by Mark Green
Maddie followed the group down into the coolness of the cave, her eyes drawn upwards to marvel at the draping rock formations, pitted alcoves and patches of mossy clumps. From the last step at the bottom of the cavern, the floor levelled out for thirty feet, then sloped down to a lower tier, where the enclosed roof opened up to reveal tall rocky outcrops. The foliage, small trees and bushes at the base of the crags basked in warm sunlight. The group meandered around the plateau between the overcast gloom beneath the rock canopy and sunlight flooding into the gorge, all their eyes fixated skywards, feet mingling in silence, allowing the high-pitched insect sounds to resonate and dominate.
‘This Panang-san-pon – bat cave,’ said Malik, holding his hands aloft, gesturing to the cavern’s rocky ceiling.
‘Bats …?’ said Charlie, shrinking back.
‘Don’t worry. Like wayward women, they only come out at night,’ said Sandy, patting him on the shoulder, chuckling.
Charlie shrugged Sandy’s hand away and edged out of the shade, into the warmth and lush greenery adorning the gorge. He wandered towards more steps at the far end, his sweating palms clutched behind his back.
Maddie stood on a patch of higher ground, panning around the village, which clustered around the periphery of the cliffs far below. Grey, terracotta and pacific-blue rooftops peeked out from overhanging trees and bushes, dotted ad hoc – some clustered together, others spread out with more land between them. Adults worked in the clearings, washing, sawing, tinkering with machinery. Children played in the dirt, skipping or chasing each other, their muted squeals just about audible.
‘It’s hard to imagine what it must have been like, back in the late Seventies …’ said Maddie.
‘We’re about to find out,’ replied Sandy in a grim tone. He exchanged a sad look with her, then looked over at Malik and nodded.
‘We go,’ said Malik. He took the group down a series of steps of irregular gradients into a clearing between rocky sides, replicating a shallow flat-bottomed volcano crater. He led them across the shiny compacted mud basin to the far corner, where he stopped and turned, waiting for everyone to catch up.
‘Here are killing caves. Please be respecting, to the spirits.’ Malik stepped into a narrow rocky entrance, leading the shuffling, stooping, human caterpillar through a tunnel no more than two people wide and barely tall enough to remain upright. They filtered down the slope past alcoves lit with flickering candles that dripped hot wax onto miniature pyramid mounds of multi-coloured waxy blobs. The naked flames wavered eerily, casting fragmented shadows across the craggy walls that constantly changed size and orientation, confusing rocky boundaries with the passing waft of each visitor.
The rocky tunnel descended farther, its uneven compacted mud floor requiring cautious, stuttering footsteps and outstretched arms to prevent bumping into the person in front. The group wound its way deeper into the claustrophobic gloom, eyes darting warily, lungs heavy in the dank, chilly tunnel. A cloak of darkness descended as candlelight faded around the final curve in the path. Their progress slowed to baby steps, fingers grasping loose clothing of the person ahead, willing the distant glow from the next hidden flame to reach out and find them, bringing its paltry psychological warmth and dim consolatory light into view.
‘Bloody hell.’ Sandy paused, jostling the rest of the group behind him, bunching them together in a heart-pounding halt. He stepped to his left, allowing just enough space for all of the group to crowd up, the flickering elliptical light from a dozen candles dotted around recesses in the rock reassuring, but barely so. A single chain barrier had been strung across the tunnel sides to protect them from a black void beyond.
Maddie huddled within the group, like a penguin cuddling up, vying for shelter from an arctic breeze. She peered through gaps between their heads, holding her breath as she stared into the candlelight, the consistency of the numerous flames fluctuating, wobbling, shuddering in the turbulence of their arrival. Elongated shadows flickered across the floor, stretching deeper into the recess behind the chain. Their eyes gradually adjusted enough within the gloom to make out where the floor dropped away, plunging over the edge of the cliff into an abyss.
A gasp spluttered from within the group. ‘Is that a hip bone – Jesus!’
Incredulous eyes searched the heavy shadows. Pulses quickened, stomachs twinged with bile. Limbs shuddered, breathing hastened, chests thumped, souls strained against the bodies’ boundaries, itching to escape.
‘There’s more … further in. I can see a tiny skull,’ said Charlie.
