The Reef (25 page)

‘How long have the deaths been happening now?’ Manolin said.

Forb said, ‘Oh, about a year, on and off. Apparently, years before I came, there was a similar spate of deaths, but it stopped after a month or two. This had been happening for four months on and off when I sent those ichthyocentaur to the mainland. You see, no one knew these creatures were still alive. They needed to be saved, purely in the name of science and ethics. It was just right that more people see knew about them. Didn’t want them all to die, you see? I knew sending them to the mainland would provoke interest from knowledgeable quarters.’

‘Well, we’re here. We’ll certainly try and find out what’s going on,

Forb, but it looks as though we can’t even save ourselves.’

Forb was silent.

Manolin said, ‘So how come you’re here then?’

‘Sorry?’

He was intrigued as to why the doctor would not return home, to Escha. Certainly, it was a beautiful place, but was that really enough to leave life behind? ‘Why’ve you chosen to stay here, on Arya, rather than go back to the mainland?’

‘Oh, well you only have to look at the place.’ ‘It certainly is beautiful.’ He looked at the forest, and the elegant cone of the volcano leaning up behind.

Forb said, ‘Not just that, of course. I got sick of the city and all the politics in Has-jahn. I came here for research, my own research after following up rumours of the ichthyocentaurs. That’s another reason I’m here: I wanted to study how they used plants. People say they can cure nearly anything with their botanical knowledge. People say that they never get ill. Most medicine comes from plants or nature, and here, somehow, that tribe are leagues ahead of anything we human or rumel have managed. I’ve got a
need
to learn from them.’

Manolin said. ‘That’s why I’m pretty excited to be here, too.’ After a moment of listening to the tide, Forb spoke again. ‘So what else are all going to be doing here?’

‘A thorough survey. Mapping, geological mapping, biological survey. The usual sort of stuff. We’ve submersibles to check out the coast. They can go pretty deep, too. We’re in the employ of a mayor, funnily enough. But we can also sell a lot of this knowledge to academics. That’s how we’ll make most of our money. The maps of the seas fetch a lot, but scientific theory has a price, too. There’s a first for knowledge. Tends to be the way this age, after the rebellion to science, and all that. Plus we enjoy doing it.’

, Sound’s good. Just the sort of thing I’d used to be involved in, once.’ Forb glanced down. ‘Well if you need a hand with anything, just come and find me, or Myranda. Local knowledge is useful. Any of the villagers can help. Take little Lewys along, I’m sure he’ll find it exciting.’

‘Myranda is certainly beautiful. I guess that makes staying easier.’

Forb laughed. ‘It certainly does, you know. Yes, she is beautiful, in my eyes and yours. But the other islanders, as I said before, don’t find her all that much. Strange, isn’t it?’

Manolin said nothing.

Forb said, ‘She thinks you’re attractive, too.’

Manolin stopped, frowned. ‘I’m sorry?’

‘Oh come on, you must’ve seen the way she looks at you.’

Manolin gave an uncomfortable laugh. ‘Forb, that’s your wife you’re talking about-’ Forb gave what Manolin thought was a genuine smile, which made what he said seem even stranger.

‘You should join us for supper. I know little Lewys lights up when you’re around. He’s quite a bright boy. He doesn’t much like playing with the other children, and you’re the first person I’ve known to talk to him like he’s normal. As if he’s a grown man. Kids like that.’

‘Well I, uh, that is, um, yes, sure, okay. I’ll have to see what we’re going to do with Arth’s body first. But sure, that’d be great. I take it there’lI be no feast from the hunt though, now that Arth’s dead?’

‘To the villagers, that’s even more of a reason to celebrate.’

‘I’m sorry?’ Manolin smirked, thinking he had a lot to come to terms with.

‘Well when someone dies here, they celebrate their life, not mourn their death. You see, to them, death is around every corner. We just never look at things like that. They’re prepared for death, and so celebrate the life of whoever’s died. I really think you ought to mention it to Jefry. I think he’d like it. Perhaps he could tell stories about Arth. There’d be dancing and food. I tell you what, Manolin. When I go, I sure as hell want a celebration. Couldn’t stand seeing all the people I know crying.’

