Villa Pacifica (20 page)

The skipper waved at the group and waded back to the boat.

They headed for the northern tip of the bay. Max was lying spread-eagled on the sand like a hefty starfish.

Soon, they were climbing a sandy path. Luis and his mother wore identical Jesus sandals with Velcro straps. Everybody wore shorts, except Luis's mother and Ute, who had long cotton trousers on for the scratchy forest she wasn't going to traverse after all. She felt cheated and robbed of her afternoon and of her dream. She'd had an auspicious dream, and now the toad had butted in and poisoned it with his secretions.

The dry forest was heated like an oven. All moisture was gone.

Ute trudged up the hill and pictured a bored Max swimming out to the caves to take another look, going deeper and deeper into the fissured rock underneath the cliff path they were treading now, and vanishing for ever in the
chambers of the sea
, as in that T.S. Eliot poem. No, she must stop quoting Jerry's stuff to herself, as if he were there. It was pathetic. She didn't really want him there. She didn't want to be there herself. She wanted to be on that path at the other end of the bay, striding to the top of the misty hill, to the realm of cloud forest and Oswaldo Joven's lucid, Cyclopean eye of a dying giant. There everything would become clear, one way or another.

Down by the ocean, in the sulphur-pongy air pregnant with storm, nothing could ever be clear. She crunched along the scorched white path, last in line behind Luis.

Thorns, branches and giant cacti all around. The cacti, gnarled and bulbous, were twice a human's size.

“…Blue-footed boobies are not afraid of humans,” Paco was saying to the group. They'd stopped to look at a nonplussed booby, which sat hatching eggs in the middle of an explosion of excrement from above.

“This tree here is
algarrobo blanco
, Latin name is
Prosopis alba
.” Paco moved up the path to a pale-barked tree with a large crown of tiny leaves.

“In Europe it is called carob. This tree doesn't have problems with heat and dryness. This is why it is green now.”

“But it's not dry, it was raining just before – sort of,” Eve pointed out from underneath her safari hat.

“Raining now, raining last night, but not for many months,” Paco said in a patient voice. “This is our dry season – usually finishes in January.” And they walked on.

The ocean was a thin strip of blue glanced here and there through the gaps in the pale trees. The further they climbed, the wider the blue strip grew. Ute took big gulps from her two-litre water bottle. She had cleverly prepared for a major trek, but had she been really clever, she would have made her escape from the beach in time, instead of chatting to Luis. Now she'd have to hire a tricycle the following day and bribe the sleepy old man at the entrance kiosk to let her through all the way to Agua Sagrada. She really had no time to see everything on foot. And how else could she justify a week of her travel schedule spent here?

“Check this out,” Liz was saying. It was a thick tree with a green trunk covered in spikes.

“Wow, it looks unreal,” Tim said.

“Young
Ceiba trichastandra
. The ceiba tree is green because it does photosynthesis with its bark.” Paco glanced at his watch.

“What are the spikes for?” Eve touched one.

“Spikes protect the tree from animals when it's young and still growing. When it's older, it grows very large roots.” And on they went on their hurried expedition. Luis's mother was saying something to him in her muted voice.

“You know” – Luis turned to Ute and evened his step with hers – “the ceiba tree was the tree of life for the Mayans. They believed that the long roots hanging from its branches connect the living with the souls of the dead above.” Ute stopped and scribbled this in her notebook.

After a couple more stops, they reached the top. Here, the dry-forest fuzz receded to reveal the plucked, rocky nape of the hill. The ocean rushed into the picture from all sides. Part of it was under the sky's dirty carpet, which kept rolling out their way. The bay was out of view behind them, but on the other side of the hill Puerto Seco's huts squatted behind the estuary of the river, which lay fat and sluggish like a replete boa. Segments of it could stir any moment. Ute recognized the inlet where the entrance to the animal shelter was. Beyond, it became lost from view in the dry forest.

“How long does the river go inland?” she asked Paco.

