The Backpacker (7 page)

FIVE

We made the swim back to Hat Rin at double speed. I wasn't timing us but it was obvious that we were both swimming faster because I was doing freestyle, as opposed to my usual breast-stroke, and Dave struggled to keep up. Every five minutes he shouted for me to slow down but I just kept my head low, pretending not to hear him underwater. At one point, as we cleared the curved headland and Hat Rin came into view he grabbed my foot to slow me down, but I kicked it free and continued, faster still.

If my heart was beating quickly when we made the gruesome discovery, the effort of swimming back had doubled its beat from a march to a drum-roll. My neck pulsed under the weight of blood that had bottlenecked in the veins, trying to find its way to my brain, and the exertion was so tremendous that my whole head was throbbing.

At first Dave had suggested walking back from the secluded beach. By his reckoning there must be a path back to Hat Rin, otherwise how the hell could other people get there? It made some sense because clearly the people who had partied on the beach couldn't have swum; at least, not carrying pots of paint. Packets of cigarettes maybe, but not paint.

Sprawled out on the sand of our own beach with Dave lying next to me, I pulsated, gasping for breath, my feet digging into the sand to push me a little further up, away from the gently lapping water, as though it might drag me back towards the finger.

Ugh, that finger! A perfect finger. For some reason I had never imagined that a severed finger would still look like a finger; all that was missing was the hand, wrist, arm, shoulder... The finger had obviously been cut from the person we had seen taking a beating, and must have been fresh, almost moving, able to crawl off that rock on its own like a giant maggot.

I closed my eyes, listening to the thump of my heart, and started to imagine the finger rolling off the rock onto the sand on its journey to the sea. As it went, it fought off the crabs that were determined to stop it, and the seagulls that swooped down to pick it off.

‘John.' Dave shook my arm. ‘What? Are you sleeping?'

I exhaled and wiped the sweat from my face. ‘No, just having a nightmare.' Thankful to have been disturbed, I sat up, still sucking in erratic lungfuls of air, and looked out at the headland we had just swum past. ‘Amazing.'

Dave followed my gaze. ‘What is?'

‘You can't see anything from here. Even if you swim right up to those rocks, even from the water, you still can't see that other beach.'

He nodded. ‘That's a much further swim than I thought it'd be, I have to admit. Told you we should have walked back.'

I looked at him sceptically.

‘What's the problem?'

‘Don't like severed fingers, that's the fucking problem, Dave.' I bent forward to catch my breath but couldn't. My heart was still beating too fast to allow my lungs any room for air.

After a few minutes of silence while we watched two girls playing with a frisbee, Dave spoke. ‘What did he do to deserve that kinda treatment? Man, I thought I'd seen it all in the navy but I ain't
never
seen anything like that before.'
He
punched the sand. ‘Man, that's fuckin' freaky. Gotta be drugs related. Got to be. Heard about that kinda thing before but just stories, nothing real.'

‘You think we should go to the police?'

His eyes lit up. ‘Hell no! What'd we do that for?'

‘Just a thought. You're probably right. Anyway, it would be messy.'

‘Not to mention dangerous for us two! Shit, if those guys caught wind of what we saw... ' he pointed to both of us, ‘we'd be next. No siree. You may be a British lord but you ain't got no protection out here. Those suckers get a hold of ya.
Wham!
Uh-uh, life's cheap out here, man, you better believe it.' He indicated his point by using one hand as a chopper against an outstretched forefinger.

‘Which is precisely why I didn't want to walk back,' I said. ‘If they'd seen us we would probably never swim again!'

He made an OK sign. ‘Sensible, sensible.'

We both lay back down and gazed up at the cloudless blue sky. I wanted to look at anything other than those rocks; anything that stopped me from thinking about that finger. A pink flying saucer suddenly flew through the blue sky and landed in the sand next to Dave.

‘Hey,' he shouted, sitting up again, ‘you girls wanna play?'

One of the two topless blondes we'd been watching came jogging over to collect the frisbee. ‘If you like.'

‘John?'

I tilted my head. ‘No, I'm OK at the moment. You go.'

