Richard, I meant what if it was me in here.’
‘…You?’
‘Me.’
‘Well…people would come to see you.’
‘Would they?’
‘Of course.’
‘Would they?’
‘…Yes.’
‘But I
‘I come to visit.’
‘But no one else.’
‘I…I’m sorry.’
‘Yes. I’m sorry too…’
‘But…’
‘Sure.’
A couple of seconds later he sat back, and we watched each other across Christo’s stained body. Then his head dropped and he absently began rubbing flakes of dried blood off his forearms.
‘Jed,’ I said quietly. ‘Do me a favour.’
‘Mmm.’
‘Get out of the tent for a while. I’ll stay here with Christo and –
He waved a hand dismissively. ‘I think you miss the point.’
‘You really should…’
‘I don’t want to see those fuckers outside.’
‘You wouldn’t have to. You could go down to the beach.’
‘Why?’ he said, suddenly sounding very clear and definite. ‘To clear my head? To get me thinking straight and keep me sane?’
‘…If you like.’
‘As sane as everyone else?’
‘It would help you get some perspective.’
‘It would help nothing. It doesn’t matter where I am. I’m still in this tent. I’ve been in this tent since the day I got here, just like Christo. Just like Karl and Sten. The tent, the open sea, the DMZ. Out of sight and out of…’
Just for the briefest moment I heard a thickness in his voice. I held my breath, oddly panicked by the prospect of him in tears, but he appeared to regain control and continued.
‘When the Swedes arrived and Daffy freaked…Daffy vanished…I really thought it would change…With him gone, I thought it would change…But he was so sly…He came back…so sly…’
Jed’s voice faded to an indistinct whisper. Then he rocked forwards and touched his temples with his fingertips.
‘Jed,’ I said, after a pause. ‘What do you mean, he came back?’
‘Killed himself,’ he replied. ‘…Came back.’
I frowned, dislodging the build-up of sweat in my eyebrows. It ran down my face and stung the corners of my mouth. ‘You’ve seen him?’
‘Seen him…yes…’
‘When?’
‘Ko Pha-Ngan, first…Should have seen him earlier…’
‘You saw Daffy on Ko Pha-Ngan?’
‘With your friends. Your dead friends…’
‘With Zeph and Sammy?’
‘He gave them the map.’
I hesitated. ‘Jed, I gave them the map.’
‘No…’
‘I’m telling you, I gave them the map. I remember doing it clearly.’
‘No, Richard.’ He shook his head. ‘Daffy gave them the map.’
‘You mean…They had the map before I gave it to them?’
‘I mean he gave them the map when he gave it to you.’ Jed sat upright again. The movement drew the canvas floor tight and unbalanced the up-ended Maglite. As it fell it briefly dazzled me, then rolled to rest as a single beam. ‘He gave the map to Etienne,’ he said, carefully replacing the torch. ‘And to Francoise, and Zeph, and Sammy, and the Germans, and all the others…’
‘The others?’
‘The ones we haven’t seen yet. The ones that will arrive next month, or week, and the ones that will arrive after them.’
I sighed. ‘Then…you see Daffy when you see me.’
‘Not so much before…But now, yes.’ Jed nodded sadly. ‘Every time I see you…Every time…’
? The Beach ?
Same-Same, But Different
As I got into bed, the first into the longhouse that night, I heard the sound of Bugs and Keaty returning with the Tet supplies. There was a lot of excited chatter when people saw what had been brought for the celebration, and later I heard Keaty calling my name. Later still, Francoise joined him. I didn’t answer either of them. I was lying on my back with a T–shirt draped over my head, waiting for sleep. Surprisingly, I didn’t have to wait too long.
The clearing had always been a clearing. It had almost doubled in size as the camp had grown, but had existed in some form since the rocket-ship trees were saplings. Two hundred years ago? Maybe more. The only way I know how to date a tree is to cut it down, but it wasn’t hard to imagine those rocket-ship trees having seen a few centuries through.
‘A Herculean task,’ said Mister Duck thoughtfully. He was standing in the spot where the longhouse now stood, thigh-deep in ferns. ‘Diverting the stream. We only attempted it in the second year, when there were fourteen of us living here. Couldn’t have done it without Jean, of course. Not just the know-how. He worked like an ox…kept us going…I wish you could have been with us, Rich. I wish you could have been with us from the very beginning. Me, Sal and Bugs…The mood, you can’t imagine…’
I pushed carefully through the shrubs, pacing out the distance from the longhouse door to where I estimated my bed must be. It was curious to be in the position where I knew, at that moment, I was also sleeping. ‘I can imagine the mood,’ I said, stepping sideways, disconcerted by the idea that I was standing on my head. ‘I can imagine it easily.’
Mister Duck waggled a finger at me. ‘If I didn’t know you better, Rich, I’d take offence at that. There’s no way you can imagine the way we felt. Apart from anything, you’re too young. On and off, I’d been travelling with Sal and Bugs for over eleven years. Eleven years, Rich! How can you imagine what it’s like, living with cancer for eleven years?’
‘…Cancer?’
‘Sure, cancer. Or AIDS. What do you want to call it?’
‘Call what?’
‘Living with death. Time-limits on everything you enjoy. Sitting on a beautiful beach, waiting for a fucking time-limit to come up. Affecting the way you look at the sand and the sunsets and the way you taste the rice. Then moving on and waiting for it to happen all over again. For eleven years!’ Mister Duck shivered. ‘…Then to have that cancer lifted. To think you’ve found a cure…That’s what you can’t imagine, Rich.’
¦