“About five kilometres after the bend. Then the mangroves begin, and the river Mapuyo.” Paco led them briskly to a rocky outcrop right on the edge of the cliff. It was covered in birds and guano.

“Please don't go close to the edge, OK?” Paco warned. “If you fall from here, I am not coming after you.” They all laughed feebly with what remaining breath they had from the steep climb. All except Luis's mother, who hadn't understood. She shuffled to the very edge of the jutting rock and stood there, squat and penguin-like.

“For Chrissake, tell your mom not to stand there – she's freaking me out,” Eve said.

Luis pulled his mother back from the edge. She said something and pointed down at the tiny beach. Luis quickly stepped into the space she'd just left and looked down at the bay.

“The boat.” He turned to Paco. “It's not there.”

“What do you mean, not there?” Paco said, and stepped over to have a better look. “Why the hell's he moved it?” he muttered, dialling his mobile phone, his ashen face glistening with sweat. “Jesus?”

Jesus answered. The boat had in fact been moved, but not by him. He'd been woken up from his nap by the roar of the motor. Max was at the helm. They were now two bays further to the south. Max took over the phone. The familiar loud voice was enough to pull the others around Paco.

“We don't have time for silly games,” Paco was shouting into his mobile, the sweat pouring from his face and onto his T-shirt, which said, in faded letters, “I LOVE NY”. “The storm is about to hit us. You are putting everyone at risk…”

Max shouted something in reply.

Paco handed the phone to Ute. “He wants to talk to you.”

“To me?” Ute said.

And just then, a massive bolt of lightning ripped sky and ocean, blinding everyone for a second.

“Max,” Ute shouted. “What's up?”

His reply was deafened by a loud thunder crash.

“What?” Ute shouted.

“I'll talk to him,” Eve said, extending her arm. “Pass him over.”

“What does he want?” Liz asked.

“I'll talk to him,” Luis said. “Max!” He listened for a few seconds. “What?” he shouted in Spanish. “Are you mad? That's suicide.” He translated for everyone. “He want us to jump in the water from here, and they come and collect us in the boat. He's out of his mind.”

There was a collective gasp of disbelief.

“We can walk back through the park,” Ute said. “There's a path that leads to Villa Pacifica.”

“Yes,” Paco said. “But it is far away.” He wrenched the phone from Luis's hand and shouted, “Jesus, put Jesus on.”

But Jesus and Max were gone. The connection was cut off. Paco redialled angrily. Sweat poured down his pitted face. The ocean went very dark. It looked as if it was rising.

“There's no signal,” Paco shouted in Spanish through the noisy rain, shaking his mobile. “I'm not getting any signal. It's the storm. Anyone got a mobile phone?” Nobody did.

“One of his pranks,” Liz said. “But this one's gone too far.”

“Let's go!” Luis said.

“But how're we gonna get back?” Eve said, panic in her voice.

“We're not walking
all
the way back to Villa Pacifica. You've got to be kidding!” Tim wiped the water pouring down his face. “Are we?”

“Walking back is better than swimming back,” Liz said, and set off behind Luis.

“Hey,” Eve shouted, running behind them, frantic. “Let's get back to the beach. He'll be there, it must be just one of his stupid jokes.”

Paco shook his head. “But maybe he isn't there. We can't take a risk.”

“Why is he doing this to me?” Eve moaned – but they were all walking fast now, and she had no choice but to keep up. The dry forest wasn't a great shelter from the downpour, but they felt less exposed. Luis quickly summed up the situation to his mother, and she nodded in her matter-of-fact way. They were all adapting to survival with surprising speed.

“OK,” Paco shouted, and moved to the front of the column. “Soon we take another path. Don't separate from the group. Follow me.”

“I swear it must be one of Max's jokes,” Eve was saying to Ute, and Liz and Luis, her safari hat drooping with water. “If we go down to the beach, I'm sure—”

“Move on, Eve,” Liz cut her off. “Jesus, this is like Judgement Day.”