Dave stood up and joined in the game, his slim black body looking funny between the two bare-chested whites, like a sandwich. Every time he threw the frisbee too hard and hit a passer-by a little argument would ensue, not coming to any real shouting, just a ‘Watch it man!' Another flick of the frisbee, accidentally-on-purpose in the wrong direction, ‘Oops.'

As I watched them play, I began to think about Dave. He was unusual, I thought. Hard to fathom. When we had first met outside the airport in Bangkok, I had taken him for an annoying, clean-cut, middle-class American, like one of the Cosby Kids, only this one had broken away and become a little wayward. Now I had changed my mind. After what he had told me about his background it seemed that I had judged him in reverse, and that he was a poor kid trying to make good. Actually I didn't believe that either, or rather, I believed it but thought there was more to him than that. He was out to have a good time, but unlike many of the other travellers I'd met, he wasn't pretending to be something that he wasn't naturally. He wasn't
trying
to break away, or
trying
to drop out or be a hippy.

Dave knew who he was and didn't avoid the question of upbringing and the financial assistance that had got him out here. In short he wasn't pretending to be poor; whether he was poor or not didn't matter. And he wasn't interested in getting away from the crowd, trying to be the first to discover some far-off deserted beach that only the select few travellers ‘in-the-know' were privy to.

If you could bottle his upbringing and sell it like medicine, you'd be a millionaire; the hoards of lost, middle-class, pseudo-hippies would make sure of that.

Dave did a few spectacularly dismal attempts at catching the frisbee between his legs, and when he tried to do it and jump at the same time he came down on his head with a dull thud. ‘Gawd,' he proclaimed, trying to mimic my accent, ‘landed roight on me noggin!' The two girls lapped it up.

He threw the frisbee to me as an obvious ploy to come over and have a word with me. ‘John, these two are real hot, man, c'mon.'

I had regained my composure enough to stand, and joined in, thinking that the girls would help take my mind off the day's events. ‘Aren't you supposed to meet Suzy?' I said, brushing the sand off my back.

‘John, don't give me that la-di-da crap now,' he thrust the frisbee into my hands, ‘throw that mother to Julie.'

I looked up at the two girls who were standing, hands on hips, waiting for the game to continue. They looked like they were discussing which one of us they preferred, occasionally giggling and moving from one hip stance to the other. ‘Which one's Julie?'

‘The blon– the one with the small bazookas. Your one.'

‘That means you get the one with the... '

‘Big bazookas. Right! You catch on fast. Hey,' he said turning back, ‘it's my game so I get to choose. And none of that la-di-da British lord stuff. You know I can't compete with that. All I've got is my afro, and once they've seen that a black guy's dick is the same size as any other guy's, it's over.'

We walked towards the two girls and Dave instructed us to fan out. That's exactly what he said, ‘OK, now faan-out,' and spread his arms like he was carrying out a military exercise.

‘It's not is it?' I enquired before we were all in position.

‘Is what not?'

‘A black man's... '

‘Why d'you think Suzy lost interest after one night?' He stopped walking backwards and whispered, ‘Blonde chicks are the worst. All they want is dick, black dick, and the bigger the better.' He raised his voice. ‘Now stop talking and throw that damn thing.'

I was just about to throw the frisbee when I saw the ladyman from the restaurant coming down the beach towards us. Oh no, not me! Why now? Any illusion I may have had that she was possibly looking for someone else was shattered as she drew closer, skipping along with both forearms perpendicular to her body, limp wrists dangling uselessly on the end. ‘Lor' John!'

Dave looked at me. ‘Oh shit, man, it's that guy-thing from... '

‘I know who it is, Dave!'

Everyone on the beach watched the Thai run down the sand towards me, old hands laughing, while the new arrivals were just open-mouthed at the sight. To take the edge off my embarrassment I exaggerated it, bowing down and holding one hand to my forehead. It brought a few laughs so I went a stage further and behaved like an ostrich, digging a hole in the sand and putting my head in it.

‘Lor' John, ha' massage for you.'

I looked up, shaking the sand from my ears, my face burning with embarrassment. ‘What?'

‘No here,' she panted, coming to a stop beside me and theatrically flicking her hair, ‘in you loom.' A roar of laughter went up from the people who'd heard and my face caught fire. The ladyman looked around, angry at the childish behaviour. ‘No! Massage in you loom.'

