I killed him.
The wind through my window got stronger as we gathered speed. I wound it up only half-way to keep me awake, and I tried to concentrate on what I'd seen on the CTR and get back to work. Instead, I found myself wanting to curl up like a seven-year-old, desperate to keep the night monster at bay.
'Nick! The police! Nick, what do we do? Wake up! Please!'
Before I'd even fully opened my eyes I was trying to calm him down. It's all right, don't worry, it'll be OK.' I managed to focus on the VCP (vehicle checkpoint) ahead, set up in the middle of nowhere: two police vehicles, side on, blocking the road, both facing left. I could see silhouettes moving across the two sets of headlights that cut through the darkness. It felt as though we were heading straight into the Twilight Zone. Aaron's foot had frozen on the accelerator pedal.
'Slow down, for fuck's sake. Calm down.'
He came out of his trance and hit the brakes.
We'd got close enough to the checkpoint for me to see the side windows of the four-wheel-drives reflecting our headlights back at us. Aaron dabbed at the brakes to bring us to a stop. There was a torrent of shouts in Spanish, and the muzzles of half a dozen M-16s came up. I placed my hands on the dash so they were in clear view.
Aaron killed the lights and turned off the engine as three torch-beams headed our way. The shouting had stopped, and all I could hear now was the thump of boots on tarmac.
SEVENTEEN
The three men who approached with M-16s at the ready were dressed in olive green fatigues. They split up, two going left, to Aaron, the other towards me. Aaron started to wind down the remaining half of his window. His breathing was becoming increasingly rapid.
There was an abrupt command in Spanish as the nearest man shouldered his assault rifle. Aaron lifted his arse from the seat and searched around in his back pocket. I saw the red glow of cigarettes beyond the 4x4's headlights as figures moved about in the shadows.
A green baseball cap and bushy black moustache shoved its way through Aaron's window and demanded something from me. I didn't respond. I didn't have a clue what he was asking and just couldn't dig deep enough for the energy to look interested. His M-16 swung round from his back and banged against the door. I saw sergeant's stripes and Tolicia' badges on his sleeve.
'He wants your ID, Nick.'
Aaron presented his own. It was snatched away by the sergeant, who stopped shouting and stood back from the window, using his mini-Maglite to inspect the docs.
'Nick? Your ID, please don't vex these people.'
I pulled out my plastic bag lethargically from under my jacket and rummaged in it like a schoolboy in his sandwich box, just wanting this to go away.
The other policeman on Aaron's side had been standing behind the sergeant, his assault rifle shouldered. I heard boots behind the wagon, but couldn't see anything in the mirror.
I gripped myself: What the fuck am I doing? Switch on! Switch on!
My heart-rate pumped up a few more revs per minute, and at the same time as I looked in my bag I made a mental note of where the door handle was, and checked that the door-lock knob was up. Lethargic or not, if I heard the squeak of rusty hinges from the tailgate I'd be out and running. Handing my passport over to Aaron for the sergeant, I knew I was reacting too slowly to all of this.
There's a body in the back, for fuck's sake!
The sergeant was gob bing off about me as he looked at my passport with his Maglite. I only understood the odd word of Aaron's replies.
'Britanico ... amigo vacaciones ...' He nodded away like a lunatic, as if he had some sort of nervous disease.
The sergeant now had both our IDs in his hands, which would be a problem if I needed to do a runner. Without a passport, my only option was west, or the embassy.
Straining my ears, I waited for the tailgate to open. I ran my hands through my hair, keeping my eyes on the door handle and visualizing my escape route, which wasn't exactly difficult: three steps into the darkness to my right. From there, I'd just have to take my chances.
I was brought back to the real world by the sergeant bending down once more and pointing at my clothes as he rattled off something to Aaron. He replied with a funny, and forced a laugh, as he turned to me.
'You're a friend and I picked you up from the airport. You wanted so much to see the rain forest so I took you in at the edge of the city. Now you never want to go in again. It was so funny, please just smile.'
The sergeant had joined in the laughter and told the other guy behind him about the dickhead britanico as he handed back the IDs. Then he banged the roof of the Mazda and followed the others towards the blocking wagons. There was a lot of pointing and shouting, followed by the roar of wagons being revved and manoeuvred clear of the road.
Aaron was shaking like a leaf as he turned the ignition, but managed to appear relaxed and confident from the neck up for the police's benefit. He even waved as we passed. Our headlights caught four or five bodies lined up on their backs on the side of the road. Their clothes glistened with blood. One of the kids was still open-mouthed, arms flung out and eyes wide, staring up at the sky. I looked away and tried to focus on the darkness beyond the headlights.
Aaron said nothing for the next ten minutes as we bounced along the pot-holed road, headlights lurching. Then he braked suddenly, pushed the selector into Park, and jumped out as if a bomb was about to go off. I could hear him retching and straining as he leant against the Bac Pac, but not the sound of anything coming up. He'd left it all at Clayton.
I just let him get on with it. I'd done the same myself, when I first started:
sheer terror engulfs you and there's nothing you can do but fight it until the drama is over. It's later, when there's time to think, not only about what's happened but, worse, what the consequences might have been if things had gone wrong that's when you part company with your last meal. What he was doing was normal. The way I had behaved back there wasn't, not for me.
The suspension creaked as he closed the door, wiping his waterlogged eyes. He was plainly embarrassed, and couldn't bring himself to look at me. I'm sorry, Nick, you must think I'm a real pussy. Guys like you can handle this stuff, but me, I'm just not made for it.'
I knew that wasn't exactly true, but I didn't know how to say so. I never did at times like this.
'I saw a couple of guys blown away a few years ago. I had nightmares about it.
Then, seeing Diego's body and those kids back there hacked to death, it just...'
'Did he tell you what had happened?'
'It was a robbery. PARC. They cut them up with those things.' He pointed down at the gollock.
'It doesn't really make sense -they normally don't bother folks here. No money.' He sighed, both hands on the steering-wheel, and leant forward a bit.
'You see what they'd done to those kids? Oh, God, how can people behave like that?'
I wanted to change the subject.
'Look, mate, I think we'd better get rid of Diego. As soon as there's a bit of light we'll find somewhere to hide him. We can't go through that shit again.'
He lowered his head on to the wheel and nodded slowly.
'Sure, sure, you're right.'
'It'll be OK, he'll be found sooner or later and buried properly...'
We drove on. Neither of us wanted to talk about Diego or bodies any more.
'What road are we on?'
'The Pan-American Highway.'
It didn't feel like one. We were bouncing around in ruts and pot-holes.
'Runs all the way from Alaska to Chile, apart from a ninety-three-mile break in the Darien Gap. There's been talk about joining it up, but with all the trouble in Colombia and the destruction of the forest, I guess we prefer it how it is.'
I knew about the southern part of the highway; I'd been on it enough times. But I wanted us to keep talking.
