He heard the sound of chewing, and looked back over his shoulder to see that the jungle floor behind him was a vivid green. The colour seemed to vibrate as it reflected in his eyes. And as he watched, the carpet of green spread closer and closer to him. And when it was close enough, he could tell that this was a swarm of green caterpillars. He looked back; everything in its path had been destroyed, devoured by the hungry insects.
The bark of the trees around him was stripped away, the leaves were gone in seconds, and slowly the tree trunks were levelled. When there were no more trees, the caterpillars caught sight of Siri. They crawled all over him and Dtui’s bicycle, and just as they’d eaten everything else, they began to chew their way through him as he watched calmly. It tickled. Very soon, Siri could feel himself inside the caterpillars.
A flock of crows swooped down and ate the caterpillars that contained small bits of Siri. Then whales somehow managed to eat the crows. And the whales were swallowed up by volcanoes and suddenly Siri, or at least bits of Siri, was in every creature and every geological feature on earth. It was one hell of a good finish.
“Yeh Ming.”
¦
Siri knew neither where nor, momentarily, who he was. He looked up to see the pretty face of a girl like a tree nymph looking down at him.
“The elders wish to invite you to breakfast.”
She was speaking Hmong, and he understood. She blushed at his smile and left him alone. He was on the floor of a simple hut on a mattress of straw. He felt immaculate, invincible, and incredibly hungry. When he sat up, he felt something at his neck. It was the black amulet. He didn’t take it off.
The jeep came to pick Siri up after ten. The guards had called through to headquarters earlier and warned them that the doctor was acting oddly. They were afraid he might have been doped. They reported the previous night’s proceedings.
At headquarters, Siri jumped from the jeep like a young man and strode into the hidden commander’s office. The men there looked up at him; he thought he detected some mistrust in their eyes.
When he saw the doctor, Kumsing rose and walked over to him. “Outside.” He took Siri’s arm roughly and led him through the door. When they were far enough away from the building, Kumsing spoke angrily. “All right. Suppose you tell me just what your game is.”
“Well, I used to box.”
“You know what I mean. What exactly have they sent you here to do?”
“They sent me to answer your request for a coroner.”
“And I suppose it’s just a coincidence that you speak fluent Hmong?”
“Given that there’s only one coroner in the country, you’d have to assume yes, it is a coincidence.”
“Why didn’t you see fit to mention it to me?”
“Well, firstly because it’s none of your business. And secondly because I didn’t know.”
Kumsing looked at him in amazement. “Didn’t know? You didn’t know you could speak Hmong? Don’t insult my intelligence, Doctor.”
“I promise you, when I arrived in Saravan, I couldn’t speak a word of it. But I believe there may be a scientific explanation for that.”
“What’s that round your neck?”
“It’s a magic amulet.”
“My men tell me you’ve been here before. The Hmong knew you. You omitted to tell me that as well.”
“Well, I probably forgot. It was a long time ago. About a thousand years, to be exact. At that time I defeated twenty thousand Annamese with an ox horn. I have to assume it was a rather large one.”
Kumsing’s expression turned from anger to concern. “They haven’t…done anything to you, have they?”
“You mean hypnotised me and turned me into a lunatic? No. I don’t think so. This is the way I’ve always been. It was quite an amazing visit, mind you.”
“Did you get the samples?”
“Their potions? No. They didn’t use any. Captain Kumsing, I suggest you come to your office with me and listen to a most strange tale. Twenty-four hours ago, if someone had told it to me, I would have had them committed to an asylum. But, like me, I think you’ll eventually come to believe that there may be only one way to save your life.”
? The Coroner’s Lunch ?
11
The Exorcist’s Assistant
The village elders were dressed in their Sunday best and standing at attention when the jeep arrived that evening. As per instructions, only Siri and Kumsing were on board. Kumsing had driven. The village guards had reluctantly pulled back to the post on the road. The two visitors were at the mercy of Meyu Bo Village. Kumsing was already having doubts.
Siri and the elders greeted each other in Hmong. He’d explained his theory to the captain that morning. Siri had been born in Khamuan. He’d lived there for the first ten years of his life. He knew nothing of his parents. When he was about four, he went to live with an old woman. But if his mysterious family had been Hmong, or if they’d lived in a Hmong area, he would have absorbed a lot of the language and spoken it.
His scientific explanation was that the language had remained dormant for all these years, but was reawakened by this exposure to Hmong people. Kumsing found it hard to believe, but Siri felt a good deal more comfortable with that explanation than with the alternative. He’d check its likelihood with the professors at Dong Dok College when he went home.
The elders led the two men to Lao Jong’s hut, where an ornate shrine had been set up facing the door. An ornamental sword was embedded in the ground in front of it. Two trays sat on the altar. One was decorated with a banana-leaf cone, other banana-leaf origami, and flowers. An unshelled chicken’s egg sat proudly at the summit of the cone, defying gravity. The second tray contained small portions of foodstuffs, alcohol, and betel nuts all shrouded in white unspun cotton threads.
Tshaj went up to the captain. “You bring?”
Kumsing displayed all the outward signs of calm scepticism, but when he spoke, his voice trembled. He handed over his old uniform shirt. “Here, but I don’t want candle wax and ash all over it.”
Tshaj took it from him and folded it flat. Lao Jong’s wife lifted the second tray on the altar. It had been sitting on a third, empty tray upon which Tshaj placed the shirt. The woman then replaced the tray of offerings on top of the shirt. Kumsing’s essence was now present in the ceremonial paraphernalia.
The elders retied the long white cotton threads that looped down from the wood rafters, circled the altar, and fanned out to the door jambs.
“Please wait, sir.” Tshaj sent Kumsing to sit with Siri on the ground.
An audience was gathering. It was important that everyone in the village attend this evening. It was the only way to discover who harboured the malevolent spirit; the
“I don’t know about this, Siri. If the men found out…”
“If the men found out, I bet they wouldn’t be at all surprised. They weren’t born soldiers. I bet a lot of them would recall rites like this from their own villages. Anyway, I’d also bet they know already.”
“What makes you think this isn’t just a plot to discover who’s commanding the project now? Why should they want to help me?”
“Survival.”
“What do you mean?”
“If the commanders of the project continue to die, what do you suppose the army will do?”
“They’ll assume we have been attacked by the Hmong.”
“And wipe them out.”
“We aren’t barbarians, you know.”