‘Oh!' I clarified so that everyone could here. ‘There is a
message
for me in my room.' Then she blew the whole thing by calling me ‘hansoon' and stroking my head. ‘OK, OK, thanks.' She turned and jogged off up the beach towards the restaurant. Unfortunately the restaurant was right behind our huts so I couldn't immediately go back to find out what the message was. If I did everyone would think that I was going off with her.

We threw the frisbee around for five minutes, just long enough for people to get back to their sunbathing, before I made my excuses and left, using a long, tortuous route to get back to my hut.

Looking around the corner to see that no one on the beach was watching, I darted up onto the wooden veranda, key at the ready. Dave was already there, swinging silently in my hammock.

He looked at his watch. ‘Ten minutes?'

I stopped, one hand on the padlock. ‘What happened to the girls?'

‘What do you think happened? They took one look at her ladyship and ran a mile. Anyway, I want to know what you're up to, Lord John.' He swung his legs over and jumped out of the net. ‘Can't let you have all the fun around here.'

‘I told you, Dave, I'm not a bloody lord.' The padlock snapped open and fell into my upturned palm. ‘So don't keep going on about it.'

Dave followed me into the darkened room. ‘Hmm, not bad,' he said looking around. ‘Cleaner than mine. Wow, man, you got a video camera!'

‘Actually, it's now a
broken
video camera. Not much use.' I shut the door and switched on the light.

‘Shit, why don't you get it fixed?'

‘Where?'

He shrugged. ‘Bangkok?'

‘I did think about it,' I said, throwing the key onto the bed, ‘they've got a service centre there. But what with one thing and another, there just wasn't time.'

‘Shame. I could put this to good use out here.' He pretended to film around the room and turned it on me. ‘Behind you.'

I spun around. Stuck to the door in exactly the same way that the first note had been was another piece of paper with a message written in purple ink. I pulled it off and read it to myself.

‘What's it say John?' I held it out and Dave took it from me. ‘
Hat Rin beach
,' he read aloud, ‘
Tonight, 2 a.m. Will pick you up. Sir William.
' He put the camera down and started dancing. ‘Sir William! Woo-hoo, way to go Johnny-boy!'

SIX

We spent the rest of the day sitting around: on the beach, in the restaurant, in my hut, discussing what was going to happen at two o'clock. I should say that Dave discussed it, because although I was curious about the message, I remained cautiously quiet, preferring instead to observe Dave as he ran around, unable to stop rabbiting. I thought he was on drugs or something, and to try to slow him down a little I rolled a joint.

Unable to explain exactly what the note had meant when it said I'd be picked up, I think Dave assumed that, having been knighted by the Queen of England, ‘Sir William' would meet us on the beach in a Rolls Royce. ‘Listen, man,' he said, ‘these Thais are loaded, I'm telling ya. Your friend may have been just another poor backpacker in India but since then he's made it big.
BIG!
'

I wasn't convinced. I suppose it was possible that Rick had made a fortune from smuggling grass, but even that seemed a bit unlikely in such a short space of time. Another thing Dave assumed (though he didn't say, I knew what he was thinking) was that Rick was some kind of elderly gent in a pinstriped suit; a character from a Graham Greene novel that spent his wealth living extravagantly in exotic locations. My video was broken so I was unable to show him that Rick looked more like a character from a Cheech and Chong film. It wouldn't have mattered anyway, if I had shown him a picture he would have said that Rick was an eccentric millionaire.

‘Dave,' I said quietly as we left my hut and walked onto the dark beach, ‘don't get your hopes up too much.'

A few people who hadn't already gone to bed, too stoned to move probably, had fallen asleep on the sand. Some were still smoking, the red ember from the tips of their cigarettes hovering eerily above the dark sand.

Dave smiled and patted my back. ‘Hey, it's cool. Anyways, we're having a good time ain't we?

I ignored the question and said, ‘What did you say to Suzy?'

‘Told her that I was going out with you. Man, she knows the score. An' if she don't, well, she can't come along anyway. You don't take chicks with you on a night like tonight bro'.' He paused for a moment, walking along the water's edge in silence. ‘In any case,' he continued, ‘it might be dangerous.'

It hadn't occurred to me. ‘Dangerous?'

