The Brittle Limit, a Novel (27 page)

Moving quickly beside the fire, Andrew
touched the protruding shovel handle, testing it. It was wood and
cool to the touch. But the shovel blade, squarely in the coals for
some time now, shone red hot along its edge. Andrew grabbed the
handle and pulled the makeshift weapon from the coals. He moved
back to the hut and crouched low by the window, his legs loose and
ready, his heart thumping against his chest wall. He took a moment
to slow his breath and visualize his next several moves as he
watched Hakk pace by a map on the wall. Deep in thought, Hakk paced
with a strict rhythm, the same number of steps in each direction,
his turns sharp and quick.

Andrew glanced around the clearing. It was
empty and quiet. The elephant-chasing guards had disappeared deep
into the brush. The evening birdsong had settled into silence. The
clear-running brook tumbled over stones, toward wide and far-away
shores.

Andrew strode to the hut and stood beside the
doorway, peering in. Hakk had stopped pacing and was staring at the
map, his hands held behind his back. He rocked on his heels. A
board beneath his shoes squeaked with each descent. In
loose-fitting black trousers and top, Hakk carried no visible
weapon. Andrew saw a pistol at the far end of the table, by Hakk’s
seat.

Andrew stepped up inside the hut and moved
toward the table, the shovel at his side. He was careful to keep
the red blade a good distance from his skin. With each slow step,
he kept his eyes trained on Hakk.

As he reached the table, the board underneath
his right foot creaked. Hakk turned at the sound. The two men
stared at each other from opposite ends of the table. A shadow
crossed Hakk’s face and then was gone.

“How unfortunate. I thought Heang had dealt
with you.”

“Your man Heang might take a lesson or two in
tying knots.”

“What is it that you want Mr. Shaw? You have
traveled a long way.”

“I want you to call off your plan. Call off
your men. Whatever you have in the works, you’ll just destroy your
country, its future. Call it off. Call it off right now.”

As he spoke, Andrew eyed the gun on the
table. Hakk followed Andrew’s gaze.

“You know nothing of my country, Mr. Shaw.
Nothing of what it is and what it needs for the future. I will set
my country, my people, free,” Hakk said, glaring at Andrew.

For a moment, the two men faced each other.
The wind that had earlier gripped the trees had calmed. The night
was still, with the only the silent music of the stars. The forest
held its breath.

The next instant, both men lurched for the
gun. Hakk was closest and grabbed it, as Andrew rushed forward,
swinging the shovel in a high arc like a baton. Hakk released one
wild shot before the shovel knocked the gun from his left hand and
hit him square on the chin. The blow knocked him backwards into the
wall and he crumbled to the floor. Andrew dropped the hot shovel
and was upon Hakk in instant, his hands on his throat.

Hakk smiled up at Andrew, their faces inches
apart. “You are a foolish, persistent man,” Hakk said, looking past
Andrew.

Before Andrew could turn, Heang, who had
returned from the chase and heard the commotion in the hut, stepped
inside to see the fight. He rushed forward and jabbed a large
needle in Andrew’s neck. Andrew felt a weakness take hold of him, a
coldness that coursed through him like a chill winter wind. He
collapsed off of Hakk onto the wood floor. There he lay, unable to
move, but still conscious, staring up at Hakk, who stood over him,
dusting off his hands. Andrew tried to think, but a fog enveloped
him.

Hakk watched the drugs take hold. He said to
Andrew, “The animals get unruly, so we give them something to calm
themselves. We underestimated you. So now we will keep you with us.
You will stand witness to my triumph.”

Hakk bent low, close to Andrew’s face. “And
when it is over, I’ll dump you like chum in the South China
Sea.”

Andrew succumbed to the chemicals, his last
image Hakk’s black eyes watching over him.

*******

When he woke, Andrew was tied in the elephant
stable, sitting in shit-covered straw. He shook the offending
material off his bare arms. The knots around his wrists and ankles
were expertly done this time, tight and secure.

Andrew listened. Above the trees swaying in
winds leftover from the storm, he heard men talking nearby but out
of his view. A snuffling noise accompanied their quiet
conversation. The guards had returned, with only one of the
elephants, the baby, tied to a nearby tree, grazing by the
stream.

