He shook his head. ‘There has been contact between police and the terrorists,’ he began. ‘It is on television and the internet. They are workers at the animal sanctuary, six of them, from East Java. Three are brothers, from a very poor area. They came to Bali for a better life.’
‘Then why are they doing this?’
‘Publicity.’ Pak Ketut’s face was grave. ‘They went to a pesantren, an Islamic school, when they were young. Some of the teachers there are members of Jemaah Islamiyah—you know this group? They planned the Bali bombings years ago. Many people died.’
Annie nodded. She could still recall the horror of watching it unfold from her lounge room in California, only a year after the World Trade Center attacks.
‘About eighteen months ago, one of their teachers, Abu Marfu’ah Salihin, was arrested,’ Ketut continued. ‘It was part of a government operation to destroy terrorist networks in Indonesia. The problem is, they put him in prison on Nusakambangan Island before they had proven his guilt. So there has been a big campaign for his freedom, with many supporters. Even foreigners are involved, the human rights activists. The campaign has received much support over the last year.’
Pak Ketut held up his mobile phone to show her a Facebook page entitled ‘Free Salihin’, with tens of thousands of likes. Annie had heard of the case; it had been all over the local news.
‘The brothers have been involved in the campaign too,’ he continued. ‘Three weeks ago, their posts started calling for jihad and purification of the world by fire. Two of the teachings of Salihin.’ He shook his head. ‘It looks like they are acting this out at the sanctuary. This bombing attack has attracted the world’s attention. Now they are demanding the release of Salihin, in return for hostages. You were the sixth Western hostage released, Annie, to show their goodwill.’
Goodwill? Annie suddenly realised just how fortunate she’d been. Literally standing in the right place at the right time—and sufficiently useless, as one of the guards had told her—to be readily jettisoned.
‘What is the Indonesian government doing?’ she asked. ‘The police?’
Pak Ketut sighed. ‘Not much, when the hostages keep coming out. I think this is the terrorists’ plan to delay a rescue. There is much media discussion, foreign governments are involved. It is very sensitive.’
Annie frowned. ‘But it’s been almost twenty-four hours, and people are injured in there. Something has to be done, before something worse happens.’ She thought of the young men patrolling the animal sanctuary. Products of long-term poverty, marginalised and susceptible to grandiose calls to action within a radicalising religious movement. Prepared to do anything to deliver meaning to their otherwise obscure lives.
‘Our army and police are … not very experienced with this,’ said Pak Ketut. ‘We had the bombings years ago, but it was not like this, not many hostages. Not any hostages, Annie.’
‘But the injured need medical attention,’ she said, thinking of the little boy Cara had rescued and poor Janelle, limp in Remy’s arms.
‘The whole of Bali is praying,’ said Pak Ketut. ‘Let us be grateful that Pak Tony and Henry got out, at least.’
‘Oh!’ she cried in pleasure and surprise.
‘You did not know?’ Pak Ketut smiled. ‘No, of course you couldn’t. They escaped. After the blast, they climbed the wall. I tried to help, but …’ He looked away. ‘Henry is badly injured.’
Annie’s elation turned to alarm. ‘How badly?’
‘He showed much courage,’ said Pak Ketut, his eyes meeting hers again. ‘He saved Pak Tony’s life. But then the terrorists shot at him and … he had to jump off the wall.’
‘Into the car park?’ Annie shuddered, recalling the height of the boundary wall.
Pak Ketut nodded. ‘The doctors had to put him into a coma. He had a bad skull fracture. There was pressure on his brain and they had to operate.’
‘Oh, no.’ Poor Henry. She shook her head to think that the member of the group whom she’d branded a dithering coward on the first day they met had actually risked his own life to save another’s. ‘What about Pak Tony? Is he alright?’
‘The doctors say he is fine. He has been interviewed by police already, and he is back at Puri Damai.’
‘That’s good news.’
‘Yes.’ Ketut seemed to hesitate. ‘Pak Tony was not well when Henry was helping him over the wall. I watched them from the car park—Pak Tony could not move. But now Henry is badly injured and Pak Tony is … better.’
‘Maybe the doctors have missed something?’
‘Maybe.’ Ketut looked doubtful.
‘Can we visit Henry?’ asked Annie.
‘I will ask the doctor.’ Ketut stood up from his chair and went out into the corridor.
