Death Trip (25 page)

It was the middle of the night when Run Run approached the outskirts of the village slowly and with great caution. As she neared the village she had heard the commotion and she knew exactly what it meant. She heard the crying women and the screaming children and she heard the howling. It was the same sound that she had heard at Mae Klaw—Saw and his men. She crouched low in the undergrowth until the first peek of the sun illuminated her way, then she crept forward just enough to be able to see the track that led to the start of the village. Run Run gasped silently and backed away. Guarding the entrance to the village were frightened villagers, standing beneath poles. On top of the poles were the heads of Captain Rangsan and his men.

She retraced her steps and crept back through the forest, making her way in a wide arc to come around to the rear of the village. There, at the edge of the paddy fields, amongst the dead and dying mown down as they tried to escape, she watched what was happening. The village had been destroyed. Fires were still burning. Slaughtered men, women and children lay where they
had been chased down and murdered. The air was filled with the sound of wrenching grief and fear; small children whimpered for their mothers, mothers wept for their dead children.

Run Run moved closer until she could see Saw’s men. They looked as if they were preparing to move out. They had rounded up six of the women who were standing huddled together amidst the screams and chaos as their children tried to get near to them. They were killing any child that still clung to its mother. Run Run crouched low, crawled on her belly and moved in again, hiding herself amongst the dead. Now she came to the first of the houses and she could see the young volunteers. She recognised them from Mae Klaw. They were bound, tied at the wrists. She could see the blonde girl, Anna, and she saw Jake. At first she could not see the others. Then she saw another of the boys—Lucas. He was sitting on the mule. He was lashed to its back. His head lolled as the animal pawed the ground with its hoof. She edged closer to look for the other. She hid behind a tree. She held her breath as she saw Saw Wah Say. She recognised him straightaway, even though it had been many years since she had seen him. Not since the day she refused to become his bride and he had tried to rape her. Not since he fought with Alak and her brother died. That day he had run from their village, limping and bleeding from Alak’s beating. Now, seeing him again, his body wet and streaked with the blood of others, seeing his once handsome face turned into something so savage and evil that there was nothing left of hope of humanity in him, Run Run
wished Alak had killed him on that day. Her mind caught in memories, long buried, Run Run failed to hear the stealthy approach of Handsome creeping up behind her until she felt a rifle butt dig into her back.

‘Another whore,’ he shouted to the others. ‘She was hiding from us.’

Run Run kept her eyes to the floor as he dragged her to join the other women. Saw was standing apart, shouting orders. He did not look at her. He shouted to the women to pick up their packs and start walking. Run Run did as she was told. The huge pack dug into her shoulders. She kept her eyes down and waited with the others. When they were all laden, Handsome came alongside Run Run and tilted her face up to look at his.

‘You will be
my
whore.’ Handsome had decided the time had come to challenge Saw. He would take a woman and have sons with her. He would leave something on this earth beside his bones.

Run Run stared at him. He stank of rancid sweat and putrid death and his breath was rank on her face. Run Run could not resist the temptation to answer.

‘You are no man; you are nothing but a dog.’ She looked at his eyes, yellowed and raging, staring straight into them. ‘And I would rather die
now
than lie with you.’

For a few seconds Handsome just stared at her, as if she spoke a foreign language. But Weasel had heard Run Run’s words. He whooped and howled like a wolf as he pointed his finger at Handsome, who was still smarting from the loss of Silke. He had hoped that she would be given to him. He had thought he had earned her. But Saw did not give her to him, instead he had
used her first, let all of them have her and then left her for dead. He had fought by Saw’s side for all his adult life—he deserved more than he got from him, he deserved respect. The time was coming to challenge Saw. Handsome knew Saw was starting to make mistakes and maybe fate would smile on Handsome as it sliced a smile into Saw’s throat. But, for now, he would not take being laughed at by Weasel.

Handsome’s face twisted with rage and he pulled Run Run by the elbow out of the line. She staggered under the heavy weight of the pack as she was pushed forward through the women until she stood before Saw. Still, she did not look at him; she kept her head down. He did not pay her heed; he was watching the path ahead, agitated. It was time to go.

‘What is it, Kanda?’ he asked.

‘She insults me,’ replied Handsome.

Saw turned to him and laughed.

For a few seconds Handsome looked flustered, as if he thought he had been wrong to push Saw now and it would be he who would die. The men around them waited to see whether Saw would humiliate Handsome again. But Saw looked at him and grinned.

‘Then…’ Saw wrenched the pack from Run Run’s back and threw it down. ‘…Find another whore to carry this. People we have plenty of, food we are short of…’ Saw turned back to look at her and Run Run kept her head down as she stared along the treacherous path ahead.

‘She insults my lieutenant…She will clear the mines for us.’

Alak flew through the forest, running without stopping until the dawn filtered through the giant leaves and tree tops. He wheeled his machete back and forth and cut through the undergrowth with unrelenting force and speed. He squeezed through gaps, he jumped over fallen trees and he swam rivers. He hardly felt his lungs burning. His legs felt no tiredness. His feet had wings. His heart held a terrible dread.

