by Dan Smith
‘Why?’
‘Because that’s the sort of person he is. Just don’t show him your back.’
The old man nodded and moved away as I swung my other leg over and dropped off the side of the boat with a splash.
The water was warm and I was a good swimmer but there was something about being in the river that prickled at the back of my mind. Something that wondered what was down there in the darkness.
Countless creatures glided through that water; a thousand things that could kill a man in the most terrible ways, and once I was submerged, I was at their mercy. I would be blind, swimming with my eyes closed against the silt that swirled in dense clouds through the waters. If anything were there, I wouldn’t see it. If anything came for me, I would be unprepared. It would snatch me away and drag me into the darkness.
With those terrible thoughts in my head, I took a deep breath and went under.
16
Feeling along the rough underside of the boat, I tried to find the propeller while keeping track of the hull above me. It was disorientating in the darkness, and even though I tried to keep my eyes closed, the silt-laden water found a way in and felt grainy under my eyelids.
Something brushed past my cheek and I fought hard not to panic. It was nothing more than a fish, I told myself, or a twig caught in the current. I focused on the task and continued feeling around the hull until my lungs began to burn and I turned to kick for the surface, breaking out and taking a deep breath.
‘Anything?’ I heard the old man say and I looked up to see his face peering over the gunwale.
I held onto one of the tyres hanging from the Deus and wiped the water from my eyes. ‘If there’s something, I’ll find it,’ I told him. ‘Don’t keep asking. And don’t keep turning away from him. Watch him, not me.’
‘Don’t worry about him, he’s fishing.’
‘Fishing? I don’t want any hooks down here.’
‘No,’ the old man said. ‘Not anywhere near here.’
I shook my head at him and moved a little further along, then took another deep breath and dived.
Slipping under the hull, scraping my scalp as I felt for the prop shaft, my fingers touched something unexpected.
A smooth object.
My immediate reaction was to pull away, to get away from whatever it was, but I hardened my resolve and forced myself to continue.
I couldn’t tell what it was and I traced its outline, not wanting to touch it, not wanting to be down there in the darkness, and I was surprised by a sudden movement when it jerked in my hands.
An abrupt spasm that startled me, making my chest hitch, bringing water in through my nose.
The water irritated my nostrils and my involuntary action was to cough, expelling my breath and sucking water into my mouth.
Fear welled inside me as my body reacted and my mind raced. All thoughts of anything other than death and survival were now gone. I pushed up against the hull, banging my head, swimming and dragging myself along the underside of the boat, following it round until I kicked up to the surface and broke out into the fresh air, coughing and retching.
I grabbed the tyres that ringed the Deus and pulled myself out of the water. Panic still raged in my blood, and I scrambled further up the tyres, dragging my legs and feet from the water, not knowing what was below; what it was that had moved beneath my touch.
‘What’s going on?’ Raul was looking down at me again. ‘You all right?’ Rocky was beside him, with her front paws on the gunwale, barking as if she didn’t recognise me.
Raul hushed her while I waited for the coughing to subside. ‘There’s something down there,’ I said once I had started to recover.
‘Caught in the propeller?’
‘Yeah. Could be.’ And now that he said it, I knew it must be so. Something was jammed in the propeller – something living. Or, rather, something dying.
‘You tell what it is?’
I took a moment to think about what I had felt. ‘A fish maybe. Big. Christ, it scared the shit out of me.’
‘Can you get it out?’
‘Maybe.’ I didn’t like the thought of going back down there, though, the sudden movement had put a fear into me. Blind and beneath the water was no place for any man. I didn’t know what was stuck in the propeller, and I didn’t really want to find out, but it was the only way we would be able get moving again.
‘Be careful,’ he said. ‘If it’s bleeding ...’
‘It’s stuck in the propeller, of course it’s bleeding.’
‘Then you’ll have to be quick.’
‘No shit.’ I looked up at the old man and shook my head before slipping back into the water. I took another breath and went under.