Gabby turned away, her hand clamped across her face, hyperventilating.
Sandy forced down a dry, painful swallow, then began to read the dimly lit sign, paraphrasing for everyone else’s benefit. ‘The Khmer Rouge would drag their victims down here … academic types, anyone with an education. To save money on bullets, they’d strike them with machetes, or simply throw them off the cliff to their deaths. There was no mercy for anyone, of any age.’ Sandy turned away, wiped his eyes and shuffled carefully past the others, heading back up the tunnel.
Maddie watched him depart. She edged forwards, only to falter and sway back with the rat-a-tat-tat pulse of a series of stark white explosions of light.
‘What the—’
The final burst of light lingered for a split-second, ruining night vision, plunging the cave and the group into darkness. The fleeting, sporadic illumination revealed more horrors through Maddie’s squinting eyelids, many more bones lay scattered in the deeper recesses and alcoves.
‘Who the hell was – Christ!’ she whimpered, her voice breaking.
‘Sorry everyone, I didn’t think.’
Maddie hurried away from Charlie’s hollow voice, leaving it lingering ghoulishly in the suffocating depths of the cave. She raced upwards, her hand clutching another, following the meandering candlelight together, the flames flickering erratically as they rushed past. She virtually sprinted out of the cold claustrophobic confines of the tunnel, raising her hands to shield her face from the glare of piercing light outside, gradually creeping back, the sun creating long shadows.
Maddie withered away from its last glowering shimmer, startled yet grateful for its brilliance, warmth and reassurance. She took several deep gulping breaths, one hand still gripping Kao’s hot, shaking palm, her other hand resting on her hip. She angled her head back, expanding her chest with lungfuls of warm, sticky air, blinking back the moisture gathering in her eyes.
‘Are you both okay?’
Maddie glanced over at Sandy’s soft, gravelly voice. She blinked away her emotion, then looked into Kao’s puffy eyes and released the grip on her hand. Maddie nodded, reaching out to hug Kao, who’d begun sobbing relentlessly.
‘Please … take my handkerchief.’ Maddie eased back to allow Sandy to pass the white cotton cloth to Kao. Her gaze briefly flickered over to meet his, then she dabbed her eyes and melted away to find her own space. Maddie turned, drawn to movement at the cave’s entrance. Charlie stepped out into the sunshine, his compact camera dangling on a strap around his wrist.
‘Okay, okay – I’m sorry. I didn’t think. I realise now that was a bit inappropriate—’
‘A bit inappropriate? Tell that to the families of … you fucking insensitive cowboy!’ Sandy shook his head in disgust, trance-like, staring at Charlie for several seconds before he wrenched his eyes away.
Charlie shot Maddie a sheepish, apologetic glance. She shuffled away from him, clutching a hand across her mouth, seeking out a quiet space in this most tragic place.
Twenty-One
Barry sat down on the bed and watched the bathroom door close.
‘I’m anticipating an energetic welcome,’ said Jody in a muffled voice.
‘You can count on it.’
Barry scanned the room and reached across the bed, peering at the bedside cabinet. ‘There you are, my beauties.’ He swiped a clear plastic 35mm film container off the melamine surface and peered at the two memory cards inside, then
deposited the film container in his camera case’s side pocket.
‘Okay Bazza,’ he murmured, rolling off the side of the bed, ‘light the blue touch paper, and …’ He unzipped a section on his backpack and removed a handwritten envelope, which he propped up against the lamp on the bedside cabinet. ‘… Scoot off to a safe distance.’
He removed his flip-flops, hoisted the backpack onto his shoulders and picked up the camera case. He padded silently out of the room, taking care to close the door softly behind him.
• • •
‘Figured out where you’re heading next?’ asked Gabby, handing Maddie a bottle of beer.
‘I’ve been reading about the temples of Angkor.’
‘Hey, good for you. The spirits are calling you to the open road, eh?’ Gabby clinked her bottle against Maddie’s.
‘That and more – I’ve been reading more about Cambodia’s recent history. It’s horrific, but the resilience of the people is inspiring. It’s incredible optimism, against all the odds …’ Maddie felt her throat tighten, a bubble of nausea fizzing beneath her collarbone. She sloshed beer into her mouth, forced it down, coughing. She lifted a hand to shield her mouth. ‘Tell me more about this guy – how long now, until you meet?’ she said, her voice distorted behind her palm.
