The Darkest Heart

by Dan Smith

  Leonardo. The guns. Sister Beckett. The old man.

  All of it was gone.

  My mind was nowhere else but right here in this tiny fragment of time.

  I pulled Daniella towards me and kissed her once before she broke away and stopped moving. She had the remnants of the smile on her face and she looked alive with it. Her eyes sparkled, her mouth was still turned up at the corners.

  ‘Ask me now,’ she said. ‘It’s the right time.’

  I stared at her, the moment even more arousing than before. I was inside her, a part of her now. Her warm flesh around me and on me. I could taste her on my lips, feel her on my skin. But the sensation was beyond physical now. She was asking me to give myself to her. Lay myself open and give everything.

  ‘Ask me,’ she said again.

  I swallowed hard and looked into her eyes. ‘Marry me,’ I whispered.

  ‘Yes,’ She began moving again. ‘Yes.’

  Night had settled beyond the weak, cocooning light of the barbecue, and the wilderness made its music around us. The insects sang and the frogs chorused, creating a single sound that seemed to have a shape. Within that sound, though, were a thousand million individual flutters and creaks that laced through the night.

  Above us, the moon and stars winked in the passage of the clouds as the world moved on regardless of our concerns. And, in the trees, burning lights flickered as if the boitatá patrolled the forest. They were not the smouldering eyes of the protecting snake, though, they were the encroaching lights of human progression. They were the lamps that glowed in Mina dos Santos.

  ‘Where will we live?’ I asked Daniella. ‘I can’t live with your parents.’

  ‘Their house is big enough, you could be best friends with my mother ...’

  I looked at her and saw the smirk so she nudged me and leaned over to kiss me. ‘Don’t worry, I’d never make you live there. I don’t want to live there.’

  I stirred the rice, taking out a few grains on the tip of a wooden spoon and testing them.

  ‘We could live at your place,’ Daniella said.

  ‘It’s small.’

  ‘It’s good enough.’

  ‘I want you to live in something that belongs to us. Not some room I have to rent.’

  ‘We don’t need much,’ she told me.

  ‘I need to find work. Real work, I mean, not spending my whole damn life on the river for just a few notes in my pocket.’ An image of Sister Beckett came to me. I had missed one opportunity to do Costa’s job, but I could do it tonight. I could go to the mine once Daniella was asleep and I could put my steel to the nun’s throat. The thought of leaving her alone on the boat, though, made me shudder. We had moved away from shore so we were hidden, but I wouldn’t risk leaving her. If I went into Mina dos Santos, I would have to take Daniella with me.

  I would have to find another way.

  ‘I can work in the shop,’ Daniella said. ‘Between us we’ll have enough for what we need.’

  ‘I always thought you’d want more. Nice clothes, I mean, makeup ... like in your magazines.’

  Daniella tilted her head to one side, her body half turned towards me. ‘Dreaming is for dreaming. It’s not real. Maybe, if you get all the things you dream of, it turns out you don’t really want them. Does that make sense?’ Her legs were crossed beneath her, one of her feet touching mine. ‘Dreams are for in here.’ She tapped the side of her head. ‘You’re not supposed to get everything you want. I like this. Right here. Now.’

  I couldn’t help myself from reaching out and running my hand through her hair. ‘This isn’t for you,’ I said. ‘This life.’

  ‘Isn’t it? Didn’t you say before that it suited me? I like it out here, Zico, I think I could get used to it.’

  ‘You deserve more. I want to give you more.’

  ‘I don’t need any more. I only need you. Together we’ll find a way.’

  Neither of us was hungry, so we left the rice in the pan, thinking we could eat it tomorrow for breakfast. It was still early, maybe eight o’clock, but it felt late. The sun was down and so much had happened over the past few hours that my watch could have told me it was after midnight and I wouldn’t have been surprised.

  We sat in the darkness together, taking warmth from each other when we lay on our backs on the boards at the bow of the Deus and looked up at the stars.

  That one there.’ I pointed. The brightest. That’s our star.’