He followed Run Run’s footsteps without realising it as he skirted around the edges of the paddy field at the edge of the village, its waters now turned milky red from the blood of the floating dead. He approached the village from the rear. He saw the young foreigners, just three of them; they blinked back at him from their pale lost faces. The young Chinese watched him; his eyes followed Alak’s movements. Alak nodded to him, he nodded back and a smile of relief came across the young man’s face.

Alak moved silently up amongst the crying children and behind the female porters until he came behind Toad. Alak took his knife and silently, quicker than a
breath, he wiped the blade across Toad’s throat,
Shwit
. Toad dropped.

The women turned, startled. One of Saw’s men barely had time to raise his eyes before Alak’s cudgel came down and shattered his skull. Alak stabbed another between the ribs, twisting the knife deep into his heart as he fell. The women screamed as they tried to get out of the way. Now the rest of Saw’s men came rushing at Alak. Every muscle in his body hardened and pumped with adrenalin and blood and survival. All the skills of killing he had learnt in his life worked for him now as his blows came double-handed and he cut through muscle and bone and skull.

Saw turned at the sound of the women’s alarm and looked back along his ranks and saw Alak running towards him. Alak looked past him and, as much as Alak’s body was a machine, his heart was vulnerable and his eyes did not see the knife in Saw’s hand, they looked for Run Run. Saw lunged forward and plunged his knife into Alak’s side. Alak saw her, her beautiful face transfixed with terror, standing alone, like a solitary reed on a deserted riverbank, she watched him crumple from the blade that punctured his side and halted him in his tracks. Handsome came from behind and stabbed Alak between his shoulder blades. Alak kept his eyes fixed on Run Run. She stared back in terror, swaying, too fragile to withstand the typhoon coming her way. Saw struck him on the side of the head with a blow that knocked Alak sideways and onto his knees. He shook his head to clear it and stood. He lurched forward as Saw thrust his blade again into his
stomach, twisted it and pulled. Alak doubled over in pain and lifted his head and saw Run Run watching her hope, her life and her only love dying before her. They saw only one another as he sank to his knees and Saw turned and followed his gaze to see who Alak was sharing his last vision of the earth with. He saw it was Run Run and with a massive roar, he pulled Alak’s head back by his hair and he sawed away at his throat until Alak’s head hung down from Saw’s hand. Saw looked at Run Run. Her eyes were huge with horror. Saw beckoned her to come to him. She looked at Saw and then she looked down at the path, at something barely hidden in the grass at the side of the road. With his bloody hand he reached for her again and called her to him. Love was in his eyes, love and betrayal and desperation. She held his gaze for a few seconds before she turned and stepped onto the mine.

Gee tried the radio; it was dead. He paced about. Sunset was fast approaching. He had waited all day as Alak said he must. He had done all he could now…Now he had to think of himself. Mann had been in a coma for hours. There was no more thrashing; he lay silent and his breathing was so shallow that Gee had to watch his chest to see that it moved at all. If he stayed any longer then he would be dead too. Gee gave Mann one last drink. He packed up his bag, looked around the campsite for the last time and left. Mann was alone when the final hour came.

‘Deming was the most ambitious of us all.’ Split-lip picked the flesh out from the lobster claw. ‘I knew him from when he was young.’

Ng had already finished his lobster and was eating his rice.

‘He was no triad then,’ continued Split-lip. ‘But he became seduced by it over the years until he was caught like the rest of us—in the grip of greed, power. It’s what Hong Kong is all about, after all.’

Ng signalled to the waiter to refresh their teapot.

‘It started as a basic trading company; we sent goods over from Hong Kong. We had them manufactured in Burma and Thailand where it was cheaper. Well, the goods became drugs. Then the drug trade was just beginning for us. We were offered a stake by the Opium King. He gave us the rights to process the opium and manufacture heroin. Those were good years for us. We made big money. We expanded and we took over the European routes. The heroin was smuggled to Amsterdam and from there it was distributed throughout Europe.
Deming handled that side of it; he was back and forth to Amsterdam. He was very good at his job—ruthless, even…’

Sue called to the boatman under the bridge and there was a scramble to get near enough to the boat to pull it in. They needed to get Riley into a car and into hospital as fast as they could. He was very weak but still alive. Riley pulled at Sue’s arm; he wanted to speak to her. She leant over to listen. Louis stood near by.

‘The meds, Sue. You’ve forgotten the meds,’ said Riley.

Sue shook her head and turned to look at Louis.

‘What’s he talking about?’ asked Louis, as he waited for the boat to stabilise alongside the jetty and for the porters to be able to lift Riley off.

‘The meds? He’s delirious.’

‘Oh shit!’ Louis groaned as he caught on to what Riley was saying. ‘He means that we forgot to leave any meds behind for Mann and the others.’