Manolin nodded, deep in thought.

They approached the group, who were standing around Arth’s body. It had been covered over with a blanket. Only Jefry was looking at it.

Santiago said, ‘Right, well someone had better tell Calyban and Soul what’s gone on. Are they in their little shack?’

‘Don’t know,’ Yana said. ‘Probably.’

‘Probably sucking each other off,’ Santiago said as he stalked into the forest, fists clenched.

Manolin walked along the edge of the lagoon after retrieving a bottle of whiskey he’d stashed on the ship. At a particular point during the trip to Arya, he had realised that drinking wasn’t the best solution for getting over his wife. The moon was not quite full, but he could see thousands of tiny reflections of it out at sea. The village was cast under an amber light from the funeral pyre, the flames noticeable above the ring of thatched huts. Another mild night, pleasant in the breeze. The aroma of roasting hog wafted nearby. Manolin clutched the neck of the bottle tight in his right hand, advanced along the firmer sand. The sounds of drum beats and chanting echoed along the shore, rhythmic, enchanting, and it filled him with anticipation as he approached. Santiago, who had donned his top hat for the evening, was silhouetted by the fire. Next to him was Yana and Becq, and they were all watching a group of natives dancing around the flames. The movements of the locals were strange, spasmodic, and it made him smile because it reminded him of some of the bars back in Escha. People liked to dance no matter where you were.

Jefry was standing the other side of the fire, still talking to a group of native children, who were sitting crossed legged on the sand, their faces bright and warm in the firelight. Jefry made exaggerated movements, his voice occasionally audible over the drubs. He was still telling the children about Arth and the antics that they used to get up to. Manolin felt warm inside, relieved that Jefry was happy in this moment. Manolin couldn’t exactly hear what the rumel was saying, but he heard the children laughing and giggling throughout the performance. His mind raced across many stories that Jefry had told him before. They were always getting up to no good in the labs, playing pranks. Sometimes they’d even fake remains of a bizarre creature to pass it off as Qe Falta to frighten people. Always, there was drink involved, a laugh, a shared love of gambling.

Manolin joined Yana, Becq and Santiago. ‘Ah, Manny, you’ve got the strong stuff then?’ Santiago said, his gaze flipping to the bottle in Manolin’s hand.

‘Oh, yes. But it’s for later. The doctor asked me to have supper with him and Myranda, so I thought I’d bring something special along. You know, make it nice.’

Santiago said, ‘Did he now?’ Manolin couldn’t read his face clearly. ‘Yes. I find I get on quite well with him. We’ve a lot in common.’ ‘Did you say Myranda was going to be there?’ Becq asked. She was playing with a strand of her blonde hair, watching him idly. ‘Urn, yeah. I think we’ll talk science-Forb and me. And I think little Lewys will be there, too. I think Forb thinks we have a laugh.’

‘Quite the happy family, eh?’ Santiago said.

Manolin said, ‘Sorry, San?’

‘I said quiet a happy family, the four of you.’

‘Well, I don’t know about that. It’s just a bit of food anyway.’ Manolin turned to Yana. ‘Is Jefry doing well?’

‘Yes.’ Yana smiled. ‘Yes, I think he’ll be all right. It’s a bit of a shock to all of us I suppose. They’ve been friends for years, haven’t they.’

Manolin nodded. ‘So, what’s our plan then, San?’

‘How do you mean?’ Santiago scratched his moustache.

Manolin said, ‘I mean, are we staying or leaving, now that Arth has gone.’

‘We’re not going anywhere, Manny. We’ve a job to do and we’ll damn well do it. Besides, we need the money and it’s just a thoroughly splendid island. We’ll be here for a few weeks yet. There’s plenty of food. Much to explore. Besides, Arth had no family did he?’

Manolin said, ‘Not that I can think of. Yana?’

‘Nape. And I think Jefry was his only close friend.’

