On The Run

by J. M. Parker

*

  They left an hour or so later, the group deciding that they needed a change of scenery. They detached the boats and headed back up the river, taking turns paddling as they battled the steady current.

  Bannon lay in the hull, resting from a shift. He looked up at the trees, studying each leaf in turn and marveling at the patterns of veins on their surfaces. He watched as a breeze blew through the branches and he thought suddenly of Alina, the ayahuasca and the color running from the leaves. He sat up and gazed toward her, sweat shone on her chest and he saw the muscles in her arm tense as she lifted the oar from the water. “You know, I’ve been thinking about your theory.” said Bannon.

  “My theory?”

  “Yeah. All that pursuit of the most intense feeling stuff.”

  Alina dipped the oars into the water and pushed. “And?”

  “Just wondered where you came up with something like that?”

  Alina signaled for Henrik to take the oars and Bannon felt a definite excitement as she lay down beside him. “When I was a nurse.”

  “Alright?” said Bannon.

  “I had a pretty rough time coping with it all, even after I quit. There were just some patients I couldn’t forget.”

  “I could imagine that,” said Bannon. “Spent a bit of time in hospitals myself.”

  “I started self-medicating. Alcohol first. Then painkillers, anything I could get my hands on. I’d gotten so tired of feeling sad, I’d just rather not feel anything at all. You see all those people, connected to the drip, morphine, tramadol, bolus shots, you see everything go out of them, not just the pain but the memory of it, too. That’s what I wanted.”

  “Did it work?”

  “Sort of,” she said. “It went on for almost a year. Just numb to everything, fogging all those painful memories.”

  “But you broke the habit?” said Bannon. “At least, you don’t look like an addict.”

  “Yes.”

  “How?”

  “By accident really. I’d paid a dealer for another script, Vicodin I think, but it must have been a bad script, maybe something else completely. I had these unbelievable hallucinations, almost as vivid as the ayahuasca, and, for the first time in a long time I felt blissfully happy.”

  “So you just quit?”

  “It wasn’t easy to break the habit, I had built a serious dependency, but I started searching out other things, too. Stimulants and hallucinogens mainly.”

  “And you’re not worried about just trading one habit for another.”

  Alina smiled. “In a way maybe that’s what I did. But I am better than I used to be. I have a better balance now. The things I take, the things I am looking to take, they make me happy, not just numb. They have given me something to search out and experiences that I cherish. When I think back on how I used to be I am disgusted with myself, for blocking out all that feeling, for getting so numb to everything. It used to be a question of necessity, take a substance to cope with an experience, now it is a question of choice, take a substance to enhance an experience.”

  “So now you’re making up for lost time?”

  “Exactly,” said Alina, propping herself up on an elbow and looking directly at Bannon. “Do you understand that?”

  “I guess so.”

  “Both ways?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean has there ever been anything you wanted to forget about completely and, if you couldn’t, how did you find your peace with it? How did you get past it?”

  Bannon paused, staring back into her light blue eyes, about to answer when he heard voices in the other boat. “You think those shrooms are bad,” said George, “you should see these other things.”

  “What things?” said Henrik.

  “These crazy party treats. It comes in a fake candy wrapper and god it’s a fucker.”

  “What did you say?” said Bannon

  “Eh?”

  “About the candy wrappers?”

  George started to speak when Lana screamed.

  “What’s the matter?” said Henrik.

  “Her trip’s turned, “said George. “You did it, too. All your antics with the snake.”

  Bannon watched as one of the Tasmans turned to Lana, struggling to focus as the mushrooms kicked in again and he felt a little light-headed. “You said something about candy and drugs.”

  George was about to answer when Lana screamed again. “No more talk of drugs, it’s driving me crazy.”

  “I just wanted to know…” said Bannon, stopping as he felt Alina’s hand press against his shoulder.

  “Let it be,” said Alina. “No need to worry her.”