The light in the main hut was out. The men
stood guard under a wide tree, smoking, their cigarette tips red in
the dark. They had been instructed not to speak with the prisoner,
not to touch him, feed him or respond to his queries or
requests.

Andrew called out. “Hey! Heang!”

No reply. But their quiet conversation had
ceased and they listened. They had not been instructed against
listening.

“Hey, someone come here. There’s a huge snake
in here, striped like a bee! I think it’s gonna bite me! Get this
thing away from me!”

Tied to the stiff bamboo, Andrew yelled and
shuffled about in the straw, making noise enough for the guards to
hear. He knew there was a deep fear of snakes here, the provinces
writhed with poisonous ones, cobras, vipers, who had killed many a
bare-footed farmer. The snake Andrew described, the banded krait,
with distinctive black and yellow stripes, struck fear in all
hearts; its bite brought with it a painful, paralytic death.

No reply from the guards. No movement. Andrew
continued.

“Holy SHIT! Ow!! OWWWww! The fucker just bit
me!”

Andrew knocked about the stable more
vigorously now, banging his head on the bamboo and with his bound
feet, kicking straw out onto the clearing, where the guards would
hopefully see it in the torchlight.

“Ugh. Help, help me…someone. Help.”

Andrew made several more unintelligible
noises, his voice trailing off and then he lay still, blinking.

He waited. No movement from the guards. But
no conversation either.

Andrew waited and listened. He was good at
waiting and listening. It always paid off.

*******

After twenty minutes, during which Andrew
moved only once, stretching his left foot, pointing and flexing to
work out a cramp under his big toe, one of the guards ventured
toward the stable. Heang had tried to dissuade him but he insisted.
His little sister had nearly died from a snake bite while catching
frogs by a stream. He did not like snakes. And it sounded like the
snake was in a biting mood.

The guard lit a torch and walked forward,
watching the grass and flaring the ground with the torch in case
the snake had slithered into the clearing.

The guard had heard Andrew’s pleas and
decided he himself was just being smart by checking on things. If
there was a snake and more importantly, if the prisoner was dead,
he would need to tell Hakk. He knew he was disobeying Hakk’s order
but he was certain Hakk would applaud his initiative.

He stepped forward into the stable, his foot
slipping a bit on the soiled hay.

In the dark stable, the prisoner was slumped
by the back wall. The guard shone the torch on the hay, uncertain
now if he should move forward. Perhaps the snake lay coiled and
waiting, disturbed by this new visitor. The guard backed away.

Then he heard it, a slight hissing sound, so
faint he thought it might be the distant wind. He stopped moving,
breathing. He listened. There it was again. A whisper of a hiss,
then nothing.

He was certain there was a snake. This would
not do. The guards slept on straw mats on the ground outside Hakk’s
hut in the open air. A snake would be drawn to their warm bodies.
It was a danger to all of them.

He pulled his gun from his belt and stepped
forward again into the dark.

*******

Andrew had watched with relief as the guard
approach. It had been a long twenty minutes. He had twisted himself
into an uncomfortable position to mimic a painful death. His arms,
tied behind his back, were asleep.

He had watched the guard step into the
doorway, hesitate, and step outside again.

Betting on the strength of curiosity and
fear, Andrew making as small a sound as he could, had hissed. He
knew if he was still tied up when Hakk woke, with the dawn, there
was no tomorrow for him. For many.

The guard waved the torch across the hay, the
sound of the flame swooshing. Motes of dust filtered up from the
hay, floating in the light. He stepped again, lifting his foot and
placing it with care, approaching the still prisoner, who was
prone, his body frozen and contorted, as if in pain. The guard
listened for breathing but heard none.

As the guard approached him with his gun
drawn, Andrew felt his stomach tighten. He readied to strike.

