The Travel Mate

by Mark Green

  ‘Then, Madge, you are going to witness some of the most amazing photography of Ta Prohm ever captured by an Aussie …’

  She smirked, her cheekbones lifting. ‘That good, huh?’

  ‘Someday, maybe. This place we’re going to is dramatic. The trees have taken over. Their roots are massive, they’ve overrun the buildings. Makes it one of the most picturesque and unusual temples in Angkor. Built in eleven hundred and something AD, by this king dude, who dedicated it to his mother, the goddess of wisdom. Mother Nature, however, didn’t take that on the chin. She’s reclaimed the land from man, stealthily, over hundreds of years. These giant tree roots are literally strangling the place, engulfing the stone building blocks, pulling them back into the ground. Seriously, it’ll make for a mental photo shoot.’

  ‘Just as long as I stay behind the lens.’

  Bozzer glanced over at her puffy, recently-been-trying-not-to-cry face and sombre, lethargic eyes. ‘No worries, sweet as a biscuit. But when you see this place, you’ll understand my enthusiasm.’

  She looked over at him, her attempt at a half-smile rapidly dispersing. ‘I doubt it, but thanks for trying.’

  Twenty-Seven

  ‘We’ve got a strong signal approaching, keep a sharp lookout.’ Fender lifted his head from the dim glow of the Wolfhound’s screen and peered through the taxi’s side window. ‘My guess would be a bicycle, or tuk-tuk.’

  ‘Which traveller?’ yawned Rupert.

  ‘Victoria. You got her ID photo ready?’

  Rupert flicked through the paper files on his lap, picked out the relevant paperwork. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Excellent. Signal’s getting stronger, should be passing through the ticket checkpoint imminently. She could be with some of the others.’

  Rupert rubbed his eyes and turned to watch the approaching vehicles, the majority of which were a mix of tuk-tuks, scooters and bicycles.

  ‘There – on a bicycle. She’s with a guy—’

  ‘That’s the Hybrid. The German’s behind them. He’s said something, they’re conversing. Which means—’

  ‘They know each other.’

  ‘Exactly. Moving off now, no sign of Maddie. Keep watching. If they came in together, she won’t be far behind.’

  • • •

  The darkness crept towards them with every dim judder of flickering, ebbing torchlight. The light finally died, plunging them into blackness.

  ‘Bozzer?’

  ‘Yup.’

  ‘Your torch—’

  ‘I switched it off.’

  ‘Why? Isn’t it creepy enough?’

  ‘Shhh. Don’t look.’

  She turned towards the sound of a low pitched electronic whine. ‘Look at what—’

  Whumpf-PING!

  A twin one-two burst of sterile white light pulsated from Bozzer’s camera, bouncing off the perimeter wall and stone entrance arch, fleetingly illuminating everything in a fifty-foot arc before dispersing, sucked back into the darkness marginally slower than it had arrived.

  Memory Card 3. Pic 138

  ‘Ta-da-de-da-dum – Prohm! Green algae-like moss spilling out of the stone cracks, suffocating the wood frame as if splintered by an axe. The shin-height naga body along the path, marking a runway up to the entrance at the end of a flight path. The imposing tower above gaping like a giant open-mouth invitation, drawing us deeper into the devil’s cauldron.’

  ‘Oy! Thanks for the warning!’ Maddie clutched her face, obscurity returning, blacker and more comprehensive than before.

  ‘I did say not to look. Shut your eyes, it’ll help preserve your night vision. Here, take my hand, I’ll lead you into the courtyard.’

  ‘No way, chum.’

  ‘Madge … Maddie. Trust me.’

  ‘Not sure I can.’

  ‘Try. We’re not all monsters,’ he said, quietly.

  Bozzer slipped his hand into hers, gently tugging it forwards. ‘Two steps, left foot first. Ready – step up. And again. Clear now for a little way … we’re going through the entrance. There are intricate stone carvings on the wall, a shapely woman carrying a water jug on her head, elephants, warriors and … here we are. On the edge of the inner courtyard. Stay there, I’m just ahead of you. Keep one eye open, one shut. It’ll be less invasive on your vision when the flash goes off – if you want to look. Ready?’

  ‘Okay. Go for it.’

  Whumpf-PING!