  Bannon felt a sudden panic as he remembered the scene outside the opium den, the Frenchman tossing his candy-wrapped squares to the starving little boys. He tried to speak again but he felt Alina grip his arm a little harder.

  “Please,” he said, “I have to ask him something.”

  Alina ran her hand along his face. “Anything she overhears will only make her worse.”

  Bannon looked back at Alina, trying to find the words as his high strengthened again. He collapsed into the hull of the boat, his anxiety continuing to grow as the world began to distort around him.

  “Thanks,” she said.

  “Don’t mention it,” said Bannon, watching as the sun sank behind the clouds and he saw the familiar face of the Frenchman flash across the fiery orange sky.

  9

  They all stood in Bannon’s guesthouse room, watching as he removed an eighth of weed and began rolling it into joints. “I think this should help you sleep,” he said.

  They passed over a handful of bills and began to file out of the room. At the door Henrik turned to Alina, who remained sitting on the corner of the bed, staring at the weed in the duffel bag. “You coming?” said Henrik.

  “No,” she said, and Bannon felt a pulse of energy course through his tired body. “It is so far to my place, I might stay here for a while.”

  “Okay. Goodnight,” said Henrik, closing the door behind him.

  Bannon eased over to the corner of the bed. “Hell of a day.”

  “Don’t get any ideas.”

  Bannon laughed as he lit a joint. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

  Alina rose and walked out to the balcony, staring off at the dark outline of the jungle in the distance. She beckoned for Bannon to join her. “Where did you get a block of weed like that?”

  “Nowhere in particular.”

  “Fine, don’t tell me.”

  “Alright.”

  Alina smiled. “And where do you go from here?”

  Bannon didn’t answer. He took another drag on the joint and wished she’d let the subject drop.

  “You’re going further north, aren’t you?”

  “And you’d like to come with me, help search out these plants of yours.”

  “And you won’t?”

  Bannon lay his forearms against the rusty railing of the balcony and leaned against it. “It’s not that I don’t want to.”

  “Then what?”

  “I have to meet someone.”

  “A woman?”

  “No, nothing like that. There’s just something I have to do and I’d probably be better off not dragging you into it.”

  His skin tingled as Alina rubbed a hand along his back. “You’re not in trouble, are you?”

  “I’m alright,” said Bannon, a little flattered by her worry. “It’s just one thing.”

  “When do you leave?”

  “A couple of weeks.”

  “You are in no rush?”

  “Guess not.”

  “Then, maybe we could go that way together?”

  Bannon rose and her hand slipped from his back. “Like I said, I’d…”

  “Yes, yes,” said Alina, glancing at the duffel bag. “You do not want to get me involved. But I liked our day together and we are going the same way.”

  Bannon started to speak but Alina cut him off again, her fingers brushing
against his hand as she reached over and took the joint. “I will leave when I have to. Until then, why make your journey lonely when it doesn’t have to be?”

  Bannon sighed as he looked at the girl. Her skin had darkened in the sun and her freckles showed a little more strongly on her cheeks. Her lips curled into a smile and Bannon smiled back. “Fine,” he said. “So long as you leave before the meet.”

  *

  He entered the room with a bag of fresh fruit and some juice. Steam fanned out from beneath the door of the bathroom and he felt a little hot as he imagined Alina standing beneath the showerhead.

  He dragged the nightstand to the foot of the bed and placed the fruit on top of it, waiting patiently before Alina emerged from the bathroom, a towel wrapped around her and barely covering enough. She smiled as she saw the fruit. “You sweetheart,” she said.

  “No problem, never sleep well after eating those things.”

  Alina stepped over to the futon, reached under the sheet, and removed a pair of bikini bottoms. “Turn around,” she said.

  Bannon obliged, listening as the towel hit the floor and Alina rummaged around in her makeshift bed. “Okay, ready,” said Alina, her supple figure back in jean shorts and a bikini top.

  They ate breakfast and Bannon felt fresher with every bite of fruit. “I reckon I’m gonna put my body into shock,” he said. “Been a while since I done some good by it.”

