‘Since I found you.’
* * *
By morning the rain was heavier than ever. Al had set out any receptacle they had to catch it in, and it enabled everyone to have a wash.
‘Shit – I always did hate Monday mornings,’ Bernie complained, as Dallas bathed his wound. It didn’t look too bad. The skin was beginning to pucker and close up.
Cathy’s leg was very infected and Dallas was convinced it would have to come off. Impossible. They didn’t even have a knife. The only cure for gangrene was amputation. Cathy could barely open her eyes.
‘What shall we do?’ Dallas whispered to Al.
There’s nothing we can do. Even if we cut the leg off she’d die anyway.’
‘Yes, but we would have tried.’
‘And put her through a terrible scene – for what?’
‘I know you’re right, but I can’t help feeling so helpless.’
He put his arm around her and held her close. ‘I love you,’ he whispered. ‘Whatever happens I love you. I’ve been using women all my life – good for a fuck – nothing else. And then came you. I’ve waited for you thirty-eight years – don’t feel helpless. You’ve made my life worth living.’
‘For how long? Another week? Because if we stay put that’s about all we’ll have. Maybe two if we’re lucky.’
‘You ever tried positive thinking? I’m going to see if I can find the other half of the plane.’
‘In this rain?’
‘You wouldn’t want me to just sit around.’
* * *
He found the front half of the plane two hours later. The vultures led him to it – huge, decadent scavengers, circling above the wreck, taking their time between sweeping down and pecking at the remains of their human victims.
There was a strong smell of petrol mixed with burnt flesh. So strong that Al found it difficult to approach.
He forced himself to do so in the hope that there would be something of use he could salvage. Certainly no radio could have survived, that was obvious. But he had to look.
The nose of the plane was dug deep into the ground. Al walked around it, peering through the front aperture. What he saw made him sick to his stomach. Something that had once been a human being, now a crawling maggotty mass of open flesh and bone. He moved closer – the interior was just a charred wreck, and more maggot-ridden bodies. Oh Christ…
He turned and threw up, retching on an empty stomach. Then suddenly he saw a huge snake. He backed away, still sick to his stomach.
No fucking radio. What next?
The image of the maggot-ridden bodies danced before his eyes. Christ! That was one hell of a way to go.
He stumbled on through the dense undergrowth, then sat down at the foot of a giant tree and tried to shut out what he had seen, but the image would not leave him. He closed his eyes, but that made the vision worse.
It was all so frigging hopeless. Dallas was right. The only way out was if they did it themselves. Nobody was going to find them. Nobody was going to rescue them. It was yesterday’s news already.
Do you remember Al King?
Who?
* * *
The rain lasted until midday, crashing through the trees relentlessly, marooning the plane in a sea of mud. Then it stopped, quite suddenly, and the sun appeared almost immediately, and soon the heat was back – the humid, steamy jungle heat, which could render you exhausted in a matter of minutes.
Nino was in a bad way. His eyes and tongue protruding, his limbs stiffening, and all the while he was crying out and moaning.
Cristina sat on the floor next to him and fed him sips of water, but they all knew he was dying, and that there was nothing they could do to save him.
Since Dallas had persuaded Evan to change his clothes he seemed much brighter and was eager to help out if he could. He didn’t seem to realize where they were though, and addressed Dallas as either Nellie or Edna. He did whatever she told him, and another pair of hands was a great help.
Of course she knew he was still in shock, and suffering from some kind of amnesia along with it, but at least he was no longer huddling in his seat incommunicado.
Paul had become very morose. He woke up complaining of stomach pains and a headache, and he was indeed very hot. Dallas got out the thermometer from the first-aid box and took his temperature. He had a fever of 105 degrees.
As if they didn’t have enough problems.
She laid him down, covered him with blankets, and fed him three aspirin from their fast-dwindling supply.