Lizards darted about in the roots and twigs, and birds fluttered in the trees. The cracked earth of the path quickly turned to mud. Water poured down everyone's head and body: it got into their eyes and noses, and when they opened their mouths to speak, water filled it.

“Great.” Tim's face was screwed up with distaste. “Can we do it again tomorrow, please?”

The rain pushed them downhill, as if on a waterslide. Every few minutes, someone slid into the mud and cursed. Their backs dripped with sludge.

“OK,” Paco yelled eventually. After trying his phone several times on the way, he'd given up. There was a narrow path turning inland. “Here we start the walk to Villa Pacifica.”

He stopped to count them and rounded off the column. They continued to glide downhill. It was hard to say how long they spent squelching and sliding in silence. The rain interfered with human time. Huge thunderbolts ripped the forest from time to time, and made everyone duck instinctively. Ute turned and saw that Eve was crying. Luis and his mother were keeping a lively pace at the front, their Jesus sandals invisible under the mud.

The forest had come to life. Ute could hear the moisture-starved trees breathing, swelling with hope, growing leaves and moss, humming with new, verdant thoughts. The path evened out as they hit the grounds of the park, and it was now possible to walk without falling. No one dared ask how long it was going to take. Ute's estimate was at least four hours.

It seemed impossible that the rain could get any worse, but it did. It wasn't rain any more. It was a solid wall of water. They were now walking through the Niagara Falls in slow, incredulous motion, blinded and gagging in the deafening thunder of water.

“Jesus Christ!” someone gagged, and those were the last words anybody managed for a long time. In the tangled curtains of water, it was hard to see who was who. They all looked like watery holograms that could vanish in the space of a blink. Ute feared for Luis's tiny mother. She could be swallowed whole by the water beast.

It was hard to breathe. The air had darkened, and the steaming forest looked evil and endless in every direction. Pushing against the rain wall, Ute felt she'd be covered in bruises later. The water kept slowing down and accelerating, slowing down and accelerating, like a pulse. They kept moving in a dumb daze of survival through this chthonic water world.

After an eternity, they finally reached Villa Pacifica. In the grey mist it was hard to tell whether it was night or day. The back gate was open: they were expected. Carlos, wearing a plastic hooded raincoat, greeted them with no comment. Paco seemed on the point of grateful tears, like a man whose death sentence had just been waived. Birds twittered from all sides, excited by the rain.

“
Las Malvinas son argentinas
,
las Malvinas son argentinas
,” Enrique rattled off by way of a greeting, but nobody laughed. The rain kept falling at a steady, thoughtful pace. It didn't bother Ute any more. She felt at one with it. In fact, it was now hard to imagine a world without rain.

The animal and bird enclosures were covered with large plastic sheets. The lion cub was back in her cage, lying dejectedly. The jaguar lay in a corner of his enclosure, breathing heavily, as if the humidity was inside his lungs.

Carlos and Pedro ferried the bedraggled crew across the river in the two boats. The river was swollen. In his black plastic hood, Carlos looked like Charon transporting shadows across the Styx back to the world of the living.

“I
must go get Helga and the baby,” Luis said to Carlos as they all scrambled up the already flooded bank of the estuary towards the main house. “It's not safe along the
malecón
any more.”

“It isn't safe here either,” Carlos said. “See how the water has already risen? If it doesn't stop raining, it'll keep rising. Last time we were completely flooded, half of the cabins came under water.”

The tropical plants were half hidden in a mist of rain. On the veranda, also half hidden in vapours and cigarette smoke, were Jerry, Mikel, Lucía and Héctor, plus the two dogs.

“You poor devils!” Mikel said in Spanish, and patted Luis on the back with good cheer. “You made it after all. We've been going off our heads here.”

“Are you OK?” Jerry reached out to Ute and gave her a hug – a slightly guarded hug as if protecting himself from something so saturated.