  Alina laughed, “Yes, I feel it already. Complete and utter shock.”

  *

  From the guesthouse they wandered to Alina’s, Bannon waiting in the lobby as she disappeared upstairs to pack. A short while later and they were back in the street. “Seems extra hot today, doesn’t it?” said Alina.

  “Yeah,” said Bannon, watching as the sweat shone on her skin. “You want to wait a day?”

  “No. We are full of fruit, we can take it.”

  They labored along the road, the heat sapping at their energy and stifling the conversation. Bannon shifted the straps of the duffel bag as they dug uncomfortably into his skin. “You sure you don’t want to take a bus?”

  “No,” said Alina. “The smell in those things, packed in like sardines. You would rather be outside.”

  “I’ll have to take your word for it,” said Bannon, watching as a battered sedan stopped by the side of the road. He hurried over to it, regretting the decision as he felt himself go dizzy in the sun. A window rolled down and an old Thai man peered out at him. “Where you go?” said the man.

  “Anywhere north. Nowhere in particular.”

  “What?” said the man, staring at Bannon, who smiled and pointed up the road. The man nodded. “Okay, okay,” he said, gesturing for them to get in.

  Bannon opened the passenger door and rust fell from it in tiny flakes. “Thanks.”

  In the back a lady slept with her face pressed flat against the window. Damp bandages were wrapped around her wrists and knees. Next to her two boys squashed together to make room for Alina, staring fascinatedly at her blonde hair.

  At Bannon’s feet lay a pile of discarded fruit rinds and the whole car smelled of orange zest. The driver stomped on the accelerator and they edged along the road, a black smog seeping from the tailpipe and fogging the view behind. One of the young boys leaned across to Alina and offered a bottle of water. “You sure?” said Alina, seeming to spot the meager portion of water remaining. The boy nodded his head and smiled, his new teeth just poking from his gums. “Thanks,” said Alina, uncapping the bottle and taking the tiniest of sips before she passed it back to the boy.

  The man pressed a hand against his chest. “Chai Son,” he said.

  “Bannon.”

  “Where you from?”

  “America, Chicago.”

  The man let out a long gasp. “Chicago, Michael Jordan.”

  “Yeah.”

  “You see, you see.”

  “One time,” said Bannon, “packed house.”

  “What?”

  Bannon held out his arms. “Many people. Big crowd.”

  The man gasped again and he pointed at his chest. “America, very good. Sell many fish, go America.”

  “I dunno, man. Thailand, it’s alright too,” said Bannon, looking into the rearview mirror and smiling as he saw Alina bouncing the smaller boy on her knee.

  *

  The brakes screeched as they stopped for gas. The lady stirred and moved uncomfortably in her seat. The nearest boy grabbed her arm, waiting while the other one scurried around to the door. Together they helped the lady, her bones clicking as they moved her into the sun. When she cleared the car Chai Son draped her arm around him and carried on to the restrooms.

  Bannon slipped the attendant some money for the gas and then bought a six-pack of beers from an adjacent store. He sat drinking in the shade of the station, watching as Alina chased the boys around the pumps. Chai Son wandered over and passed him an ice cream. “Thanks,” said Bannon, offering the man a beer. “Your wife okay?”

  Chai Son pointed back to the car where his wife slept against the window again.

  “What’s the problem?” said Bannon.

  Chai Son paused, repeating Bannon’s words as he tried to understand the question. “Bones,” he said, “bad bones.”

  “Look, if we’re any trouble, you brought us far enough.”

  The man shook his head, bowing gracefully and retreating to the car. “No, no,” said the man. “Only one more hour.”

  “Alright.”

  The car headed on for two more hours before it turned off into a small town, a broad lake glistening beyond the rooftops. They stopped outside a small, ramshackle house, a wooden fishing boat propped against the front of it. The man looked over to Bannon and gestured at the house. “You need place?”

  “It’s alright,” said Bannon. “You helped enough today.”

