The Delirium of Negation

by Victor Mahn

  But that was not what had caused a pertinent uneasiness in Francois. It was the data content within the machine – particularly, a scrap of paper lodged within the printout trail, through which the printing head would etch out the data that is being deciphered. An ingenious contraption constructed by the Japanese, he thought. It is based on a concept like that of a typewriter, he repeated the statement outlined in the report. Snippets of information had been scribed on the recovered piece of paper—data such as wind speed at the flight altitude (which was apparently at twenty-nine thousand feet), the current compass direction against the direction of Mount Kinabalu, and one other piece of information which was most peculiar, and, if it had a shred of truth tied to it, could cause a catastrophe to the troops and the villages surrounding the area. The printout outlined the completion rate of an underground system of passageways, which stemmed at a staggering seventy-five percent. What could that possibly mean, he had asked the team. The response from them—Well, Sir, it looks like the Japs are building a cavity or tunnel system under the ground. Most likely with the help of the locals.

  Francois swallowed, his mouth dry as he reread the statement on the paper he had been carrying in the pocket of his pants. He made a quick link to another report, dated several months prior, that came in on the AM radio channels. The Japanese have transported a team of construction workers, mostly off the railway staffing at Cambodia and Malaya, that report had highlighted. They speculated the building of airstrips and hangars, and other structures bearing on aviation and the dropping of bombs. To their dismay, no such buildings were ever spotted since then. Well, it all makes sense now. Tunnels. Passageways. Underground. They could be under our very feet, and we hadn’t a clue!

  He reached the door of the Communications Broadcasting & Transmission Controls Room, a lonely hut-like structure which was built away from the other buildings of the camp. Well, time to alert the bosses…

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  The yapping from the dog tied to the pole outside had grown considerably loud now. For some reason, it was restless, and that did not sit well with Rinong. He’d been turning about on his mat for the past hour; heard his dog bark, growl, and now, yap away in the night. Something is amiss. Arisi never does this.

  His cousin had taken the dog out for a walk earlier, to get it to sniff out a lost suitcase belonging to one of the soldiers from the camp nearby. It has some sentimental value to its owner; his cousin had said. Man and dog were gone for a good two hours, before returning without success. Since then, Arisi had been restless. The dog even barked rather ferociously at the Hudoq mask that was mounted on the wall, next to Rinong’s family portrait - something it had never done before.

  His was a family of the most notorious of Dayak head-hunters. There are several clan segments that would rather not deal with them, citing that they are too savage in their methods of dealing with their enemies. They have been known to decapitate the head off a body, and with the splashed blood on their person, to walk with the dried bloodstain for days without thinking of cleaning it off or having a bath at the nearby river.

  That era is long gone, however. Now we do not carve heads or draw blood; we do not even want close-combats. The family, beginning with his father, had resorted to the crafting of booby traps, which they designed and constructed for a high-paying client; though payment, in these regions, was usually made in the presenting of an agreed number of cows. They had become experts in the art of masking explosives in ordinary-looking objects, and this was one of the few villages where gunpowder was heavily imported, in addition to woodwork-related tools, such as saws and files.

  But everyone who deals with booby traps knows that the main danger of such a contraption is not from the explosives, nor the damage that it could cause. As with the tripwire that is used to set off the trap, those are all just the apparatus used in a clever manner of ways to set off something which is far greater and more devious. The effect that is hoped to cause the greatest dimensions of damage is that within the mind –particularly when one had been conditioned to using a certain object in a certain way, and always in an absent-minded fashion, such as when someone turns the knob of a door, something which they would have done a thousand times prior. After the onset of a catastrophic explosion from a booby trap, that individual will not step near a door ever again. And that new normal way will be cascaded to the individual's blood-ties and friends – ultimately forming a system of conditioning that is punctilious in nature.

  Rinong got up cursing under his breath, put on his shirt, buttoned it up halfway, exposing his chest. It was the season of warmth now, and it had rained the night before, so he decided that it was quite fine to have some parts exposed. He thought of not going back to sleep after he had gone out to his dog, so he went to the nearby sink and splashed some water on his face. After drying himself with a towel hung nearby, he gazed at his wife, who was curled up on the floor right next to where he stood, covered by the blanket. Amazing that she could cover herself up even in this heat. I must see to it that she gets the sweetened cake that she had been asking for keenly for a week now.

  The door gave a soft groan as he pushed it open. The sound of the Arisi’s bark-yap was profound now, so he quickly shut the door. The brightness from the oil lantern just before the palisade (which made a barricade for wild beasts) was enough to show him where his dog was, and what it was agitated about. He approached it and noticed that it had grown troubled at the sandung of his father.

  The ossuary containing his father’s ashes and some bones had been standing erect for a decade now. It was repainted about a year ago, making the images of dragons and butterflies and the various human-like faces to stand out. The sandung was shaped like a miniature house, complete with roofs, doors and windows, and it stood on a pole. It was believed that the dead will take up residence at that house, which was spiritually constructed in the afterlife at the Kaharingan paradise. In most instances, a sandung was made to hold the remains of several dozen individuals. But Rinong had the need to create a sandung tunggal – a single ossuary – for the practice dictates that a person who had died an unnatural death would need to be put to rest alone. He looked at it. It was about seven feet high. The dog was growling at it.

