by John Muir
CHAPTER 38
THE WATER GATHERERS
APUAO GRANDE
"Now there's two of us," said Pater, "we're might have to snatch some extra supplies in a day or two. The main thing we'll need plenty of is water. I've got a few cans of assorted food for now. If we ration out what I've got, it'll last a few days. I hope you don't mind cold chef’s surprise. Some of the labels are missing. And be prepared to pull in the belt. Losing a few kilos would do you good anyway. This revolution shit will blow over in a couple of days, so we won’t need many solids. Talking of which, if you need a bowel movement, go a long way downwind and drop your load in a plastic bag. Then bury it deep. Just be glad I'm not asking you to keep it with you."
T.A. nodded and grinned. "There's no other friendly restaurant or toilet facility available, so I hope you don't mind if I stay."
"Lucky it was you," Pater went on, "any other guest I would've just watched them go past. Let them flounder around until they got themselves re-caught, maybe killed."
This made T.A. feel even more beholden to Pater, but he felt good about being singled out from the others.
"The food's virtually split three ways," said Pater.
T.A. knew he had a surprised look on his face.
"Did you link up with the Germans or those Iranian guys?" asked T.A?
"Nah," replied Pater, "haven't seen hide nor hair of any of them. I think maybe a few Filipinos got away too. They would've gone straight to the barrio to sleep. A few faces were missing in the round-up. No, the third proportion is for Fred."
"Fred?"
"Yeah Fred. The little mutt that hangs around everyone for free food."
"Yeah, I know. Why? I mean where’s he?" T.A. felt the first grin starting on his face since the Japanese had pissed at the nearby guards. "Did he escape too?"
T.A. was grateful that the serious look on Pater's face changed to a grin.
"Yeah, he dug a six foot deep tunnel and scaled a barbed wire fence. No. I'll feed the little bugger because he saved me from getting caught when I was gathering water."
"How?"
"I'll tell you later. This time you can be my watch-dog. C'mon, I'll show you where and how you get water in a survival situation. We can survive without food for days. Without water we'd be starting to lose effectiveness within hours."
T.A. was going to ask Pater if he was tying the plastic bags around the trees to catch the drips. He decided to shut up and follow the master.
Almost as if reading T.A.'s mind, Pater went on, "Tying plastic bags around any branches would be easily seen. Hell no. Too obvious to anyone around that we were gathering water. It's also too bloody slow."
T.A. wanted Pater to explain, but decided against asking. He watched as Pater tucked a small pistol behind his back, check a wicked looking hunting knife which he carefully placed on his lap, then pick up some thin rope and put that under his leg. T.A. sat silently watching.
"Give me your thongs," said Pater.
T.A. obliged; then watched as Pater carefully made two small holes through the soles of each of the rubber thongs. Pater pushed the rope through the holes leaving long loose ends dangling on the top.
"Try them on now and tie them up as you would ordinary shoe laces."
Pater handed the adapted thongs back.
"It might be uncomfortable until you can find some cloth to put under the rope. But it'll stop the flip-flop noise that tells everyone you're coming. If we raid one of the houses later we'll try and get some proper rubber shoes and maybe more cans. Just tie them loosely, double knot."
T.A. put them on. It almost felt like he was wearing proper European sandals apart from the discomfort of the rope. The new but muddied Reeboks that Pater was wearing made T.A. realise Pater had even thought about his feet before escaping. T.A. could not remember what Pater was wearing when they were all incarcerated in the tennis court. If he was not wearing them in the tennis court, he must have got them during the night after his escape.
"Here," said Pater, "you'd better strap this to your leg."
Pater handed T.A. a diving knife and the hardened rubber sheath that it came in. T.A. fastened it to the outside of his right calf. Thankfully the straps did not need any adjustment.
"You better take this too," said Pater, handing T.A. the baseball bat, the only weapon that T.A. had brought with him. "And don't be afraid to use it. With the way these bastards behave, you won't get a second chance."
Pater picked up the quiver, removed about half of the arrows and covered them with leaves. Grabbing further handfuls of leaves, he pushed them into the quiver.
"To keep down any noise," responded Pater to T.A's questioning look.
Pater looked directly into T.A's eyes as if asking a question about his judgement of T.A's abilities. Then he gave a nod of his head. T.A. knew the nod meant they were ready. It also meant silence and to follow Pater.