Annie lay on her back and stared at the ceiling. She was desperate to see Henry, who was by himself, comatose, and in a different hemisphere to his mother. If Pak Tony was injury-free and had been released from hospital, why wasn’t he keeping vigil at the Englishman’s bedside? Or hers, for that matter?
Pak Ketut returned shortly, accompanied by a man in a white coat and a nurse pushing a trolley laden with medical equipment.
‘So, you have woken up,’ the man said jauntily. ‘I am Dr Widhi. Nurse Efi will do your obs now.’ The young woman set about checking Annie’s temperature, pulse, blood pressure and oxygen saturation levels.
While the nurse completed her checks, Doctor Widhi perched on the end of Annie’s bed. ‘We have given you some intravenous fluids, but you have no major injuries. You were fortunate, I think?’ He smiled. ‘The police would like to speak to you, if you are ready. The American embassy also.’
Annie digested this. ‘Of course,’ she said. ‘I’ll do anything I can to help.’
‘I will let them know you are awake,’ he said.
‘But no media,’ said Pak Ketut, in a protective tone.
‘No media,’ the doctor repeated.
‘Can I see my friend Henry?’ Annie asked. ‘The young Englishman?’
The doctor shook his head. ‘Not in his current condition. He is in the high-dependency unit. Only next of kin are allowed.’
Maternal tears welled in her eyes. ‘And has his family been contacted?’
‘Yes, someone is flying out from England tomorrow.’ Dr Widhi touched his hand to his heart. ‘Please excuse me. Nurse Efi will take out your cannula, then you will be discharged. I will organise the paperwork. We are preparing for many more casualties.’ He hurried out of the room.
Of course, Annie thought. When the siege finally ends, there may be dozens of dead and injured. New tears welled up. Ketut reached into the pocket of his batik shirt and passed her a neatly pressed handkerchief.
‘Thank you,’ she said, dabbing at her eyes. ‘I’m very emotional, I’m afraid.’
‘I understand.’ He held out his mobile phone. ‘I could not find your husband’s number in the files at Puri Damai. Would you like to call him now?’
She blinked in surprise, and took a second to answer. ‘My husband died a long time ago.’
‘I am sorry.’ Pak Ketut said nothing for a moment. ‘I lost my wife eight years ago, too.’ Then, after another pause, he asked, ‘Why have you not married again?’
‘Who would want a fat old woman like me?’
‘I do not understand.’ Pak Ketut looked genuinely astonished. ‘You are so friendly and open, Ibu Annie. Something is wrong with men in America?’
She chuckled, chuffed by Ketut’s compliments. ‘Maybe.’ Then, filled with a sudden yearning, she said, ‘But at least I have my dog, Untung, at BAF. I miss her terribly.’
The driver nodded. ‘The police and the embassy will want to interview you first, but I can take you to BAF later tonight, if you would like?’
‘That’s nice of you, Ketut, but I’d like to wait for news of the others.’ She looked at him. ‘Would you stay with me?’
‘Of course.’ Pak Ketut glanced at his watch. ‘But if you change your mi
nd, I could drive you to Ubud in forty-five minutes. You could visit Untung, then come straight back. We could leave very early tomorrow morning. That way, you would miss no news, I think.’
‘Thank you, Ketut.’ Annie smiled back at him. ‘You’re a very kind man.’
Early the next morning Annie checked her phone, but there was no news from inside the animal sanctuary. She consulted the doctor about Henry, too, but was advised that his condition remained unchanged.
She decided to call Ketut, who answered within three rings.
‘Can we get to BAF and back in less than two hours?’ she asked hopefully.
‘If we leave now, yes,’ the driver replied. ‘Wait in the foyer, I will be there soon.’
The roads were still quiet so early in the day. Within half an hour of leaving the hospital, they pulled up outside the two-storey building with a sign in the front window that read Bali Animal Friends (BAF). Looking up at the building, Annie felt as if it was the venue of another life, half-remembered in vivid dreams. So much had happened since she’d last set foot inside it, less than a week ago.
‘Here we are,’ she said, climbing out of the car. ‘I wanted to bring the rest of the Fearless group here. Maybe they can visit after …’ She trailed off, suddenly wracked with guilt. Why was she indulging in this visit to BAF while her friends were still being kept as hostages, or possibly worse?
‘Don’t worry,’ said Pak Ketut, perhaps sensing her feelings. ‘Take a short break now, Annie. You have been through much.’