‘Thirty-two hours and forty-nine minutes. But who’s counting …’
‘Wow, that’s so exciting! What’s the first thing you’re going to say to him?’
‘I’m not going to say anything. We’ll watch the sunrise together, look into each other’s eyes and—’
‘Boom – get on it!’ yelled Barney, slamming his hand down on the table. Maddie and Gabby jumped, recoiling from Barney’s hysterical laughter. ‘You two, kiss – smooch, yes?’
‘Sod off Barney! Scared the shit out of me,’ Maddie yelled, her hands gripping the edge of the table.
‘Tomorrow, you go to Siem Reap?’ he asked in an interested voice, crouching down between them, resting his chin on the table top.
‘Maybe. Hopefully not on the same bus as you,’ replied Gabby, with a trace of mild amusement.
‘But alas, it is in the gods’ laps—’ Barney jumped up, twirled around in mid-air, landing with his back to the table. He poked out his bottom, half-turned and dazzled them with a wacky grin. ‘And the gods can kiss my arse!’ He screeched and leapt away, hopping on alternate legs to the far side of the bar.
Maddie watched him depart. She took a slug of beer. ‘Why do we bother with them?’
‘Men?’
Maddie nodded.
‘Because for eighty per cent of the time, the right one can make a lonely heart sing.’
‘You think?’
‘I know.’ Gabby reached out and squeezed Maddie’s hand.
‘That’s still a twenty per cent pain in the arse.’ Maddie sighed, removed her bandanna and ran her fingers through her hair. ‘Do you have plans, after meeting up with …’
‘Matthew? No. I booked a one-way ticket, wanted to truly step into the unknown. We may see the sun rising over Angkor Wat and feel no connection, no urge to be together. And if that’s how it is, that’s okay. It’ll still be nice to catch up. An hour, a day, a week … there’s no time limit set. Sometimes things need to play out, y’know.’
Maddie caught the faraway glaze in Gabby’s eyes, lost for a moment in her internal speculation of what might happen. ‘That’s a lovely, carefree way to view the future.’
Gabby shrugged, refocusing, back in the moment. ‘We dig our own channels, in our little corners of the world, to encourage the water to bring life, hoping it’ll trickle in a preferred direction. But ultimately that liquid will always find its own path. Sometimes in the channel we’ve diligently prepared, other times not.’
‘So just go with the flow?’
‘For now.’ Gabby grinned and finished her drink. She pulled focus back onto Maddie. ‘Talking of drips – Charlie is an interesting, slightly ambiguous prospect.’
Maddie paused, mid-drink. She lowered the beer bottle, studied Gabby’s inquisitive expression. ‘For who?’
‘You’ve not noticed his interest in you?’
The embryo of a smile twitched on Maddie’s lips. She glanced around the bar, leaned forwards and lowered her voice. ‘He’s a nice enough guy. Intelligent and well mannered. Today excluded, obviously.’
‘Good looking too.’
‘Yes, okay, he’s attractive. But I think Victoria has a thing for him.’
‘Of course she does. But why’s that a problem?’
‘Um … because she’d be upset. And she’s been good to me.’
‘She’s a big girl. Don’t sacrifice your own happiness for the feelings of someone you don’t know. If she were a long term friend, then of course, step back. But out here, in the world of the traveller, we’re acting under a different set of rules. I’m not saying be an unfeeling bitch and elbow her out of the way. It’s about having faith, the confidence to let go and embrace the spontaneity of the moments ahead. So if he makes a play for you, and you’re open to that, then don’t be afraid to go with it. If it’s a mutual attraction between two available parties, then that’s one of life’s beautiful moments.’
• • •
Rupert peered across the table, watching Fender make notes. He paused to sip his coffee before looking up at Rupert. ‘Twelve-seater minibus, all seats pre-paid prior to departure. Unlike the jam-packed public bus on a cheaper tourist route, this was a one seat per person comfort special. Which means we could be looking at eleven or twelve other travellers, depending if Maddie signed up in advance, or jumped on board that morning. I have five names from the Wild Orchid Villas. They are: Victoria Stevens, British. Barnaby Vogel, German. Kao Yeung, Chinese. Rodney Sharp, British, and Gabby Evans, Welsh. I’ve made some other enquiries, but can’t verify who else was on board because they all bought their tickets elsewhere at different times, without records being available. I’ve prepared a file on each of the five and have mobile phone numbers for three of them.’