Feeling once more for the smooth surface of the creature, I was better prepared for what I would find. My main concern was that it had teeth or barbs or venom or that if it thrashed too much, the excitement would attract other predators. Everything in the river is preyed upon by something else. Everything is part of the food chain, and I didn’t want to join them.
I didn’t want to be in there when others came to feed.
I reached out, fingertips making contact with the creature. This time there was no movement, so I ran my hands along it until I felt the place where it was stuck. I couldn’t tell what kind of fish it was, but it was large, with a strong spine that was now wedged in the blades of the propeller. I put my hands on either side, braced my feet against the hull and tugged several times, pulling hard, sensing my oxygen burning away. I tried once more before resurfacing, filling my lungs and looking up at the old man.
‘You get it?’ he asked.
‘Not yet.’ I didn’t wait for more conversation, I dipped back under the water again and went straight to my task, determined to finish it this time.
Once again, I braced my legs against the hull, took the creature in both hands and pulled with as much strength as I could manage. I tugged once, twice, and then felt bones crack as they gave in to my strength.
The animal twitched as it came out from the propeller, and I floated away with it, releasing it and swimming for the surface once more. I should probably have gone under again, to check for damage to the boat, but I had caused enough movement in the water, and there would be blood, so I wanted to be back onboard when the predators arrived.
I came up a few metres from the Deus, and the river dolphin popped up close to me. An adult with pink-grey skin. It managed a few feeble movements from its tail as the water around it began to splash, just one or two ripples at first, then more violently.
The coffee-coloured river darkened as the animal’s blood mingled with the silt.
‘Get out,’ Raul called to me. ‘Get out now.’ But he didn’t need to say it twice. I knew what those movements in the water were, and I put as much distance between myself and the increasing agitation as I could.
Rocky was barking at all the excitement now. One moment she was up on the gunwale and the next she was gone. Then she would appear a little further along the boat, still barking.
‘Faster,’ the old man called. ‘Come on, Zico.’
As I swam, I saw Daniella and Leonardo come either side of Raul. Daniella was calling to me and there was worry in her expression, but Leonardo watched without any emotion other than interest and the occasional nervous glance at Rocky.
As soon as I was within reach of the boat I grabbed hold of the tyres, and hauled myself out of the water, pulling my legs up in panic, twisting my waist to bring them out of the river.
The old man and Daniella leaned down to grab me, Raul getting hold of my shorts and Daniella taking my arm, helping me up over the gunwale.
I tumbled onto the deck and Daniella came down beside me, putting her arms around me. ‘Are you all right?’ she asked. ‘Did you get hurt? I was so—’
‘I’m fine.’
‘You sure?’ She broke away and looked me up and down as if searching for damage.
‘I’m sure.’ I got to my feet and
turned to watch the commotion in the water. Not a froth but more like a hundred splashes all at once, as the smaller fish snatched and grabbed, their tails thrashing, their bodies twisting, their red bellies flashing at the sky.
It was as if the water were boiling in just that once place.
‘What the hell is that?’ Leonardo asked.
‘Piranhas.’ Raul sounded as if he needed to clear his throat.
‘Eating what?’
‘Boto,’ I said, hearing my own voice, thinking how lucky I was to get out in one piece. No cuts. Not even a scratch. ‘That’s what was stuck in the propeller. We must have gone over it and ... I don’t know. Maybe it was old. Maybe it was deep and came up for air right underneath us.’
‘A boto?’ Leonardo said, making me look up at him. ‘That some kind of fish?’
Raul and I looked at each other.
‘Where’re you from that you don’t know what a boto is?’ I asked.
‘I look like a fisherman? How the fuck would I know what—’
‘It’s a dolphin,’ Raul said.
‘No shit. Well, it had bad luck,’ Leonardo smiled.
‘Bad luck for us,’ Daniella said. ‘Everyone knows it’s bad luck to kill a boto.’