They went into the shopfront, already open, where baskets of pet supplies—cans of dog food, collars, and worming medicine—were set out for sale on bamboo racks. A small gold bell, inscribed with the words Ring for Service, sat on the unmanned counter.
Annie glanced in surprise at the cages in the window, all of which were empty. ‘Usually these cages are full of puppies for sale,’ she explained to Pak Ketut. ‘Though mostly we just give them away to anyone who can offer a good home. Come through.’ She ushered him towards a doorway marked Staff Only.
They walked along the hallway, past a series of empty offices, then into the kitchenette. There was nobody around.
‘They must be out the back,’ Annie said, looking at the kitchen clock. ‘It’s breakfast time for the dogs.’ But oddly, she could hear no barking. It wasn’t a public holiday, so where was everyone?
She pushed open the door to the yard, then stood motionless for a moment, her eyes darting from side to side. Cages lay at odd angles, their doors open, as if a small tornado had whipped through the facility.
‘Putu?’ she called. ‘Kadek?’
There was no reply. Feeling rather panicked now, Annie began to pick her way along the path between the cages. Pak Ketut followed not far behind, muttering under his breath, ‘Ada apa ini?’
Coming to a gap in the cages, Annie stopped abruptly. ‘Gabriela!’
The Spanish woman sat on the ground with a limpid white puppy in her arms. For a split second, she tried to smile. Then she hung her head and began to sob.
‘What’s wrong?’ Annie crouched down next to her. ‘Where is everyone?’
Gabriela waved a hand towards the back of the yard, then buried her face in the puppy’s fur.
Annie stood up and strode along the path, ignoring Ketut’s pleas to slow down and hati-hati. At the back fence they found Kadek, the vet nurse, standing alongside a large plot of recently turned earth. The young woman spun around at the sound of footsteps.
‘Ibu Annie!’ she exclaimed. ‘Are you alright?’
‘What’s happened here, Kadek?’ Annie asked, ignoring the question.
Kadek looked frightened. ‘They killed the dogs.’
‘What?’ Annie gasped. ‘Who?’
‘Men with darts.’
‘Darts?’ Annie stared around in horrified confusion. ‘Where’s Putu?’
Just then, Putu and Nathan emerged from the nearby storage shed, each peeling off elbow-length black rubber gloves. With the back of his hand, Nathan wiped beads of sweat from his face—or were they tears?
When he saw Annie, he dropped his gloves and rushed to embrace her. ‘Annie—we heard you were at the animal sanctuary. Are you okay?’
She held up a hand to stop him. ‘Just tell me now—what in God’s name has happened here?’
‘I am sorry, Annie.’ Putu stepped forward. ‘The authorities came two days ago and did a mass rabies culling. We could not stop them.’ She stared at him, unable to comprehend what he was saying. ‘They had papers and … the police with them,’ the vet continued, his shoulders slumped. ‘Rabies is increasing in Bali. Sixty people have died of it this year, and it is only March.’
‘What? The authorities think killing healthy dogs is a priority, when there’s a terrorist siege going on?’
‘It happened the day before the siege.’ Putu shrugged. ‘They’d planned it months in advance.’
Annie turned back to Nathan, trembling with anger. ‘Were you here when they came?’
The Australian nodded miserably. ‘I told them that culling doesn’t work. I told them our puppies are vaccinated. But they wouldn’t listen. They had orders, they said.’
Annie’s hands flew to her mouth. ‘How did they … ?’
‘Strychnine darts,’ he said. ‘They’ve been using them on the streets, too. It was awful. They left us to bury them.’ He gestured at the turned soil.
‘But where is … Untung?’ Annie whispered. ‘Where is my dog?’
Pak Ketut began to scout around the yard, looking behind empty cages.
Nathan looked uncertain. ‘It was chaos, Annie. I saw her, then she disappeared. There were so many dogs, and at least six men. The animals were suffering, not all of them died quickly.’ He looked despairingly at his colleagues. ‘Have either of you seen Untung?’
They shook their heads, averting their eyes.
Annie turned and ran, pushing past Pak Ketut. Back along the path, past Gabriela, into the kitchenette, down the hall and up a set of stairs to the second floor. Running into her bedroom, Annie threw herself down on all fours and peered under the bed. The rattan basket beneath was empty.
