by Kim Ekemar
At last we reached the hull of the ship we had seen from the cliff. The light that had lured us could by now only be perceived as a pale reflection on the snowflakes that whirled about in the air above us.
“Hello!” Irving bellowed, with his hands cupped around his mouth. “Hello, is there anybody up there?”
Although we waited a long while we could not hear any other sound than the rise and fall of the howling wind that flowed around the ship. Irving continued to shout until his voice became hoarse. The effort was wasted; no one came forward.
Oona was standing close to me and I noticed how she started to tremble now that she had been immobile for some time. My premonition of something ominous made me walk over to Irving in desperation and pull his sleeve.
“Irving! We have to return to the van!”
“Nonsense!”
“There is nobody here! The light must have been an illusion and we …”
“Nonsense!” he cried again and pulled himself free from my grip on his coat sleeve. He left Oona and me and started to walk towards the stern of the ship. The falling snow swallowed him almost immediately and his shape disappeared out of sight.
I moved close to Oona and we pressed against each other without talking. Her body was quivering from cold, and I suppose she noticed that I too was shivering. Above us, some twenty or twenty-five feet high, the ship towered, sinister. I vaguely noticed a name painted on the hull, and I squinted to read it. With some effort I could make out the peeled off letters: S/S Pandora.
Irving suddenly appeared in front of us.
“Follow me! I've found a way to board the ship.” Not expecting any answer, he led the way towards the stern.
There was nothing we could do but to follow him. On the other side Irving halted amidships and waited for us to catch up. There was a rope ladder hanging next to him. When I looked up to see where it ended heavy snowflakes covered my eyes.
Irving grabbed the rope ladder.
“I knew that we would get on board one way or another!” He made a movement as if he were about to begin the climb.
“Irving, hold it!” I shouted. I don’t think I have ever felt the presence of evil premonitions so acutely as I now did. “Let’s go back to the van instead”, I pleaded.
“Corey, trust me. I’m sure – we can't turn back.” His words sounded scornful as he shouted them at me. “We can only go on.”
He started to climb the rope ladder, which careened from his weight. Halfway up he paused and beckoned Oona to follow him. I had to help her to get a steady grip on the ladder.
Irving and Oona disappeared into the snow haze and I had no choice but to follow. Reluctantly I started after them up the rope ladder.
Oona and Irving were waiting for me and helped me climb over the rail. Dim light shone from the portholes of the ship's cabin beyond them, allowing me to see the smug satisfaction in Irving’s face.
“What did I tell you!” he shouted eagerly. “In about thirty seconds we will be inside, warm and cozy until the storm has passed.”
The expression on Oona's face was expectant. Perhaps she found the situation more romantic than I did. We stumbled across the slippery snow on the deck to a door that clearly was the entrance to the ship's cabin. Irving pushed down the handle and shook the door. It was locked.
The snow whipped Irving's bewildered face. I could understand his reaction since I was familiar with his way of thinking. He had planned to enter the ship's saloon with his debonair manners, greet the captain with a ’Good evening’ and ask for lodging until the storm had ceased. Irving would have beseeched the captain to have mercy on the young woman in his company, and on his assistant who was too delicate for these northern latitudes. In passing he would mention the travail we had suffered to get from our wrecked van out to the ship.
He would of course expect the captain's complete sympathy and generous offer to make ourselves at home until the storm had ended.
His disconcerted face betrayed him. He had not anticipated a locked cabin. Who locks a door on ship stuck in the ice in one of the most uninhabited regions imaginable in this world? He tugged at the handle again.
“Irving, please let's return”, I begged him anew. I could not stop feeling ill at ease.
“Corey, here there is light, here there is warmth”, he insisted stubbornly, “and we are going to get lodgings aboard this ship one way or another.”
He pounded on the door made of thick wooden planks. Nothing happened. Irving looked hesitatingly at the door, and I realized that he was considering some way to break and enter.
“Please, Irving, I insist we that we go back to the van”, I told him desperately. I felt that also Oona was beginning to have her doubts about Irving's stubbornness. Irving did not respond, instead he banged very hard on the door three times with his fist. This time the effect was immediate.
