Spirit Tiger (15 page)

‘What? What were you doing there? Wait, let me ask the real question: what were you doing wandering around at night
kaki ayam
and only a sarong tied under your shoulders. His saying
kaki ayam
, or ‘barefoot with chicken feet', especially stung. ‘And then,' he began to gather momentum, ‘why is your hair full of leaves and I don't know what else? And you've washed, I could hear it, but why?' He grabbed her hand and switched on the light, and now Maryam could see the extent of the dirt, visible under her nails and in every crevice of her skin. She began to cry.

‘Don't, Maryam,' Mamat continued. ‘Crying isn't going to change anything. What's happened to you?' He pulled her hand roughly. ‘I'm not even thinking you went out to meet another man, coming back here filthy, like an animal. No man would want that …'

His voice petered to a stop, and he looked at her more closely, a growing horror in his eyes. ‘You're a
hala
,' he said flatly, abruptly releasing her hand and standing up. ‘It's happened.' He turned away from her. ‘Go down and wash yourself,' he ordered. ‘There's no need to hide anything anymore.'

Maryam miserably stood shivering before her well in the middle of the night. Again, the geese watched her carefully but made no noise, and Mamat sat out on the front porch, smoking cigarette after cigarette without stopping. She brushed her nails and hands until they bled and scrubbed her feet raw. She brushed her hair and washed it, wrapping it neatly on her head as she always wore it. She changed into day clothes, sure there would be no more sleep gotten tonight. Thus humanized, she made coffee, bringing cups out to the front porch where Mamat stared straight ahead, not acknowledging her.

‘There's coffee,' she said unnecessarily. He could see it. He could hear it if he chose to. He did not.

Maryam took her coffee and sat quietly at the top of the stairs. Things certainly looked different in the middle of the night. She'd never sat out here at night to see it. Of course, why would she? This was the time of night when people slept and rested for work the next day. They did not have coffee in the middle of the night to explain why or why not they were were-tigers. She started to cry again.

‘Mamat,' she sobbed. ‘Help me.'

He didn't turn his head. ‘I don't think I can,' he said with little expression. ‘This is beyond me. You chose this, didn't you? You're following the tiger, you can't let it go. I know how you are, but I didn't think you'd choose a tiger over all of us.' He tapped his cigarette unnecessarily hard against the railing, nearly breaking it.

‘Didn't everyone tell you to stop it? Didn't Pak Lah tell you not to follow a
hala
? Everyone told you, but you wouldn't listen. I never believed it would get this far.' He turned to her, frowning. ‘Did you find any blood? Did you kill anything?' he demanded. ‘That would be the end, Maryam. If one of our neighbours comes here with a dead goat, or a half-eaten chicken, I don't know what will happen to you. I really don't.'

‘Why can't you help me?'

‘Because,' Mamat was now really angry, ‘No one can help you if you choose this path. You have to turn away from it. I can't drag you away.' He lowered his voice, realizing how silent the
kampong
was. ‘You have to tell the
hala
not to see you anymore,' he hissed. ‘I can't. Pak Lah can't. It will know if you're just saying it or whether you truly mean it. Is this the life you want? Tell me.'

‘No,' she sobbed. ‘I don't want to be a
hala
.'

Mamat made a disbelieving noise but said nothing. He lit another cigarette and kept his eyes away from her. She had never felt so alone.

‘Do you even know what you did tonight while you were out?'

She shook her head dumbly.

‘No idea? So it could have been anything. You could have killed someone, and you wouldn't even know. You might even kill our children when you turn.'

Maryam was suddenly colder than she had ever been, and fought the urge to check on her children. Mamat looked at her knowingly.

‘You can't stay here anymore,' he said, almost sadly. ‘'Until you really leave it behind, I can't put us all at risk. After all, you might do anything during the night. Would you even recognize your own children?' He sighed deeply.

‘Maryam,' he said, and until tonight he'd never used her full name like that, as though he was now distancing himself from her. Which, indeed, he was. ‘For God's sake, choose one life or the other. I never thought I'd say anything like this to you. Never! But I'm saying it now. Choose a path, or it will choose you. If you don't really choose your human life, you'll be a
hala
. Maybe you already are.'