Riley looked at Louis. ‘Go back out there now. They need you. Sue will get me to the hospital.’

‘Okay. I will stop here one night, pick up more supplies and then I’m gone.’

Katrien pushed the young man away. She was irritable and he was making it worse. She couldn’t get what she wanted from him and she was hot and bothered. Her skin sweated out the coke. Now she only had methamphetamine and heroin instead, and she didn’t much care for either. She pushed him away and stood up.

‘Go,’ she said imperiously, peeling off notes from a wad and throwing them on the bed. He stayed where he was, a little unsure of himself. ‘Now!’

He reached for his clothes, picked up the money and left, closing the door behind him. Katrien went into the bathroom to vomit. The heroin always made her puke. She splashed her face with water and watched a cockroach scuttle across the shower tray. She looked at herself in the mirror. Her makeup was streaked down her face. Her eyes were red, her face was sweating. She looked like shit. She went back into the bedroom and checked her phone; she threw it on the bed in disgust.

‘What’s wrong with this fucking place?’ she said out loud. ‘No fucking signal. No one is answering their fucking phone.’

Katrien texted another message to Mann on his mobile. Sooner or later, he would pick up the message. He only had to cross the river into Thailand and he would get a signal. Then she would know that he was on his way. She lay back on the bed and watched the ceiling fan whir lazily around. She could feel the heat still in the bed; she could smell the sex she had with the boy. And, as much as it disgusted her, she wanted it again. Her hands moved to touch herself in the heat and sweat; she could not stop her craving for sex. She finished and got up to chop another line of ice. She would save the heroin for later. It calmed her. But right now she needed to wake up. She snorted it and gave a yell of pain as the chemical hit her sensitive nasal passages. Her phone rang. She scrabbled to find it in the sheets.

‘Hello, Big Man…yes, just leave him to me. I will deal with it. You go back to the hills and wait. When I have the money I will come…It won’t go wrong…Leave him for me. Get out now.’

Katrien hung up. She had another call waiting. She sprang up onto her knees, excited as she answered.

‘My love…Hello, baby, I thought you were still in the jungle. Are you on the way back? I can’t bear it here on my own, hurry…I need you.’

Mann lay on the ground, on a makeshift bed of soft fern on the forest floor. A monkey looked down inquisitively from the high branches above. The insects walked over him; the mammals came to investigate. He was becoming part of the earth. Leaves fluttered down from the trees above and settled on him.

Mann was dreaming of hot sand beneath his bare feet. He was dreaming of paddling out to sea. Mann felt good; he had a surfboard in his hand. He felt the cool water around his knees as he walked out into the calm turquoise ocean. The sun was warm on his back; he was desperate to dive into the water. It looked like a day in paradise. He couldn’t be in a better place…But then he realised he wasn’t going to be able to surf, there were no waves. Not a wave, it was too flat. Why was it so calm? He didn’t know why he would have a surfboard in his hands if he wasn’t going to be able to surf. Why were his feet so heavy in the sticky sand? Suddenly nothing felt right. It was taking him forever to get anywhere and now he was not just hot, he was boiling, and the sun was blinding him. Then he looked up at
the horizon and saw that it looked strange, it was rising. He watched it growing taller, climbing up out of the sea and then his heart surged and pounded and his breathing become loud and frantic. He tried to cry out, he tried to turn and run, he tried to move, but his feet were held like cement by the sand and he knew there was a tsunami coming and this time it would get him.

Someone touched his arm, as light a touch and as cold as to seem just like a breeze, and a young man appeared behind him, smiling at him and beckoning him to turn away from the approaching wall of water. The youth was dark haired, good looking. He was wearing bright coloured board shorts but they were ripped and slashed, and beneath the torn fabric his legs were cut badly with deep wounds to the bone. A large shard of glass protruded from his chest. The youth followed Mann’s gaze to his chest and he smiled at Mann as if to say—don’t worry…I feel no pain. Mann looked back towards the horizon. Now he could see nothing but the wall of water. No sky was left. Any second it would be upon him, completely crushing him. Already, in its approach, the water had risen to his waist. Mann turned back to the youth and, as he did so, he felt his feet slide out of the sand and move. He looked towards the shore. A monk stood there, completely still, his orange robes turning to dark red as the water rose around his chest. He seemed not to care about the approaching tsunami. He seemed to be waiting for Mann and the boy. He smiled at Mann. It was the same monk he had met that time in the temple at Chiang Mai. The monk was saying something.

‘We are what we think. What we think, we become.’ The youth was nodding and smiling at Mann, as if agreeing with the monk. Then the youth took the surfboard from Mann’s hands and held it flat on the water for Mann to mount. At the same time he glanced over Mann’s shoulder and then looked back at him with a reassuring smile. Mann did not dare look behind. He knew that a thirty-metre wall of water was about to take him and swallow him whole. The youth held on to the board and Mann climbed on. Then the wave lifted him high up in the air and he saw the youth far below him, in a tunnel, and he was smiling up at him, his feet anchored in the sand.