The cabin door burst open, and a large backlit shape filled the doorway.
February 3 – 9, 1973
Paul Crimson’s diary
Excerpts from Velvet Nights
Notes and letters exchanged between Paul Crimson and John Partridge
February 3, 1973
I finally got the third chapter going. The main character is now ready to look deeper into his soul to better understand his nature. JP is right, the ship can only stand there in the midst of nowhere towering over ice and snow because it has to be conquered. It really is a metaphor for Corey’s soul. With all his fright and reluctance, he is forced to climb on board and confront his demons. If he doesn’t, the result will be even worse. He needs to understand his nature. How come a dull, dense man like Irving can get a woman like Oona, when Corey is so much more intelligent and sensitive than Irving?
So Corey scales the ship in the company of innocence and ignorance. To me he is a man who is afraid of understanding who he is at heart. He is a coward. Yet, doesn’t it take a lot of guts to understand your true self?
Ready to board the ship, Corey? Ready to get inside…mm …your soul?
Excerpt from Velvet Nights, Chapter IV
Eliah Bohannon is a huge monster of a man who takes a lot of pride in being mean, but even more in being pitch black. Everybody calls him Bo. He worked out a lot before being shipped overseas to fight the gooks and enjoys very much flexing his powerful biceps among us white trash. He always wears his shirtsleeves rolled up hard as high as possible. Despite the fact he was drafted against his will he has really taken a shine to being authorized to act out his killer instincts. Bo is a dangerous man, and he’s intelligent too.
Nobody particularly likes him, and he acts as if doesn’t care. He relishes being insolent with the brass, knowing perfectly well he’ll get away with it because he is a very competent soldier. If he’s close to anyone, it’s other colored people that he can pounce on or that look up to him. He is the perfect bully.
Excerpt from Velvet Nights, Chapter VI
Somehow Louie was found out this morning. Louie, whose last name is Esperanza, is the natural born survivor who never stops yapping and always makes a deal. Captain Harding called him to his interim office, and when Louie returned he could hardly hold back the news. Everybody knows he’s always bursting to tell, and after a bit of prodding from the guys he did. He made a grand number out of it, too.
It seems that Captain Harding has finally found out what everybody has known since day one – Louie is the great fixer. ‘So,’ he said, ‘I have my contacts, okay? I get the people what the people want and everybody’s happy. What if I make a buck or two - who’s getting hurt? I just told the captain I’m really reluctant about the trade, but since I have it my blood and everybody screams to swap cigarettes and American delicatessen for Viet Namese best sellers … what can I do?’
Everybody got a big laugh out of that because the main best sellers in camp are grass and some very hot female numbers that Louie magically makes appear at the snap of his fingers. Of course he’s making a fortune with the commissions he’s paid. It’s rumored
he’s even sold gold teeth some GI pried loose from a dead VC when on a scouting mission.
Captain Harding told Louie he will be reported for disciplinary action. They never liked each other, and now Harding believes he has the edge. Everybody just shook his head over this. Harding is as dense as they come and isn’t aware that the brass too is using Louie for favors. ‘Harding thinks he’s got a shot at Louie, but the only thing that’ll get buried is his report,’ as Bo so aptly phrased it.
When we go patrolling I’ve noticed that Louie always tries to be the last in the column. Perhaps he believes this position is the safest. In my experience it isn’t, because if Charlie closes a trap on you the last one to enter it is usually the first to die. It’s luck, really, that lets you survive.
February 4, 1973
On an impulse I went back and altered the final scene in Chapter Two. Something I can’t put my finger on made me change it from kicking in the door to let someone open it from the inside. Yet the person blocking the doorway could just as well be the actual door as far as his interest in the visitors goes. Once again I find JP to be right. The individual who opens the door must be someone who represents one of the seven deadly sins. Somebody completely uninterested in the newcomers, someone who opens up the door yet doesn’t ask them inside. A character who doesn’t lead you on or let you in unless your curiosity – or is it your survival instinct? – demands it. Why does Lorena immediately spring to mind?
