by Tom Epperson
“I’d love to hear all about it,” says Roberto, “but—”
“It’s simple,” says Daniel. “The world’s a meaningless shithole and we’re stuck here until we die. Therefore, we should try to have as much fun as possible in the meantime. Everything else is a waste of time.”
“That’s very uplifting,” says Roberto.
“So you mean we should all be like Marco?” says Diego, and now he shouts, “My son! Turn the music down!”
“Sure,” Daniel says, moving unsteadily toward the table, “we should all be like Marco.”
He picks up the bottle of rum and peers critically at it.
“Shit. We’re nearly out. We better have another bottle, or somebody’s going to have to go to the liquor store,” and he giggles and refills his cup.
Roberto watches him nervously. When he gets like this, anything can happen. He might climb up on the table and start to sing or take a swing at Quique or grab Lina’s boob. Roberto really doesn’t want to alienate these people who are risking their lives for Daniel and him.
“I like to have fun as much as anyone else,” says Ernesto. “But there’s things worth fighting for too.”
Daniel gives a scornful snort. “Like what? Your crummy little piece of jungle? Everybody should just clear out and leave the jungle to the monkeys and birds. At least they belong here.”
“But we belong here too,” says Ernesto.
“Like hell we do. We’re just an invasive species, we’re these killer apes that came out of Africa and now we’ve spread over the whole fucking world.”
“I agree with you that we’re animals,” says Lina, “but we’re not only animals. We also have a spiritual aspect.”
“Spiritual aspect my ass. You saw the same thing I saw today.”
“I saw evil. I saw something that needs to be fought.”
“Fighting’s pointless. In the long run, the bad guys will always win because they’re ruthless. They’ll do anything. But the good guys have scruples and so they lose.”
Quique smiles, his jaguar whiskers lifting. “You think we have scruples?”
“You think you’re the good guys?”
Roberto takes Daniel’s arm. “Come on. That’s enough. Let’s go.”
But Daniel jerks his arm away.
“Get your fucking hands off me!” Now he talks to the people sitting at the table and points at Roberto. “This guy makes me sick. You know why? Because he’s such a good guy. He makes me feel like a worm all the time. He makes me want to puke.”
“Why do you hate yourself so much?” says Lina.
“Why are you such a self-righteous little cunt?”
Quique stands up from the table and looks at Roberto.
“If you need any help taking your friend to bed, I’d be glad to give it to you.”
Roberto firmly grabs a handful of Daniel’s vest. Quique exhales some cigarette smoke as he watches Roberto take Daniel away.
“No, Roberto,” Daniel says. “Just one more little drinkie-winkie, please?”
“Shut up.”
Daniel stumbles along as Roberto pulls him across the top of the hill. Now he points dramatically at the sky. “Look at the stars, Roberto! My god! There’s so many of them!” And then he starts singing in English: “Lucy in the sky with diamonds, Lucy in the sky with diamonds!”
Roberto gets him in the guesthouse, sits him down in the yellow hammock, helps him swing his legs up and lie back.
“Are you mad at me, Roberto?”
“No.”
“Do you love me, Roberto?”
“Yes.”
“Good. I love you too.”
He closes his eyes, and immediately starts to breathe heavily. Roberto lowers the shroud of the mosquito net.
* * *
Daniel was right: there’s so many of them.
Roberto’s sitting on the grass in an open space on top of the hill, looking up at the night sky. These jungle stars put the city stars to shame. He feels immersed in eternity. He thinks about what Daniel said about humans being just a kind of ape, but they’re apes that sometimes look with wonder and awe up at the stars so there must be something good about them.
Everyone seems to have gone to bed but him. He could hardly stay awake all evening until he climbed into his hammock and lay there listening to the snores and sighs and farts and mutterings of the five others in the guesthouse, and after a few minutes, he pulled up the mosquito net and came out here.
He hears the whirr and chirr of insects, the groaning of toads and frogs. Every now and then, a harsh squawking noise that sounds like a chicken being throttled comes out of the darkness. Hungry mosquitoes hum around him but he doesn’t think he’s been bit a single time yet. His insect repellent is excellent.
Lina comes into his mind. Roberto can’t remember the last time he met someone that impressed him so much. This is a macho country, men here don’t generally like taking orders from women, particularly one as young as Lina, but she has a quiet charisma about her and has no problem getting what she wants. And now, as if doing his telepathic bidding, Lina emerges from the guesthouse and walks his way.
“So you couldn’t sleep either,” she says.
Roberto shakes his head. She’s wearing shorts and a T-shirt and is barefoot. She sits down in the grass beside him.
“I’m sorry about Daniel,” says Roberto. “About what he said to you.”
She shrugs. “Don’t worry. My feelings weren’t hurt.”
“He’s really a good guy.”
“You keep saying that.”
“I think you were right about one thing. He does seem to hate himself.”
“Has he always been like that?”
“No.”
He tells her about college, about him and Daniel and Andrés and Franz, and Monica, the Communist girl. He tells her how Daniel was arrested and held by the Army for three weeks and tortured until he convinced them he wasn’t a subversive and they let him go. He tells her that Daniel always refused to talk about what was done to him until a few days ago when he told Roberto the story of how they took him to his mother’s house and threatened to kidnap and torture her unless he cooperated.