How had she become den mother? She would have liked to have crawled into a corner and collapsed too – but now with Paul ill and Al away she seemed to be the one they all depended on. Not that Paul had been much help – it was Al who was keeping everyone’s spirits up. He was incredible. She allowed herself a brief moment of pleasure to think about him. God, if anyone should have fallen to pieces it should have been him. So spoiled, so used to crooking a finger and having everything done for him. He had certainly come up trumps.
She remembered their time together on the plane before the storm. Lying next to each other. Exploring each other’s bodies. It had all been so beautiful. Touching his naked body had been like touching a man for the first time. At last she had known what Linda was talking about. Known a feeling of such tense expectant pleasure that she had never wanted to leave his side. She had wanted to do things to him that she had been forcing herself to do to other men all her life. They had been unable to do anything except look and touch. The plane had forced them from the bed into the safety of the couch. Safety – that was a laugh. And all the time, while they had been locked in, the plane had been heading for disaster.
She sighed deeply. If they were going to die at least they would be together.
If they were going to die she wanted to possess him at least once. But how could they… here… on the plane… with everyone watching.
‘Hey – Dallas baberooney,’ Bernie’s voice boomed out, ‘wacha all say to a little lunch? I am personally wasting away. Can you imagine me thin?’
‘Never!’ she laughed. At least he was recovering; it was more than she could say for Cathy who had lain silently all day – not even strong enough to moan. ‘What’s your choice, Bernie? Nuts, crisps, or a couple of lumps of sugar?’
‘How many crisps?’
‘Your share would be about six.’
‘Sounds like a feast.’
‘Come on, Evan, help me prepare lunch!’
* * *
Al leaned back against the tree trunk and watched the wild life. As the rain stopped, insects, birds and animals seemed to pop out from everywhere. A beautifully coloured parrot perched on a tree branch and communicated with another amazingly plumed bird. All around him on the ground tiny insects scurried around. A school of very large ants marched past. An enormous spider weaved an elaborate trap.
Suddenly a whole troop of monkeys came skipping about amongst the trees, leaping from branch to branch. Al grinned. They were all managing to survive pretty well. If they could do it… He stood up, feeling better. What was it Dallas had said? We must find a river. Maybe if he followed the monkeys… Mustn’t get lost… Mustn’t forget which direction he had come from…
He took a lump of sugar from his pocket and sucked on it. Instant energy. Try to forget the way your stomach really feels. The filthy taste in your mouth. The frigging flies and mosquitoes who had decided to become permanent companions. The wet clothes sticking to your aching body. Thank Christ he had been in good shape to start off with.
He thought of the others waiting at the plane, expecting him to come back with good news. He couldn’t let them down. He set off after the monkeys, keeping a wary eye open for snakes. Didn’t want to finish up like Nino. Dallas was right, in the jungle you had to keep your eyes open all the time.
* * *
Cathy died at four o’clock. She drifted silently away, and it wasn’t until Bernie noticed she wasn’t breathing that anyone realized.
‘We’ll have to move her,’ Dallas said sadly. ‘In this heat her body will decompose very quickly.’
‘Bury her next to Luke,’ Bernie suggested. Al and Paul had buried Luke some distance from the plane.
‘Yes, but I can’t do it alone.’
‘I’ll help you,’ said Evan quickly.
‘I don’t know… It will be difficult. Maybe we should wait for Al.’
‘Honestly, Nellie, I can help you,’ Evan said earnestly.
‘Yes I know you can. But I think the best thing is if we get her body off the plane, and then we can bury her tomorrow. It will be getting dark soon.’
Bernie said, ‘Jesus Christ – she was a good kid. She handled the whole hijack caper magnificently – I’m gonna miss her.’ His voice was all choked up. ‘If they’d got us out of this piss hole she could have been saved… Jesus… maybe she’s the lucky one… Maybe that’s what’s in store for all of us… Trash out in some friggin’ jungle…’ He slumped down on the bed.
Dallas wrapped the body in a sheet, and with Evan’s help lowered it off the plane. She wished Al would get back. It was almost dusk, and the deadly blackness followed soon after.