Like yesterday evening when the doorbell rang and Dan for once looked hard at Lorena who couldn’t be bothered to take her eyes off the TV set. Inocencia was upstairs with her brother dressing up for dinner and she probably didn’t hear the bell, otherwise I’m certain she would have answered as usual. It was interesting to see how the contest of wills was fought between Lorena and Dan. I was contemplating answering the door, but then the educational domestication of Lorena would have been wasted. After three summonses from Dan she finally collected her wits and lumbered out into the hall. From my position I could see her sloppy outline against the streetlights when she opened the door. She neither bothered to keep it shut as much as possible, nor did she have the wits to let the visitor inside. I heard a booming voice complaining good-humoredly about the impact the weather would have on him if she didn’t quickly allow him inside. This went on while Dan kept talking to Vicente, who only occasionally grunted back in broken English. Dan didn’t seem to care very much whether Vicente understood what he was conversing about or not. Lorena finally let the caller cross the threshold and that very moment we could all hear Inocencia flying down the stairs.
“Breeett!” she cried in that sweet concerned way of hers, ‘You’re covered with snow!’ No man could wish for a sweeter statement of worry. She swept poor Brett inside and if she hadn’t motioned Lorena then to shut the door, I wouldn’t have been surprised if it would have been left open for the rest of the evening.
Xavier came down at this precise moment, dashingly dressed in his usual black but for a red handkerchief dangling out of the breast pocket of his sharp suit. Maybe he would have looked as handsome as Inocencia if it hadn’t been for that superior smirk that never leaves his lips. Inocencia had herself taken the time to put on a beautiful dress that clung to her voluptuous figure, and all present except possibly her husband were painfully aware of the commotion she caused in our hearts when she moved about.
Brett Moorefield is our closest neighbor. I gather it was Brett’s pickup truck that Inocencia borrowed when he wasn’t home to tow the van out of the snowdrifts. He’s a single man, divorced for many years, who makes a good living from delivering shellfish of all kinds to fancy restaurants down the coast during the summer season. Two things can be said for him; he can be very funny and he sure can put away a lot of food. Rarely have I seen someone eat so much, and jokingly he blames his ‘generous girth’ to Inocencia’s cooking. When he does she blushes and looks happy. I envy his easy-going contact with her. Generous girth, my eye – the man is obese!
Inocencia had prepared a delicious paella, claiming several times that it was good only because of the seafood that Brett had let her have for her freezer on the last day of the season. The provider nodded his acknowledgement vigorously while gulping down twice as much as anyone else at the table. Perhaps he felt he earned the extra ration since he had supplied the main ingredients to the feast that we were putting away with so much gusto. Brett joked. Dan and Inocencia laughed. Vincent couldn’t help ogling Inocencia whenever Xavier smirked his superior smile in some other direction. Lorena disinterestedly picked at the delicious food and seemed to be thinking of some faraway Colombian village. The maid was eating with the dinner guests, imagine, and she decided to be picky with her food. And I, I could only observe them all.
Brett did come by once before during this time that I have been living with Dan and Inocencia, but I only saw a glimpse of him then. Inocencia delights in his jokes and falls all over the place when he tells them. Yes, he is funny, but not that funny. Besides, he’s so fat I doubt he can bend over to do his shoelaces. Which probably is the reason why he wears boots with zippers in the first place.
Last evening Inocencia’s flushed face radiated happiness in a way I have never seen her before. She was at her best in the kitchen, serving dishes of seafood and salad and homemade bread, and her delightful laughter never ended. Everybody was in a good mood, even her brother. I couldn’t help notice that when Dan’s eyes were turned away Brett gave Inocencia a lascivious look which I didn’t care for very much at all. I don’t like Brett. His jokes may be funny but they are as glib and superficial as the man himself. I wanted him out of the house. Dan laughed as much as Inocencia. I think Brett noted I didn’t care much for him, although I did my best not to let it on. He is very observant, I’ll say that for him. With his keen eye and false joviality, he reminds me a lot of Jake Farnham. Jake wasn’t as fat, though, even if he too could put away a substantial amount of food. It was a relief when Dan finally invited Brett to partake in a game of chess when dinner was over.