“He said that was the worst moment,” says Roberto. “Watching one of those guys talking to his mother and knowing he couldn’t protect her.”
“And he was released not long after that?” says Lina.
“Yeah, about a week.”
“You know what that tells me?”
“What?”
“That he agreed to cooperate.”
“I asked him about that. I said he was already cooperating with them because he had nothing to hide since he wasn’t a Communist. So what more did they want?”
“And what did he say?”
“Nothing. He wouldn’t talk about it anymore.”
“So what do you think happened?”
Roberto’s quiet for a moment. Thinking things through.
“He must have given them names,” he says. “People he met when he was seeing that girl. Maybe some of them were arrested and tortured, maybe they were even disappeared. And he feels guilty about it; he can’t forgive himself.”
“Of course he gave names, everybody does. Why do you think we’re instructed to put a bullet in our head if we’re about to be captured? Because no one can withstand torture. But it wouldn’t have taken two weeks for him to start spilling names. They must have wanted something else from him.”
“Like what?”
“Maybe they wanted him to work for them. Be an informant.”
Roberto gives an incredulous laugh. “Daniel? A spy for the Army? Come on.”
“Think about it. You’re a leftist journalist, and he’s gone all over the country with you. A good way to find out about things.”
“That’s ridiculous, Lina. Anyway, he’s a commercial photographer now, we haven’t been working together for two years. He just came this time as a favor to me.”
“When you worked together,
did anybody ever get arrested or killed after talking to you? Anybody whose identity you thought you’d protected?”
“Yes, of course, but that’s just the way it goes. I often talk to people whose lives are already under threat.”
“But you don’t know for sure. He could have been passing along information.”
“Daniel’s like a brother to me. He would never use me like that.”
“Is his mother still alive?”
“Yes.”
“He may have felt like he had no choice except to go along with them. To protect his mother.”
Roberto feels his face getting hot; he’s shocked at what Lina’s suggesting.
“Was he acting like an Army spy today at Jilili? He risked his life getting those pictures!”
Lina puts her hand lightly on his knee.
“I’m sorry, Roberto, I didn’t mean to upset you. I have to be suspicious. Of everybody. But you’re right, Daniel was wonderful today.”
Roberto nods. Lina takes her hand away. She hugs her knees and looks at the sky. Half of a moon is easing up over the trees and taking a peek down at the clearing.
“It’s nice tonight, isn’t it?” she says. “There’s been a lot of rain lately. This is the first clear night we’ve had in a while.”
“It is nice.”
“Last night? When I told you I thought some of your work wasn’t too bad?”
“Yeah?”
“I don’t know why I said that.”
“You mean you don’t like any of it?”
She laughs. “No, I mean I like all of it. I think you’re an amazing journalist. But I guess I felt too shy to tell you that. To me, it was like meeting a celebrity.”
“Oh, come on.”
“I’m serious. I’ve read everything you’ve written for years. When I was at the University of Lima, I would always look for your stuff online. You were the one writer I felt I could trust about what was really going on here.”
He adjusts his glasses on his nose a little. A gesture he makes when pleased.
“Thanks. That means a lot.”
“I’m so sorry you have to leave.”
“Yeah. Me too.”
“Javier said you were going to Saint Lucia.”
“That’s right.”
“Why there?”
“My girlfriend’s there. Caroline. She’s staying with her parents.”
“What are they like?”
“Her father’s retired—he was an executive at Coca-Cola. He’s a great guy, he loves to have fun. He always says that when you’re lying on your deathbed, the only sin you should concern yourself with is not having danced enough.”
Lina laughs. “And her mother?”
“She’s English. More reserved. But nice. Unfortunately she has cancer; she’s very sick now. That’s why Caroline’s there.”
“And Caroline? Tell me about her.”
“She’s tall. Very attractive. Has green eyes, like her mother. Likes to dance, like her father. She has a master’s degree in art history. She’s thinking about getting her PhD, but hasn’t really decided yet.”
“How did you meet?”
“It was at a play, three years ago. I was there with my friend Andrés. The play was so bad that during intermission we were thinking about leaving, but then I saw her standing in the lobby. So I went over and started talking to her.”
Lina smiles. “That was bold. So what did you say?”
“I said something about it being a nice crowd tonight. And she looked around and said, ‘Yes, I suppose.’ And then I said, ‘Do you like the play?’ And she said, ‘No, not really. I think it’s pretty bad, don’t you?’ And I looked devastated, and I said, ‘I’m sorry. I should have told you that I’m the playwright.’” Lina starts to laugh. “And you should have seen her face! She said, ‘Oh no! I’m so sorry, I didn’t really mean that, I—’ And then I just started to laugh. I told her I was kidding, and my only connection to the play was that one of the actors was a friend of a friend of mine.”
“And what was her reaction?”
“She was mad. She told me I was awful.”
“But she didn’t really think you were awful.”
“Guess not. So do you have a boyfriend?”
Lina shakes her head. “No.”
“Any reason?