  Memory Card 3. Pic 139

  ‘Nature snatches back, her giant velociraptor claws lunging down from the sky to pillage the stony plaque. Rough textured hardwood limbs, like a sinewy ligament, knotted talons wrapping around the building and crushing it into a finite predicament. Hooks buried in the earth, incarcerating the stone wall in a vice-like grip, whilst laughing in mirth …’

  ‘Your narrative is very floral and thoughtful, for a bloke.’

  Bozzer picked his way up onto a pile of scattered boulders, gaining height. He lined up the viewfinder to incorporate the backdrop of the first yellow glow of sunrise, peeking above the wall.

  ‘Not so much Shutter Stutter as animated elegance.’

  ‘A compliment … really?’

  ‘Surprising, but true.’

  ‘You’re warming to me.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Interesting. Here’s one for you, ready?’

  Whumpf-PING!

  Memory Card 3. Pic 140

  ‘A sting in the serpent’s tail – uplifted and fanned out, embossed with multiple faces in braille. One such, upside down, a mixture of a cuddly lion and doll’s face, painted on a clown. Others menacing, not carefree, the many shades of multiple moods, but this one right now, distinctly scary.’

  ‘Thanks for that.’

  ‘De nada.’

  ‘This place is almost as weird as you are.’

  ‘Almost. Mother Nature on the rampage – she sure does have a dark side … it’s pure devilment, consuming man’s best work like this. Constricting, strangling his enchanting worship. In no hurry, either, taking a few hundred years to fuck with his faith.’

  ‘You do talk some crap.’

  ‘It’s a gift. Be prepared to be illuminated again, Princess—’

  Whumpf-PING!

  Another twin burst of flash bathed the courtyard in twisted tree trunk, snake-pit shaped light and peripheral shadows.

  Memory Card 3. Pic 141

  ‘Elephant trunk tree, stretching tall and straight into the sky with glee. The snout protruding from the ground, thirty feet circumference around. Reaching tall and proud, towards the nearest cloud. No branch offshoots – dependable, solid and unmoveable, these prehistoric roots.’

  ‘How many years do you think it took for the trees to take over?’ she asked, scrutinising the snapshot image captured in her memory.

  ‘Several hundred, give or take a quarter-century.’

  Whumpf-PING!

  Memory Card 3. Pic 142

  ‘Eight hundred years of decay, a cascading, slithering search for prey. Serpents intertwined at the trunk, headless, blind drunk. Perched across the tiered roof, bodies twisted, knotted, a chaotic horror spoof. Basking in first light, the snake bodies mash together, like solid veins, leaching from the soil forever.’

  ‘Jesus, that’s creepy.’

  ‘Or is it … fragile.’ Bozzer picked his way carefully into a stone corridor, just a bit too wide to touch his outstretched hands against each wall. ‘Check this out.’

  Maddie crept in behind him, preparing herself for the explosion of light in the enclosed space.

  Memory Card 3. Pic 143

  ‘The escaping tree-man seen from behind a stone doorway, his upside down ‘Y’ legs like frozen clay. An arse crease between the boughs, a man climbing, escaping – as far as his master allows. Immortalised in space and time, crushing smaller Lilliputians under the urgency of his frantic climb.’

  ‘He’s not the only one desperate to escape.’

  Bozzer chuckled. ‘You know where the door is.’ He brushed lightl
y past her as he climbed over part of the tree trunk, heading back out into the courtyard. It was easier to see the way now, in the soft glow of dawn.

  Memory Card 3. Pic 144

  ‘The brain tree. Its twisted spinal cortex rising, an umbrella of multi-directional veins searching, analysing. Silhouetted, not dissimilar to Kao’s fragile dandelion tattoo, arteries feeding a vast cluster of skull-shaped capillaries, twinkling in the sunlit dew. The spinal column clings to crumbling stone blocks, crushing to dust with networks of tentacles criss-crossing every gap in the rocks.’

  Bozzer lowered his camera. ‘You know, we’re in a very exclusive group. Only a handful of people in our lifetime have had the privilege of seeing Ta Prohm from this perspective. It’s simply magical—’

  ‘Don’t you mean post-hallucinogenic-radical? Liz warned me about this sort of thing. I let my guard drop and—’

  ‘More accusations. Are you angling for an apology, again? I’d have seasoned your tucker with arsenic if I’d known about my uninvited dinner guest—’

  ‘Just pointing out, you’re different.’

  ‘And you, Madge, are—’ Bozzer lifted his camera to capture another shot.

  Whumpf-PING!