‘Could be a set-up. That freaky chick-a-doodle in that restaurant could be in on it. She definitely scares me.'

‘No,' I said confidently, ‘this is Rick's handwriting. I told you, it matches the one he wrote in India perfectly.'

He nodded agreement, and we walked in silence along the beach until we had reached about the halfway point. Dave looked at his watch. ‘Quarter to. Where d'you think we should wait? 'Bout here should do, I reckon,' he said, putting a hand over his eyes. ‘Good clear view in both directions. Not much cover though.'

‘Cover?' I exclaimed. ‘What do you need cover for? Jesus, Dave, you're not in the army now.'

‘Only kidding. And it was the navy, not the army.' He sat down. ‘Take a seat John, don't look so obvious. Oh yeah, and get a new shirt.'

I stayed standing. ‘What's wrong with this one? It cost me a lot of money back in London. It's the only shirt I have that isn't permanently stained. I save this for taking girls out, they love it.'

‘Maybe five years ago they did. You look like a fuckin' beach boy, man.'

‘Um, Dave, this is a beach.'

He snorted and shifted his weight. ‘Yeah but this ain't the sixties an' you ain't no rock star. Sit down before you do get shot for bad taste.'

‘Look at you then,' I said, pointing to his vest, ‘you look like Huggy Bear!'

‘Don't tell me I don't look cool! Shit, my mom bought this for me.'

I stood for a moment, wondering if my clothes really were outdated, and stared down the beach. A couple who had come out from one of the huts started towards us and I instantly recognised Suzy. I cleared my throat ready to tell Dave. ‘Umm... '

‘John, sit down, it ain't two yet.'

‘Here comes Suzy.'

He spun around on the sand, first the wrong way and then back again, squinting into the darkness. ‘That ain– It can't be. Shit, it is! What's she doin' here? I told her... '

‘She's with someone else, I think.'

The error of Dave's ways suddenly dawned on him as Suzy stopped and started to kiss the man she was with. ‘That bitch.' He leaned up on one elbow. ‘See, I told you John, once she finds out about the dick size.'

I clucked my tongue dismissively. ‘Yeah right, it's got nothing to do with the fact that you haven't taken her out for the last three nights then?'

He didn't answer, and watched in silence as Suzy and the other man kissed then fell onto the sand, one on top of the other, panting passionately. It was obvious what they were going to do next and I couldn't stifle the giggle.

‘Oh, man, not that! She's not gonna do it there?' Dave rolled onto his back laughing painfully. ‘Man, she never howled like that when we did it.'

‘Listen!' I said, sitting up, alert.

Dave waved his hand through the air. ‘I've heard enough.'

‘Not that,
listen
.' I cupped a hand behind each ear. ‘Can you hear it? Like an engine.' Standing up, I turned in a full circle like a radar to locate the sound. ‘It's coming from the sea. Definitely, out there.'

Dave stood and we both walked to the edge of the shore and squinted into the blackness. ‘Can you hear it?'

He nodded. ‘A boat. Small.'

‘Where?'

‘I can't see it, but it's definitely a small boat.' He looked at the sky. ‘No moon, damn!'

‘If you can't see it, how d'you know it's a small boat?'

‘When you've done a watch every night at sea for two years you get to recognise the sound of an outboard engine.'

I looked at him. ‘You're telling me you can tell the difference between the sound of an outboard and an inboard engine? I don't believe you.'

He ignored me and twitched his head from side to side, apparently picking up the sound. ‘Two, maybe three people.'

The engine suddenly cut, leaving only the sound of Suzy and her mate panting frantically in the night.

‘What time is it, Dave?'

‘Two, exactly. It must be Sir William.'

I let out a laboured sigh. ‘For God's sake, when you see him don't call him Sir William.'

There was a shallow splash to our left and we both looked in that direction. Out of the darkness a slender long-tail boat appeared just down from where we stood, paddled by two people, while another person sat at the back and steered.

‘Three people. What did I say?' Dave slapped my back and jogged off down the beach. ‘What're you waiting for?' He shouted, turning his head, ‘You've got an invitation!'

Two other people who had been waiting on the beach, and who I had assumed were nothing to do with the rendezvous, waded alongside and jumped into the boat, followed by Dave. I stood knee-deep in water and held on to the prow, debating whether or not to get in.