  Daniella followed the line of my finger, bringing her head closer to my shoulder. ‘Why is it ours?’

  ‘On the flag. Every star on the flag represents a state. That one, the brightest in the sky, that’s for Mato Grosso. The old man told me that.’

  ‘It’s beautiful.’ She took a deep breath and let it flood from her body. ‘You know, when you’re out with Raul on the river, I think about you when I’m lying in my bed. I felt sorry for you having to sleep on the boat.’

  ‘Not always on the boat,’ I said. ‘Sometimes on the beach.’

  ‘I like the way the boat moves. I don’t feel sorry for you now. What could be more beautiful than lying here, looking at the stars? It makes you forget everything.’

  ‘It gets colder,’ I said. ‘Can’t you feel it already?’

  ‘You have sheets to keep us warm, and a net that keeps out the mosquitoes. And a fire,’ she said to the stars, ‘to keep warm, and to keep the mosquitoes away.’

  She was right. There was a poetry to living like this, but there was also a need to be realistic. ‘It can get tiring,’ I said. ‘And do you really want to pee in a bucket every day?’

  She smiled and a whisper of breath escaped her. ‘I can do without that, but sometimes,’ she said, ‘sometimes we can live like this.’

  ‘And have a home to go to.’

  ‘Yes.’

  We looked at each other for a long while before I went back to staring at the stars.

  The air was growing cooler and I subdued a shiver. Daniella was right about how this felt. It was good to be here with her, to share this part of my life. I considered what it would be like to marry her, to live with her every day. I closed my eyes and pictured us together in my small, rented room. I imagined myself going to work every morning, maybe as a labourer on a soya farm.

  It wasn’t quite how I had imagined it when Sofia and I talked about it. We had talked about owning our own land, having our own farm, and I hated the idea of being another man’s slave, I wanted to be free, but it would allow me to be with her. We could come on the river at weekends, work with the old man when he needed us – or I could do what Costa had asked of me. I could provide more for Daniella without ever having the life of a worker.

  The push and pull of the possibilities battled in my thoughts and I struggled to see a winner, but there was one thing that swayed the fight. Two things.

  Daniella and the old man. Costa would take them from me and leave me to be alone, and I was afraid of that more than I was afraid of anything else.

  To lose them and be alone.

  ‘Zico?’ Daniella broke into my thoughts. ‘Can I ask you something?’

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘If I wasn’t here ... I mean, if I hadn’t been on the boat ...’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Would you have killed Leonardo?’

  I didn’t see the stars now. They were still there, still bright in the sky, but I no longer saw them. ‘I don’t know,’ I said.

  ‘Have you ever had to?’ she asked. ‘Someone like Leonardo?’

  ‘Like the men at the settlement?’

  ‘No, not like that. You were protecting yourself. Protecting Dolores and Kássia. No, I mean just for ... I don’t know ... for annoying you. Or maybe for someone else; for money.’

  I didn’t answer. I didn’t know how to answer. I didn’t want to lie to Daniella but it would be hard for me to tell her that truth. She already suspected it, otherwise she wouldn’t have asked, but the idea of admitting it to her felt shameful.

  ‘No,�
�� she said, understanding my hesitation. ‘Don’t tell me.’

  I sat up, putting my hands on my face, covering my mouth. ‘Those days are behind me—’

  ‘Stop. I don’t need to know.’ Daniella sat up, too, putting her arm around my shoulder. ‘I know as much as I want to. You carry pistols, Zico. A knife. You know what to do with them; I’ve seen that. The old man brings you on his boat to protect him.’

  ‘Not just for that,’ I said.

  ‘I’m not a fool, Zico, I know what kind of man you are.’

  I stared at the deck and waited for her to go on.

  ‘You’re a good one, Zico. A good man. If you did a bad thing, I know it would be for the right reason.’

  I fixed my eyes on the dry boards, not knowing what to say, not knowing if I was good enough for this woman.

  We sat in silence for a while, Daniella with her arm around my shoulders, both of us enveloped in our own thoughts, and I wondered what the right reasons were. I wondered if I had really done those jobs for money or if I had been looking for some kind of justice.