‘We didn’t kill it.’ Raul dismissed her with a wave. ‘It ... killed itself. The river killed it.’
Leonardo looked around at us. ‘Well, whatever it did, it gave me and Daniella a chance to get to know each other.’
I turned to stare at him. He was standing close to Daniella, a smirk on his face.
‘She’s been teaching me how to fish,’ he said. ‘We got bored waiting for you and—’
‘Stay away from her.’ I stepped up to him, our faces close to one another. ‘Don’t talk to her. Don’t look at her.’
‘We were just fishing,’ Daniella said.
I grabbed her arm and took her to the bow, almost dragging her with me as she protested. ‘You told me you’d do as I asked when you’re on this boat.’ I was still high from what had happened in the water, my whole body was wound tight and now I was unravelling.
‘Zico.’ She snatched herself away. ‘You’re hurting me.’
I let go and shook my head at her. ‘Please. Just do as I ask.’
Daniella’s face tightened, her upper lip raising just a touch, her nose wrinkling. ‘What the hell is the matter with you? It’s like you turned into someone else,’ She glared at me. Telling me what to do, where to go, who I can talk to.’
‘You promised me. You said you would do as I—’
‘I know what I said, but I didn’t ask him to come over. I was bored, so I cast a line. I didn’t ask him to come, but he did. And he was being friendly. He even made me laugh, Zico, which is more than you’ve managed since we got on this boat. I liked being with him, I couldn’t tell him to leave me alone.’
‘You should. He’s dangerous.’
‘Dangerous? Like you?’
‘What?’
‘He’s not the one grabbing me and pulling me around. Right now, Zico, I’m wondering who you are.’
‘I—’
‘Maybe my mother was right,’ she said and turned away, heading for the bow.
I let her go, knowing that behind me, Leonardo would be watching the way her hips swung in the short skirt, seeing her dark shoulders, her bare feet on the deck.
It took everything I had not to go to him right now, to vent my anger and frustration.
‘Everything OK?’ Raul was beside me, holding out my trousers.
‘Apart from nearly getting eaten by piranhas, you mean?’ I took them from him and pulled them on, my skin already dry, but my shorts still wet.
‘With Daniella, I mean.’ He took my holsters from his belt and handed them back to me.
‘I know what you meant.’ I watched her standing at the very tip of the bow, one arm on either side, her chin resting on her forearms.
‘Talk to her,’ Raul said. ‘I’ll check the engine.’
He turned to walk away but I stopped him, saying, ‘Hey. You believe that superstitious stuff about the boto?’
I knew the fishermen told stories about the boto. Some said they were encantado, and could turn into a handsome man at night and seduce young women; others, that if you looked into their eyes, you’d have nightmares for the rest of your life. They all agreed on one thing, though – it was bad luck to kill one.
The old man looked at the deck and took off his hat. He ran a callused hand over the top of his head, the grey hair was short and bristled so that it flicked up a fine spray of sweat.
‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘Of course you believe it. Vultures and boto. We’re doomed.’
When he was gone, I took a deep breath, giving myself time to swallow my anger at Leonardo and settle the creeping sense of dread beginning to smother this whole trip. Feeling calmer, I draped my shirt over my shoulder and went to Daniella, leaning on the gunwale beside her and looking out at the river. ‘I don’t want to fight.’
‘Then don’t.’
‘I’m sorry. I was worked up from being in the water, and seeing you with Leonardo ... I’m just not used to having anyone else on the boat. You said I was like a different person, and maybe you’re right. Maybe I am when I’m on here. Sometimes I have to do things that need me to be different. I have to think in a different way.’
‘That’s why you need those?’ She glanced down at my pistols.
‘Yes.’ And for the first time in a few hours I thought about something other than Leonardo. I thought about the newspaper cutting, folded in my pocket, and I thought about what I intended to do to the woman in the picture.
Daniella sighed and raised her eyebrows. ‘He’s not that bad, you know. Maybe you’ve got him wrong. Maybe he’s like you.’