  Rinong took a few steps toward his dog, attempted to place his palm on its head and to calm it down. But Arisi gave a sudden jump at him, with a bark of such wildness, that Rinong stepped back about a meter. “What is wrong, boy?” he asked, as genial as he could be at such a time of the morning. Though he was a farmer and rose about half-an-hour before sunrise each day, he was not pleased at having to awake any earlier than is necessary—a waste of effort, he’d say to anyone who questioned his view.

  The dog continued his growl, and started toward the pole holding the sandung, with the chain tied to its collar yanking it back. Now what is he upset about? He had never been aroused by the essence of my father… What could the blasted dog be jumpy about?

  After a sequence of jumping and growling, the dog gave a low yelp and fell onto all fours, placing its head on the ground as a sign of submission. Rinong stared at the sandung. Something inside it? He walked toward it, and it was at an elevation that was barely at the reach of his arms. He could only touch the bottom edge of the rectangular structure. The dog could be heard snarling behind him.

  Easy, boy. I would need to get a chair to climb on. He marched into the hall of his house (having opened the door carefully and without any sound) and came out with a chair that was least used in his household. He planted it gingerly beside the pole holding the ossuary, climbed onto the chair, and peered into the carved-out window of the house-like structure. There is something in here!

  With utmost caution, he pushed open the door of the miniature house, and looked within. There was the ornamental urn which held his father’s ashes, and the bone-pile at the far corner. And beside these two was something long and damp which seemed to have been placed fairly recent. It had a putrid scent, though why none of his famil
y, himself included, could not detect it, was a puzzle.

  He was dithering about reaching out and grabbing the undetermined object. He felt that whatever it was, it was definitely a blasphemous act to defile his father’s resting place in such a way. An abomination! Who would do such a thing?

  As if he had suddenly turned into an automaton, he stretched out his right arm and touched the thing with his index and centre fingers. It seemed to be covered in a hard fabric. And there was flesh underneath! He pulled away and studied the object with apprehension now. If it is an animal, it is certainly dead now. Maybe I should take it out? I can’t allow it to be there…

  Several moments of hesitation, then he sighed, and reached out to the object again. He thought it would be better to just tug it out as fast as he could, and to let go of it in mid-air so that it would fall to the ground. Yes, that is the way. But the opening of the sandung is not large enough for a sudden motion. Unless I do it carefully. Yes…

  His arm darted in and promptly gripped the object, and he nudged it out of there, and as he had planned, he let it drop onto the ground. Arisi gave a startling bark, one which Rinong was sure would have woken his wife up. He got down to ground level and noticed that the oil lantern was behind him now, casting his shadow onto the lengthy object. He kicked it around, away from his dog, and continued to gaze upon it. He gasped, and felt his chest burn with a radiating heat.

  Not only was the act of placing the object into the ossuary an outrage, but the object itself was a partial embodiment of all the horrible acts that man is capable of. He stumbled forward several steps toward it, still in a state of denial of it all. And of it having been in the same container as that of his father’s remains. And God knows for how long it had been there! Oh… oh my God… What a sick joke is this?!

  He shut his eyes and turned away, felt the sickness fill his stomach. He found his bearings, and now regarded his dog. It was the first to notice the object… but then again, canines are known to have a level of perception that is beyond that of man’s. But do they share man’s sense of morality? Of having limits to what they could and could not do? Of course, there is a question of doing something for the matter of survival. But doing something just for the sport of it? I know no such creature that could even think in that way…

  Arisi had his silent eyes on Rinong, pleading him to acknowledge the fact that it was he who had discovered it, that it was he who had the necessary senses and gait to dredge up the hidden from underneath a murky depth. He looked for appreciation and applause, but it received none from Rinong. He just stood there looking fixedly at Arisi, blinking rather oddly—a sign that he did not fully comprehend the meaning of it all.

  Rinong turned to face the object once again. It was just there, bare and shamefully splendid. He felt that this was the cost for his father’s sins, particularly in the trade of his choosing; in assisting people in causing harm to others. He knew that other clan members would view this to be the greatest of taboos, by the placing of the object as an act of defiling his father’s resting grounds. And this is something that will most likely happen to his grave when his time came. Perhaps there is some manner of divine intervention here…

  And for some peculiar reason that he could not fathom, he mouthed the words, as though saying it to his dog – “It is an arm of a man…”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Dawn will be upon us soon, Limbuang thought. He measured the time taken for them to traverse the jungle back to the village. They had placed the now-delirious soldier onto a bed in a hut next to the main hall of the village. Word spreads quickly in such a close-knit community—as it should, for there might be perils that would need to be countered quickly, and the women, children, the old and the invalid would be required to take flight as briskly as the news fanned out like wild bushfire.