T.A. watched closely as Pater moved to the mouth of the bower and cocked his head in different directions, listening for any change in sound that might betray the presence of anyone else. Satisfied they were safe to emerge, Pater slid out onto the almost overgrown and obviously seldom used side-path. T.A. followed and watched Pater's careful foot placing, avoiding any foot fall that might crack a broken branch or unnecessarily disturb the dry leaves. T.A. tried to imitate and felt successful at doing so. Pater must have thought about T.A.'s progress. He turned around and looked down at T.A.'s feet. Pater gave another cursory nod. T.A. hoped he could read that as a stamp of approval.
A few paces before they got onto the main path, Pater raised his empty right hand to indicate a stop. T.A. was so intent on watching his own foot-placing, he almost walked into Pater's back before he stopped. Again Pater went through the head-cocking routine, listening. T.A. was only aware of the ongoing cacophony of locust sounds without any diminution in their noise in their vicinity. If there had been it was a sure sign they were too noisy in their progress.
Pater went down on his knees, then his stomach before slowly and cautiously peering out on to the main track, quickly looking both ways.
"C'mon," he whispered back at T.A., "a quick dash to some cover near the first pipe leak."
Pater accelerated away unexpectedly, and had covered ten or more metres before T.A. had got onto the main track. He suddenly felt exposed and clumsy running on what would obviously be a well patrolled path. Never the less, he blindly followed. While running, T.A. glanced behind him for any sign of the guerillas. When he looked to his front again, Pater had vanished.
Panic began to overtake him. He stopped running and began to look around for any sign of Pater.
"In here," came a whispered voice from behind low scrub to his left.
T.A. quickly but carefully pushed aside the scrub to join Pater already stomach down, facing out to the trail. The sense of relief was enough to make T.A. feel they had already achieved their goal. He would have been quite thankful if Pater had decided to go back to the bower now, without water. T.A. was wondering if water was worth this sort of risk. What would be the reaction of the guerillas if they were spotted? Would they shoot? Would they call out a warning to stop? He was again wishing he had remained in the tennis court with the others. At least there the water was supplied without the risk of being shot at.
"The water pipe from the pump-house down to the restaurant follows this path," explained Pater. "It leaks in various places. You might've seen that during your walk-a-bouts. I've just been gathering it in plastic bags. What I want you to do is to keep an eye on the part of the path just past that bend and warn me if anyone is coming."
Pater pointed to a place further down the trail where the path took a sharp left turn.
"O.K.," replied T.A. feeling the nerves in his stomach tighten further. This was not a childish game of hide-and-seek. Instead of being hit by a tennis ball to confirm he had been caught as they used to play, he could be hit by a burst of gunfire.
"Set yourself up on the outside corner where you can see if anybody is co
ming from either way," said Pater.
"How will I signal you?" asked T.A..
"Just throw something in my direction. Make it land on the path and I'll know that something's happening," replied Pater. "O.K:, get going. Take the bow and arrows with you as well as your bat."
Pater gave T.A. a pat on the shoulder in an effort to reassure him. T.A. dragged himself out onto the path. The tightening sensation went higher up from his stomach. His chest muscles were tight. He was thinking that it was all right for Pater, he would be still hiding behind the bush while T.A. was moving up the path until he found himself the right place to keep watch.
He kept deliberately to one side of the path and listened carefully. He noticed he was walking in an instinctive crouch, ready to dive into the safety of the forest at the first sign of danger.
T.A. decided to hide on the outside of the curve where he could see approaches from both directions. As he lay down behind more scrub he felt around for a broken branch to use for throwing as the warning signal. He looked to his right front at the wider part of the path that led toward the restaurant. It was all clear and it would be easy to see anyone coming from that direction. To his left it was narrower and slightly up hill where Pater was still hidden.
T.A. felt very lonely and very guilty at the same time. He was now hidden and Pater would have to be the one in the open gathering water. He would be vulnerable for a much longer than the few seconds T.A. had been on the path.
He waited for Pater to emerge. It seemed an age before he came out of the bush, then crouch down near where they had hidden. T.A. watched Pater carefully removed a very water-filled plastic bag from the ground. He had not seen it while he was there. Pater poured some of its content into a second plastic bag. If anyone approached from Pater's direction, T.A. knew they would see Pater before he could warn him.