‘He’s not like me.’ I pushed the image of Sister Beckett from my mind. There would be time to think about her later. For now, Leonardo was my concern. ‘You have to believe me, Daniella. He’s not like me.’
Now she turned to look at me. ‘He was only talking to me.’
‘Did he touch you?’
She rolled her eyes and turned away.
‘OK, OK, I’m sorry. Maybe he is all right. But I don’t know him and you don’t know him. We don’t need to know him, we just need to collect his cargo and then ... well, I’m not sure what then. But, please, I don’t want to fight about this. All I want to do is keep you safe.’
Her body language softened. Her shoulders were less hunched, her arms less tight, her back more relaxed. ‘I don’t like being told what to do.’
‘I know.’ I reached out to brush back her hair. ‘I know. But please, you have to listen to what I tell you. Here, on the boat, that’s all I’m asking. I want you to keep away from him. Please.’
She thought about it, her mouth tightening, then she looked up at the sky and nodded. ‘OK.’
17
We’d been on the river five or six hours when Raul dropped the throttle and the boat slowed in the water, drifting shoreward.
‘This the place?’ I asked him.
‘Somewhere round here.’
We were on a long, straight stretch of the Araguaia, leading to a sandy fork up ahead. It looked to be a good spot to land a plane if you didn’t want anyone to know about it. The trees on the near bank were thick and there weren’t any settlements on this stretch other than a fazenda five or ten kilometres further south. Even if someone from the fazenda noticed the plane coming in low, it would have touched down, unloaded and left before they could investigate.
The old man looked at his watch. ‘We’ve still got a few minutes.’
I crouched beside him so my face was level with his. ‘When this is done, I’m taking you home.’
Raul looked at me as if I were insulting him.
‘You’re sick, old man, and you know it. So why don’t we collect the stuff and head back to Piratinga? I’ll take the cargo to Mina dos Santos first thing in the morning.’
‘Leonardo won’t like it.�
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‘I have to get you home to Carolina.’
‘Tell you what,’ he said. ‘Let’s meet this plane, load the cargo, then we’ll decide what we’re going to do, how about that?’
I watched him, sensing it was going to be hard to persuade him. ‘OK. It’s a deal.’
Raul cut the engine dead and the world became silent but for the buzzing in my ears left by the perpetual hum of the Deus over the past few hours. He turned the wheel so we coasted nearer the shore, away from the centre of the river, and as the boat drifted, the lilting incantation of birdsong came across from the trees.
‘Uirapuru,’ said the old man.
Carolina told a tale about a young Indian warrior who fell in love with the chiefs daughter. The chief was so angry he asked the god Tupa to turn the boy into a bird they called uirapuru. But the bird came to sing his beautiful song to his beloved every day until the chief gathered his best warriors and ordered them to hunt and kill him. The girl persuaded the bird to fly away, to save himself, but it was good luck to hear his song, and if you could catch him, he would give you a wish.
She told other stories, too, about the creatures that hid in the forests and rivers. Creatures both real and unreal. For every jaguar or anaconda, there was a Corpo Seco – a man so rotten that even the devil would not take his soul – or mapinguari – the beast that moves among the trees without sound.
I stared into the forest as we slipped into the place where its shadow darkened the water and cooled the air close to the bank. I was not a superstitious man, but looking into that dense darkness made it easy to believe that such creatures might be real. If they were to exist anywhere in the world, this would be exactly the right place.
Yet, alongside those terrors, was the beauty of the gentle splash of a fish in the shallows and the happy lilt of the uirapuru.
Then a piha wolf-whistled in the forest, breaking the moment, and I turned to see the old man watching me.
‘What?’ he said. ‘You suddenly get lazy?’
I smiled and went to the side of the boat to pick up the anchor. I lifted it and turned to look at the old man. When he nodded, I threw it over into the water and waited as the boat drifted for a moment, taking up the slack, then the rope tightened, flicking water as it sprung taut.