“Because it would be a bad idea in the position I’m in. Who would my boyfriend be except someone in the TARV? And how am I supposed to lead or to be led by someone I’m sleeping with?”
“But I’ll bet it happens all the time.”
“You’re right, I’ve seen it happen. And I’ve seen it really mess things up. Jealousy, possessiveness, hurt feelings . . . what we’re doing is too important to have all that crap enter into it.”
“So you plan to be some kind of warrior nun until the end of this?”
She shrugs. “I don’t really plan things. I just do my best, and whatever happens, happens. Anyway,” and now she glances up at the sky, “I feel like they’re on my side.”
“The stars?”
“Destiny, fate, whatever you want to call it. I guess it sounds silly but . . . ever since I was a little girl, I’ve felt like I was meant to do something in my life. Something important,” and now she gives Roberto a rueful smile. “I don’t know why I’m telling you all this. I’ve never talked about it to anyone.”
“I’m glad you trust me.”
The mysterious chicken-being-throttled sound floats up from the trees again.
“What is that?” says Roberto.
“I don’t know. Some kind of bird?”
“Lina, I’m disappointed in you. I would have thought a jungle girl like you would have had an instant answer to that question.”
“Sorry. I haven’t been a jungle girl for long.”
“I’ll ask Roque.”
“Good idea.”
He’s on this little hill in the jungle, surrounded by danger and death, and yet for the moment he feels only like a guy hanging out with a pretty girl. This is the most he’s seen of her. Her bare arms and legs. The shape of her breasts through her shirt.
“You know,” he says, “I was thinking Javier might be your boyfriend.”
She looks amused. “I love Javier; no one can make me laugh like him. But Javier as a boyfriend? No.”
Roberto seems to have run out of words, and so has Lina. The frogs and toads and insects fill the silence, they’re so loud it’s like he could hear them on the moon. Roberto and Lina regard the stars. Then she looks over at him.
“We should go to sleep,” she says, and now she gets up off the grass. “We have a long walk tomorrow.”
But he stays where he is, and sighs. “I think I’m too tired to move.”
“Get up, let’s go,” she says with a smile as she reaches down. He grabs her hand and she pulls him up. He finds himself standing face to face with her and very close.
He looks down into her starlit eyes. He knows when a girl likes him, and Lina likes him. He knows when a girl wants to be held and kissed, and that’s what Lina wants.
He brushes some hair away from her forehead, and she leans into his hand.
“I’ll worry about you,” he says. “After I’ve left.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll be okay.”
And now she takes his hand and pulls it away and squeezes it slightly and lets it go.
“We should go inside, Roberto.”
He nods. He walks with Lina into the guesthouse.
* * *
Roberto lies in the dark in the blue hammock under the blue mosquito net. He hates mosquito nets; they make him feel like he’s suffocating and mosquitoes seldom bite him anyway but he always uses them just in case. He’s careful that way. He doesn’t take unnecessary risks.
Daniel and Ernesto seem to be having a contest to see who can snore louder, but it won’t be enough to keep Roberto awake. In his last seconds of consciousness, his mind drifts back across the day. From the first light on the river to the moon
above the jungle.
His trip so far has gone well. He’s getting what he came for. Tulcán—gracious, generous, accommodating—has opened its dark heart to him.
Two days until the day Roberto is to die
While it’s still dark, they eat a breakfast of fried eggs, yucca rolls, sliced bananas sprinkled with brown sugar, and juice and coffee. Alquimedes seems to be in a good mood as he serves them, he keeps singing and humming a line from a song: “Life is a lottery, lottery, lottery!” Lucho is likewise in a good mood, cheerfully shouting out “Lucho!” and “Hello!” But nobody else has much to say. Daniel is obviously hung over, though not as much as one might think; he’s always had an amazing capacity to bounce back quickly from his drinking bouts.
Marco slouches in when everyone else is almost finished. He’s wearing only his sky-blue shorts, and shows a lean, ripped body. He yawns and scratches his stomach and sits down at the table.
“I’m glad you decided to join us, my son,” says Diego. “I thought you were going to sleep all day.”
“Come on, Dad. The sun’s not even up yet.”
Marco grabs a yucca roll and takes a bite.
“Dad? Could I get a tattoo?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because I said no.”
“I’m seventeen. I should be able to decide if I want a tattoo or not.”
“What kind of tattoo do you want, Marco?” Lina says.
“He wants to have the name ‘Lina’ tattooed inside a heart,” says Ernesto, and he and Quique laugh. Marco looks sheepish and shuts up. Everybody takes a last bite of something and one more gulp of coffee and goes out. The eastern sky has begun to brighten. The chickens are coming out from under the house. The rooster gathers himself and flaps his wings and then lets loose with a mighty crow, as though officially announcing the commencement of the day.
Those going get their backpacks and then say good-bye to those staying. Roberto shakes hands with Diego, who’s holding Chico in his arms.
“Thanks for everything, Diego.”
Diego smiles. “I’ll see you soon, Roberto. Go with God.”
“Bye, Chico.”
Chico extends his black little hand as if he’s going to shake hands too but instead he makes a grab for Roberto’s glasses. Roberto jerks his head back as Diego laughs.
