Lucas was slumped over, tied to the donkey, his body rocking and swaying with the movement. He took the water Jake gave him and tried to speak but nothing coherent came out. Anna kept walking. She said nothing. She didn’t cry like Thomas but she was in shock, screaming inside, so terrified. Suddenly, now, for the first time, Jake thought Thomas was right. They were all going to die. The old porter had died today. He had been left to decompose. Jake looked over at Saw who turned and grinned, but his eyes were not smiling. His heart beat with pure hate.
65
By the time they reached the river, the darkness was slipping away and the morning mists rose like steam from the surrounding jungle. The muddy river flowed fast ahead. A boat was waiting for them and a young man sat beside it. He was idling away his time fiddling with a radio as he watched them approach with a degree of cautious indifference. He did not move as he watched them park the VW van on the flat approach to the mooring.
‘Ah, there is the son of my good friend.’ Gee got out of the van and went to talk to him, returning a few minutes later. ‘All is good. He will take us across and others are waiting for us on the other side.’
Once the gear was loaded, the young boatman took them out into the deep channel in the middle of the river and then headed towards the far bank, steering the boat upstream. There was an air of trepidation and foreboding as they watched the navy sky above turn pale blue and the moon sink away. Only the noise of their boat disturbed the still air. Deep below them, a giant catfish stalked the muddy riverbed. Shoals of long eels skimmed the surface, their backs a muddy grey, their bellies silver.
No one spoke. On one side of them was Thailand, on the other Burma. If they were caught in this no man’s land, neither country would want them and they would disappear without a trace. Mann looked out over the stillness of the water and up to the dense forest that rose steeply ahead of them on the far side of the river. He wondered what it was hiding. There was no turning back now. Whatever fate lay ahead, he shared it now with a brother he had never met. If the monk was right, then his own death would be linked to the five’s. The monk’s words wouldn’t leave him.
They chugged their way upriver for a half an hour, passing only the fishermen on the Burmese banks who were out checking their nets, before coming to a stop at a jetty. Two porters from Gee’s village, Dok and Keetau, were waiting for them. Keetau was the elder of the two. He spoke little and smiled even less. He’d obviously had enough of Dok and snarled at him whenever he spoke. Quickly and silently they all unloaded the gear from the boat. Keetau and Dok transformed Gee’s heavy canvas bags into backpacks by the use of bamboo straps and carried them high up on their backs.
They left the boatman by the side of the river and Louis led the way up a path through the jungle. The land rose steeply from the river, the hot sand turning to blackened earth beneath their feet as they climbed. The frogs called an alarm up and down the riverbank.
‘Keep to the path,’ Louis whispered back along the line. ‘Follow in someone else’s footprints all the time. This whole area is mined.’
Mann didn’t need to be told twice. He stayed close behind Sue’s slim frame as she strode ahead of him. No pretty skirts to hold her up today, no tie-dyed blouses. She looked pert in her military-style dark trousers and long-sleeved shirt, her thick blonde plait resting between her shoulder blades. Sue and Louis carried all the medical supplies. The rest of the gear was split between Mann and the others. Sue was carrying the same size pack as Mann on her back, and he knew it was heavy and hard to balance as the weight pulled backwards, but she was as sure-footed and nimble as a mountain goat climbing the steep bank. She was clearly used to it; backpack medics were renowned for their strength and stamina.
Beneath their feet, the dried leaves crackled and the bank climbed sharply up into the jungle. The going rapidly became difficult and Mann had to pull himself up using the branches and vines, careful not to step out of the others’ tracks. When the way became impassable, they took it in turns to machete their way through the thick foliage. The sweat poured from them as the heat from their bodies was trapped in the denseness of the lush vegetation. Somewhere above the canopy of the jungle there was a midday sun overhead; but it hardly broke through the tops of the teak trees.
By late afternoon they had reached the beginnings of a village. Directly in front of them was a wooden arch, roughly constructed. On one side there was a carved wooden figure representing a man with a massive erect penis, on the other a carved woman’s vagina.
‘Animists,’ said Riley, by way of explanation. ‘Don’t ask…’
‘Don’t really think I need to,’ smiled Mann.
Hidden amongst the forest, the dwellings came gradually into view—about thirty or more houses built at odd angles to the hillside and to each other. A stream ran down the centre of the village.
A white dog barked at their approach and raced up to Run Run, his tail wagging furiously. She called out a greeting and there came the sound of an excited rush of giggling voices from the forest around. A group of young children of differing heights and ages appeared in their path to greet them. One of them shuffled after the others on her bottom. Her head was misshapen and her legs malformed. The children crowded round Run Run as she scooped up the little shuffling girl and carried her on her hip into the settlement. The others wrapped their arms around Run Run’s waist as they pulled her forward and the group followed. As they passed the first dwelling, a stout-looking older woman emerged. She had a rifle in one hand and a bloody bandage in the other. She frowned when she looked at Mann and the others but, when she looked at Run Run, a small smile twitched at the side of her mouth.
‘And how is my daughter?’ she asked.
‘I am good,’ Run Run answered. ‘Mr Mann, this is my mother, Mo.’
Mo greeted them with a sharp nod before turning briskly back inside the hut. Run Run beckoned Mann to follow her. They left their shoes outside and entered into the inner room where there was a smell of antiseptic and rum. There they found a young girl and a soldier, who was sitting in the corner looking the worse for wear as he leant against the side of the hut. He held one of his arms close to his chest. Mo went over to him and continued her work of stitching up a large gash on his temple.
Mo looked at them. Her eyes were small and hard; her face must have been pretty once, but now it was scarred by years of fighting.
‘And this is Phara, who is like a sister to me.’
Phara was a slim, beautiful, fair-skinned girl, who wore the traditional brass rings around her long neck. She beamed at Run Run. She looked as if she would have loved to stop what she was doing to rush over and hug Run Run. Instead she held a cloth up to contain the stream of blood that dribbled from the cut in the soldier’s head into his eye as Mo stitched, and smiled a big grin.
‘And this little girl…’ Run Run kissed the head of the little girl, who was still sitting on her hip ‘…is Kanya.’
Mo took a minute to study Mann whilst the soldier repositioned the bloodied cloth over his eyes and Phara held the wound together.
‘You are welcome here, Mr Mann. Now, Run Run, make your friends some tea and I will send our brave soldier back to die with his comrades, hey?’ Mo’s English was even better than her daughter’s. ‘Send in the medic, I need her.’
She eyed Mann closely. ‘And show him and the others where they will sleep. I have cleared the hut next to mine—it is dry, at least.’ Mo gave Mann a wry smile as she hovered over the soldier. ‘Dry is all we can ask for, isn’t it, Mr Mann?’ She turned back to her patient before Mann could answer, even if he had intended to. Then she called after him: ‘Of course, there’s plenty of room in my hut if you get lonely.’