For a moment she just sat on the floor, next to the bed, shaking uncontrollably. Then she buried her face in the mattress and wailed. A long, mournful howl imbued with every hurt she’d ever sustained over sixty years of life.
After all I’ve survived, she thought, I cannot endure this.
She heard quiet footsteps enter the room. Pak Ketut crouched down beside the bed, gently holding her as she wept. ‘Shhh …’ he said, patting her back.
After a few minutes, Annie’s breathing began to stabilise. She sat back on her heels, snivelling. Pak Ketut released her and straightened up. For a moment he stood with his head tipped to one side, as if listening. Annie watched him dully as he looked around the room. And then she heard it, too: a soft, high-pitched whining. Their eyes met.
Annie pushed herself to her feet. She and Pak Ketut tiptoed across the room, following the sound, and stopped in front of a laundry hamper. Pak Ketut removed the lid. Daring to hope, Annie bent down and removed the topmost items: a pair of white trousers, several checked shirts, a dress. A moment later, a small wet nose appeared, followed by a pair of inquisitive eyes, and then two crooked ears. Seeing Annie, the dog leaped out of the basket and into her arms.
‘Untung!’ Annie wept into the dog’s golden fur. ‘I thought you were lost.’ She looked up at Pak Ketut. ‘I thought they’d killed her, or taken her, or …’ It was as if everything she’d suffered at the animal sanctuary was rendered more tolerable, somehow, by Untung’s survival.
‘I know,’ said Pak Ketut. ‘She really is untung. A survivor, like you.’ He reached down to scratch the dog’s ears.
‘Or very clever,’ said Annie. She tickled the dog’s belly and made a general fuss of her, before standing up again. ‘We should get back to the hospital. This won’t take long.’ She reached under her bed for her suitcase. Then she pulled out
a drawer, scooped up all of the items inside it, and tossed them into her bag.
‘Can I … help you?’ asked Pak Ketut, watching her in confusion.
She shook her head. ‘I don’t have much.’
All that work, she thought, to spay and immunise the dogs, then the government culls them anyway.
‘It’s time,’ she said.
‘For what?’ Pak Ketut ventured.
She squared her shoulders. ‘To give up. I love Untung, but it’s time to let the dogs of BAF go.’ She’d made no difference at all, she realised.
The driver nodded slowly. ‘Maybe you will focus on … people instead? Many are suffering in Bali.’
Annie blinked, stung by the truth in his words. She’d been so busy tending to the dogs of Bali, she’d barely paid attention to the plight of the people. She closed her suitcase with a resolute snap, then began dragging it towards the door.
Pak Ketut scrambled to assist her. ‘What about those?’ He indicated the remaining items in her bedroom: a pile of books, some knickknacks and an empty vase.
‘Oh, it’s just stuff,’ Annie replied. ‘We fill our lives with it. I don’t need it anymore.’ She turned and looked him in the eyes. ‘But what I will need, when all of this terrible business is over, is a driver. One who doesn’t mind a dog in his car, who can handle a traveller without a particular destination in mind. One who wants some company, some laughter, and maybe to see a sunset or two. Can you help me with that?’ She extended her hand hopefully.
Pak Ketut stared at her for a moment, his expression unreadable, then shook her hand. ‘Certainly, Ibu Annie.’
She felt herself blush a little. ‘Well, then,’ she said. ‘Let’s go back to the hospital and wait for our friends.’
Going ahead of her, Pak Ketut hoisted the suitcase on his shoulder and carried it down the stairs, Untung following at his heels.
Watching them descend, Annie felt slightly lighter of heart. The world was unravelling, but she still had Untung. And now she had Ketut, too.
Gelato. The word blurred before Lorenzo’s eyes as he stared at the galley refrigerator positioned directly opposite him. Unable to resist the powerful urge to sleep any longer, his eyelids slipped close. A moment later, he saw the refrigerator door open and the gelato let itself out. Lorenzo leaned forward to catch with his tongue the wispy, sugary puffs that floated beyond his reach. Scoops of cottony vanilla glided past him, round and firm and plump, with little pink bumps for wings. Suggestive, somehow, of the fleshy nipples of his favourite models, wrapped in linen and twill, like dainty sweets in an ornate box. Lorenzo almost groaned with longing. If only he could catch one, take it into his mouth and suck out its sweetness, his hunger might abate.
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