  For Sofia.

  And would she really have wanted that?

  ‘I don’t know if I am a good man,’ I said. ‘Not good enough for you, anyway. I’ve done things—’

  ‘I don’t care what you’ve done. I know you, Zico. I know you.’

  ‘And you want to be married to me? To live with me?’

  ‘To have children and grow old with you.’

  ‘Children? I hadn’t thought about ... We’ll need money to look after them. Give them—’

  ‘Stop saying we need money.’ Daniella put her mouth against my ear. ‘We have each other. That’s enough.’

  ‘Not in this world. In this world, that isn’t enough to feed ourselves and put a roof over our heads.’

  ‘What about the guns, then? Can you make Leonardo pay you more? Or get the buyers to pay you instead?’

  ‘I’ve thought about that,’ I said. ‘Every way I can. But there’s nothing that won’t put you in danger.’

  ‘Then we’ll manage,’ she told me. ‘We’ll survive.’

  ‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘We’ll survive.’ But I was thinking about Sister Beckett again; about the sharp edge of my knife. I stared out into the night and let the sound of the insects wash over me in a sheet of grey noise. The shadow was there too, draping its arm over my shoulder and whispering in my ear.

  Marriage? it said. Children?

  Just one more life, Zico, just one more life.

  All I had to do was make Sister Beckett disappear.

  ‘Are you all right?’ Daniella’s voice was soft.

  ‘Fine,’ I said as I turned to look at her. ‘You want to go and visit a gold mine?’

  49

  ‘If we’re going into Mina dos Santos, that skirt and top aren,’t a good idea’ I told Daniella. ‘You really haven’t got anything else you can wear? No trousers?’

  She shook her head, so I went to the store and pulled out a pair of jeans and a T-shirt that belonged to Raul.

  ‘They stink,’ she said, lifting them as if they were diseased.

  I put them to my nose and smelled the mixture of diesel and fish and sweat. ‘Perfect. You’ll just smell like everyone else.’

  ‘I can’t wear them.’

  ‘Sure you can,’ I told her. ‘There’s not many women live here and by this time of night all the men will be drunk. Trust me, you’ll be glad you stink.’

  Daniella made a tutting noise and pulled on the trousers.

  ‘You really do smell bad,’ I said, wrinkling my nose. ‘But the trousers fit fine. The old man must have good legs.’

  ‘I feel disgusting.’

  I smiled to myself and sat down on the deck, switching on my torch and taking out the two revolvers. I opened the cylinders, checked the load, then tested the action on each one, thumbing back the hammers, watching the cylinders revolve and the cartridges coming into position. The ticking and clicking was loud and comforting in the quietness.

  Daniella sat in front of me and crossed her legs.

  ‘I want you to take one of these,’ I said.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I don’t know. I might have to leave you for a few minutes or ... Look, I just want to make sure you’ll be OK if anything happens to me. It’s not like Piratinga in there.’

  ‘What would happen? What are you talking about, Zico?’

  ‘Just take it.’ I put the smaller pistol in her hands for her to feel its weight. ‘But don’t let anyone know you’ve got it unless you’re prepared to use it.’

  I watched Daniella’s eyes move from the pistol in her hand so

  that she was looking straight at me. ‘OK.’ And then her eyes were

  on the weapon again.

  Together, we unfastened the smaller boat and dropped it onto the water. I helped Daniella climb down, then jumped over the gunwale and lowered myself beside her.

  ‘I’m glad you’re coming with me,’ I said, taking the paddle and dipping it into the river.

  ‘Give me one of those.’ She reached for the second paddle and copied my movements, sinking it deep into the water and pushing us forward.

  The cloud had thickened so there was barely a glow from the sliver of moon. The beach was just about visible because the white sand reflected what little light there was, but beyond that, the world was a wall of black.

  ‘I want to be around when Leonardo comes for his guns, so we won’t be long,’ I said. ‘We’ll get some supplies, maybe have a drink, then come straight back.’

  ‘You sure there isn’t another reason for going?’ Daniella asked.