“Yeah,” she said. “Fine.”

“I'd normally say ‘have a shower', but I'm not sure that's what you need this time.” Jerry was trying to be light-hearted.

She did need a shower. She looked down at her feet and legs, which were aching with fatigue. She was covered in mud and bits of plants to the waist, like some mythical beast – half human, half vegetable.

“
Señora
?” Héctor held a tray laden with steaming mugs of hot chocolate. Ute took one.

Most of the expedition group were already plonked in chairs – shapeless, speechless and stunned to be back in the familiar world of furniture and hot drinks. Liz sat on the veranda steps, the rain falling on her legs. Tim and Eve had gone straight for the lavatories, first removing their mud-covered shoes. Even so, they left muddy traces across the polished boards of the lounge. Luis, Mikel and Paco were already setting off in the rain.

“Going to fetch his wife,” Mikel called to them, and said to Lucía: “
Amor
, show the
señora
to the Monkey, it's got a single bed.” Lucía nodded and exchanged some words with Carlos, who flipped back his black rain-hood, removed his gumboots and went through to the kitchen with her. Luis's mother sat in a chair, her dress fetched to her knees and exposing her scratched and bleeding legs. Behind her, the two baby iguanas faithfully guarded their leaf, though their pattern was now disturbed and no longer formed a yin yang. They were now like two quotation marks without a sentence. Sitting on top of a table, Ute sipped her hot chocolate. It was heavenly. Jerry stood beside her, his arm around her.

“So what happened?” he asked.

“I don't feel like talking,” Ute said.

Nobody else did either. Mikel's engine started up. Ute felt on the verge of tears. She glimpsed Héctor inside the lounge. He stood propped behind the reception bar, looking at them.

Carlos was drinking black coffee from a mug.

“Coffee at this hour?” Liz turned to face him. She had removed her soaked T-shirt and was down to a white sports bra again.

“Yes,” he said, and looked at her breasts. “I'm drinking coffee now because I may be staying up tonight.”

“Oh, really! Why?”

“Because there may be a storm during the night.”

“See you later.” Tim was back from the bathroom and off to his cabin. “I need to decrust, I feel gross.”

“God, I can't believe we made it.” Eve was back from the bathroom too, her mouth stuffed full of cake that she'd grabbed along the way.

“And I can't believe that Max could be such a cunt,” Liz said.

Jerry sniggered. Ute suddenly felt like hitting him. Why wasn't he out in the forest looking for her? Why was he – the only person whose other half was out in the storm, possibly dying for all he knew – waiting here tamely with everyone else? Was there in fact anything more important in the world than his laptop, his own needs, his self-regard?

“What?” Jerry said. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Like what?” Ute said hoarsely.

What would you do if I didn't return? How much do you love me? Questions that could never be asked – or answered.

One of the dogs followed Lucía as she walked silently away from the main house, and presumably to her cabin. Lucía was clearly unable to deal with crises.

“Want to go?” Jerry asked Ute. She shrugged her shoulders. She didn't care. “Want to eat something?”

She shook her head.

“Well, what do you want to do?” Jerry insisted.

“Nothing.” Ute looked at him with a blank expression.

“Fine,” he said. “Fine.”

He stood there, propped against the table, then he went inside. She heard him creaking about the lounge, perhaps looking at the books. Another mindless silence set in, and nobody moved a limb. It was as if they were all too exhausted to go a few steps further to their cabins. The rain was like a spell that paralysed all free will. While the rain fell, nothing could be decided, nothing could be undertaken. You had two options in this rain: to move and merge with it, or to stand still and hear it. There was no middle ground.

Eventually, there was a noise: a tricycle arrived outside the gate.

“Ah, and here's the c–u–n–t in question.” Jerry poked his head from inside the lounge.

“I didn't think you guys would make it before me,” Max shouted. “Hey, baby!” He went over to Eve, who had just sat down on the floor after finishing her cake.