‘John, get in, man,' Dave said excitedly, and held out a hand. ‘C'mon!'

There didn't seem any point staying so I dived in head-first, pulled over by the others. It seemed a bit unlikely that any other boat would arrive at exactly two o'clock in the morning so, even though the three Thais in the boat made no mention of Rick, I thought I'd better shut up and get in. The driver fired up the engine, turned us around and sped out to sea.

‘John,' Dave whispered as Hat Rin faded away behind us, ‘I take it neither one of these guys is your friend.'

‘No,' I replied very quietly, and glanced at the other people in the boat, ‘not unless he's disguised himself.'

‘Are you thinking what I'm thinking?'

‘Dangerous, right?'

He didn't answer and sat back on the gunwale, running his hand over the side. After a few minutes Dave looked up. ‘Amazing. John, take a look at the wake, astern.'

The narrow prow cut through the water, disturbing the phosphorescence and producing a luminous green line that ran out at an angle either side of the boat. I stood precariously, one hand on Dave's head to steady myself, and checked both sides. It was amazing; the boat producing a green arrow in the water, from its point at the prow, widening until it finally dispersed just behind us. ‘Amazing,' I confirmed, still standing.

‘You should see it from the conning-tower of a 20,000 tonne Destroyer. Awesome!'

The skipper manoeuvred the boat slightly to the left and I sat down abruptly. He probably thought I was unsteady but he was mistaken. I had just realised where we were heading. ‘Dave,' I hissed, ‘we're going back to that fucking beach!'

His head pulled back from looking over the side and his mouth dropped open, as the sounds and sights on the beach appeared around the dark rocks like a scene from another world. ‘No shit!'

I was about to dive over the side when I noticed that what we were witnessing was a party. Figures danced around beneath the painted palm trees like cannibals around a fire, the only difference being that the light from that fire wasn't red but blue. It was coming from one of those ultra-violet lamps that make everything glow radioactive. The paintings on the trees were now luminous colours of green and pink.

‘It's a party! Foreigners! Ha!' I said much too loudly. I almost said, Thank God, we're saved!'

Dave beamed as he looked ahead at the beach. ‘Fuckin' God almighty, Sir William!'

Picking up speed, the driver aimed us directly at the middle of the beach and cut the engine. We braced and the boat ploughed smoothly into the soft sand, rising as it went in. Dave was over the side before we'd even stopped swaying, swinging his arms to the beat that was blasting out from somewhere in the trees, while I stepped gingerly out of the boat and surveyed the scene.

The beach looked so different from when we'd been there earlier in the day. Obviously it wasn't sunny, but even though it was night, and you'd expect the place to be more forbidding, it wasn't. The combination of music, people and the cold light that glowed gently pale blue gave it a surreal, almost fairy-tale feel, a bit like a pantomime. No light penetrated past the first row of painted palm trunks into the black jungle behind.

The light also affected the water, and the phosphorescence in the shallows glowed so that the first five metres of sea looked like a luminous green carpet in which I'd been cut off at the ankles. Lifting a foot to make sure that there was more than just a stump on the end of my leg, I walked up onto the beach.

‘'Llo.' A Thai girl wearing hotpants came jerking down the beach towards me and held my hand. She swished her long black hair and led me to one end of the beach away from the dancing, where a group of people were sitting beneath the trees. ‘You li' dri' wa'er or co'nu'?'

Shit, I thought, I'm gonna be raped by a load of Thai girls. Fantastic! ‘C-coconut please.'

It wasn't a prerequisite to an orgy, not yet anyway, and it seemed I was being taken across to meet the group and their leader. Lying on the sand beneath three Thai girls was a man wearing a full tie-dye suit. His baggy trousers would have looked too big on a clown, and he had a matching top that looked like it had been made out of the sail of a yacht. One of the girls had her lips clamped over his face like a plunger while the other two, either side of him, giggled in anticipation, stroking his hair and stomach.

Feeling like a spare part, I coughed loudly.

The man pushed the kisser away from him. She tried to move back in but he held her forehead with the flat of his hand and looked up at me, lipstick smeared all around his mouth, making him look even more like a clown. ‘You took your fooking time!'