He walked into the living room and closed the door.

Chapter XXII

It was all over Kampong Penambang, and probably all over the
pasar besar
, the main market, as well. Rubiah took charge, sending her husband Abdullah and her two daughters still living at home to stay at Maryam's house, while Maryam stayed with her. It was now just the two of them there.

Ashikin and Aliza took over Maryam's stall, and Rubiah's daughters took over hers. She prayed she wouldn't lose customers with her girls doing the baking. They were good – after all, she'd taught them herself – but they weren't Rubiah.

Ashikin and Aliza were sick with worry, even more so that their father had expressly forbidden them from seeing their mother, particularly after sundown. He explained she didn't remember anything from her night in the
kampong
, wandering as a tiger, and perhaps, under the spell of the
hala
, would not recognize her own children or grandchildren. Therefore, they had to take all possible precautions.

Her daughters could not bear thinking about it, and no one knew what exactly Yi thought, but he looked paler than usual and slept with Mamat rather than alone in his own room. Rubiah turned the day upside down, insisting they remain awake from evening
maghrib
to
subuh
, leaving Maryam no time to turn into a tiger while she was asleep. It gave everything they did an unreal feeling, as though they were already living the life of spirits, isolated from the human world. Just when the
kampong
blossomed into life, they went to sleep, and all night, when decent people were sleeping, they were awake, talking to God and each other. And though they talked through much of the night, they spent much time in prayer, beseeching God to bring Maryam fully back to human life, and free her from the thrall of the spirit world.

Rubiah schooled herself not to berate Maryam for following the
hala
, or even being attracted to it somehow, but she was not always successful. There were times when her anger overcame her, for Maryam had deliberately courted the were-tiger, she'd followed him when all around her advised against it, and everyone, including Maryam, knew what the end would be. There was no flirting with
jinn
: you ignored them or you married them.

Maryam was mortified. Everyone knew she had turned into a tiger, though she herself was not so sure; strangely enough, given her situation, she wasn't sure were-tigers were real at all, or that her own experience was not simply temporary madness. Rubiah tended to agree it was possible, but nevertheless treated the worst possibility while hoping the actual cause was something more benign.

Maryam tried mightily to explain to Rubiah what had happened to her that one night, and why she was roaming the
kampong
, but in the end she could not, as it was a mystery even to her. Deep in prayer, she would search for a memory of that night, how her hands had gotten so covered with mud, but her mind remained a resolute blank and she recalled nothing. That frightened her most of all, for if you remember nothing, how can you know what you might be capable of doing? Just about anything, she feared.

Pak Lah came by daily to see how she was faring, placing spells and talismans all around Rubiah's house, and on Rubiah and Maryam themselves. Rubiah locked the door and windows in the room Maryam slept in during the day, so she couldn't get out without waking her. It was protection for both of them. And still, through all this, thoughts of the tiger came to her unbidden, and they were not entirely unwelcome.

Osman and Azrina refused to stay away. First and foremost, Osman did not believe Maryam was really a were-tiger: he was not at all sure he even believed there were any. Maryam had been his mentor, his mother, his advisor, and he would not abandon her in trouble. Azrina, too, treasured Maryam's friendship, or mother-ship, whichever it was, and thought of her as her best friend in Kelantan. Azrina did not intimidate easily, and it would no doubt take a full-scale metamorphosis before her very eyes into a large and roaring tiger to convince her Maryam could ever do anything wrong.

Osman tried to stop by after dinner, when he knew they would be awake, and talk to them about the case, which was progressing slowly. Din and Noriah remained the two favourite suspects, and for good order's sake, the Thais were also included here. Osman had been looking for the latter for days, in Kota Bharu and beyond, but had found no trace of them. Noriah professed to be relieved, delighted and grateful that they were gone, and urged Osman to redouble his effort to find them so they could be given their come-uppance, but Noriah's motives were always murky.