T.A. noticed Pater was crouching in the same way of all the Asian races that T.A. had seen in his travels. Feet flat on the ground, knees fully bent, body bent from the hips, bum almost touching the ground. T.A. could not do it now, though he could remember crouching that way as a child. He always thought his legs and stomach were too large to do it now. His knees could not stand the strain either. But Pater was of a similar build to him and he was managing quite easily. T.A. rationalised that Pater could do it because he had been living in Asia for so long. Pater's muscles were obviously supple and better exercised than his. He promised himself that if he ever got out of this situation he would try the Asian crouch and keep practising until he could do it properly, no matter how many times he fell backwards. If Pater could do it so could he.
T.A. kept flicking his eyes to his right front checking the wider part of the path. He listened for changes in the noise patterns around him which might alert him to danger. But Pater's work kept dragging T.A.'s attention back to the uphill part of the path where Pater was crouching. Pater's movements seemed slow and deliberate, yet at the same time so efficient.
He saw Pater pause, then freeze in his movements. T.A. watched the completely still figure for several seconds and wondered what he was doing. T.A. began to think that maybe a snake was watching Pater from the bush and was ready to strike. Then T.A. noticed movement in the shadows further along the path.
"Shit," whispered T.A. to himself and felt the tension return without having been aware that it had gone.
It was too late to throw the stick. The gunmen had already spotted Pater. There were four that T.A. could see. He wondered if Pater was aware of them. Their weapons were ready, as they moved slowly and carefully towards Pater.
He watched Pater remain crouching before slowly turning his head in the direction of the hooded guerillas. Still crouching, he slowly raised his hands skyward to show that he was not going to resist. Without any jerkiness or sudden movement, Pater slowly stood and put his hands behind his head in total surrender. Even though he was slightly stooped, he was still a good head height taller than his captors. From the way he was standing T.A. knew that Pater had stooped so as his size did not to intimidate the gunmen further.
T.A. could not hear any words being spoken as they approached and surrounded Pater. One began an efficient search of Pater's sheet tied sarong-style around his waist. The other three watched; barrels of their weapons only inches from Pater's face. They seemed to show no malice or aggression in their actions. Any facial expressions were hidden by their masks.
When the searcher removed Pater's knife and sheath, he examined the knife, feigned a slash across his own throat, and laughed loudly enough for T.A. to hear. The searcher then tried to tie the belt around his waist. He soon realised the holes in the belt were too far out to fit his waist, so he slung it over his head and under his arm in bandolier fashion.
Though they appeared to search Pater thoroughly T.A. had not seen them remove the pistol that Pater had been carrying.
T.A. could not hear what the gunmen were saying. Even if he could it was unlikely they would be talking in English, unless they were talking to Pater. From the laughter he knew they were happy with their prize.
T.A. felt confused and concerned at the same time. What should he do? If he emerged from the bush to surrender, the nervy gunmen might shoot. If he just stayed there and did nothing, they would not find him. He knew he had to do something. But what? Pater would think he was a coward if he did not try something. Then again why did Pater not resist? Was he a coward too? T.A. felt guilty about that stupid thought. He knew Pater would have considered the odds of success of any action. That is what he should be doing. What would Pater do in this situation?
The group began to move down the trail toward him to take Pater to the restaurant. It was only a further three hundred or so metres down the track. The knife carrying gunman was leading the group. They walked in single file with Pater as number three, well covered by the two hooded men behind him. T.A. was surprised they had not tied Pater up. Possibly they did not have anything suitable. The total surrender of Pater without a fight and his placing of his hands on his head seemed to confirm, at least to the guerillas minds, that he was not going to give them any trouble.
T.A. froze as they passed his position. His mind flashed to a thought about a T.V. documentary he had seen. It was about a bird that nested in the open and froze when in danger. There were other animals that did this. T.A. did not know whether he was frozen because of fear, or simply to remain hidden. The group passed by within a baseball bat's length of him. By the time T.A. had connected his thought about a baseball bat, and lunging out swinging the bat, they were already past.
What he could do? There were four of them. Even if he could bring down one of them with the bat, there were still three others, all no doubt with safety catches off and ready to shoot.
