flying thick and fast. It was a crisis after all. Whatever else a crisis causes, it causes a buzz, so everyone wanted to be in on the act. Etienne and Keaty, tending to Sten and Karl respectively, were instructed, ‘He needs water!’ and ‘Put him in the recovery position!’ and ‘Hold his nose!’
Hold His Nose was directed at Etienne – said by one of the Yugo girls – because you have to hold the victim’s nose while giving mouth-to-mouth to stop the air from escaping. I thought it was a stupid thing to say. You could see the air bubbling out of the hole in Sten’s side so his lungs were obviously fucked, and anyway, you couldn’t imagine anyone looking more dead. His eyes were open but showing the whites, he was as limp as rags, and there was no blood coming out of his wounds. In fact, just about all the advice was stupid. Karl could hardly be put in the recovery position while he was jerking around and screaming, and I didn’t have a clue what use he’d have for water. Morphine yes, water no. But in emergencies people often seem to call for water, so I assumed it was said in that spirit. The only person talking sense was Sal, who was yelling at everyone to get back and shut up. No one took any notice though. Her role as leader had been temporarily suspended, so her good suggestions were about as useful as the bad ones.
The whole scene left me feeling flustered. I was telling myself, ‘Alert but calm,’ and waiting for my head to come up with the kind of suggestion that was needed. Something that would cut through the chaos, creating a stern efficiency that was appropriate to the gravity of the situation. Specifically, something like the way Etienne had acted on the plateau. With that in mind, I considered pushing my way through to Sten and saying, ‘Leave him, Etienne. He’s dead.’ But I couldn’t shake the idea that it would sound like a line from a bad movie, and I wanted a line from a good movie. Instead I pushed my way backwards through the crowd, which was easy as most people were trying to get closer.
As soon as I was out of the circle I began thinking a great deal more objectively. Two realizations hit me at once. Number one was that I now had a chance to get my cigarettes. Number two was Christo. Nobody had even mentioned the third Swede, who might have been on the beach, wounded and waiting for help to arrive. Possibly even dead like Sten.
I dithered for a couple of moments like a cartoon character, first looking one way, next the other. Then I made my decision and ran down the longhouse, passing the few squid-sufferers who were still too sick to see what was going on. I lit up on the run back, taking two matches to catch the flare of the phosphorus. Just before I ducked out of the longhouse door, I shouted, ‘Christo!’ but I didn’t wait to see if anyone had heard me.
¦
Through the jungle, I cursed myself for not having also grabbed a torch. I couldn’t see much apart from the red glow of my cigarette, occasionally brightening as it burned through a spider’s web. But having recently walked the path in darkness,
On the beach, however, there was enough moonlight to see clearly. Across the sand were deep tracks where Karl had dragged Sten. He seemed to have reached the beach about twenty metres from the path to the clearing, come down, missed the entrance to the path, and doubled back. Christo, I noted as I dropped the butt, couldn’t have made it as far as the shore. In the light from the moon, the sand was silver. The odd coconut husks and fallen palm branches were black. If he’d been there, I’d have seen him.
I took a deep breath and sat down a few feet from the water, juggling options and ideas. Christo wasn’t on the beach and I hadn’t passed him on the path – unless I’d walked over him unawares – so he was in either the lagoon, the open sea, or the cave that led to the sea. If he was in the open sea he was probably dead. If he was in the lagoon, he was either on a boulder or floating face down. If he was at the cave, he had to be at one of its two entrances, maybe too tired to swim the lagoon or too injured to get through the underwater passage.
That was the Christo angle. The shark angle was more straightforward. It, or they, could be anywhere. I had no way of knowing any more than that, short of spotting a silhouette fin weaving across the lagoon, so I figured I’d be better off if I ignored the shark angle altogether.
‘I bet
‘Christo?’ I called, and heard myself in stereo. The other person had called ‘Christo,’ at the exact same moment.
‘No,’ we both answered together.
A pause.
I waited a few seconds, looking in all directions, unable to spot the figure. ‘Who then?’
No answer.
‘Who then?’ I repeated, standing. ‘Mister Duck, is that you?’
Still no answer.
A swell swept up the sand and tugged at my feet. I had to take a quick step forwards to keep my balance. The following swell was just as strong and I had to take another step. The next thing I knew the water was up to my knees and my cuts were smarting at the salt. The second cigarette, which I’d forgotten about, fizzled out as my hand hit the water.
I tried to swim along the most likely route Christo would have taken between the cave and the beach, pausing every so often to climb a boulder and scan around me. By the time I’d crossed three-quarters of the lagoon I could see flashlights on the beach. The others had arrived, but I didn’t call to them. I wasn’t decided whether their distant presence was a reassurance or a drag.
? The Beach ?
69
Shadowed
Christo’s name was being called. Low-pitched and high-pitched, boys’ voices and girls’ voices, floating across the lagoon. I didn’t like the sound. From my position, resting on a boulder by the entrance to the cave, the call was always answered by an echo. It gave me the creeps, so I swam into the cave to cut the sound out. Then, once started, I didn’t stop. I swam straight ahead until I bumped blindly against the rock-face where the passage ducked below the water-level, took a lungful and dived.
It was very exciting underwater. The rock walls, never warmed by sunlight, cooled and deadened the water. I felt as if I’d dared to enter a forbidden area, the zone I’d shied away from with Etienne and Francoise, diving for sand on Ko Samui. ‘Braver now,’ I thought dreamily, relaxing my legs and slowing my arm strokes. I wasn’t hurried; Christo and the shark seemed rather distant concerns. I was almost enjoying myself, and I knew my lungs were practised enough to keep me under for over a minute thirty without serious discomfort.
Every few feet I stopped and groped around to make sure I wasn’t accidentally heading down the side passage to the air pocket. In the process, I discovered the central passage was far wider than I’d previously imagined. At full arm’s length I couldn’t touch either of its sides, only the barnacle-covered ceiling and floor. I realized, with a reproachful grimace, that to have ended up in the air pocket I must have strayed quite a way off course.
I grimaced harder when I came up on the seaward side of the cliffs. A strong night swell gave me a harsh reality check, pulling me out of my otherworldly stupor by knocking me against the rocks. I had to clamber awkwardly out of the water, slipping on algae and cutting my legs yet again. When I’d found my balance I looked around for Christo and yelled his name, without a lot of hope because the moonlight was bright enough for me to see he wasn’t there. I could, however, see the boat. It was floating freely in the small cove that served as its port and hiding-place, untied. I made my way over and scooped the rope out of the sea, securing the boat with as many granny knots as the rope’s length would allow – not very nautical but the best I knew how. Then I perched on a small rock-shelf and wondered what I should do next.
The problem was, I could easily have missed Christo on several stages of my search, the boulders particularly. It was possible he’d already been found and was back at camp. But I also had a powerful sense that I hadn’t missed him. The untied boat told me that they’d got as far as the entrance to the cave. If Christo hadn’t been injured, he’d have made the swim with Karl. If he had been injured however, Karl would have left him where I
