soldier who had encountered a Japanese military vehicle or soldier was bound to have seen it; at the very least, as an insignia as part of the Japanese military uniform. The same discernment was now taking place with Rickety and his loyal lot.

  “Maggie, what do you make of it?” Rickety asked, as they stood inert upon the grass path, peering at the white cloth on the bushes about three yards away, the darkness looming all around them. We all now depend on your eyesight, chief…

  “Nothing out of the ordinary, man, just a piece of cloth. A huge one, rolled at one end and the other end, held out loosely and dancing to the wind,” Magnus said as he continued to regard the object with interest. “Seems safe to approach it, Sinnerman.”

  “Hmm…” Rickety exhaled slowly. Annand seemed to be apprehensive still. Limbuang – indifferent to the situation. Rickety wondered if the local tribesmen only felt danger when it was supernatural in form; perhaps they got off on it? What were the tell-tale signs of supernatural phenomena with these people? Obviously, they had different aspects of it than the other cultures; it is way different from Christianity, for instance.

  “Let us check it out, then,” Rickety said, and started toward it. He sighed as he approached and held it out for the others to see. “It is the Japs’ flag,” he said. “Trapped in the shrubbery.”

  “Odd place for it to be hanging out, eh?” Maggie’s remark hit a point worth contemplating. What was a Japanese flag doing here? Unless there had been a patrol ranging over this terrain a while ago? The flag seems faded, and torn, with holes in it. Unless they had been using an old, worn-out flag—perhaps that was all that was left?

  Annand started “Hey! There’s a familiar smell. Burning fuel!” He paused, then, “Could be a landmine about to give off, did anyone hear a click when they put their foot down just now?”

  This raised the tension in the atmosphere about them. Several minutes passed, the only movement amongst them was Annand trying to get a sense of direction from the whiff that only he seemed to be aware of. He dispelled their nerves by stating, “No, it is not any mine. There are two types of burning fumes that I pick up. First being burning fuel, the second seems to be electrical instrumentation.”

  “I see that the wind direction hasn’t changed since we stopped here, Sergeant.” Dennis said, looking at the obscure trees in the distance, though the branches and leaves were visible. Only then did they perceive that they were at the edge of a clearing, facing an open field of low grass, about several hundred yards wide. Beyond that, it was banded with trees again.

  “True, Sir. The wind is steady.” Coolness returned to Annand and the others. “It seems to be a burning vehicle.”

  “I see it, man. Over there, thin layers of smoke. White smoke,” Magnus said, proud of the fact that his eyesight was of enormous assistance to the party and their investigation. He did not care to point, instead began walking to the source of the smoke. “Well, might as well have a look-see!”

  After walking several yards, they could all see the thin pillar of smoke. It was emanating from behind a low mound that partially concealed the tail of a Japanese fighter aircraft. The remainder of it was prodding outward. Dennis quickened his pace now, eager to assess the scene and provide his analysis. Rickety felt that perhaps he felt that he was the only member of the party who had yet to offer anything of value tonight.

  “Damn, lad, you are gifted indeed! You may not have an arm, but your sense of smell is twice that of all of us! It is a damned Zero,” Magnus said.

  “No, Maggie, it is not a Zero. Its wings are not as long. Must be from another manufacturer.” Dennis presented his valuable assessment. “And the canopy is open, no pilot!”

  “Damn…” Magnus turned around quickly, poised for a sudden attack from a screaming Japanese fighter jock. “But the impact would have smashed his head in! How could he have survived? He must be lying dead here somewhere. No one could be alive after a crash such as this.” Annand tightened his left sleeve, for the wind had picked up speed, and raised the chill that it gathered along with it.

  Limbuang had been standing on the mound, looking downward at the others who had begun investigating the aircraft. They appeared like ants scurrying around a cube of sugar, fascinated at its presence, yet unsure of what to do with it. Though he was more than eighty years of age, his stature and senses were still working well. A thought came to him then: Perhaps this is my purpose, to look at this beyond the senses. And to show these people something within them that they have not even known to have existed. Especially the leader of them, the medicine man. He is to fall the hardest.

  The brightness increased about the field; the waning gibbous had seen it fit to confer its effulgence on the scene of survey. Rickety and Magnus looked skyward, acknowledged that the clouds had moved away, and that there were none left about the moon. Rickety estimated that they might have another half-hour of unrestricted moonlight.

  “Annand, Dennis. Turn the lantern off for now. We have matches, yes?” Rickety asked. “Very good, turn it off. We need to conserve whatever form of energy we carry with us.” The two of them obeyed. They looked back at the crash-site, at Magnus who had been scrutinising the scene with his keen eyesight. Everyone at Camp-12 knew that he had an uncanny knack for recording as much data as he could, something that is parallel to Rickety’s manner of keeping patient and drug records as methodical as possible. Especially information on known allergies and poisons in food.

  An unexpected humming was apparent, issuing from whence they had stood motionless earlier. It had a low decibel count, and they could barely hear it. At first. Several seconds passed, then everyone in the party heard it, and they stopped in their tracks. The sound increased, but it seemed to be coming from the height of the trees. And it presented the suspicion that it might be the buzzing of a swarm of insects, for most of them are active at night and are drawn to the light of the moon.

  The buzzing continued; grew louder. It seemed to be approaching the site of the crash. Whatever it is, we can see it with clarity now, thanks to the moonlight. And perhaps it is something that’s got to do with the Japs. They might have some weird experimentation going on, at such ungodly hours. Rickety motioned the others to be silent.

  Limbuang, at the top of t
he mound, stiffened. “Jangan pandang!” he exclaimed, then made some gestures with his right hand, first pointing to his eyes then firmly closing them. He did this twice more, while hopping and waving to them so that they all saw him. It was a rather obscure signal, but the intention was made clear: he means us not to see it, Rickety gathered.

  But it was too late; the sound was now a hundred metres or so away. Thence it came, flying though in a straight flightpath, but it weaved sideways erratically. It was a ball of red flame, about a foot wide, and was churning forth fulgurations of orange corona-like sparks. And the buzzing, or humming — they could not be sure what to call it – was really a low, convulsing laugh, feminine-like. The ball of light soared at a tremendous speed across and beyond them, and was soon out of their sight, far behind the line of trees at the horizon.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Ambiau joined the party, after they had him called for, once they retraced their steps back to the village where the two tribesmen had been temporarily residing. He had been welcomed to rest and enjoy a repast provided by his hosts, who happened to be his paternal cousin (an important relation amongst the Dayaks). He believed it was wise to have the cousin’s hunting dog learn whatever it could from the cloth that they found wrapped around the infant. The dog had been tied to a rusting metal pole in the shroud of darkness next to a mango tree at the fringe of the village – which the locals call Kimolohing – and it was seen to jump enthusiastically at the approaching group led by Rickety.

  Riverine village systems were predominant on the island of Borneo, and one could quite easily understand the need for fresh running water. Life depended on it, as the saying goes. Seasonal flooding was a norm. This is why the villagers had houses built on tall, narrow stilts, which would raise the house to about a metre off the ground. The art of keeping the house as levelled as possible, one metre up, is something that the Dayak tribesmen had been doing successfully for centuries now.