  The leader insists on having a guard placed at the doors. He always is a careful one. But that will not save him… Alas! What an entanglement… this had taken shape through a complex string of events… and even my path is entwined in all of this…

  “They all look stoned,” Rinong pointed out to Ambiau, who nodded. “It would seem that you have had quite an ordeal yourself,” Ambiau countered. “Having to see that thing there… must have woken you up rather thoroughly, cousin.”

  Rinong snorted as he pressed his tired eyes. “We have buried the arm away at the corner of the village, near the common gravesites. I did not want it to be exposed; some boar or binturong might have a way with it if they saw it. No, that wouldn’t do, feeding animals the flesh of humans… that would be a repulsive act.”

  “You buried it? Why did you do that?” Ambiau exclaimed.

  “Well, what would you have done with it? Decorate your house?”

  “Cousin! You amaze me at times… with such foolishness. You mentioned that it was mysteriously placed in your father’s ossuary. Mysterious, as in that you do not yet know who put it there, or why. We should investigate it! This has gone beyond the point of being absurd, and if—”

  “Yes! It is absurd! It shook me rather badly, if you must know… Cousin, I just wanted it out of my sight. It was just too much, the entire ordeal of discovering it like that, and with some signs of maggots chewing at the open wounds of the arm… was just… too much…” Rinong appeared sombre.

  “All right, all right. I understand, though. It would have given me a start too.” Ambiau put a comforting arm on Rinong’s shoulder, pressed it down hard, so that he would know that his cousin was there for him should he need an avenue to relate such things. They were Dayak men, from the lines of hunters and warriors, and they had no room for fear or doubt. Rinong could not discuss such matters with his wife, Ambiau knew. Such was the fabric of their societal structure, and they would all pay a dear price for any breach of it.

  “Of course, Limbuang would want to—” Rinong started to say, then stopped, appearing to have been paralysed, as he stared at the solitary man who had just entered the hut to join the others. “Who is that?” he asked with a feeling of dire consternation. The day is getting weirder.

  “That man, the Indian? He is one of the soldiers from the camp yonder,” Ambiau answered. “He sweeps the ground for mines planted by the Japanese. Quite indispensable.”

  “He is missing an arm! And it appears to be of the same uniform! What… what trickery is this?” Rinong had raised his voice in utter disbelief. Ambiau looked at his cousin, then at Annand and the others. They had heard the commotion made by Rinong, and they were walking toward them. Limbuang stood up beside Magnus, alert and inquisitive as to the sudden cries. Ambiau and the others took a great deal of effort to subdue the animated fellow, and another party needed to create a barrier around Annand, who, most understandably, was at a loss. Hasn’t he seen someone lose a body part? Is that so uncommon, especially with the atrocities of the Japanese, even unto the tribespeople?

  When the uproar had died down, Limbuang held a meeting with Rickety, Annand, Ambiau and Rinong, with the intent of providing some form of counsel. They sat down on the floor at the adjacent room; sort of an anteroom of the Great Hall that they were in. He was certain that he would need to avoid any elements of desultoriness in the conversation amongst them. He felt that Annand would be the one among them who could spring from one subject matter to another, and often without an objective or purpose. With time being against them, Limbuang knew that he would need to make the discussion as brief as it could get.

  “Is the young one with the wounded?” Ambiau translated Limbuang’s words.

  “Yes, he is. I guess he is still confounded with all that has happened out there in the house that we’ve discovered,” Annand said, and he grew aware of the fact that this was a meeting in a somewhat formal setting, and that he had jumped the gun in replying a query that had been directed to the other soldiers—there was a superior officer in assembly with him, and it had been to him that the query was directed. Rickety, however, appeared reticent.

  “Very well. I have some tidin
gs which are of paramount importance. In fact, there are several facts that I would need to outline here before we get on to the details. And I must be sure that it happens before dawn, which is in about an hour. Yes, rather fast,” Ambiau said.

  “Alright, Limbuang. Say what’s on your mind,” Rickety said.

  “Do you intend heading back to your base once the one who fell is able to make the journey? It is not far back, however, about an hour’s walk?”

  “Yes. We intend to make our way back to our camp. At the very least, we have discovered a downed Japanese plane that has most probably not been captured by our intelligence team around Jesselton—we would need to report that,” Rickety said. Annand saw the direction that he was taking; he saw the sheer perceptiveness of Rickety, even under such a stressful situation. Especially under such a stressful situation! He knows that the Commander of the Forces in Borneo would hear of the misconduct of several officers of Camp-12, and that he might be facing a court-martial hearing in due course. But he has already devised a way out! Such cunning! To actually plot out a winding path around the fact that an unreported Japanese plane had crashed in their midst—he would say that he saw glimpses of it in the dark, was not certain of its hostility or intent, gathered a team and promptly made a way to find out… He’d make us repeat that story, too. There are some contrasting elements to it, though. But he’d figure out a way…

  “Good. You ought to leave here as soon as he’s able,” Limbuang repeated. Rinong looked out of the window, toward his dog, which was still tied next to the ossuary. He could see his wife seated on the front porch of their home, too, and she had a red sarong on, customarily worn up to her chest. She had been kicking the space in front of her rather vigorously.