  The man looked back, not seeming to understand. “It late, you need place?”

  Bannon looked over his shoulder to the lady and found her staring in his direction, a smile breaking her normally pained expression as she nodded her approval.

  “Be nice change,” said Chai Son.

  “Alright,” said Bannon, now glancing at Alina who smiled and nodded. “Just one night.”

  “Yes?”

  Bannon held up a finger. “Yes, one night.”

  The man smiled and he hopped from the car, directing his sons to get the bags. Bannon waved them off, picking up the duffel bag and slinging it across his shoulder as they started toward the house, Chai Son once again guiding his wife across the ground.

  Bannon followed the group inside, passing into a tiny living room where a pair of moth-eaten couches filled most of the space. The man barked instructions to the boys and they scurried off into a nearby room, returning with armfuls of bedding which they set in neat piles in front of the couches. The man pointed back at the room. “You room.”

  “We couldn’t,” said Alina, looking over at the boys as they stood beside their bedding. “That’s their room.”

  “One night, one night,” said the man, “you room.”

  Alina nodded begrudgingly and Bannon followed suit, heading into the room where a little pair of bunk beds stood against the far wall. He took the duffel bag and jammed it under the bed, pushing it back as far it would go and checking to make sure it could not be seen. Chai Son hurried in behind them carrying a large candle. “For the bugs,” he said, setting it by the window before he bowed and stepped back out of the room.

  Alina smiled as he went, “He’s adorable, isn’t he?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Do you have a lighter?”

  Bannon reached into his pocket and tried his lighter. Sparks flew from the top but he couldn’t start a flame. “It’s done,” he said, tossing the thing to the side and reaching for his backpack.

  He removed the framed photograph of his father and set it carefully by the bed. “Is that your father?” said Alina.

  “How’d you know?”

  “He loo
ks like you.”

  Bannon unzipped the top pocket of his backpack and found the box of matches. He looked at the silhouette of the woman on the box and read the pink letters above. “Moonshine Dive,” he said, remembering the first time he ever met the Frenchman, standing outside the Phuket bar, the storm dying, the two of them smoking the last of his joints when the Frenchman tossed him these matches.

  “How often do you see your father?” said Alina.

  Bannon drew a matchstick from the box and passed it across. “Found some matches.”

  “Good,” said Alina, turning away from the photograph and lighting the candle.

  Bannon looked once more at the box of matches before he slipped them back into his backpack and hopped into the bottom bunk. A thin trickle of smoke rose from the candle and Bannon leaned back into the bed, his legs dangling from the end of it. He smiled as he heard Alina sink into the mattress above him. “Well, ain’t this something,” he said, letting his eyes close as he relaxed in the cool of the room.

  *

  They ate dinner on the floor of the living room, stooped over plates of rice and fish. Chai Son had rummaged through the cupboards and found a dusty bottle of whiskey. “Jack Daniels,” said the man. “Good whiskey.”

  “Sure is,” said Bannon, drinking happily while the youngest of the boys stretched out on the ground, his head in Alina’s lap.

  He spent the rest of dinner answering various questions about home. Chai Son sat opposite, translating as much as he could for his boys. He told them about his father’s auto repair shop and the fanciest cars that they had fixed. He told them about his favorite dives and the first time he ever saw a whale in the water. “A Bryde’s whale as big as this house. And the size of its mouth,” said Bannon, stretching his mouth as wide as he could and sending the boys into fits of laughter. He glanced quickly at Alina and smiled as he saw her laughing too.

  “So you’re a real professional,” said Alina.

  “Well, I had a lot of practice,” said Bannon. “Course it wasn’t always that way. I was pretty reckless when I started out. I remember diving a kelp forest with my dad. Huge trees of the stuff, just swaying in the water. I thought it’d be fun to squeeze between a pair of trunks and I got myself stuck. The more I struggled the more tangled I got. Took my dad about twenty minutes to cut me out. I can’t remember ever seeing him so mad.”