Paul was hotter than ever, the fever seemed to be getting a grip on him.
Nino’s screams of agony were getting weaker, it would be him next.
‘I’d better take a look at your bites before it gets dark,’ Dallas said to Cristina. The girl had stayed next to Nino all day, not moving at all.
‘No… not now. Tomorrow.’
‘How do you feel?’
Cristina nodded. Her face was a mass of dark purple bruises and cuts. ‘Fine,’ she mumbled.
‘You don’t look fine. I want you to have some orange juice.’
‘Yes,’ agreed Cristina.
Dallas walked to the gaping front of the plane and peered out. No sign of Al, and darkness was closing in. She shut her eyes tightly and said a silent prayer. If anything had happened to him she didn’t want to go on. She just couldn’t make it.
Evan came and stood beside her. ‘Don’t worry,’ he said, as if reading her thoughts. ‘He’ll be back, really he will.’
She turned to the son of the man she loved and saw him as if for the first time. He had Al’s eyes, widely-spaced pools of jet, and once his acne cleared up and he filled out a little he would be a good-looking boy.
‘Thank you, Evan,’ she said quietly. ‘You’ve been a great help to me and I want you to know that.’
The darkness hid his blush. ‘S’OK, Dallas, I want to help.’
He had called her by the right name. She smiled and took his hand. ‘You and me and your dad, we’re going to get out of this. Right?’
‘Right,’ he agreed.
* * *
The monkeys led him to a stream. A fast-running rush of clear water that filled Al with buoyancy. He waded in, revelling in the feel of the cold water. He drank some. It tasted fine.
Now if he followed the stream it must lead to a river. Had to. And according to Dallas a river would eventually lead to people.
He was exultant. It was a way out. As Dallas had said it sure beat the hell out of sitting around waiting for some kind of slow death.
He was tempted to start on the journey immediately, and waded some way down the stream. But then he realized it was getting late, and he must go back and tell them what he was going to do. Also he should get some supplies to keep him going – who knew how long it would take? A few cubes of sugar and a bottle of water would not get him far.
It occurred to him that he should have shot one of the monkeys – he had the gun – and they needed meat. Didn’t the Chinese regard monkey as some great delicacy?.
He had picked up a hefty stick which he used to beat his way through the heavy undergrowth. Sometimes he could hear animals scurrying away as he approached.
He was good at directions, and hoped to Christ he knew where he was going. By the time darkness descended he knew he was not going to make it back to the plane in time, and he swore softly under his breath. Now Dallas would be worried. She would think something had happened to him.
There was nothing he could do. It would be stupid to travel in the dark.
He was mad at himself for having got caught like this. Underneath his anger he was scared. Who knew what jungle animals were kicking around out there. He leaned back against a tree and rested his hand comfortingly on the gun. He wouldn’t sleep. It was too dangerous to sleep. Too fucking dangerous. Within minutes he was snoring.
The ants woke him, they were crawling all over him, biting his exposed flesh, eating him alive.
He jumped up cursing, and brushed them frantically off. They clung stubbornly. They were everywhere, they had even managed to crawl inside his clothes.
It was dawn, light enough for him to continue his journey.
He stripped off his clothes, shaking the little monsters out of them, brushing them from his flesh. He was a mass of tiny red bites. ‘Fuckers!’ he screamed, venting his anger and feeling better for it.
When he was sure his clothes were ant-free he put them on again, and set off. He was nearing the plane when he heard the noises. Animal noises of great ferocity.
He stopped, his blood chilling, and approached cautiously.
A few yards from the plane two jaguars tore at a human body, pulling it between them like a rag doll. Blood was everywhere as they picked and bit at the flesh.
Al’s hand tightened on the gun, his only protection. He was immobilized with shock. Maybe it was Dallas… Evan… Paul…
Maybe they were all dead.
The animals could have leapt aboard the plane during the night. They could have picked off their human victims one by one…
He remained frozen to the spot until they finished, and strolled off fully satisfied.