  Memory Card 3. Pic 145

  ‘Sunrise, sun life. Darkness evaporates, spindly shadows track across the stone walls, urging this blinkered girl to forget about society’s rules and grab life by the balls. Light should breathe optimism and contentment, lifting the burden of resentment. But insomniac dreamers must find their own way to evolve, allow themselves the space for their mistrust to dissolve. Or else, inside they will remain dead and dingy, lazy and forever whingy.’

  ‘I’m what?’

  ‘Polygonal.’ He turned and winked at her bemused expression. ‘Look it up … who’s Liz?’

  ‘Another traveller. We met the evening before I was supposed to fly home, with Rupert.’

  ‘I bet she’s more fun than you are.’

  ‘Everyone is more fun than me, according to you.’

  ‘You got her phone number?’

  ‘You’re such an arsehole.’

  He sniggered. ‘I prefer charismatic. And yet, I intrigue you.’

  ‘Dream on, buster.’ Maddie folded her arms and turned away from him, drawn to the outline of the sun peeking through a doorway, casting scrawny, elongated tree-root shadows across the courtyard. She clutched her stomach as it suddenly grumbled, loud and churning. ‘S’cuse me.’

  ‘You hungry?’ Bozzer turned at her silence, studying her silhouette in the inky blue light. ‘There’s a group of cafés, back at Sras Srang lake. I’ll buy you breakfast, to make up for the hallucinogenic dinner. We should be able to get your puncture fixed there.’

  She glanced over at him. ‘You think so?’

  ‘I reckon. Saw some pit stops on the way in. Good business out here, captive market.’

  ‘Have you finished photographing?’

  ‘For the next hour or so. I’ll get some more shots later, with human subjects. It’ll give a sense of scale and contrast. Since you won’t let me take your photograph, I’m stuck until the normal happy people get here.’

  ‘So that’s a yes, to being done with the camera?’

  ‘That’s a yes to let’s get your bike fixed, and send you on your way.’

  ‘Bored of me, so soon?’

  ‘Oh, I’m way beyond boredom.’ Bozzer led her back through the dawn colours peeking over the walled enclosure to Ta Prohm’s dramatic dilapidated entrance, where they collected the bicycles. ‘Same again, or do you think you can handle sitting on the back?’ said Bozzer.

  She watched him wheel the punctured bike up to her side. ‘I don’t think I can do pillion …’

  ‘Okay, pedal away.’ Bozzer climbed onto the panier rack and clutched the other bike’s handlebars across his thighs. Maddie stood up on the pedals and began to pull away with minimal wobbling.

  ‘Nice. I think you ride better after a taste of happiness.’

  ‘Button it, Bozzer.’

  He sniggered, waving to a pillion rider on a tourist scooter, as it buzzed past. ‘Faster, magical Madge, faster! Take me to the munchies.’

  Twenty-Eight

  Fender glanced down at his watch, then continued scanning the constant flow of traffic through the admission checkpoint. ‘We’ll give it another thirty minutes. After that, we’ll track down Victoria, have a little chat.’

  ‘What if Maddie isn’t with them?’

  ‘She can’t be far away. We’ll find her.’

  ‘What’s going to happen then, if—’

  Fender turned slowly, fixed Rupert with an unblinking stare. ‘In that event, it’ll be time to cash in my insurance policy.’

  • • •

  Maddie pushed her plate to one side, sat back and rested her hands on her belly.

  ‘Feel better?’

  She nodded. ‘Thank you, I needed that.’

  ‘No wucking furries.’ Bozzer glanced over Maddie’s shoulder. ‘Looks like our man has repaired your bike …’

  Maddie turned to see a ten year old Cambodian boy stood perched on the pedals in the gap between the saddle and handlebars, cycling towards them. His mop of chestnut brown hair flopped rhythmically with each lunging motion, his arms lifting and dropping as the wheels bounced over the furrowed path. They watched the boy jam the brakes on, the pads squealing as they reluctantly locked against the rims, skidding the bike to a dusty stop. The boy dropped his foot and kicked the side-stand. He beamed and ran up to their table, holding his hand out. ‘Five dollar!’

  ‘Five dollars? You, my little hustler are pulling my dingley-danglies. We agreed two.’ Bozzer held up his fingers in a v-sign.

  ‘No, no – morning. Cost more!’

  ‘Overtime, really?’ Bozzer tutted and shook his head. He reached into his pocket. ‘What’s your name?’