He remembered the bow and arrows. Maybe he could bring down the last one in the single file with a well placed arrow. With luck, the others might not be aware their last man was down, especially if he did not call out when he was hit. T.A. made a grab for the bow and pulled one of the arrows out of the quiver. The group was already ten metres past him. If he delayed any longer he would be too late to do anything. He tried to mount the arrow as quickly as he could into the guide, but in rushing he put the arrow nock above the string nock. He quickly re-adjusted and the arrow was set correctly, the shaft was sitting on the arrow guide of the hand-grip.
T.A. lifted the bow and drew the string gently back, the arrow between his thumb and forefinger. He took aim at the centre of the back of the rear-most guerilla. The arrow lifted out of the guide before he could release it, T.A. cursed. He was holding the arrow too tightly.
He had done this hundreds of times with Pater in the last few days without these problems. Releasing the tension on the bow, he re-set the arrow shaft back onto the guide and took a looser grip on the arrow nock. Again he slowly drew back the bow string. The group was now over twenty metres away. Everything T.A. was doing seemed to be taking an eternity, though he realised that only a second or two of real time had elapsed.
The middle of the back of the rear guard was now the target for the arrow. T.A. knew that with the accuracy he had attained on the range with Pater, he could now score a hit within about six inches of his aim at this range. But he had never shot at a living target before. And worse, this target was human.
T.A. felt his breathing becoming irregular, and the strength in his right arm was fading quickly. His left arm began to shake. T.A. released the bow tension again, took a deep breath, and drew the string back once more. The group was now about twenty-five metres away. If he was going to shoot, he had to do it now. His left arm started to shake again. He knew he did not have time to relax and draw again.
When the arrow flew off the bow, the air in T.A.'s lungs exhaled. T.A. watched in a mixture of anger and relief as the arrow flew harmlessly past the left arm of the last guard. The group did not even pause or react to his arrow as it sailed harmlessly past them and into the rain forest, missing all the tree trunks in its path. With their masks on the guerillas had not heard or seen anything.
"Fuck!" muttered T.A. He grabbed the diving knife out of its sheath on his right leg and snatched the baseball bat into his left hand. He found himself running toward the rear of the group. He stopped about six metres behind the last guard and raised his arm to throw the diving knife at the rear-most guerilla.
The knife turned end over end as it hurtled toward the target until the much heavier handle hit the last guard in the back of the head. The guard crumpled to the ground, stunned or unconscious. T.A. had not thought about the knife not being weighted for throwing, the result was effective enough.
He transferred the baseball bat to his right hand, and took a double grip as he ran forward, the group still unaware of his presence. To immobilise the only other guard behind Pater, he swung high and hard down on the guard's right collarbone. He had only just begun a scream when T.A. hit him a second time on the left side of his head. He had not meant to hit the guard a second time, but he reacted instinctively to the guard's scream.
Pater clenched the fists of his already raised arms and crashed down hard on the head of the guard in front of him. Then, lunging forward, punched into the face of the now fully turned front guard still trying to unshoulder his weapon. The guard was unconscious before he hit the ground.
All four of the guards were down. It had taken less than five seconds. T.A. just stood there, exhausted. Pater did not pause. He snatched his hunting knife from under the arm of the prone leading guard, rolled him face down, put his knee into the unconscious guard's back, pulled the head back and sliced the knife across the guard's throat.
T.A. froze in shock, fear and amazement, unable to do anything. Pater repeated the same treatment to the second guard.
"No," screamed T.A., suddenly re-energised. He lunged forward to stop Pater moving toward the third prone hooded figure that he had laid out with his bat.
Pater thrust the knife at T.A.'s lunging figure making T.A. instinctively freeze. The cold threatening look in Pater's eyes told T.A. not to advance any further.
"No," T.A. pleaded, "Not like this."
"Do you want these bastards to die of old age?" Pater snapped back. "Do you want me to phone for a fuck'n ambulance so we can take them to a fuck'n hospital? Do you want to take them back to our little hideaway and tend their wounds? Maybe do a hostage exchange?"