Still Al couldn’t move. He was paralysed with horror.
A monkey swung down off a tree, inspected the bones, squatted beside them.
Slowly Al stepped forward, the monkey skipped off. There was nothing human left to recognize.
Al hauled himself aboard the plane. Curled up in a seat at the front was Dallas. She was asleep. In the seat behind her Evan slept.
Further down the plane Nino lay on the floor, Cristina crouched beside him. Nino’s eyes were wide open and staring in a sightless fashion. Al knelt, felt for his pulse. He was dead.
Cristina didn’t say anything, but tears were falling down her face. She knew.
He continued through to the bedroom section where Bernie and Paul shared the bed. Cathy was no longer there. With a sick feeling he knew who the jaguars had been eating. He only hoped to God she had been dead when they had got her. Then he realized that she must have been – probably died yesterday, and been put off the plane without being buried. He couldn’t help being angry. Who could have done a stupid thing like that?
He looked longingly at the bed. What wouldn’t he give to just flop out and get a few hours’ real kip. What was Paul doing on it anyway? Nothing wrong with him. Dallas should have the bed. She was working harder than anyone. He would soon sort that out today.
He went back down the plane and slid into the seat next to her. He touched her lightly on the arm. She woke with a jump.
‘I knew you would come back,’ she said softly. ‘What happened? I was so worried. Cathy died.’
‘I know.’ He decided not to tell her what he had seen.
‘Tell me what you found.’
‘The plane. No survivors. No radio.’
‘Oh…’ Her face fell.
‘But I found a stream. I was going to follow it but it was getting late. I was thinking about what you said. The only chance we’ve got of getting out is doing it ourselves. I’m going to do it… I’ll find help and come back.’
‘I’m coming with you.’
‘No way. It’s dangerous. You’ll stay here.’
‘Oh, no, I won’t. You think I can just sit around and wait in the hope that you’ll make it. I�
��m coming too – there is no argument.’
‘Oh, yes there is…’
Her eyes became dangerously narrow. ‘I know more about jungles than you do. I know about animals, plants. I know what’s safe to eat… things like that. I am not staying here.’
‘We’ll talk about it.’
‘Nothing to talk about. This is our fourth day here, nobody’s going to come for us.’
‘The others… We can’t leave them alone.’
‘We’ll take them with us… They’ll die here anyway when the food and water run out.’
‘You’re a stubborn bitch.’
‘The hell I am. We’re talking about survival, Al. Our survival. I want to make it – staying here means certain death. The other way there’s a chance.’
‘I don’t know…’
‘Well, I do.’
The rest of the day was not good for any of them. Nino had to be buried, and Cristina did not want to be parted from the body. ‘He knows where Louis is,’ she explained patiently to anyone who would listen, ‘and I want him to tell me.’
Paul was still running a high fever, alternately hot and cold, sweating and shivering.
Bernie was coughing up blood, fat globules.
The heat was unbearable. The metal parts of the plane attracted the sun filtering through the trees like a magnet, until it was like being in the middle of a giant sun reflector.
Flies and mosquitoes were worse than ever, bothering everyone incessantly. And the larvae popping obscenely from Cristina’s arms had to be dug out with a pair of tweezers while she screamed in pain.
Evan was sick and unable to stomach any food. As soon as he ate even the smallest thing he was beset with terrible cramps.
The plane’s odour was getting worse, a sickening mixture of stale sweat and excrement.
‘Staying here is making everyone ill,’ Dallas told Al. ‘The sooner we leave the better.’
He was forced to agree with her. Hellishly hot and stinking during the day. Freezing at night.
They had seen no more planes fly over. The portable radio had given one last crackle and stopped functioning.
‘If everyone can walk we’ll leave tomorrow,’ he said.
Dallas prepared back packs for each of them to carry. A blanket, a towel, their share of food and a bottle to keep their water in. She organized a separate medicine bundle containing bandages, ointment, and the rest of the pain killers.
Lovers and Gamblers Page 66