“Keep your hands off me!” Eve squirmed.

“Just fuck off, Max,” Liz said from the veranda stairs.

“I think you better not show your face round here. You're not very popular right now,” Jerry echoed.

Carlos gave Max a circumspect look, but not a muscle moved on his face.

“All right, let's get this straight, guys!” Max stood, his legs spread out. “Little bit of rain hasn't killed anyone yet. And anyway, it was a joke! All right? A
joke
.”

The jaguar answered with a lazy roar from across the ditch. Carlos smiled crookedly to himself.

“At least you have a friend on the other side,” Eve said.

“Or an enemy,” Carlos said, and disappeared into the kitchen again.

“What the hell were you thinking about?” Liz turned to Max.

“I told you, it was just a joke. You should have known it was a joke. I'm not out of my fucking mind. I was just having a bit of fun! I was bored, man, all by myself on that beach. Just me and Jesus…”

Pacing up and down the veranda, he tripped over Eve's leg. She looked up at him with hatred.

“OK, let's go,” Jerry said to Ute. She nodded, but didn't budge. Héctor was looking through ledger books again.

“Don't forget to sign the guest book before you go,” he said to them, and his voice was like an echo from a past life.

“Yeah,” Jerry said. “We'll do it later.”

Along the path came, with heavy steps, Helga and baby, followed by Mikel and Luis. She handed the baby to Luis, stomped up the veranda steps, and went straight over to Max.

Without a word, she grabbed him by the front of his T-shirt and tossed him against the wooden railing, which went a bit slack under his weight, and stopped just short of tipping him over. He hit the plant behind, and Ute saw the baby iguanas fall off their leaf.

“Bastard!” Helga spat. “Bastard!” Max tried to steady himself, too surprised to react, but Helga continued shoving him back against the edge with strong arms.

Nobody moved, not even Luis, who was holding the baby anyway. Mikel came into the lounge and spoke to Héctor in quick Spanish – something about where Carlos was. Héctor indicated out the back.

“Let's go,” Jerry took her arm, but Ute couldn't move. She was transfixed by the scene. Max was now defending himself by pushing Helga back with some energy. They looked like two oversized kids in a schoolyard fight during lunch break. The baby gave out a shriek of protestation.

“OK,
basta ya
!” Mikel yelled and stepped in, pulling Helga away. His face, just like Helga's, was purple.

“Get this woman off my back!” Max said. “Fucking hippie nutter!”

“OK! Please.” Mikel was visibly making an effort to remain calm. He gave the out-of-breath Helga a conciliatory nod to leave this to him. “Max, I'm asking you to leave tomorrow morning. Tomorrow morning, OK?”

Carlos popped up from behind a giant leaf. He just stood there, his arms crossed in the rain.

“Oh yeah?” Max said to Mikel. “You're gonna force me to leave? You tried that before, buddy, remember? Didn't work. What're you gonna do, huh, call the police? Have me killed and toss me in the sea? Huh?” He looked around at his audience, to garner support.

“That's not a bad idea,” Liz said.

“You will leave with your wife tomorrow morning,” Mikel repeated, this time in Spanish. “Or Carlos and I will make sure you do.”

Eve looked from one face to the next with a perplexed face, in a dilemma of loyalties.

Max suddenly started to laugh – a forced, cracked laughter – and raised his hands in a peace-brokering gesture.

“OK,” Helga said bluntly, and turned to Mikel. “Please, we want to go to our cabin now.” She was again holding the baby, who had gone quiet.

“Right,” Mikel said with impatience, then called out, “Héctor!”

“
Sí
.”

“Show the
señora
and the family to their cabins.”

“The Monkey and the Boa?”

“Yes.”

Luis's mother got up and silently followed the young couple, who went with Héctor to the reception area. Max stepped to the side to make room for them to pass.

“OK,” Max started again. “Let's get this straight. Goes like this. I called these guys from the boat just for a laugh, cos it was funny to make them sweat a bit.”