While Pater was talking to him, he had moved toward the guard that T.A. had struck with the baseball bat. Pater ripped the hood off the limp form. Under the mask was a face was so splattered in blood that T.A. felt his empty stomach lift. He dry-reached. The beaten left side of the head was so misshapen it was barely recognisable as the side of a face. The cheek-bone protruded out above the ear which was hanging loosely. The jaw was pushed so far to the right that at first glance it seemed to be missing.
T.A. had to turn his head away.
"Well?” questioned Pater, "He's still alive. What do you want me to do with this victim of your violence?"
Pater did not wait for a reply, just lifted the half face off the ground and again slit the throat.
Again T.A. found himself stepping forward. He did not know from where his self-confidence was coming, he just knew he could not let Pater slit another throat.
“Give me the knife Pater," T.A. demanded.
He was surprised when Pater obliged and handed him the knife, handle first.
T.A. looked at the blood on the blade and his hands felt sticky. He looked at his hands and saw that they were covered in blood from the handle. He moved away from Pater as Pater moved toward the fourth guard who was starting to moan. He was beginning to regain consciousness. T.A. looked at the unfortunate moaning form and wondered at the strange events which put the wrongly weighted diving knife into his hands. He had never thought about the handle being heavier than the blade when he threw it.
He watched meekly as Pater pushed his knee into the back of the now fully conscious and struggling guerilla. Pater locked his arms around the guerillas head and twisted it quickly to the right. T.A. shuddered when he heard the crack of a neck bone and saw the form stop struggling immediately. Pater then removed the masks of the guerillas one by one.
"Why take their masks off?" asked T.A., surprised at the sudden calmness in his voice.
"Just wanting to check something out."
"What?"
"Remember the guy who killed Podgy?"
"Yeah."
"Well, he was an Arab. I just wondered if there were any more. None of these were."
Pater threw the masks as far as he could into the forest.
"If you feel up to it, we've got to get away from here as quickly as we can before any more people turn up."
T.A. knew Pater was right and turned to pick up his diving knife. As he put the knife into his leg sheath, Pater had already picked up one of the bodies and dropped it a few metres into the scrub. He followed the same procedure with the second after removing the spare magazines and water bottles from the body. T.A. stood and watched, feeling empty and useless.
Pater said nothing and disposed of the last two bodies in the same fashion. T.A. watched as Pater scrubbed over any areas of leaves that showed blood. Apart from the M16's, magazines and water bottles lying on the trail, there was no obvious trace of the action that had taken place.
Pater walked up to T.A. and carefully took the hunting knife out of T.A's hand. Pater wiped the bloody blade in the dirt, then, wiped the handle with leaves which he then threw into the bush. He put the knife back into his recovered sheath. It had only been minutes before that the leading guerilla had been wearing the sheath and its deadly knife proudly as a prize.
"Get the bow and quiver and let's get out of here," ordered Pater.
By the time T.A. had recovered the bow, placed it over his shoulder and belted the quiver around his waist, Pater had gathered up all four M16's, the spare magazines and the water bottles. T.A. looked at the water bottles. He could not imagine himself drinking from them. If he tried, he was sure he would vomit at the thought of drinking from the bottles of people that he had helped murder.
Within a few paces of their trek back to their safe bower, T.A. was aware of the noisy clatter of the barrels of the M16's banging against the water bottles and the magazines Pater was carrying.
"Let me help," offered T.A.
Pater let him take part of the load, though T.A. took particular care not to take the still bloody baseball bat.
Pater stopped at the spot where he was gathering the water, put down his load, pushed into the scrub and emerged with his pistol.
"I left it there in case I was spotted. I knew if I had to run I could come back for it later," he offered in explanation.
T.A. had forgotten about the pistol. He had presumed that Pater had it with him the whole time.
Pater put two of the M16's, and a spare magazine for each, behind the scrub from where he recovered the pistol.
“That’s a reserve in case we lose the others,” Pater said. He picked
up the two plastic bags of water, knotted the tops, and moved on.
T.A. was in a daze. Subdued, he followed Pater back to the shelter and protection of the bower.
When they crawled in and sat down, Pater looked at T.A. and nodded his head, then leaned forward and patted T.A. on the arm.
“I knew you’d do alright. You did bloody well.”
T.A. closed his eyes. Inside his eyelids he could still see vivid pictures of falling bodies and throats being slit. When he opened his eyes, he realised there were tears rolling down his cheeks.