Though it made Maryam uncomfortable, she herself believed Ah Pak was also a contender. She was reluctant to bring up his name, since she felt some loyalty to him, and worried that if he were wrongly accused, she would be responsible for it. Kit Siang did not actually occur to anyone, and neither did Puteh, since Maryam considered her a good person and therefore unlikely to kill, unless it was Suleiman, and those were certainly extenuating circumstances.

Suleiman was dismissed by both Maryam and Rubiah as too weak, rabbity and no-account to have actually killed someone, though both would have gained a sneaking respect for him if he had. For now, however, the gumption to actually commit murder seemed lacking in Suleiman, a poor excuse for a man all around. And since Maryam now decided she liked Khatijah, who she now believed had strength of character, she dismissed her as a suspect out of hand. Rubiah did not.

As Ashikin's time neared, Maryam felt her helplessness ever more keenly. Now of all times, she should be with her children, and Ashikin in particular, helping her through the birth and taking care of Nuraini and Daud so she could rest. And instead of helping as a mother should, she was imprisoned as a tiger and a threat to the baby. Maryam had never been so despairing.

And then the evening arrived with Osman looking particularly grim and almost frightened. (And as long as she had known Osman, the only things she'd ever seen really frighten him were his mother and speaking Kelantanese.) He stood on the stairs leading to Rubiah's porch, turning his hat around in his hands, close to tears.

‘
Mak Cik
, something's happened.'

‘What is it, Man?' she asked with concern.

‘We found one of the Thais on the road to Tak Bai.' Maryam stayed quiet; there was clearly more to come. ‘He's … he's dead. Just like Ruslan.' He gulped. ‘It looks like a tiger killed him.'

‘Where are the others?'

Osman shrugged his shoulders. ‘I don't know. We're calling the police in Patani again tomorrow, to see if they came home. If they haven't yet, they will once they find out what's happened. It's near the place we found Ruslan.' This in particular seemed to make him unhappy. ‘I think there's a tiger there,' he whispered. ‘I think it's killing these people.'

‘A real tiger? A man eater?'

‘No. I don't think it's that. No animals have been hurt, and a tiger would go for livestock first. This is a
hala
, and it knows what it's after.'

He sat down on the step, ashen. ‘Why is this happening to me?'he blurted.

‘I've got bodies everywhere.'

‘Don't get dramatic,' Maryam ordered him. ‘You're the chief of police. If you fall apart, what will other people do? If you become frightened, what will happen to everyone else? There will be chaos here,
Che
Osman. You have to show us your courage and your wisdom, so we can follow it.'

She was proud of her speech, even though she herself certainly did not look to Osman for courage and fortitude, but perhaps it would stiffen his spine to think so. He did look somewhat surprised to hear he was a leader of men in Kota Bharu and that he set an example for calm in the face of danger. But if so, now would be the time to live up to that image.

He shook his head, however, unable to measure up to the ideal just yet. ‘
Mak Cik
,' he bleated, ‘I think this is a real
hala
. Before I thought it was someone who wanted to make it seem like a tiger, but now …'

‘Why couldn't it be someone really wanting to make it look like a tiger? If they killed one person like that, why not two?' Maryam asked, somehow feeling heartened. She wasn't a
hala
either! Of course, there was the problem of wandering around the
kampong
at night on all fours in the mud. However, perhaps there was another reason for that, even though she was at a loss to identify it at the moment.

Osman regarded her miserably. ‘Why do it twice?'

‘Why not? Rubiah!' she called, ‘Come here, please! I want you to hear this.'

Rubiah bustled in with refreshments, set them down in front of Osman, but not too far from Maryam either, and then registered the look on Osman's face.

‘What happened?'

‘There's been another tiger killing,' Maryam informed her happily.

It was, indeed, unseemly for the news to cheer her as it had: after all, someone had died, even though that someone was a gangster and would probably not be greatly missed. But Maryam's mood soared with the news: someone had been killed by a tiger and it wasn't her, she had nothing to do with it, and the second killing convinced Maryam there was no were-tiger, but simply a guilty human. In fact, she was as convinced of that as Osman seemed convinced now there was a
hala
on the loose.