Mr. Potok, a very interesting cultural dissimilarity, did you know that in our country people never go for walks? Most of their time they spend seeking food. Perhaps poets and philosophers once did, but they have all been reeducated now … one does not walk in the forest in our country, the forest there is different, can you believe it? You can only go in with a tiger club … of course I am joking! Can you believe it? My friend here, who so imprudently strayed from the path just now, has traveled dozens of kilometers through the most dangerous jungle on earth. He escaped from the camp and headed for Thailand, truly he is something special … if only he knew how to write, he could publish a comparative study, here is a man who survived a reeducation camp in his homeland, then another one next door in Laos, and then, consider this, the Khmers spent several years making him into a new man … and he survived, even though no one expected it of him. Such a comparative study would be extremely interesting, he emerged from the jungle unscathed and hiked into Thailand, where he survived several refugee camps, and when he was hungry, he admitted, he …
Guess that’s what got Paulina, huh?
Your cynicism, Mr. Potok, is entirely out of place. I am showing you a phenomenon here … compare, if you will … the gentleman ahead of you is quite probably the only human on earth to have completed such a journey, and yet he sinks into the mud at the first silly little European forest he comes to, no snakes, no mines … no people, apart from us, naturally. Of course we are all friends.
Oh yeah, it was obvious what kinda friendship he’d show me if I were to start skippin even just a little bit indiscreetly. One minute I wanted to whimper, the next I felt calm. One childish self of mine refused to believe after all we’d been through that they could just … in cold blood … but I know people with a mission are the worst of all. Commissars. They’ve rid themselves of choice.
We walked through the woods for about an hour, and I’ve never felt a forest so much. Out of habit, I guess, I examined it, remembering it, putting it inside me. There were moments I felt like it knew. Like it was friendly to me. The men around me, our paths intertwined … but their souls were filled with vines and snakes and orchids … maybe they had the dragon, but in my cells I’ve got the bear … the pine … those swampy pools of theirs’re different, they donno a thing about cuttin through lilac and steerin clear of blackberry bushes. I was on my home turf, that consoled me a little. In spite of everything. When it came to this forest trail, this path, they didn’t know a thing. They didn’t feel what I did. Then Hunter came to a stop.
We were on a hill, we’d come up out of a gorge and now we were standing on top, hidden by trees, beech trees. Below us shone the white roof of a hideous one-story building made of plywood boards, plastic, and sheet metal. The kinda thing people leave behind in godforsaken places.
Smoothy went ahead of me, teeth shining in a smile … you are our only guest, Mr. Potok, the only one, we hope … notice if you will, he showed me what he had in his hand … a pinecone … this highly remarkable and exotic fruit is worth more to us than all the supergadgets put together … he threw the cone onto the roof below and another one right after … ponk! ponk! … the woods around the building rippled … at first I only spotted movement, then them, hopping out … like this: hop, hop … from the bushes on this late afternoon … the tank driver and I gawked, he was overjoyed … we started off downhill.
The building was just camouflage, they had pits in the bushes, that’s where they lived … waiting. Greetings like barking, they didn’t waste time … I gave em a nod … the captain slapped me on the back, but I didn’t trust him anymore … but the scariest character was Smoothy junior. He was no smoothy, he was … a mankurt.* I don’t think he knew he was living. Looked at his dad like he was air, didn’t rush over or anything. His eyes hung on Hunter. Aw, shut up, I told myself … What do I know what kina hell they got inside em. Anyway I’m on their side, although … They’d given up trying to convince me that we’d be going to track someone else down still. The day was fading, slowly and surely. I tried hard to absorb. The things of the world whipped me like ivy.
They had a car there. Roomy enough for the seven I’d dragged outta the factories, plus the boss. Plus Smoothy. I don’t think they were figurin on a spot for me. They were on a mission. Mine was apparently at its end.
I wanna talk to the general, I told Smoothy. He isn’t a general … and he doesn’t have time. I went up to Hunter an let loose in French, panting like some kinda Gavroche. The general refuses to speak the language of the colonizers, Smoothy translated for me. I tried Russian. No dice. Then kiss my ass, you nimrod! Smoothy grinned.
Let’s go inside, he took me by the elbow, I had no choice. Smoothy … You have betrayed us from the beginning. No, I’m on your side. Don’t lie! For once I’m not lyin. You would lead them here. I don’t wanna, screw em. You took money from them. They wouldn’t’ve trusted me otherwise, all I wanna do is grab Sister an split … I know, said Smoothy. And do you trust her? I stopped … like he’d bitten me. You know her, Smoothy? I am asking whether you trust her … yeah … but. Precisely, said Smoothy.
Inside it was scorching, they didn’t air it out. Everything was bent, banged up, who knew how long that place’d been standin there. Formica looked fresh though. I went and opened a window, turning my back to Smoothy. Wait a moment, he said. It’s still too light. Huh? You lied to me constantly, Mr. Potok … all those words of yours … nilly, noo-noo, figling, mickiwick … bimbam, thupdoodle, frickter … I went through every one of my dictionaries, those words don’t exist … Hah, they do now, Smoothy! How true, did you know that I am a professor … of comparative literature … does that mean anything to you? Not even close, but what’s it matter now, right? An what’d you mean about the light … Not only am I a professor, Mr. Potok, but I have been trained … and Smoothy took a running start, it was tough in that little room, but he’s a nimble little guy, rammed his head into the wall, face first … I thought he’d gone nuts, here I am, the only normal one, surrounded by loonies, I mean look at Černá, she’s psycho too … he looked a little stunned but took another run-up, this time it made a crunching sound, his knees sagged a little, he wagged his head … seeping blood, his nose, I guess … I am releasing you, Mr. Potok, and I am doing this so they will think that you overpowered me, which, he laughed, will astound them … I am a Christian, Mr. Potok, but my family, what is left of it, are Buddhists … and I am going to tell you something, some words you do not know, he pulled a small figurine from his pocket, some little demon … gold probly … I curbed my comments … this is Sakya Muni, said Smoothy, I had it made in Paris, and he is my family’s God of Happiness and Good Fortune, I am releasing you so that in turn perhaps someone will release … one of my people … is night falling yet? Is dusk upon us? Is … twilight drawing near? I guess he was a little giddy from the blows, but he’d been trained … so he sat down an pulled out a gun … with a silencer, I knew it from the movies … an said … if night is falling, then run along, and please, don’t let them get you, because I cannot give you a second chance and the general may not give me even a first one, and did you see my son? I smashed my face in, but at least you have kept me amused, perhaps I shall yet reach the end … min-ding, thupdoodle … pantoong, yes, the borders of poetry are as flexible as the borders of the Chinese provinces … I was already outside, but I leaned in through the window … thupdoodle, but my sis came up with that one … Go! Hurry! And he fired, thup! … and again, thup! and I didn’t make up that exclamation point, and I was halfway up the hill before I looked back and saw that Smoothy wasn’t in the chair anymore … I ran … but when I got to the top I checked myself, only fools rush into the woods … and it started … hop, hop … they went flashing past … ahead of me and on either side, and I snuck off, slow and silent, in the other direction … but they were no dodos, that was obvious. My only advantage perhaps was a childhood of make-believe, this was my forest and I was a robber, only now the king’s men were menacingly real … I crept slowly … they ran, I think, silent and bowed … and the first beech to offer me its trunk and branches I accepted, and stayed there … toward morning I spotted two of em, goin along, sniffin the wind, and in their hands … all they had were these thin little canes, it scared the hell outta me … next day I stole across the hillside, allowing myself some speed now, swooping in and out of the rocks … and I came around a stone mound and there was Smoothy’s son.