Xavier and Vicente smoked Julietas, at least that’s what I think these thin cigars are called, and the heavy smoke soon permeated the household. Although I was dying for a smoke I refused the cigar when I was offered one. They both watched Dan try to beat Brett at a friendly game of chess, with Xavier sitting on the arm of Dan’s threadbare easy chair and Vicente pulling up another chair in that awkward way of his. We were all drinking a strong French liqueur with a taste of orange that Brett had brought. Inocencia came into the drawing room just before Brett made his winning move. Then Brett, rose and profusely, not to say drunkenly, expressed his thanks for a perfect evening in the hands of a perfect lady. I bet. It wasn’t so much that he was smashed and tried to be a fat gentleman that bothered me as the way he pawed Inocencia even though he physically didn’t lay a finger on her. Inocencia didn’t notice, nor did Dan who I find increasingly dense.
Finally Brett left and it was a relief – he’s so overwhelming. Now I understand that whenever Brett’s home, he frequently comes over to have dinner at the McPherson house. Inocencia enjoys fussing over him with her cooking, and Dan longs to challenge Brett at a good game of chess, although I’m sure Dan always loses.
Dan has never asked me to play with him, and it’s just as well. I am a lousy chess player.
Excerpt from Velvet Nights, Chapter VIII
Yesterday at dusk we were dropped for a Mekong combat mission under cover of darkness. It was a moonless night surprisingly free from mosquitoes and with a pleasant temperature in the mid-seventies. We made good time along a path that Bui Nguyen guided us down. The earth smelled wet from rain. Chirps and tweaks sounded from insects and amphibians. The leaves brushed my cheeks like a velvet glove. It was frightening to think that this treacherously seductive ambiance any moment could explode and kill you.
Jake had the place next to me as we walked in silence through the pitch-dark jungle. Behind us walked Bo and Bernie. Jake stumbled over a root and Bo almost lo
st his rocket launcher as he tripped over him. He cursed Jake’s clumsiness under his breath because he’s too good a soldier to yell out.
In the bushes ahead of us firelight began to glimmer. Everybody came to a halt while Billy Montana and Bui crawled closer to reconnoiter. Montana returned and in a whisper told us we should expect perhaps fifty of the enemy against eleven of us. We were ordered to spread out and Bo and Jake, who both carried launchers, to take the key positions. Then Jake stumbled again and struck Bo with his weapon. Bo couldn’t help it but cried out and suddenly all hell broke loose.
We lost our surprise advantage and three men. Ted and Bobby were wounded seriously enough to spend half a year on sick leave but at least they didn’t have to go home in body bags. To Jake’s defense, he single-handedly took out three of the hidden sentries armed with machine guns, while Bo eliminated the other two. The gunfire subsided. We searched the huts and Lt. Montana determined there were no dead civilians, but then again any dead Viet Namese is determined Viet Cong when you’re on a combat mission. Montana sprayed a couple of 180-degree volleys haphazardly into the bushes. ‘Better safe than sorry,’ he growled. He told Louie to get the dog tags off Tom, Wayne and Kratsky.
We collected all weapons and ammunition we could find and stacked it all inside a hooch. I got suspicious that it took Louie so long to help us out. I got closer without letting him notice me and saw in the firelight how he went over the dead villagers for valuables while pretending he was looking for weapons. When we retreated Montana told Bo to launch a rocket to burn the hut, so we had a pretty good bonfire to guide us back to the pickup spot. Jake and I carried Bobby. Bernie and Bo carried Ted. Montana took the point with Bui and Louie volunteered for the tail position.
Everybody was upset over the casualties and I could tell Jake was devastated. The rubber rafts were waiting for us and as soon as we were safely out of danger Lt. Montana gave him his worst treatment. Then Bo started to chant rhyming insults in Jake’s direction: “Nuttin’ trips like tha jelly-belly kind; he ain’t goin’ forward ‘cause he’s all behind”. Jake tried his best to ignore him. Bo went, “Too dumb to talk, too fat to walk” – and worse.