  ‘Me, Prong Ron. Five dollar!’

  Bozzer peeled off two one-dollar bills from a small fold of notes and passed them over the table, holding firmly onto one end. ‘Okay, Prong Ron. You know ping pong?’ Bozzer mimed a table tennis action, tossing an imaginary ball into the air, then used his open palm to imitate a slicing spin trick-shot. Prong Ron pulled a confused face. ‘That’s you, ping pong.’

  ‘No ping pong – Prong Ron – you pay, mister!’

  Maddie shot Bozzer a what-the-heck-are-you-on expression. He caught her stern look. ‘Hey, just being friendly … two dollars, yes?’ Prong Ron yanked on the dollar bills, Bozzer playfully tugged them back.

  ‘Five!’

  ‘Here, this makes three dollars,’ said Maddie, offering him another dollar bill. Prong Ron’s eyes widened. He giggled, reached out his other hand and gently took her dollar. Bozzer released the two notes and watched Prong Ron hastily dip his head and press the money between his palms in a prayer gesture before running away, his hands held aloft, whooping and clutching the payment.

  ‘Cheeky bugger. You’ve spoilt him.’

  ‘It’s an extra seventy pence. Here, allow me.’ She placed two dollars on the table in front on him.

  ‘Peachy.’ Bozzer squinted at the menu, mentally calculating the bill. He added some more notes to hers, then shuffled out from the plastic table. ‘Right, pommy princess – baby-sitting duties concluded. I’m heading back to Angkor Thom and The Bayon, see if I can snap some wacky tourists around the temples.’ Bozzer slung his camera case strap over his shoulder and mimicked Prong Ron’s thank you prayer gesture. ‘Madge, it’s been … unexpected.’ He turned away from her.

  She watched him walk off towards his bicycle, jiggling her fingers on the table, a hundred possible responses left tingling on her tongue.

  • • •

  Fender stared at the Wolfhound’s illuminated screen. ‘Judging by the signal strength and consistency, Victoria is on foot, probably heading towards Angkor Wat. She’s the most likely candidate for Maddie to have been in contact with. So we’ll intercept her next.’

  Rupert nodded. ‘Ma
kes sense.’

  Fender indicated to the tuk-tuk driver to pull in beside the causeway to Angkor Wat. He passed the driver five dollars and held up his first finger. ‘Wait here, one hour. Okay?’

  ‘Okay. I wait, there,’ replied the driver, pointing to an ice cream van in the congested car park.

  Fender nodded and climbed out of the tuk-tuk. ‘Let’s go,’ he said to Rupert. ‘Time is short.’

  Rupert scanned left to right across the temples perimeter wall as he jogged up to Fender’s side. ‘This place is vast.’

  ‘Built in the twelfth century, dedicated to the Hindu god Vishnu. Later modified into a Buddhist shrine. The temple complex spans almost two million square metres.’

  ‘You been here before?’

  ‘No. I read the guide book, did you?’

  Rupert shook his head.

  ‘Perhaps you should have.’ Fender weaved his way through the throngs of tourists milling around the steps leading up to the imposing narrow entrance. The multi-tiered stone rooflines culminated in the peaked cylindrical tower above them. Fender bounded up two steps at a time, leaving Rupert puffing hard behind him, trying to keep up.

  • • •

  ‘Wait!’ Maddie hunched her body over the handlebars, pedalling harder, focusing on the back of his bike, trying not to look down at the speed of the ground whizzing by beneath her.

  ‘Oy, Bozzer!’ she yelled.

  He stopped pedalling and glanced over his shoulder. ‘Hey, material girl. How’s it going? I haven’t seen you for sooo long.’

  ‘I’ve been trying to catch up, you inconsiderate pothead!’

  ‘Hey, it’s medicinal magic hocus-pocus.’

  ‘Whatever.’ Maddie coasted up alongside him, red faced and sweaty. Bozzer looked her over, tip to toe.

  ‘Wow, something must be important.’ He winked at her. ‘Or, alternatively, someone.

  Such a quandary …’

  ‘I needed to tell you – Jody’s a lucky girl, to have escaped from your evil colonial charms. Race you to the next temple – see if your nicotine-contaminated lungs can handle it.’ She stood up on the pedals and powered her legs down, accelerating away from him.

  ‘What the—’

  Maddie dropped into a low stoop over the handlebars, her legs spinning faster and faster.