‘Well that’s that then,’ Santiago said. ‘We’re here for a long time yet. We’ve got to produce a thorough assessment of this island. And some of the others, I’d like to see them, too. Most of all we have to find out what it was out there,’ he indicated the sea, ‘that’s been killing those ichthyocentaurs.’

‘Right you are.’ Manolin felt relieved. He had a lot to learn on Arya, needed to stay to explore the shores. Hell, he needed to explore himself a little. That’s what the island was making him do. ‘Well, if it’s all the same to you, I’m off to join the doctor for some food. See y’later.’

‘Bye, Manny,’ Becq said. He walked towards one of the large huts at the far end of the village.

Santiago was staring at the fire for some time. He could no longer see Arth’s body in the centre of it, although he thought he could see the skull, glowing amidst the charred remains. After a few minutes, he wondered away from the others, sat down on a large palm leaf on the edge of the forest, facing the stilted huts that was their temporary residence.

Despite the strong easterly that brought the fragrance from the opened pores of leaves from the forest further up, and despite the calm rhythms of the tide, Santiago was fuming.

Why the devil should he be having supper with the doctor? I should be the one. I am, after all, the leader here. He thinks he knows everything. That’s the damn problem with those youngsters. You give them the best fucking start they could hope for; you help them with work and hobbies. Then they think they’re
so
much damn better than you. Damn fucking boy owes me
so
much. Well, I’m not put out that easily ...

He pushed himself off of the leaf, slipped without being seen to one of the rafts. He pushed out, looking around all the time. There was only darkness here. He secured the raft to a stilt, climbed up into his hut.

Within minutes he was back on land again. Now, without his top hat, he loitered within the edges of the forest, carrying a dark cloak around him. He could hear the drumming still, even the crackle of the fire. Through the shadows that the plants formed, he focus sed on Yana, crouched. Behind, in the forest, were strange and uncomfortable sounds, but he put them out of his mind, waited. He watched Yana for some time. Eventually, as he knew she’d have to, she stood up, headed into the forest.

By the time she had passed the palm trees on the fringes, Santiago was at the place he knew that she would be walking to. A minutes’ walk into the forest was a tiny pit, which was what his group had been using as a toilet to collect fertilizer. The pit was small, a raised plank placed across the top. Santiago was laying face down close to the pit, the cloak covering his entire body, under a cluster of thick ferns that concealed the toilet from all sides. He could feel his heart beating on the floor of the forest. The wind was moving the tops of the trees, which was good because it provided noise cover. His nose, despite being hidden by the ferns, was near enough to the pit for the intense and vile smell to make him feel sick. He breathed through his mouth.

Yana approached.

He drew the cloak over him fully making it impossible for him to be seen. He leaned on one side, shifted his right arm in to a freer position. In his hand was a small glass container that was typically used by him to collect water samples. Yana sauntered closer. He could see her moving slowly with precision, her arms raised slightly, which meant her eyes were adjusting to the slight change in darkness. The elements were on his side. He watched as she stepped through the ferns on the other side of the pit area, watched her lift up her skirt then slide her lace underwear down to her ankles.

Very impractical undergarments for an expedition,
he thought.
Typical of a woman.

He could see the curve of her body as she lowered herself onto the raised plank that was cast across the small pit. The wind was strong and the palm trees rattled loudly. With discreet focus, and scientific rigour, he extended his arm and the glass container directly underneath her rear, which hung fractionally over the edge of the plank. She leaned forward, let out a small groan as she began urinating. Santiago inched the glass to the left to capture the liquid, careful to hold the container at an angle so her urine would not make any sound striking the bottom of the glass. She stopped, wiped herself with a palm leaf. Santiago brought the container back through the ferns and under his cloak and placed a small cork in the top.

Yana pulled up her underwear, dropped her skirt, bounded back down towards the beach.

After a few moments he crawled out from the ferns, gasped as he drew in cool, clean air. Proudly, he held the container high. The liquid captured some of the firelight through the gaps in tress, and he swirled the urine around inside.