‘How is that possible?’
Fender levelled his unblinking gaze on Rupert, who shifted in his seat. ‘High roaming charges on their home networks mean travellers often buy cheap pre-paid SIMs, which in Southeast Asia require mandatory registration.’
‘Let me guess, validated by a passport number?’
‘Yes, for foreign nationals. Six years ago the Thai telecoms regulator standardised registration for Thailand, Laos, Cambodia and Myanmar – formally Burma – into a single data pool. A little incentive deposited in the right pocket and voila, a name and passport number from a hotel register is cross-matched, producing three local SIM numbers. Which, when collated with other useful data,’ Fender held up a several sheets of A4 paper, ‘produces a wealth of useful intel, which the receptionist kindly printed off for me.’ He passed the bundle of files to Rupert.
‘No doubt in exchange for hard currency?’
‘Correct. Take a look – one of the three phones is currently switched off, the other two are located … here.’ Fender used a thumb and finger to enlarge the satellite map’s scale on his smartphone. ‘Battambang, and Phnom Sampeau, both in Cambodia.’
‘I didn’t think it was possible to track a phone number that’s not been registered on a location-finding website …’
‘It’s not, ordinarily. But the network providers do have logs of cell-site location information – CSLI, as the industry refers to it. These can sometimes be utilised, for the appropriate consideration.’
‘You mean bribe.’
Fender peered over his glasses at Rupert. ‘Money talks, Rupert. Literally. Or in this case, it provides a historical record of CSLI radio wave pings from the phone’s SIM to signal masts, which can be triangulated to estimate a rough location.’
He sat back, stretched his arms above his head and linked his fingers, resting them on the back of his neck. ‘The Cambodian border opens at nine-thirty tomorrow morning. From there it’s a ninety minute drive to Bat
tambang, sixty if the taxi driver accepts my inducement. Get some rest, tomorrow is going to be an important day.’
• • •
Maddie eased the pack off her shoulders and glanced around the bus station. A few shops hugged the perimeter of the dusty, oil-stained concrete, unpopulated and distinctly sleepy looking at this time in the morning. Several old coaches stood in their allocated bays, their drivers sleeping along the back seat or stood chatting outside a shop front, clasping a steaming cup of coffee.
Victoria sat down on her pack and checked her watch. ‘Could have had an extra thirty minutes in bed.’
‘I have been early before, still I miss my bus. It is the way of Cambodia,’ said Kao, shielding her eyes from the rising sun peeking over the far buildings.
‘Yeah … it’s messed up.’
‘I wonder who else is leaving today?’ said Maddie.
Victoria glanced up from behind the flame flickering under the end of her cigarette. She snapped the Zippo’s lid shut, puffed the tobacco into life and scrutinised Maddie through the smoke. ‘Don’t worry, he’ll be on the bus.’
Maddie looked over at her. ‘Who?’
‘Charlie. He told me, last night.’
Maddie studied Victoria’s cheek-sucking pout, then turned at the sound of approaching footsteps. Gabby plonked a plastic carrier bag on the ground and sank down onto her backpack. ‘Water and snacks, for the journey. There’s a toilet over there too. Not the most hygienic, but if you close your eyes and hold your nose it’s no different to a city centre public loo.’
‘That clean? Wow, progress,’ said Victoria, flicking ash.
The distant rumble of an old diesel engine drew their attention to the bus station’s entrance. Smoke billowed as the bus accelerated and changed gear, clunking with an elongated metallic graunching sound.
Kao stood up, peering at the sign on the front. ‘Can anyone see, where going?’
‘Phnom Penh,’ said Maddie, craning her neck up, then relaxing back onto her makeshift perch.
‘It for me! Good luck, in future,’ said Kao, reaching down to hug Maddie, then Gabby and Victoria. She collected her rucksack and followed the bus to its parking spot. ‘Have fun, travel happy!’ she called out, turning to wave at them, grinning.