  ‘Like what?’ I concentrated on paddling and tried to hide the stress in my voice. She couldn’t know about Sister Beckett.

  ‘You’re not going to find Leonardo? To ...’ She looked down at the black water.

  ‘You mean to kill him?’ I said. ‘No. I need him to collect his cargo and pay us. Leonardo is just ... Leonardo. After tomorrow we can forget about him.’ I watched her using the oar, admiring her stamina. She was no longer just the beautiful shop-girl. Now she was much more than that. She seemed bigger, somehow, more filled with life. ‘It’s good you’ve liked being on the river,’ I said, my breath keeping time with the paddle and the sound of it dipping into the water. ‘I don’t mean Leonardo and all ... that,’ I tried to find the right words to express myself. ‘But just being on the water, out here ...’

  ‘I know what you mean.’

  ‘It suits you.’

  ‘If s peaceful.’

  I stopped paddling, surprised that she had found anything peaceful after all that had happened. In that moment, my heart was overwhelmed with the way I felt for her and, for the first time, sitting in the dark on the river, I allowed myself to accept that we were no more protected from Costa and his people than Sister Beckett was.

  It didn’t matter what I did tonight; I would never be free of him.

  But there was something else worrying at me. A whispering voice at the back of my mind, speaking unformed words. I had overlooked something.

  ‘What is it?’ she asked, resting her oar on the side of the boat.

  ‘We don’t have to live in Piratinga.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘We could go somewhere else. Just leave Mina dos Santos now and keep going. Go wherever we want.’ The voice prickled at me and, though I didn’t quite know what it was saying, I understood the tone, and I understood that it was telling me to run. It was warning me that something was close.

  Something bad was lifting its head.

  ‘Like where?’ Daniella asked. ‘Where would we go?’

  ‘Wherever we want.’ It was the perfect solution. We could just run away from everything. Leonardo, Sister Beckett, Costa. The shadow. The whispering voice that refused to be whole. I could make it all go away. ‘There are other places. Think about it. We could—’

  ‘Piratinga is our home, Zico, we’ve talked about that. We can live at your place an
d I’ll work in the shop, remember? We can’t just run away. What about my parents? What about Raul and Carolina?’

  Raul and Carolina.

  My heart almost stopped beating and a sliver of guilt needled at me. I hadn’t thought about Raul in a while. ‘You’re right. I was just thinking out loud. Caught up in the moment.’

  I couldn’t leave the old man.

  ‘Is this about my mother? Because you think she hates you?’

  ‘No,’ I said. ‘Not because of that.’

  ‘What then?’

  ‘Nothing. It was just a thought. Just a stupid thought.’

  ‘We can’t just leave everything behind for no reason.’

  She was right. I couldn’t just leave. I had the old man to think about. I didn’t even know how he was, whether the fever had left him. Maybe he had recovered and was at home with the wife he loved so much.

  Or maybe he was still sick, dying in the hospital.

  ‘Come on,’ I said. ‘Let’s get this done.’

  We left the boat hidden in the undergrowth away from the jetty and kept close together as we made our way through the sombre gloom, following the orange circle of weak light cast by my torch. The path was straight, carved right through the trees, a passage through living darkness where no lights could pierce. Neither the half-winked eye of the moon nor the brightest star could break the arching canopy that spread over us.

  Half a kilometre on foot and we emerged into the immense clearing, but there was no sign of the moon or the stars now. In the time it had taken for us to walk from the river, the sky had lowered and grown thick with cloud. Among the trees, the air had been warm and strong with the musky smell of the forest, but out here the breeze whipped about the vast emptiness of the mine, carrying the unwanted smell of rubbish and human waste.

  Here we could see the first of the scant illuminations of Mina dos Santos. Naked bulbs sparkling like gold dust in the sun. The orange and yellow flickering lamps were mostly filtered through half-open windows, but some were outside, hung to highlight a path amongst the ramshackle buildings that huddled as shadows in the night.

  ‘That’s it?’ Daniella said, coming to a stop at the end of the path.

  ‘You expected something else?’