“You didn't call us, it was Paco who called you!” Eve said.

“All right, all right. It was a joke, stupid! It was a joke, but I didn't know the phone was gonna cut off and… and this is not how I planned it! All right?”

“It's not all right.” Mikel shook his head and lit a cigarette. “It's not all right to make jokes when there is storm and rain, and…”

“Jesus and I, we waited for ages, like hours, we went up the hill as well, shouting your names like idiots. We waited for you, and you won't even thank me for it! I've had enough of it – that's it, I'm leaving tomorrow.”

“Right, right.” Eve said. “I wanna go too. I miss the kids real bad.” And she started crying.

“Oh, honey,” Max squatted next to her. She let herself be consoled.

Carlos had vanished again.

“Here's what.” Max got up and looked at Mikel with a conciliatory face. “I wanna do my bit for this place. I'm gonna donate two thousand dollars for the animals and to offset any damage you guys sustain if
El Niño
strikes again. I know you think I'm an asshole, but I wanna prove you wrong. I like you and what you've done here, and I wanna help. All right?”

There was a silence. It was hard to say whether the listeners were stunned or too exhausted to care.

Mikel blinked a few times at Max, then he announced: “Dinner tonight is simple, because Conchita is not here. Salad and rice and…
Qué más
?” he turned to Héctor, who shook his head.

“Just salad and rice,” Mikel concluded.

Max was momentarily thrown by the indifference, then he said to Mikel: “Well, I'm gonna bring my chequebook. Don't go anywhere.”

Mikel didn't respond. Max ran off to his cabin.

“Come on,” Jerry whispered to Ute, and he pulled her along on their way. She followed automatically. They walked along the path. The rain seemed to fall in slow motion now, and Ute could see individual raindrops.

“The baby iguanas fell off,” Ute said in a phlegmatic voice. The rain seemed to have seeped into her vocal chords.

“What?”

She shook her head.

“Do you want to leave tomorrow?” Jerry stopped, and looked at her. There was something insincere in the way he put this.

“I don't care,” Ute said, and meant it.

“Are you OK?” They were outside their hut now, and Jerry was unlocking the door.

“Just tired.”

She stood under the cool shower, which felt very different from the rain, even if it was the same temperature. She tried to still her mind, because she was scared of what she would find there.

She didn't exchange any more words with Jerry before collapsing on her side of the bed. He was outside in the hammock, anyway. The rain had stopped as suddenly as night had fallen.

And next, the creature was here again. Except it wasn't standing at the foot of the bed, but at the door. She could see it with her peripheral vision, though her eyes were closed. Even in her terror, she could perceive that it was short, a kind of dreadful homunculus. Short but powerful. She wanted to scream and, just like before, she couldn't. She tried to reason with herself, so she could somehow stop this nightmare. The creature was at the door because it wanted to show her something. If only she would look at it, she would know exactly what it wanted to tell her. And it was important, very important. But she couldn't look at the thing. Peripheral vision was all she could bear, and even this was too much. She thought she could feel her blood vessels hardening with terror, her heart turning to stone. Until she woke up from the cold. She lay there, not daring to look at the door.

When she did, the creature wasn't there. The door was closed, she could tell from the fact that no garden lights were filtering in at all. It was pitch-black. Jerry wasn't there either. She felt his side of the bed. It was made: he hadn't even been to bed. She was numb with cold and fear. But she knew that something had shifted. The creature wanted her to go outside. It wanted her to know something about this place. It was terrifying, and she didn't have the courage to follow it. But staying still and closing her eyes again and having another vision like this was even more terrifying. Because in the waking world, there is always someone else within earshot. But in the world of visions, it's just you and the
tsungki
. It's just you and those subterranean souls who held the keys to your life and death, and the life and death of everybody you cared for. The creature had appeared to her – and no one else – for a reason. She couldn't continue to ignore it, whether it was on her side or not. Ignoring it might come with too high a price.