Andrew moved so quickly he surprised even
himself. In lightning motions, Andrew thrust his bound feet hard
upwards at the guard, who had leaned over the “corpse” to inspect
it. Knocking the guard off his feet, Andrew pulled him close with
his legs, rolling his torso onto the guard to stifle his surprised
calls for help. Andrew shoved a sharp elbow below the guard’s
sternum, to knock out his wind and silence his cries. Then, rolling
off him, with a sharp blow from his palm, he shoved the man’s nose
into his brain.

Andrew’s breathing was heavy with momentum.
He grabbed the guard’s gun, a knife from his pocket, a cell phone,
and a lighter. His colleagues would be looking for him in a moment,
wondering if he had found the snake.

He had indeed, only it had two legs. And now
it was armed.

Chapter 35

It was a perfect Saturday morning, cool with
no hint of rain, the first time in months. The children's game of
tag had started, as it usually did, on the temple steps. They were
so pleased to leave behind their schoolbooks and uniforms and to
jump and race on ancient stone steps.

The tourists had arrived to Siem Reap in
abundance the day before, swarming the temples in numbers
indicating that rainy season was truly over. The local policemen
and guards had shooed the children away from the temples where they
usually played.

Seeking a more peaceful playground where they
would not be admonished, the children ventured farther into the
woods than they normally did. Their game continued in the jungle,
as the children scattered in the woods, their yelps and giggles
carrying high into the tall trees.

As they moved deeper into the forest, where
it was darker and still, the children grew quiet. The group drew
closer together. Then the game itself stopped, no one wanted to be
‘It’ as no one wanted to run far ahead of the others. They stayed
together in the quiet, walking through the dim jungle light.

This was a new game, exploring, that they had
done little. They were usually under the watchful eye of an older
sister or aunt but today everyone was busy cooking or sewing to
prepare for Pchum Ben Day tomorrow.

The bravest boy led the way. There was a
barely discernible path. In a forest where wild animals roamed,
there were always paths to follow. The children did not think to
wonder if it was the path of a tiger or a bear or a monkey. They
pushed ahead, excited and happy in the way unique to children, on
sensory overload from the jungle’s richness.

It was the youngest boy who spotted the truck
first. He thought maybe it was a vast gray elephant. He called out
to the others, look over there at that big sleeping thing. The
others followed his pointing finger to the left, about 50 feet
away. From there, the ground swelled up and they could see the edge
of a road high above.

“What is that?” asked a girl named Prina. She
thought it looked like a truck but she had learned that boys liked
to be asked questions, rather than to be told, so they could look
smart in front of others.

“It's a truck,” said the oldest boy whose
name was Guy. “It must have driven off the road.”

The young boy who spotted it didn't want to
lose the limelight.

“Let's go see what's inside! Maybe it's
filled with money.”

“Or candy,” said a stocky boy.

“It's probably filled with bags of rice.” Guy
said. “Prina and I will go take a look. If it's something good,
we'll call you all over.”

“You'll try to take it all,” the chubby boy
complained. Life, he thought, was unfair.

“No,” Guy said. “I promise. You stay here.
You there,” he called to the youngest boy. “You keep watch while we
walk over there.”

“Ok.” The young boy looked annoyed to have to
follow orders, he was always being told what to do, but also
thrilled to be in charge for the first time ever. His chest puffed
out as the older boy moved off the path, toward the still
truck.

Prina smiled at Guy, who was half-French on
his mother’s side. He took her hand and ignored the others as they
giggled. “Come on, let's go see.”

*******

The young couple walked toward the truck,
while the other children waited along the path. Someone called out
something inappropriate but Guy ignored them, holding Prina’s hand
tightly. They approached the truck from the front.

When the truck had landed on the ground at a
high rate of speed, its front collapsed and was embedded in the
dirt. As they got closer, Guy saw a form in the front, but could
not make it out exactly. He called out “Hello?” but no response. By
a large Banyan tree, he told Prina to wait while he walked forward.
The truck was about ten feet away.

From five feet away, Guy saw the driver,
slumped over the steering wheel. He walked to the cab and with a
tug, and then a second tug, he opened the door. The driver’s body,
slumped forward, also leaned heavily against the door. When the
door opened, his weight pushed it hard and the body came tumbling
to the ground, surprising Guy, who jumped back a couple feet.